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dietraumerei · 11 months ago

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2023 Book Reviews

Ok, let's see if Tumblr lets me post this (I think it shouldn't be too long?) -- it's all my book reviews from 2023! Entirely unedited and just copy-pasted in, but on the off chance anyone else is interested in it, here it is.

I finished Tolkien and the Great War which was like…¾ very good. The last quarter was a fairly inexplicable and incredibly boring discursion on the early versions of what would, essentially, become the Silmarillion. Although a lot of his early works and early conceptions of what the Middle Earth mythology would be do tie into his life and experiences as a very young man in a hellish situation, this was just like…a recitation. And it was followed by a brilliant analysis of why Tolkien turned to an older medieval storytelling form instead of the modernists that we think of when it comes to the usual WWI writing! It was so good! The good parts of this books are so good! I simply cannot bring myself to care about the phoneme shifts his languages undergo.

It did remind me that I want to return to Paul Fussell’s writing in 2024, so there is that?

Also Tolkien’s bitchy disapproval of the aesthetes is never not hilarious to me.

I finished Hogfather, about which I refuse to give any kind of review other than to say I’ve been reading it nearly every December for going on 23 years now, and it’s a perfect book and I love it.

I finished Congratulations, the Best is Over! and I feel some kinda way about it. I love R. Eric Thomas, but the longer-form essays are sometimes good and sometimes not so good? I didn’t dislike it at all, but I’m also looking forward to what he writes next, as I think every collection gets a little bit better.

I finished The Custom of the Country and oh my god I LOVED IT. The Age of Innocence is still my favorite Wharton because Ellen Olenska, but this was the book that made me scream the most. It’s funny in the way that reality TV is funny, in that you laugh because you are horrified. Undine Spragg is the most magnfiicent monster in literature. She’s horrible. I adore her. What a fabulous work of art/car crash this book is.

I finished the latest Perveen Mistry Mystery, The Mistress of Bhatia House and it was wonderful but oh my god it is STRESSFUL and kind of a hard read at times because everyone is just being a huge dick to each other. (Also there’s a pretty major plot point left totally un-tied-up at the end which is wild, but I guess it’ll get sorted next book?)

I finished Lolly Willowes which tbh I didn’t love as much as I hoped I would, but is a very excellent book with some mind-blowingly relatable bits and I enjoyed it immensely. I love Sylvia Townsend Warner but just need to go in without expectations and enjoy the rather lengthy ride. (For such a short book, it takes awhile for anything to happen.)

I read Dolls of Our Lives and the more I think about it the more I disliked it. I’m tired and lazy so here’s the review I sent a friend:

I finished Dolls of our Lives last night. I found it…okay. The editing is often bad which was depressing. It mostly felt really tonally inconsistent – they’re both historians and know their stuff, but keep putting in schticky little pop culture jokes that are a) not that funny? and b) just appear out of nowhere. If you’re going to look at AG through a pop culture lens, do it properly, don’t just randomly name-drop pop culture stuff. It occasionally dips below surface-level analysis, but it’s not super memorable and I don’t see it aging really well. (I’d LOVE someone to write an accessible book that actually does look at AG dolls both within their own cultural contexts and the context of when they were released, to say nothing of the interplay of doll + book, and maybe with an added chapter on how girls and dolls play, and what it meant to release a doll that wasn’t aspirational in some way, whether it be an adult like Barbie or a baby doll. Okay, maybe I want three books. But it feels like there’s a lot of richness to dig into, and I’ve yet to see anyone scrape more than the surface.) Anyway, 6/10, it was okay but the authors do themselves a disservice. There’s a small section at the end where they talk about themselves and how the podcast has changed them and how it came about and it’s the best bit of the book because it’s actually vulnerable and interesting, with some theory thrown in, and it’s barely shticky at all.

I will now add that I think it’ll age like milk, and I’m super disappointed.

In happier news, I read The Murder of Roger Ackroyd which is simply a masterpiece, and reading it was a deep and abiding pleasure. I know the twist and it still worked wonderfully on me – if you don’t know how it ends, I REALLY urge you not to spoil yourself and also to read it, for it’s wonderful and you will scream at the reveal.

I finished When the Angels Left the Old Country after @lesbrarian recommended it and it might be my favorite book I’ve read this year? Top five, certainly – it’s tense and beautiful and funny and full of love and very Jewish, and it just filled me with joy to read, even the sad parts. The comparisons to Good Omens are unavoidable, but really I find it a very different story in a lot of ways, although certainly with connections. I adored it, and it’s one of those books I can’t wait to re-read. Also every time I think about the angel too much I want to cry, but in a good way.

I also – finally, after many breaks – finished The Path the Power, the first volume of Caro’s LBJ biography. Oh my god, this book. THIS BOOK. The next time I do this I’m going to update every week on what I learned that week because there is just so much in this tome. I want to visit the Pedernales, but not in summer. The description of grass-growing was riveting. The descriptions of the lives of the farmwives before electrification was riveting (and horrific). The play-by-play for elections in the forties literally kept me up past my bedtime. And I have not even touched on Pappy O'Daniel (a real person!! who was apparently toned down CONSIDERABLY for O Brother Where Art Thou) or Lady Bird or how Caro more than once makes sure to mention that Johnson had a dumptruck ass.

Anyway, Lyndon was a vote-buying absolute fucking weirdo from birth and his mother was just as weird and his father was fascinating and I’m a little in love with Sam Rayburn. Do not let either the Old White Man History or the fact that this book is a fucking doorstop stop you, this is a masterpiece and I see why it won a Pulitzer. (whoops, looks like it was another volume that won the Pulitzer) I cannot wait to read the other volumes, which I estimate will take me about a year per book, but worth it!

I finished Menewood, about which I cannot possibly write intelligently. Hild was and is so important to me and I love that period in English history so, so much, and the immersiveness of the books, how heartbreaking and hard and wild and wonderful they are! It did push me to plan to get Hild in non-ebook format; they’re both absolute bricks so it’s easier to read the e-book but I found it super helpful to be able to easily refer to the family trees and maps and stuff.

I finished Lauren Groff’s The Vaster Wilds and as a certified Groff stan I loved it. It’s gross and hard and has the most amazing end, and like Matrix I am excited to re-read it over and over and unlock more language and more beauty and just more.

I finished Here for It by R. Eric Thomas and loved it. It’s more serious and longer-form than what he writes for his newletter or Elle, and really benefits from it; he’s an incredibly talented storyteller. Not what I was expecting, but all the better for it.

I am DNF for A Lady for a Duke which I had such high hopes for! I don’t think it’s a bad book, but it is not a book for me, unfortunately.

I finished Everything I Need I Get from You: How Fangirls Created the Internet as We Know It and have a lot of feelings! I think it’s a really, really good book that’s respectful of fans and interesting, but it focuses almost solely on One Direction fandom, and I kind of wish that was clearer from the title and the summary? Like, no shade to that being the topic, but it feels like this is being sold as kind of a universal look at online fandom, and…it kinda isn’t?

(yes i’m salty there wasn’t anything about snapewives, yes this was somewhat soothed by chapters dedicated to L*rr*es and B*byg*te, YES I am afraid of 1D fangirls.)

I also read Phoebe’s Diary because I adore Phoebe Wahl and it was cool to read a middle-grade novel/graphic novel from her! (Most of the book is typeset, but there are lots of great little cartoons and drawings interspersed. I really, really liked it, although sometimes it’s a little hard to read because a) it is very realistic which means it’s like 95% about boys and boyfriends and that gets kind of old and b) it is very realistic and made me so unbelievably grateful that I never ever have to be 16 again. I would be extremely curious what a contemporary sixteen-year-old thought because it’s kind of a semi-period piece (set in 2005-6) and a few bits of it sort of…haven’t aged well from that period? (There’s one character who I think we’re meant to dislike but I love her so much because she reads aro-ace.) Anyway, I’m really glad I read it although at times it was painful, 10/10 do not miss being sixteen.

I haven’t finished anything, but I’m DNF for Sarah Vowell’s Lafayette in the Somewhat United States because I found it hard to follow and frankly incredibly boring. (I am going hard for the DNF’s these days, life is too short.)

omg so much! I read Learned by Heart in like three days, and it made my Anne Lister-loving heart sing. Truly, it broke my heart and it was so sweet and so happy and sad and just so good, I loved it and I’m hoping it triggers another bout of Lister hyperfixation.

I also read Agatha of Little Neon, which was likewise sad but sweet and happy and hopeful. It had a lot of feelings, but I loved it very, very much, and it just…made me feel good inside?

I was DNF on The Late Americans by about the sixth Sad Gay Man whose personality traits were that he was Sad and Gay and [insert one additional trait here that is shared with at least one other Sad Gay Man]. I love Brandon’s newsletter and his criticism; I did not like this novel.

I FINALLY finished Herzog! For a relatively short novel, it benefits from a slow reading – and I even basically skipped over the philosophical bits because my love for sad mid-century white men only goes so far. Anyway – a little to my surprise, I enormously enjoyed it. I don’t know that it’s, like, the greatest novel ever written and it’s edging into my ‘This got a Pulitzer? Really?’ pile, but a) I can see why it was groundbreaking and amazing and the Saga of the Everyman when it came out and b) honestly it’s really funny and interesting. It’s a little bit Odyssey-like, and Herzog is such a likeable schmuck, and just, yeah. It was great. It’s also a wonderful love letter to both the Berkshires and Chicago, and I loved the very quick Vineyard Havens moment.

Our Wives Under the Sea – a friend said this was the best book she’d read all summer, and I think it’s up there for me. It’s haunting and weird and beautiful and sad and I loved it very much.

Painted Pomegranates and Needlepoint Rabbis: How Jews Craft Resilience and Create Community - hah, I just realized this was a gift from the friend who made the Our Wives rec! I’ve got a little theme of reading about how craft creates meaning in various communities/subcommunities, and this fits right in. It’s definitely an academic text, but I found it extremely accessible. It doesn’t present a very diverse portrait of Judaism – which the author absolutely admits to and apologizes for – but for what it is, it’s a very interesting and valuable text, and I’m glad I read it and it’s part of my collection now.

I finished Big Swiss which is one of those books I ought to hate, but I was…not necessarily loving it, but definitely fascinated as hell with it. It’s such a gross book, and Greta is so majestically self-destructive, I actually could not look away. Magnificent, 10/10 would watch barely-likeable protagonists fuck their own lives up again.

Also, not a book, but I finally read Blackmun’s dissent in DeShaney v. Winnebago County, a landmark case that essentially determined that the government is not actually expected to protect you. (Skip noted segregationist Chief Justice William Rehnquist’s ruling, but the Wikipedia article on the case breaks it down well.) You can read it here – scroll down to the very bottom, his dissent is only 4 paragraphs, and it is beautifully, wonderfully written. The ‘Poor Joshua!’ paragraph is the most famous, but I return again and again to the passage Justice Blackmun quotes from Stone’s Law, Psychiatry and Morality, and particularly the line “What is required of us is moral ambition.”

(I learned about the case and Blackmun’s dissent through the podcast 5-4, which is both excellent, and a good antidote to growing up in the shadow of the Warren Court, as I did. The Supreme Court has always sucked, it turns out. Seriously, it’s one of my favorite Supreme Court podcasts and I subscribe to, um, a lot.)

I read Brutes in about two sittings, it was so good. What a wonderful book about the horror of being a teenage girl, and I mean that in the best possible way. I loved it.

I finished, appropriately enough, Ned Boulting’s 1923 which is a beautiful book about the Tour de France and the nearly-forgotten Theo Beeckmann, and about the covid pandemic and history and tracking people and places down through time. I am an enormous fan of Ned (and David and Pete for any other Never Strays Far fans), and although this book very rarely pushes just a touch into bathos, it is mostly beautiful and wonderful and I’m glad he wrote it and I’m glad I read it.

(I finished it on June 30th, which is rather an important day in the book so I’m proud of my timing too.)

I also read A Half-Built Garden which I have a lot of very complex emotions about. I don’t know if I liked it, but I like how it made me react and think and feel and get grumpy. I’m not even sure it’s all that great, but it sure did make me think.

I finished Fintan O’Toole’s massive We Don’t Know Ourselves about Ireland in the last 50-odd years. It is very good, and sometimes very hard to read (he pulls no punches regarding either the IRA or the Christian Brothers) and I’m glad I read it.

I also finished Secrets Typed in Blood, the third of the Pentecost and Parker mysteries. It starts off the weakest (or maybe I was just in a Mood), but it is, as ever, a good, quick, satisfying mystery.

I read Elizabeth Kilcoyne’s Wake the Bones which I loved – I normally prefer a bit more gothic in my Southern horror, but the very end especially is the most incredible reveal. I could not stand the protagonist and I still liked the book, that’s how good it is.

I also read Scorched Grace, which is apparently first in a series about a crime-solving nun. It’s written as a hardboiled noir and, yep, that’s what it is, which means it’s also not good, but it’s supposed to be kind of hacky, so it works? It’s *gruesome*, but I liked it well enough, I think noir just really isn’t for me.

Oh, and I guess I’m on an Irish lit kick because I read Foster (more a novella than a novel), which I found pretty meh, tbh.

I keep starting new books and I’m now in the middle of at least two Giant Tomes, oops. I did finish Saltwater by Jessica Andrews which is better than the Kirkus review it got! It didn’t, like, change my life but it was good reliving being at Uni in the UK and also I enjoyed it, all I ask of a book.

The Wee Free Men by Terry Pratchett: umpteenth re-read, a perfect book. I have beautiful editions of all the Tiffany books now, and hope to slowly make my way through them.

Red Shift by Alan Garner: I was heartened to learn that this is one of his most difficult books; I will be honest that I struggled, but it’s lingered in me, and I hope to re-read it many more times and keep untangling it. It is very, very good.

Hons and Rebels by Jessica Mitford: I’ve been meaning to read this for ages, and it didn’t disappoint in the least. I’m fascinated by the Mitford sisters, and this is such a good peek into them.

It also really drives home how unutterably boring a landed-gentry upbringing was.

Trust by Hernan Diaz: ok you know how people win Oscars nominally for some meh role, but it’s clearly really for an older role that they were overlooked for? That is this book and the Pulitzer, when In the Distance probably should have won. It was fine, but I was kind of underwhelmed. Next time I’ll just read some Wharton.

DNF on Upright Women Wanted which I wanted to love very much and absolutely hated. Next time I’ll just re-read Whiskey When We’re Dry.

I did finish Murder Under Her Skin, the second of the Pentecost and Parker mysteries. It was great fun and a very good mystery and I am excited for the next one.

I finished All the Beauty in the World, the memoir of a Met Museum guard. I have an almost guilty fondness for the Met; it really should not exist, but I love it, and I loved reading this very much. I do miss easy access to world-class museums :/

I also read Michelle Tea’s Against Memoir, which has the best fucking essay of all time about the SF girl gang HAGS, but really I loved the whole thing. I’ve become an absolutely massive Michelle Tea fangirl and use her tarot book all the time and just ugh, I can’t wait to get more of her stuff.

I just finished Elie Mystal’s Allow Me to Retort: A Black Guy’s Guide to the Constitution. Mystal is incredibly funny and smart and is an amazing Twitter follow if you are still on the bird hellsite. It is easy to think that funny writing is unserious, but this is deeply serious, and is a very good argument for pretty much a new Constitution that wasn’t written by enslavers. Also now I finally understand what substantive due process is, and what the difference is from procedural due process. (I also grasp the ninth and tenth amendments a little better too.) Anyway – really, if you are at all interesting in con law, or how much the Supreme Court sucks, or how broken a document the Constitution is while containing seeds of a better document, I deeply recommend this.

I finished The Care and Feeding of Waspish Widows, and continue to very much enjoy Olivia Waite! This is *not* an nice, fizzy romance – the romance is, honestly, a pretty small part of the plot, and that’s not knocking it one bit. It’s queer and scary and very good. I definitely would be okay going back to a fluffy romance soon, but I’m glad I read this.

I also finished The Return of the King and words fail me, honestly. It’s been so long since I read the trilogy, but I truly cannot wait to re-read it; Tolkien is so much better than what came after, and it’s been good to re-learn that. The battle of Pelennor Fields is the scariest thing I’ve ever read. I have discovered four new emotions. I cried at the end. I mean, *you* sum that book up! (I have precisely zero desire to watch any of the new shows and whatever else comes out; the original trilogy was lightening in a bottle, and I will keep my memories warm and good, tbh.)

I finished Square Haunting, about women writers between the war and Mecklenburgh Square. It was quite good and interesting, and it was nice to build on the writers I already knew about (pretty much just Dorothy L. Sayers and Woolf), and learn about Eileen Power and just…that whole London set. I don’t know if tons of it will stick with me, but I’m pleased I read it.

Remembering Denny, by Calvin Trillin. It’s about a classmate of his from Yale, and about how people change and show different sides of themselves, about being gay pre-Stonewall and about the Silent Generation. It is very, very good. (Also FULL of people! Larry Kramer shows up at one point! And early on there’s some stuff that unexpectedly linked to my own life which was just WEIRD and kind of wonderful too.) I love Calvin Trillin so much.

Fortune Favors the Dead, an excellent little queer noir mystery, I am excited to read the next one.

The Hollow Places, I really love T. Kingfisher, love a good quick horror read. This hit a lot of the same beats as The Twisted Ones, which isn’t a strike against it, but I’m hoping for something new with the next book. Still, A++++++++ landscape horror.

I read Women Talking which was…fine? It was okay, I wasn’t blown away I have to say.

I read Hérnan Díaz’ In the Distance which I truly ought to have hated, and I don’t know if I *liked* it, but it’s going to stick with me a long time. It’s a Western, kind of. It’s dreamy, and violent, and lovely.

DNF on Charlie Brown’s America: the Popular Politics of Peanuts. There is a great book to be written on this topic. It is not this book, which quickly proved unreadable.

And I finished The Lady’s Guide to Celestial Mechanics which was fun and lovely and a nice fizzy romance, especially after In the Distance, lol. I’ll def read the next books in the series!

I have been reading at a good clip! Let’s see, I finished Briefly, A Delicious Life by Nell Stevens which is about a ghost and George Sand and Chopin and making decisions and it was so joyful and so lovely and very queer. I re-read Lauren Groff’s Matrix and loved it even more the second time; I was able to snag a signed hardback copy from a friend and I’m delighted to own it because the book itself is beautiful, and it’s a dreamy read. And finally I read Calvin Trillin’s The Tummy Trilogy which is a collection of his three books that collect his food writings. These essays are glorious, hilarious, charming, a celebration of good food and good eating and regional food. I will say, though, that the final book is really by far the weakest, and I will skip it in future; the first two books are perfection. (FYI, if you do pick this up, and I really recommend it, note that he was writing in the 70′s and they are a bit of their time, but in a way that is good-humoured at least.) I’ve also got his Remembering Denny and I’m really excited to read that soon.

I finished Times Square Red, Times Square Blue and enormously enjoyed the first essay about Delany’s time in the porn theatres of Times Square. It’s character sketches and talking about how people meet and relate, and I loved it. The second essay is vastly denser and more theoretical, and I will be honest most of it went over my head. I liked most of what I grasped, although his plan for how to end catcalling of women is…certainly there.

I also read Kate Beaton’s Ducks in basically one sitting and it’s so, so good. It’s much sadder and harder than I thought it would be, but it’s worth reading.

I read Bad Land because Jonathan Raban died last week, and I am absolutely gutted. He was a magnificent writer and Bad Land was so good and so rich and a bit funny, and it got me up in my feelings as I read about him driving over the pass into Seattle, following the trail of Montanans, while I was flying into Seattle (and then going north through the rain). It’s so, so good, and I will miss Raban so much.

I also finished The Two Towers, about which I can only say that it’s kind of a weird bridge book, but it has some of the best and loveliest lines and also jesus I can’t write a review of Lord of the Rings, it holds up, ok?

I finished Bill Bryson’s 1927, his history of a fairly amazing year in American history. The occasional fatphobic jokes were…weird and not funny, but the man can write a good popular history book. It was my airport reading coming back from the east coast, and very good airport reading it was.

I finished Homewaters, which is a gorgeous book about the natural and human history of the Puget sound region, and I loved it. It’s not the fastest-paced book going, but it’s a fantastic history and goes into the biodiversity of the area, and I’m so glad I got it.

I also read A Prayer for the Crown-Shy in one sitting on an airplane. I did not glom onto the Monk and Robot books as much as I thought I would, but I liked this a lot, and found it really lovely. I hope very much that there will be others.

Finally, last night I finished reading Shadowlands: A Journey Through Britain’s Lost Cities and Vanished Villages. Some chapters are better than others (or maybe I was just more awake?) – I found the chapters on Skara Brae and St. Kilda genuinely riveting, but still don’t quite remember what happened at Old Winchelsea, for example. The last chapter, on Capel Celyn, was startlingly hard to read; I have mostly left my time in Wales in the past. Not in a bad way, but there’s no point in it being in my daily life, but it was much more painful to read about my once-home than I thought it would be. (It’s also just an absolutely gutting story.)

#weekly update #sort of

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ladychandraofthemoone · 2 years ago

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I posted 6,901 times in 2022

That's 3,092 more posts than 2021!

38 posts created (1%)

6,863 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@sodor-spirit

@pcktknife

@putuponpercy

@projectanimations

@c-rose2081

I tagged 6,898 of my posts in 2022

#ttte - 2,621 posts

#humanization - 1,919 posts

#ttte humanized - 1,897 posts

#encanto - 993 posts

#pokemon - 714 posts

#monster high - 690 posts

#mh - 676 posts

#fashion - 452 posts

#miraculous - 420 posts

#video - 398 posts

Longest Tag: 129 characters

#plus luisa would bond with a murdoch expy over their strength and that murdoch class is the last to be built before dieselazation

My Top Posts in 2022:

✨THE GIRLS R GOSSIPING ✨

I adore @himynameiscosmopathy08 Art like her Lily so much, I had just had to draw her interacting with my Lily. They’ll be besties despite the AU differences. (My Lily gifted her the fan.)

🎭Nothing speaks better than trading each other secrets,working shenanigans & family drama with your cousin 🎭

““Oh my gosh, your Colin crashed into houses!?”

““He did. He may be gago sometimes but he’s not reckless or crazy.”

“What about your Adam? Are you two close?”

“Not anymore I’m afraid. I’m assuming your Adam didn’t try to attack you.”

““HE DID WHAT?!”

12 notes - Posted December 9, 2022

Some crovan can’t communicate doodles, been watching Komi can’t communicate and Edward’s Ally both I highly recommend watching and decided to make a au, since this is how much my verison of crovan would work ‘Like the show, crovan doesn’t speak or talk, but instead of being seen as husbando he’s seen as weird or how the sudrians like that he doesn’t say anything mean but are kinda unnerved by his stare and the fact her appears out of nowhere sometimes without making a sound but he isn’t been mean like Gordon or Alfred

He and Alfred aren’t friends or anything more like crovan avoiding Alfred like the plague and can’t be in the same room as him cause Alfred basically bullied him like the rest of the coworkers of his former railway, harassing and tormenting him then Alfred takes it far by stating something asking to him liking that crovan is quite since he was annoying and other mean words so it results in crovan being absolutely terrified of how others would respond and think of him. Alfred has the absolute gall of complaining that crovan doesn’t talk to anyone. Geez I wonder why 😒

So instead this results as a response to trauma inside of a communication disorder since his anxiety stems from feared of being laughed and mocked for everything he did. Edward like the video helps out with crovan coming out of his shell revealing the scared lonely soul underneath. They’ve become pretty protective of one another with Edward defending crovan with words while crovan defends him with glares and intimidation though he can’t defend himself but it’s ok the squad coming to protect and whoop kick beat them.

So now he kinda trails around edward and is pretty much a scary bodyguard and sorta ends up in a friend group with Edward Henry Thomas and eagle (and later percy Boco bill and Ben, the last two forming a mini protection squad with trying to help crovan talk, although one time it ends with crovan in tears and edward’s scolding them (mostly bill and Ben who were very apologetic). He’s one of the few they don’t play pranks or tricks on, knowing of his past.)

his design is slightly inspired by the wonderful fabulous @projectanimations since they have a lovely design for crovan while edwards is basically a mashup of every Edward design I liked though that’s still a WiP

15 notes - Posted September 10, 2022

HERE’S MORE NARROW GAUGE GALS!! Quick sketch on Millie, who I based off of Undine Wells from Sleepless Domain, hence the pose and hairstyle. Then here her (the pose is from the concept art from The Princess and the Dressmaker) with Adeline, I’mma put her and that one Addy photo I did together very soon.

Here’s the references I used and copied in case anyone’s interested (I’m hoping it’s alright):

See the full post

17 notes - Posted December 28, 2022

Here are my final designs of @c-rose2081 kiddos, I love them so much, I’ll die 4 them ok!!! Fyi, this is my interpretation on what they would look like, it’s not canon and I’m so sorry it’s so rusty, I’ve been practicing. Most designs are based on concept art of Encanto:

Character notes and random hcs that are not true so you can just ignore me:

✨Bianca I saw as a bit of a girly tomboy with her messy braid with flower designs on her skirt, yes she look somewhat like a young Pepa but she isn’t 😅, her right leg is suppose to be lifted up but now I gave her a bit of a limp. Besides Mirabel she’s the big sister of the group! Her hearts big and she likes to take care of everyone when Mira isn’t there and she’s one of the stronger kids, being sporty as she plays soccer. There’s a 90% chance you’ll get punched if you sneak up behind her but she will apologize quickly, she’s plays in her skirts and dresses and does not mind getting messy, hence her blouse

✨Pablos I gave him bandages and cuts as he does get into fights and is quite reckless but is proud of them with people fearing him since it will protect his siblings, bullies (who teased them, mostly Bianca due to her limp and Adrianne for her vitiligo) now somewhat fear him, I added the bull patch on his jacket that he still wears alongside some dirt patterns and patches, besides his new clothes, he will still get them a bit ripped up and dirty with his tiny fishing knife.

✨Juan and Hernandez I gave them opposite colors from the wheel or in my case, both from Bash and Dash despite their personalities reminding me of Bill and Ben with them finishing each other sentences or arguing or just being together since they simply latched on to one another having a somewhat similar appearance , they happily consider each other to be twins and get along very well with Antonio.

✨Adrianne is a bit of a girly girl, I gave her vitiligo and like Pablos she has freckles, with fair hair of many shades in blonde but she’s very proud of who she is, mostly cause she’s confident thanks to her big sis Mirabel which is why people stopped messing with her as she will sass back (gives me Marie kitty vibes) besides her brother Pablos will fight them and very empathetic despite sounding stern about it she’s still a kid ok, I love her) so I gave her Isabela’s old concept art with the flower designs and color plus Isa’s old hairstyle

✨Elena is as quiet as a mouse for her age, with her dress color coming from AG Cecile/Addy Walker and also from Dolores with the different shades of red with the music notes even though you can really see it coming from something you can hear and I love the hc that Dolores hears Mariano sing and as a result can hum and softly sing to her, mostly lullabies and later Mariano does it for her, plus i said i wanted to give her afro-puffs, ruffles and bows, she’s a cutie

Either way, I love them all and I hope you like my rambles and art 😊

39 notes - Posted January 31, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Here are my interpretation of what @c-rose2081‘a children from their fic Guiding Light might look like. LET ME JUST SAY THEY ARE ALL ABSOLUTE CUTIES EVEN IF IT’S UP TO READERS INTERPETION ON WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE BUT I WILL DIE FOR THEM OK!!! I love them!! 😢☹️(❁´◡`❁)(●'◡'●)(❁´◡`❁)(┬┬﹏┬┬)╰(*°▽°*)╯

Highly recommend reading the story, it’s so beautiful 🤩. Just you’ll know the height difference is totally different cause I suck at that 🥲 I’ll fix it in the final design but they remind me a lot of my train kiddos, maybe they’ll be friends

* I imagined Elena in a dress to look like Dolores/Mariano fankid, I wouldn’t done her hair in afro puffs with bows which just left me 🥰✨ but I forget, maybe in the final design she has a blanket I would’ve done a toy 🧸 but I didn’t know what kind of animal

* For Juan and Hernandez, they remind me a lot of human ttte Bash/Dash and Bill/Ben designs so they are suppose to look like twins but also not really, Juan wears overalls with a striped diamonds shirt underneath while Hernandez wears striped suspenders and a shirt with u like designs on it, both wear scarves like Camilo’s concept art, with Hernandez being the more quieter, silent of the two

* Pablos is taller than them and the twins they‘re short ok, think Antonio height and I still see Pablos as the one who still get named up and be proud of his cuts, scraps and bruises, hence his rather raggard appearance even though he got new clothes but I forget his jacket but I’m figuring out the bull pose

* Adrianne looks up to Isabela so I imagined her like the village kids with braids to allude to Isa’s before she changed it with some flowers on her shirt and skirt

*Bianca is the second tallest and I know she looks like a young Pepa but she isn’t and doesn’t mind getting dirty and a bit sporty as well so I added that in the final design, she has curlier hair in a braid, she reminds me a lot of my human Molly design

✨ from skin tone I added some colored pencil but to a bit of imagination Elena is somewhere akin to Dolores/Mariano, Bianca’s is akin to Antonio/Felix/Alejandra, Adrianne I see as somewhat fair-skinned thanks to her hair being a fair color, maybe around Pepa/Cecilia the ‘twins’ are roughly the same except Juan has more freckles and wavy/curlier hair than Hernandez, who look like Antonio concept art, Pablos look somewhat like Camilo’s old concept art which is most of the inspiration alongside them trains gijinkas

But in all seriousness These characters belong to @c-rose2081 please check their tumblr out, they’re incredibly talented with many aus 🤩💖✨

44 notes - Posted January 28, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #tumblr review #tumblr year in review #ooh nice 😊#i take this very much thank you ☺️

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j-graysonlibrary · 1 year ago

Text

The Xiang Chronicles: Book Four Chapter 29

Title: The Xiang Chronicles: Book Four

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 118k

Genres: Fantasy, adventure, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website

Synopsis: In order to save the world from the continuous subjugation and potential annihilation at the hands of Tiandi, hard lines must be drawn. The Great Spirits that were imprisoned ages ago must be unsealed and awakened, no matter the consequences.

The players are divided—those who stand blindly with Tiandi, such as Xiang Merra and her disciples versus those who want to tear the system down and give the power back to the people. Even a few of the most religious Lords change their minds when they learn the truth of the world—that Tiandi is no more than a dictator with no love in his heart.

It is up to the last, real Xiang and the ill-fated Chaaya to put everything they have into tearing God from his throne and creating new possibilities for the future.

Full chapter 29 under the cut

Chapter XXIX:

With the most important parts of the last days’ events out of the way, Kira made himself a little more comfortable on his side. Thankfully, Raine had removed his armor so that he, too, could get comfortable on the bed. His robe was the same deep blue color, an insistence on Kira’s part when Gong had gone out to grab some extra clothes for the group.

The shade brought out his eyes. Those dark blue irises would reflect some of the richer hues of the robe and, at the risk of seeming too poetic, Kira felt his eyes looked like the deepest parts of the ocean. The part that sits at the horizon, so far in the distance, it looks impossible to reach.

He also appreciated, for much more basic reasons, the fact that the robe was a little short on Raine. For most people, it would probably end at around the knees but, because of his height, it touched his mid-thighs.

Kira drummed his fingers along the hem, flipping the bottom up occasionally to poke underneath. It did not elicit any real response save a couple of eye flickers.

“So, do you think Viren is going to be okay?” Raine asked at the end of the story. He rested his head against his hand, using his elbow to prop himself up.

Kira looked up at him and gave the question some thought.

Viren was not the only one with a connection to a Great Spirit but he was the only one physically affected. May and Fujin were a great pair to compare to since they had been bonded with Sylph for around two weeks. Nothing had changed with them and neither stated that they felt drained or sluggish. Kira could assume it was the same for Heidi and for King Raime.

Gnome had presented his link differently as well. Sylph and Undine had not said they would be “residing” in any of their summoners but Gnome had made a point of it and, more than that, they had seen his essence travel into Viren—into his chest.

So, it was difficult to say. Would there be long term effects of their arrangement? Maybe, but Kira had no way of knowing that for sure. None of them did.

What he did have some insight on, however, was the miasma he saw go into the man that he could not remove. Out of everything, that concerned him the most though he was unsure if he should even mention it. Without there being a solution in sight, it felt needlessly cruel to bring attention to another problem.

He decided in his mind and in that moment that, if he noticed Viren’s health deteriorating further, he would talk to him and, from there, they could discuss what to do, who to tell, and how to handle it.

Kira bit down on his lip as he fought for how to parse his thoughts without worrying Raine. It came a little too late, however.

“I do not love the huge pause,” Raine said with a frown.

It might not have been the most appropriate response but Kira laughed. “Sorry,” he responded and then sighed. “I was just…wondering how to actually answer. Because I don’t especially know.”

“No?”

“No.” Kira glanced up, toward the ceiling. “We do not know how Great Spirits affect mortals. This is new to everyone.”

Raine’s frown deepened. “I suppose that is true.” After another lull he took a deep breath. “I guess I had just hoped you would know…”

“Why would I?”

“You know a lot of things.”

Kira snickered. “What?”

Raine, however, furrowed his brow and became far more serious. “You are very smart. You know a lot that I do not and…you are clever so, even if you did not know for sure, I had thought you might have figured out some connection or answer. At least a theory or two.”

“You,” Kira said, pointing a finger at his face, close to his nose, “Give me too much credit.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“…Do not.” Raine narrowed his eyes.

Kira pushed his finger forward, making contact with the tip of his nose. He added a small, “boop” noise and then wildly changed the direction of the conversation. “So, in case you had not pieced it together or, rather, you had not thought of it with everything else going on…I was right. Gnome did not choose me so we are alone and unwanted together.”

Raine was so taken aback by the shift that he laughed. “Yeah….well, you did not want it, if I recall.”

“Did you really want to form a link with Undine?” Kira raised an eyebrow, letting his suspicions be known.

With a crooked frown, Raine grumbled, “Kind of.”

“Raine.”

“What?” he dropped his hand and leaned forward, both giving his shoulder a rest from the previous position and getting a better look at Kira. “Do you not believe me?”

“I believe you might have wanted the cool power, or what you imagined it could be, but after actually seeing her…” Kira laughed a little. “Did your opinion not change?”

He shrugged and tilted his head to the side. “Maybe? I mean…she did seem rather clingy.”

That got a much louder laugh out of Kira. “Don’t let Shakti hear you say that.”

“Well, do not tell her.” Raine smiled.

Kira used the leverage from his elbow to lift himself up and close the gap between them, planting a short lived but firm kiss on his lover. As he settled back down he said, “Anyway, we are alone together. The non-chosen of the Great Spirits. And, for the record, in case you forgot, Pangu was not chosen either.”

The side of Raine’s mouth twitched as he clearly held back a smile. “Neither was Kaz.”

“Neither was Kaz,” Kira repeated with a chuckle.

With a little more readjustment, Raine hovered over the top of him, just near enough so their foreheads touched. “Who do you think will be chosen by Salamander?”

“Probably not Baiya,” Kira said, still snickering. “Probably Phay.”

“Phay does make the most sense considering how things have gone so far,” Raine agreed and settled his hand on Kira’s stomach. He pulled at the fabric, rising but then letting it fall back. “Are you happy for all of this running around to finally be at a close?”

“Yes,” Kira replied without even having to think about it. “I know I joke about going out for snacks, which I have done, by the way, but some of these trips feel especially taxing. Then I have to use miasma to actually break the seals.”

“How much energy does that cost anyway?”

“Not too much,” he said with a smile, hoping to ease any serious worries away. In truth, it did leave him feeling fatigued after each time but not so severely that he could not take everyone back through a portal. And, if no one could tell so far then he was doing a good job concealing it.

Raine did not respond right away and his fingers, pulling and releasing the fabric of Kira’s tunic, moved to pull the shirt up. Underneath was Kira’s pale skin and several blotches of black, miasma poisoning. He traced a finger along one stretch in particular.

“This is new…”

Kira frowned and reached down to take his hand away but he was captured in the process. Raine brought his hand closer to inspect it, looking for any other dark areas or new spots.

“I know it looks bad…” he tried to dissuade him.

“I worry, you know,” Raine whispered before kissing alongside his knuckles.

There was something about the gesture—the softness of it or the sincere look on Raine’s face—Kira was not precisely sure what it was but his throat went tight. His eyesight blurred and he feared he could not contain himself for much longer.

The harder he tried to fight back the tears, the more they wanted to slip out.

Of course, Raine caught the first one. “What is it?” he asked, just as tender as before.

Kira almost wanted to yell, to curse him out for being so sweet even if that made no sense. His chest swelled with both love and pain. He wanted it to stop and pushing Raine away, he felt, was the only option.

But he did not act right away. He sat in those uncomfortable emotions for just a bit longer and, after a moment, a few more tears came.

With a sharp inhale, Kira said what he had been holding back for a long time, what he had hoped to never say, and what he fully anticipated Raine to never know until it was too late.

“I’m dying, Raine…”

The look of horror on his face was enough to make Kira regret his decision immediately but then his eyes glassed over and he frowned.

“What…what do you mean…?” Raine gulped and blinked a few extra times, clearly trying to fight tears of his own.

Kira gave a dry laugh as a couple of salty trails ran down the sides of his face. “The miasma…I contain it better than most people but it’s still…” he took a shaking breath and then continued, “There is only so much I can take. It will catch up to me eventually and, some days, I feel it is coming sooner rather than later.”

Silence persisted and Raine looked all over his face, his eyes bouncing about as his mind whirred. The news, while not technically surprising, was still like a searing blade to the chest.

“How long have you known?”

That was hard to say, Kira realized. If he wanted to be completely truthful, he had known something was wrong with him since he first made contact with Kali. Since he was first made Chaaya. His body had not been the same since and he had felt a lingering sickness in him.

From then, it became easy to ignore with everything else going on and it was not until Pangu’s death that it became an issue again. For a time, Kira had even started to believe he was curing himself by responsibly using the miasma build up.

But he had just been fooling himself. It became evident after the first few months of working directly under Shakti. His body would never return to the state it was in before he was made a Chaaya and, the more he used the power, the closer to death it would bring him.

“A while,” he whispered after a moment, “It was part of the reason I did not want to rejoin the group at first. Not only had I felt undeserving to be with you all but…but I knew I did not have much longer. Better for you to let me pass in indifference or even hatred than for you to mourn me.”

Raine’s brows pinched together and he countered, “That is a horrible way to think! Even if you had tried to make us hate you, we never would have. I never could…”

“I know.” Kira sighed and tried to turn his face, hiding himself in the sheets. But, naturally, Raine would not let him and pushed him flat onto his back. He cradled his face and wiped some of the stray tears away. “I know,” Kira repeated then said, “I do not think that anymore. I was just being dramatic…really…I…”

The full realization must have hit Raine all at once since he broke—a strained cry cracked out of his throat and a few of his tears fell, landing on Kira’s cheeks and sliding down. His forehead met Kira’s and his shoulders began to shake as his sobs came quietly.

It was what Kira had been wanting to avoid. Yet, he could not deny the strange sense of happiness that came with Raine’s reaction. Despite hurting him so badly, this was proof of how much he was loved.

He just wished he could revel in it for longer.

His arms wrapped around Raine’s back, against his shoulders, and he pulled him closer so they were flush against each other. “I am sorry,” he whispered and hugged him tight, “but do not tell anyone. I am not ready…I….”

Raine nodded, as best he could, and then responded, “Will you tell them? When you…”

“When it gets really bad, yes.” He took to brushing through Raine’s hair with one of his hands.

Some of the crying slowed, or, at least, the sobs were no longer so violent. Raine asked, “Do you know how long you have?”

Kira paused for a long while, his hands absentmindedly moving on their own, petting and rubbing. He started to frown as he realized he truly had no clue, just that it was imminent. “No,” he muttered, “Sorry…”

Raine did not respond, he just held on tighter.

#the xiang chronicles #my novel #my writing

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hellsitesonlybookclub · 2 years ago

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Little Women, Louisa May Alcott

Chapter 22-23

XXII.

PLEASANT MEADOWS.

Like sunshine after storm were the peaceful weeks which followed. The invalids improved rapidly, and Mr. March began to talk of returning early in the new year. Beth was soon able to lie on the study sofa all day, amusing herself with the well-beloved cats, at first, and, in time, with doll's sewing, which had fallen sadly behindhand. Her once active limbs were so stiff and feeble that Jo took her a daily airing about the house in her strong arms. Meg cheerfully blackened and burnt her white hands cooking delicate messes for "the dear;" while Amy, a loyal slave of the ring, celebrated her return by giving away as many of her treasures as she could prevail on her sisters to accept.

As Christmas approached, the usual mysteries began to haunt the house, and Jo frequently convulsed the family by proposing utterly impossible or magnificently absurd ceremonies, in honor of this unusually merry Christmas. Laurie was equally impracticable, and 270 would have had bonfires, sky-rockets, and triumphal arches, if he had had his own way. After many skirmishes and snubbings, the ambitious pair were considered effectually quenched, and went about with forlorn faces, which were rather belied by explosions of laughter when the two got together.

Several days of unusually mild weather fitly ushered in a splendid Christmas Day. Hannah "felt in her bones" that it was going to be an unusually fine day, and she proved herself a true prophetess, for everybody and everything seemed bound to produce a grand success. To begin with, Mr. March wrote that he should soon be with them; then Beth felt uncommonly well that morning, and, being dressed in her mother's gift,—a soft crimson merino wrapper,—was borne in triumph to the window to behold the offering of Jo and Laurie. The Unquenchables had done their best to be worthy of the name, for, like elves, they had worked by night, and conjured up a comical surprise. Out in the garden stood a stately snow-maiden, crowned with holly, bearing a basket of fruit and flowers in one hand, a great roll of new music in the other, a perfect rainbow of an Afghan round her chilly shoulders, and a Christmas carol issuing from her lips, on a pink paper streamer:—

"THE JUNGFRAU TO BETH.

"God bless you, dear Queen Bess!

May nothing you dismay,

But health and peace and happiness

Be yours, this Christmas Day.

"Here's fruit to feed our busy bee,

And flowers for her nose;

Here's music for her pianee,

An Afghan for her toes.

"A portrait of Joanna, see,

By Raphael No. 2,

Who labored with great industry

To make it fair and true.

271 "Accept a ribbon red, I beg,

For Madam Purrer's tail;

And ice-cream made by lovely Peg,—

A Mont Blanc in a pail.

"Their dearest love my makers laid

Within my breast of snow:

Accept it, and the Alpine maid,

From Laurie and from Jo."

How Beth laughed when she saw it, how Laurie ran up and down to bring in the gifts, and what ridiculous speeches Jo made as she presented them!

"I'm so full of happiness, that, if father was only here, I couldn't hold one drop more," said Beth, quite sighing with contentment as Jo carried her off to the study to rest after the excitement, and to refresh herself with some of the delicious grapes the "Jungfrau" had sent her.

272 "So am I," added Jo, slapping the pocket wherein reposed the long-desired Undine and Sintram.

"I'm sure I am," echoed Amy, poring over the engraved copy of the Madonna and Child, which her mother had given her, in a pretty frame.

"Of course I am!" cried Meg, smoothing the silvery folds of her first silk dress; for Mr. Laurence had insisted on giving it.

"How can I be otherwise?" said Mrs. March gratefully, as her eyes went from her husband's letter to Beth's smiling face, and her hand caressed the brooch made of gray and golden, chestnut and dark brown hair, which the girls had just fastened on her breast.

Now and then, in this work-a-day world, things do happen in the delightful story-book fashion, and what a comfort that is. Half an hour after every one had said they were so happy they could only hold one drop more, the drop came. Laurie opened the parlor door, and popped his head in very quietly. He might just as well have turned a somersault and uttered an Indian war-whoop; for his face was so full of suppressed excitement and his voice so treacherously joyful, that every one jumped up, though he only said, in a queer, breathless voice, "Here's another Christmas present for the March family."

Before the words were well out of his mouth, he was whisked away somehow, and in his place appeared a tall man, muffled up to the eyes, leaning on the arm of another tall man, who tried to say something and couldn't. Of course there was a general stampede; and for several minutes everybody seemed to lose their wits, for the strangest things were done, and no one said a word. Mr. March became invisible in the embrace of four pairs of loving arms; Jo disgraced herself by nearly fainting away, and had to be doctored by Laurie in the china-closet; Mr. Brooke kissed Meg entirely by mistake, as he somewhat incoherently explained; and Amy, the dignified, tumbled over a stool, and, never stopping to get up, hugged and cried over her father's boots in the most touching manner. Mrs. March was the first to recover herself, and held up her hand with a warning, "Hush! remember Beth!"

But it was too late; the study door flew open, the little red wrapper 273 appeared on the threshold,—joy put strength into the feeble limbs,—and Beth ran straight into her father's arms. Never mind what happened just after that; for the full hearts overflowed, washing away the bitterness of the past, and leaving only the sweetness of the present.

It was not at all romantic, but a hearty laugh set everybody straight again, for Hannah was discovered behind the door, sobbing over the fat turkey, which she had forgotten to put down when she rushed up from the kitchen. As the laugh subsided, Mrs. March began to thank Mr. Brooke for his faithful care of her husband, at which Mr. Brooke suddenly remembered that Mr. March needed rest, and, seizing Laurie, he precipitately retired. Then the two invalids were ordered to repose, which they did, by both sitting in one big chair, and talking hard.

Mr. March told how he had longed to surprise them, and how, when the fine weather came, he had been allowed by his doctor to take advantage of it; how devoted Brooke had been, and how he was altogether a most estimable and upright young man. Why Mr. March paused a minute just there, and, after a glance at Meg, who was violently poking the fire, looked at his wife with an inquiring lift of the eyebrows, I leave you to imagine; also why Mrs. March gently nodded her head, and asked, rather abruptly, if he wouldn't have something to eat. Jo saw and understood the look; and she stalked grimly away to get wine and beef-tea, muttering to herself, as she slammed the door, "I hate estimable young men with brown eyes!"

There never was such a Christmas dinner as they had that day. The fat turkey was a sight to behold, when Hannah sent him up, stuffed, browned, and decorated; so was the plum-pudding, which quite melted in one's mouth; likewise the jellies, in which Amy revelled like a fly in a honey-pot. Everything turned out well, which was a mercy, Hannah said, "For my mind was that flustered, mum, that it's a merrycle I didn't roast the pudding, and stuff the turkey with raisins, let alone bilin' of it in a cloth."

Mr. Laurence and his grandson dined with them, also Mr. Brooke,—at whom Jo glowered darkly, to Laurie's infinite amusement. Two easy-chairs stood side by side at the head of the table, 274 in which sat Beth and her father, feasting modestly on chicken and a little fruit. They drank healths, told stories, sung songs, "reminisced," as the old folks say, and had a thoroughly good time. A sleigh-ride had been planned, but the girls would not leave their father; so the guests departed early, and, as twilight gathered, the happy family sat together round the fire.

"Just a year ago we were groaning over the dismal Christmas we expected to have. Do you remember?" asked Jo, breaking a short pause which had followed a long conversation about many things.

"Rather a pleasant year on the whole!" said Meg, smiling at the fire, and congratulating herself on having treated Mr. Brooke with dignity.

"I think it's been a pretty hard one," observed Amy, watching the light shine on her ring, with thoughtful eyes.

"I'm glad it's over, because we've got you back," whispered Beth, who sat on her father's knee.

"Rather a rough road for you to travel, my little pilgrims, especially the latter part of it. But you have got on bravely; and I think the burdens are in a fair way to tumble off very soon," said Mr. March, looking with fatherly satisfaction at the four young faces gathered round him.

"How do you know? Did mother tell you?" asked Jo.

"Not much; straws show which way the wind blows, and I've made several discoveries to-day."

"Oh, tell us what they are!" cried Meg, who sat beside him.

"Here is one;" and taking up the hand which lay on the arm of his chair, he pointed to the roughened forefinger, a burn on the back, and two or three little hard spots on the palm. "I remember a time when this hand was white and smooth, and your first care was to keep it so. It was very pretty then, but to me it is much prettier now,—for in these seeming blemishes I read a little history. A burnt-offering has been made of vanity; this hardened palm has earned something better than blisters; and I'm sure the sewing done by these pricked fingers will last a long time, so much good-will went into the stitches. Meg, my dear, I value the womanly skill which keeps home happy more than white hands or fashionable accomplishments. 275 I'm proud to shake this good, industrious little hand, and hope I shall not soon be asked to give it away."

If Meg had wanted a reward for hours of patient labor, she received it in the hearty pressure of her father's hand and the approving smile he gave her.

"What about Jo? Please say something nice; for she has tried so hard, and been so very, very good to me," said Beth, in her father's ear.

He laughed, and looked across at the tall girl who sat opposite, with an unusually mild expression in her brown face.

"In spite of the curly crop, I don't see the 'son Jo' whom I left a year ago," said Mr. March. "I see a young lady who pins her collar straight, laces her boots neatly, and neither whistles, talks slang, nor lies on the rug as she used to do. Her face is rather thin and pale, just now, with watching and anxiety; but I like to look at it, for it has grown gentler, and her voice is lower; she doesn't bounce, but moves quietly, and takes care of a certain little person in a motherly way which delights me. I rather miss my wild girl; but if I get a strong, helpful, tender-hearted woman in her place, I shall feel quite satisfied. I don't know whether the shearing sobered our black sheep, but I do know that in all Washington I couldn't find anything beautiful enough to be bought with the five-and-twenty dollars which my good girl sent me."

Jo's keen eyes were rather dim for a minute, and her thin face grew rosy in the firelight, as she received her father's praise, feeling that she did deserve a portion of it.

"Now Beth," said Amy, longing for her turn, but ready to wait.

"There's so little of her, I'm afraid to say much, for fear she will slip away altogether, though she is not so shy as she used to be," began their father cheerfully; but recollecting how nearly he had lost her, he held her close, saying tenderly, with her cheek against his own, "I've got you safe, my Beth, and I'll keep you so, please God."

After a minute's silence, he looked down at Amy, who sat on the cricket at his feet, and said, with a caress of the shining hair,—

"I observed that Amy took drumsticks at dinner, ran errands for her mother all the afternoon, gave Meg her place to-night, and has 276 waited on every one with patience and good-humor. I also observe that she does not fret much nor look in the glass, and has not even mentioned a very pretty ring which she wears; so I conclude that she has learned to think of other people more and of herself less, and has decided to try and mould her character as carefully as she moulds her little clay figures. I am glad of this; for though I should be very proud of a graceful statue made by her, I shall be infinitely prouder of a lovable daughter, with a talent for making life beautiful to herself and others."

"What are you thinking of, Beth?" asked Jo, when Amy had thanked her father and told about her ring.

"I read in 'Pilgrim's Progress' to-day, how, after many troubles, Christian and Hopeful came to a pleasant green meadow, where lilies bloomed all the year round, and there they rested happily, as we do now, before they went on to their journey's end," answered Beth; adding, as she slipped out of her father's arms, and went slowly to the instrument, "It's singing time now, and I want to be in my old place. I'll try to sing the song of the shepherd-boy which the Pilgrims heard. I made the music for father, because he likes the verses."

So, sitting at the dear little piano, Beth softly touched the keys, and, in the sweet voice they had never thought to hear again, sung to her own accompaniment the quaint hymn, which was a singularly fitting song for her:—

"He that is down need fear no fall,

He that is low no pride;

He that is humble ever shall

Have God to be his guide.

"I am content with what I have,

Little be it or much;

And, Lord! contentment still I crave,

Because Thou savest such.

"Fulness to them a burden is,

That go on pilgrimage;

Here little, and hereafter bliss,

Is best from age to age!"

XXIII. Aunt March settles the Question.

277

XXIII.

AUNT MARCH SETTLES THE QUESTION.

Like bees swarming after their queen, mother and daughters hovered about Mr. March the next day, neglecting everything to look at, wait upon, and listen to the new invalid, who was in a fair way to be killed by kindness. As he sat propped up in a big chair by Beth's sofa, with the other three close by, and Hannah popping in her head now and then, "to peek at the dear man," nothing seemed needed to complete their happiness. But something was needed, and the elder ones felt it, though none confessed the fact. Mr. and Mrs. March looked at one another with an anxious expression, as their eyes followed Meg. Jo had sudden fits of sobriety, and was seen to shake her fist at Mr. Brooke's umbrella, which had been left in the hall; Meg was absent-minded, shy, and silent, started when the bell rang, and colored when John's name was mentioned; Amy said "Every one seemed waiting for something, and couldn't settle down, which was queer, since father was safe at home," and Beth innocently wondered why their neighbors didn't run over as usual.

278 Laurie went by in the afternoon, and, seeing Meg at the window, seemed suddenly possessed with a melodramatic fit, for he fell down upon one knee in the snow, beat his breast, tore his hair, and clasped his hands imploringly, as if begging some boon; and when Meg told him to behave himself and go away, he wrung imaginary tears out of his handkerchief, and staggered round the corner as if in utter despair.

"What does the goose mean?" said Meg, laughing, and trying to look unconscious.

"He's showing you how your John will go on by and by. Touching, isn't it?" answered Jo scornfully.

"Don't say my John, it isn't proper or true;" but Meg's voice lingered over the words as if they sounded pleasant to her. "Please don't plague me, Jo; I've told you I don't care much about him, and there isn't to be anything said, but we are all to be friendly, and go on as before."

"We can't, for something has been said, and Laurie's mischief has spoilt you for me. I see it, and so does mother; you are not like your old self a bit, and seem ever so far away from me. I don't mean to plague you, and will bear it like a man, but I do wish it was all settled. I hate to wait; so if you mean ever to do it, make haste and have it over quickly," said Jo pettishly.

"I can't say or do anything till he speaks, and he won't, because father said I was too young," began Meg, bending over her work, with a queer little smile, which suggested that she did not quite agree with her father on that point.

"If he did speak, you wouldn't know what to say, but would cry or blush, or let him have his own way, instead of giving a good, decided, No."

"I'm not so silly and weak as you think. I know just what I should say, for I've planned it all, so I needn't be taken unawares; there's no knowing what may happen, and I wished to be prepared."

Jo couldn't help smiling at the important air which Meg had unconsciously assumed, and which was as becoming as the pretty color varying in her cheeks.

"Would you mind telling me what you'd say?" asked Jo more respectfully.

279 "Not at all; you are sixteen now, quite old enough to be my confidant, and my experience will be useful to you by and by, perhaps, in your own affairs of this sort."

"Don't mean to have any; it's fun to watch other people philander, but I should feel like a fool doing it myself," said Jo, looking alarmed at the thought.

"I think not, if you liked any one very much, and he liked you." Meg spoke as if to herself, and glanced out at the lane, where she had often seen lovers walking together in the summer twilight.

"I thought you were going to tell your speech to that man," said Jo, rudely shortening her sister's little reverie.

"Oh, I should merely say, quite calmly and decidedly, 'Thank you, Mr. Brooke, you are very kind, but I agree with father that I am too young to enter into any engagement at present; so please say no more, but let us be friends as we were.'"

"Hum! that's stiff and cool enough. I don't believe you'll ever say it, and I know he won't be satisfied if you do. If he goes on like the rejected lovers in books, you'll give in, rather than hurt his feelings."

"No, I won't! I shall tell him I've made up my mind, and shall walk out of the room with dignity."

Meg rose as she spoke, and was just going to rehearse the dignified exit, when a step in the hall made her fly into her seat, and begin to sew as if her life depended on finishing that particular seam in a given time. Jo smothered a laugh at the sudden change, and, when some one gave a modest tap, opened the door with a grim aspect, which was anything but hospitable.

"Good afternoon. I came to get my umbrella,—that is, to see how your father finds himself to-day," said Mr. Brooke, getting a trifle confused as his eye went from one tell-tale face to the other.

"It's very well, he's in the rack, I'll get him, and tell it you are here," and having jumbled her father and the umbrella well together in her reply, Jo slipped out of the room to give Meg a chance to make her speech and air her dignity. But the instant she vanished, Meg began to sidle towards the door, murmuring,—

"Mother will like to see you. Pray sit down, I'll call her."

280 "Don't go; are you afraid of me, Margaret?" and Mr. Brooke looked so hurt that Meg thought she must have done something very rude. She blushed up to the little curls on her forehead, for he had never called her Margaret before, and she was surprised to find how natural and sweet it seemed to hear him say it. Anxious to appear friendly and at her ease, she put out her hand with a confiding gesture, and said gratefully,—

"How can I be afraid when you have been so kind to father? I only wish I could thank you for it."

"Shall I tell you how?" asked Mr. Brooke, holding the small hand fast in both his own, and looking down at Meg with so much love in 281 the brown eyes, that her heart began to flutter, and she both longed to run away and to stop and listen.

"Oh no, please don't—I'd rather not," she said, trying to withdraw her hand, and looking frightened in spite of her denial.

"I won't trouble you, I only want to know if you care for me a little, Meg. I love you so much, dear," added Mr. Brooke tenderly.

This was the moment for the calm, proper speech, but Meg didn't make it; she forgot every word of it, hung her head, and answered, "I don't know," so softly, that John had to stoop down to catch the foolish little reply.

He seemed to think it was worth the trouble, for he smiled to himself as if quite satisfied, pressed the plump hand gratefully, and said, in his most persuasive tone, "Will you try and find out? I want to know so much; for I can't go to work with any heart until I learn whether I am to have my reward in the end or not."

"I'm too young," faltered Meg, wondering why she was so fluttered, yet rather enjoying it.

"I'll wait; and in the meantime, you could be learning to like me. Would it be a very hard lesson, dear?"

"Not if I chose to learn it, but—"

"Please choose to learn, Meg. I love to teach, and this is easier than German," broke in John, getting possession of the other hand, so that she had no way of hiding her face, as he bent to look into it.

His tone was properly beseeching; but, stealing a shy look at him, Meg saw that his eyes were merry as well as tender, and that he wore the satisfied smile of one who had no doubt of his success. This nettled her; Annie Moffat's foolish lessons in coquetry came into her mind, and the love of power, which sleeps in the bosoms of the best of little women, woke up all of a sudden and took possession of her. She felt excited and strange, and, not knowing what else to do, followed a capricious impulse, and, withdrawing her hands, said petulantly, "I don't choose. Please go away and let me be!"

Poor Mr. Brooke looked as if his lovely castle in the air was tumbling about his ears, for he had never seen Meg in such a mood before, and it rather bewildered him.

"Do you really mean that?" he asked anxiously, following her as she walked away.

282 "Yes, I do; I don't want to be worried about such things. Father says I needn't; it's too soon and I'd rather not."

"Mayn't I hope you'll change your mind by and by? I'll wait, and say nothing till you have had more time. Don't play with me, Meg. I didn't think that of you."

"Don't think of me at all. I'd rather you wouldn't," said Meg, taking a naughty satisfaction in trying her lover's patience and her own power.

He was grave and pale now, and looked decidedly more like the novel heroes whom she admired; but he neither slapped his forehead nor tramped about the room, as they did; he just stood looking at her so wistfully, so tenderly, that she found her heart relenting in spite of her. What would have happened next I cannot say, if Aunt March had not come hobbling in at this interesting minute.

The old lady couldn't resist her longing to see her nephew; for she had met Laurie as she took her airing, and, hearing of Mr. March's arrival, drove straight out to see him. The family were all busy in the back part of the house, and she had made her way quietly in, hoping to surprise them. She did surprise two of them so much that Meg started as if she had seen a ghost, and Mr. Brooke vanished into the study.

283

"Bless me, what's all this?" cried the old lady, with a rap of her cane, as she glanced from the pale young gentleman to the scarlet young lady.

"It's father's friend. I'm so surprised to see you!" stammered Meg, feeling that she was in for a lecture now.

"That's evident," returned Aunt March, sitting down. "But what is father's friend saying to make you look like a peony? There's mischief going on, and I insist upon knowing what it is," with another rap.

"We were merely talking. Mr. Brooke came for his umbrella," began Meg, wishing that Mr. Brooke and the umbrella were safely out of the house.

"Brooke? That boy's tutor? Ah! I understand now. I know all about it. Jo blundered into a wrong message in one of your father's letters, and I made her tell me. You haven't gone and accepted him, child?" cried Aunt March, looking scandalized.

"Hush! he'll hear. Sha'n't I call mother?" said Meg, much troubled.

"Not yet. I've something to say to you, and I must free my mind at once. Tell me, do you mean to marry this Cook? If you do, not one penny of my money ever goes to you. Remember that, and be a sensible girl," said the old lady impressively.

Now Aunt March possessed in perfection the art of rousing the spirit of opposition in the gentlest people, and enjoyed doing it. The best of us have a spice of perversity in us, especially when we are young and in love. If Aunt March had begged Meg to accept John Brooke, she would probably have declared she couldn't think of it; but as she was peremptorily ordered not to like him, she immediately made up her mind that she would. Inclination as well as perversity made the decision easy, and, being already much excited, Meg opposed the old lady with unusual spirit.

"I shall marry whom I please, Aunt March, and you can leave your money to any one you like," she said, nodding her head with a resolute air.

"Highty tighty! Is that the way you take my advice, miss? You'll be sorry for it, by and by, when you've tried love in a cottage, and found it a failure."

284 "It can't be a worse one than some people find in big houses," retorted Meg.

Aunt March put on her glasses and took a look at the girl, for she did not know her in this new mood. Meg hardly knew herself, she felt so brave and independent,—so glad to defend John, and assert her right to love him, if she liked. Aunt March saw that she had begun wrong, and, after a little pause, made a fresh start, saying, as mildly as she could, "Now, Meg, my dear, be reasonable, and take my advice. I mean it kindly, and don't want you to spoil your whole life by making a mistake at the beginning. You ought to marry well, and help your family; it's your duty to make a rich match, and it ought to be impressed upon you."

"Father and mother don't think so; they like John, though he is poor."

"Your parents, my dear, have no more worldly wisdom than two babies."

"I'm glad of it," cried Meg stoutly.

Aunt March took no notice, but went on with her lecture. "This Rook is poor, and hasn't got any rich relations, has he?"

"No; but he has many warm friends."

"You can't live on friends; try it, and see how cool they'll grow. He hasn't any business, has he?"

"Not yet; Mr. Laurence is going to help him."

"That won't last long. James Laurence is a crotchety old fellow, and not to be depended on. So you intend to marry a man without money, position, or business, and go on working harder than you do now, when you might be comfortable all your days by minding me and doing better? I thought you had more sense, Meg."

"I couldn't do better if I waited half my life! John is good and wise; he's got heaps of talent; he's willing to work, and sure to get on, he's so energetic and brave. Every one likes and respects him, and I'm proud to think he cares for me, though I'm so poor and young and silly," said Meg, looking prettier than ever in her earnestness.

"He knows you have got rich relations, child; that's the secret of his liking, I suspect."

285 "Aunt March, how dare you say such a thing? John is above such meanness, and I won't listen to you a minute if you talk so," cried Meg indignantly, forgetting everything but the injustice of the old lady's suspicions. "My John wouldn't marry for money, anymore than I would. We are willing to work, and we mean to wait. I'm not afraid of being poor, for I've been happy so far, and I know I shall be with him, because he loves me, and I—"

Meg stopped there, remembering all of a sudden that she hadn't made up her mind; that she had told "her John" to go away, and that he might be overhearing her inconsistent remarks.

Aunt March was very angry, for she had set her heart on having her pretty niece make a fine match, and something in the girl's happy young face made the lonely old woman feel both sad and sour.

"Well, I wash my hands of the whole affair! You are a wilful child, and you've lost more than you know by this piece of folly. No, I won't stop; I'm disappointed in you, and haven't spirits to see your father now. Don't expect anything from me when you are married; your Mr. Book's friends must take care of you. I'm done with you forever."

And, slamming the door in Meg's face, Aunt March drove off in high dudgeon. She seemed to take all the girl's courage with her; for, when left alone, Meg stood a moment, undecided whether to laugh or cry. Before she could make up her mind, she was taken possession of by Mr. Brooke, who said, all in one breath, "I couldn't help hearing, Meg. Thank you for defending me, and Aunt March for proving that you do care for me a little bit."

"I didn't know how much, till she abused you," began Meg.

"And I needn't go away, but may stay and be happy, may I, dear?"

Here was another fine chance to make the crushing speech and the stately exit, but Meg never thought of doing either, and disgraced herself forever in Jo's eyes by meekly whispering, "Yes, John," and hiding her face on Mr. Brooke's waistcoat.

Fifteen minutes after Aunt March's departure, Jo came softly down stairs, paused an instant at the parlor door, and, hearing no sound within, nodded and smiled, with a satisfied expression, saying to herself, 286 "She has sent him away as we planned, and that affair is settled. I'll go and hear the fun, and have a good laugh over it."

But poor Jo never got her laugh, for she was transfixed upon the threshold by a spectacle which held her there, staring with her mouth nearly as wide open as her eyes. Going in to exult over a fallen enemy, and to praise a strong-minded sister for the banishment of an objectionable lover, it certainly was a shock to behold the aforesaid enemy serenely sitting on the sofa, with the strong-minded sister enthroned upon his knee, and wearing an expression of the most abject submission. Jo gave a sort of gasp, as if a cold shower-bath had suddenly fallen upon her,—for such an unexpected turning of the tables actually took her breath away. At the odd sound, the lovers turned and saw her. Meg jumped up, looking both proud and shy; but "that man," as Jo called him, actually laughed, and said coolly, as he kissed the astonished new-comer, "Sister Jo, congratulate us!"

That was adding insult to injury,—it was altogether too much,—and, making some wild demonstration with her hands, Jo vanished without a word. Rushing upstairs, she startled the invalids by exclaiming tragically, as she burst into the room, "Oh, do somebody go down quick; John Brooke is acting dreadfully, and Meg likes it!"

Mr. and Mrs. March left the room with speed; and, casting herself upon the bed, Jo cried and scolded tempestuously as she told the awful news to Beth and Amy. The little girls, however, considered it a most agreeable and interesting event, and Jo got little comfort from them; so she went up to her refuge in the garret, and confided her troubles to the rats.

Nobody ever knew what went on in the parlor that afternoon; but a great deal of talking was done, and quiet Mr. Brooke astonished his friends by the eloquence and spirit with which he pleaded his suit, told his plans, and persuaded them to arrange everything just as he wanted it.

The tea-bell rang before he had finished describing the paradise which he meant to earn for Meg, and he proudly took her in to supper, both looking so happy that Jo hadn't the heart to be jealous or dismal. Amy was very much impressed by John's devotion and Meg's dignity. Beth beamed at them from a distance, while Mr. and Mrs. March surveyed 287 the young couple with such tender satisfaction that it was perfectly evident Aunt March was right in calling them as "unworldly as a pair of babies." No one ate much, but every one looked very happy, and the old room seemed to brighten up amazingly when the first romance of the family began there.

"You can't say nothing pleasant ever happens now, can you, Meg?" said Amy, trying to decide how she would group the lovers in the sketch she was planning to take.

"No, I'm sure I can't. How much has happened since I said that! It seems a year ago," answered Meg, who was in a blissful dream, lifted far above such common things as bread and butter.

"The joys come close upon the sorrows this time, and I rather think the changes have begun," said Mrs. March. "In most families there comes, now and then, a year full of events; this has been such an one, but it ends well, after all."

"Hope the next will end better," muttered Jo, who found it very hard to see Meg absorbed in a stranger before her face; for Jo loved a few persons very dearly, and dreaded to have their affection lost or lessened in any way.

"I hope the third year from this will end better; I mean it shall, if I live to work out my plans," said Mr. Brooke, smiling at Meg, as if everything had become possible to him now.

"Doesn't it seem very long to wait?" asked Amy, who was in a hurry for the wedding.

"I've got so much to learn before I shall be ready, it seems a short time to me," answered Meg, with a sweet gravity in her face, never seen there before.

"You have only to wait; I am to do the work," said John, beginning his labors by picking up Meg's napkin, with an expression which caused Jo to shake her head, and then say to herself, with an air of relief, as the front door banged, "Here comes Laurie. Now we shall have a little sensible conversation."

But Jo was mistaken; for Laurie came prancing in, overflowing with spirits, bearing a great bridal-looking bouquet for "Mrs. John Brooke," and evidently laboring under the delusion that the whole affair had been brought about by his excellent management.

288 "I knew Brooke would have it all his own way, he always does; for when he makes up his mind to accomplish anything, it's done, though the sky falls," said Laurie, when he had presented his offering and his congratulations.

"Much obliged for that recommendation. I take it as a good omen for the future, and invite you to my wedding on the spot," answered Mr. Brooke, who felt at peace with all mankind, even his mischievous pupil.

"I'll come if I'm at the ends of the earth; for the sight of Jo's face alone, on that occasion, would be worth a long journey. You don't look festive, ma'am; what's the matter?" asked Laurie, following her into a corner of the parlor, whither all had adjourned to greet Mr. Laurence.

"I don't approve of the match, but I've made up my mind to bear it, and shall not say a word against it," said Jo solemnly. "You can't know how hard it is for me to give up Meg," she continued, with a little quiver in her voice.

"You don't give her up. You only go halves," said Laurie consolingly.

"It never can be the same again. I've lost my dearest friend," sighed Jo.

"You've got me, anyhow. I'm not good for much, I know; but 289 I'll stand by you, Jo, all the days of my life; upon my word I will!" and Laurie meant what he said.

"I know you will, and I'm ever so much obliged; you are always a great comfort to me, Teddy," returned Jo, gratefully shaking hands.

"Well, now, don't be dismal, there's a good fellow. It's all right, you see. Meg is happy; Brooke will fly round and get settled immediately; grandpa will attend to him, and it will be very jolly to see Meg in her own little house. We'll have capital times after she is gone, for I shall be through college before long, and then we'll go abroad, or some nice trip or other. Wouldn't that console you?"

"I rather think it would; but there's no knowing what may happen in three years," said Jo thoughtfully.

"That's true. Don't you wish you could take a look forward, and see where we shall all be then? I do," returned Laurie.

"I think not, for I might see something sad; and every one looks so happy now, I don't believe they could be much improved," and Jo's eyes went slowly round the room, brightening as they looked, for the prospect was a pleasant one.

Father and mother sat together, quietly re-living the first chapter of the romance which for them began some twenty years ago. Amy was drawing the lovers, who sat apart in a beautiful world of their own, the light of which touched their faces with a grace the little artist could not copy. Beth lay on her sofa, talking cheerily with her old friend, who held her little hand as if he felt that it possessed the power to lead him along the peaceful way she walked. Jo lounged in her favorite low seat, with the grave, quiet look which best became her; and Laurie, leaning on the back of her chair, his chin on a level with her curly head, smiled with his friendliest aspect, and nodded at her in the long glass which reflected them both.

So grouped, the curtain falls upon Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy. Whether it ever rises again, depends upon the reception given to the first act of the domestic drama called "Little Women."

#hellsitesonlybookclub #bookblr #Little Women #Alcott

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krushkreates · 2 years ago

Text

routine

day 3 of the 30 day writing challenge little late but it was chores and errands on my day off

prompt: use the words kitchen, date and music

lasko x freelancer (i adore them so much)

cross posted on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39511536

lasko had become a part of the freelancer's routine. when? they're not sure, but they don't think they'd give him up for anything.

—

The Freelancer wasn’t sure when this became a habit: finding Lasko in their kitchen around 9am on a Sunday morning, making them breakfast. They weren’t complaining. He was a great chef, and it showed in the way he spoke about what he made. It was refreshing, to see him have an air of loud confidence about him. It could’ve been that one Saturday last year. They invited the boys over for general tomfoolery after getting out of school for the year. It turned into some drinking games. While Hux and Damien could handle their liquor, Lasko was the unfortunate lightweight. After an ill-fated couple hours in their bathroom the next morning, he turned into the kitchen, mortified and not sure how to apologize except to make some food before leaving. The Freelancer had to have something right? And he could play some music that always helped a hangover. They wouldn’t mind, surely. And they didn’t. So, they invited him the next weekend. And the next. And then the routine became a fixture in both of their lives.

Before they’d stumble into the kitchen bleary-eyed with a fried brain from an all-night study session, they’d look at the freckles on his back as he slept, nails gently running over the patterns they’d see. They’d drink in his features in the early morning light that peeked through the blinds. They’d note his nose, how the bridge stood straight, and the nose tipped slightly upward. How his lips parted so slightly, his gentle breathing moving a small piece of hair. How his hair splayed out on the satin pillowcase and curl into their neck. How his limbs, long and lanky, seemed to find a way to tangle around the sheets and cover him to look like he was a sculpture. Undine Rising from the Waters had nothing on the way his skin was so smooth: how the fabric folded and twisted onto his muscles, leaving his upper body bared. How the goosebumps lined his arms, the hair on them standing up. The Freelancer would move themselves to him if they woke up facing away from him. They’d curl themselves against him, fingertips brushing against the curve of his spine. A small smile graced their lips as they traced his skin entirely.

Lasko knew they woke up before he did, but they always slept for another hour or so after. He liked that. Their touch was so gentle: so calming. He got to see past their rough exterior, the spikes and armor stripped away, revealing the tender flesh he cradled in his arms every Saturday night. He got to hear their voice deepened and hoarse after speaking all day. It was music to his ears. Lasko got to see the genuine Freelancer. The one that cried into his chest after getting a phone call and voicemail from their parents cursing them for being “devil born” for something they had no control over. The one that laughed softly and smoothly at his stupid jokes and puns. The one that stroked his cheek before kissing him with a feather-like touch. The one that wasn’t a ghost in a room that they should’ve been alive in. The one that kissed him fiercely after he confessed his feelings to them. The one that laughed so wonderfully and accepted his request after he stumbled through asking them on an official date. He got to see that in these four walls.

He wouldn’t change it for the world.

#i love them so much #redacted asmr #redacted fics #redacted lasko #redacted freelancer #fluff #krush fics #30 day writing challenge

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cupcakemolotov · 3 years ago

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Not to be predictable on main but i would read The Shit outta an ice cream murder mystery. Might be the decade i spent scooping but its mostly the fact it would be a ravyn fic. Imma just think about that for a while. :) DeaMariella

I don't have time to really dig into this kind of thing, this exchange is kicking my butt, but here you go! A quick little thing.

“That is a lot of salt, love.” Klaus said mildly, glancing down at the thick line of it that ran just inside the doorway to her home. His eyes lingered on the bag she’d left deliberately next to the door, something like amusement on his face as he leaned back and scanned the line of the windows that had been given a similar treatment of the cute little bungalow she’d bought she'd she moved into town.

Caroline gave him her sweetest smile. “It seems I have a pest problem.”

A hint of a smile creased the corner of his mouth. “That’s a ten pound bag of rock salt, love. However did you find it at this time of year?”

She shrugged. “It's always winter somewhere.”

Klaus leaned forward, not quite breaking the line of her doorway, but close enough she could almost feel the intent radiating off of him. “Hmmm. I suppose it is. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“No.”

“No?”

She bared her teeth. “You lied to me. There is no Special Agent Klaus Mikaelson of the FBI. He doesn’t exist.”

Instead of trying to lie a second time, he laughed softly. “And how did you learn that?”

“My mom’s a sheriff. I grew up learning all about procedure, and you don’t speak cop. There have been enough missing children's cases and fugitives trying to hide out in the woods of Virginia during her career that she’s got a number of contacts across several agencies. She was more than happy to call in a few favors for me.”

“Well,” he murmured. “That is a little unexpected.”

“Impersonating a federal officer is a serious crime.”

"Ah well, I don't expect them to learn about my little deceptions." Klaus' gaze lowered to the floor and he made another rough sound of amusement. “A line of blessed salt won’t keep me out if I decide I want in, love. Though I applaud your thoroughness.”

“But I bet buckshot will.” She shifted her weight, put more space between them and moved the shotgun into a far more comfortable position. “What do you want, Klaus? If that’s even your real name.”

He grinned at her, boyish and wild, both dimples on display. “You are full of surprises, Caroline Forbes. And I am here exactly as I told you before. I am trying to solve the murders.”

She snorted. “You have a pretty terrible way of going about it. Why don't you try again. You’ve been harassing me because whoever is killing the tourists is fixated on either me or my shop. It's why they’ve been dumping the bodies. And while my ice cream is super awesome, I don't specialize in the taste of humans."

He made a low noise of amusement. "Your recipes are delightful, but it is unlikely that the killer is hoping you turn your shop into a reenactment of Sweeny Todd, the ice cream flavor."

"Interesting that you'd say that, since you seemed perplexed by the killer three days ago. You know, when you were claiming you were uncertain of the cause of death?" She let her voice drip sweetness. "You know, when the mayor had called you in as a favor so it didn't scare away tourists? Newsflash: that didn't work well in Jaws and this is shaping up to suck even more."

“The coroner hasn’t released those details.” He tried to look apologetic, but the amusement in his voice didn’t quite let him. "Officially, the cause of death is unknown."

She gave him a look. “The coroner knows exactly what killed them. Lack of a heart is pretty clear cut.”

His smile widened. “And how do you know that?”

“He was pretty willing to tell me whatever I wanted as long as I promised not to spread it around and I brought him a quart of his favorite peach ice cream and a bottle of whiskey. I think he needed to get it off his chest” She bared her teeth. “Of course, I can’t prove anything, but I don’t need to do I?”

A tip of his head. “It's a bit symbolic, the removal of the heart. Particularly when he is managing it without any sort of trauma to the chest."

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“It’s not my first time dealing with this sort of situation.”

Caroline nodded. “And what sort of situation is that, exactly? And don’t lie to me this time. I am very willing to shoot you, and my mom made sure I could hit what I wanted. As many times as necessary."

The amusement disappeared from his face, the sudden seriousness jarring. “Are you sure you want to know about the monsters in the world, Caroline? This one is hunting you, true, but that doesn't mean you can't return to the safe world you lived in once." His gaze lowered back to the salt. "Where you don't need to salt your doorways and keep your shotgun loaded with rock salt."

“You don't know anything about me. We just proved that, didn't we? There are always monsters in the world,” she said firmly. “Human or not. Whatever secrets you’re keeping are no worse than anything else I've seen."

A thoughtful look, and then whatever had made Klaus Mikaelson human just, disappeared. In its place was a man who looked human, but nothing about him spoke of humanity. The blue of his eyes was a shade she’d never seen before, and there was a tattoo that swept from his temple into the tangle curls of his hair. When he smiled, his teeth were white, and the canines were very sharp. The wind shifted, carrying the scent of the ocean and something she couldn’t name.

“Tell me, Caroline, what do you know of Undine?”

#my fic #klaroline #klaroline drabble #this was so fast #i will probably have to clean it up later #but what do i know #here you go!

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rosepetalwings · 4 years ago

Text

Oh I'm More Than Glad To Talk About Deeprune

ok so lets run through the au in sections

DEEPRUNE

Story:

The cast are now all mythological mermaid/siren creatures.

The Light World is the epipelagic zone (and upper half of mesopelagic zone) of the ocean and live in ignorance of the strange creatures that look as they do in the twilight below...

Dark World is mid-mesopelagic and below, full of frightening sea creatures those so blessed to live in sea reef coral homes could never hope to fathom... and should never hope to meet.

One day, one of the 4 kings of the ocean basins drew help from a powerful, unknown force and imprisoned his peers at the bottom of the deep sea trenches... And to this day, he rules his little area, biding his time for the day the Dark can take over the Light.

That is, of course, unless a very human looking siren, a sea crocodile tough girl, a bioluminscent jellyfish(?) fluffy boy, and a villainous... cloaked hybrid thing can fulfill a very familiar prophecy...

Locations:

Light Zone

Hometown - A bright and cheerful coral reef with a good amount of merfolk in the community.

School ‐ Building constructed out of stone and hidden amongst normal marine foliage and coral. Normal congregations of school akin to what the land-dwellers (or terrans, as the merfolk might call them) do for their own children.

Hospital ‐ Made in the same way as the school and serves the same function as its land counterpart. The hospital does have different instruments to serve its marine patients, however.

QC's diner - Hidden under a rock shelf and is more of an open seating arrangement. Fan coral serves as a sort of decorative barrier to keep the seating plan from being too open.

ICEE's p"e"zzeria - Incredibly conspicuous and placed between the brightest coral on the reef for the attention-grabbing colors. High visibility means free advertising, no?

The Graveyard - In a clearing among the kelp forest, there lies a set of engraved stones covered in algae. It's especially quiet there. Peaceful when you focus on the sunlight filtering in through the kelp stalks.

The bunker - Placed just before the continental shelf begins to fall off into complete and utter darkness. The merfolk in town warn their children to never near that area.

Dark Zone

????? - A craggy mess of rocks on the outskirts of the continental shelf. The light begins to grow strange here for whatever reason...

Castle Town - A shipwreck amongst the craggy rocks in the dark where a strangely kind shadowy figure lives.

Field - A seemingly endless stretch of ocean in which a Lightner's vision alone cannot be used to find one's way in the dark, lest they be horribly lost until the end of time. Or lest they stray further down, where it grows darker, yet darker...

The Scarlet Forest - Not really a forest, per se. More a jestful remark over the collection of sea creatures that have evolved to have a red tone to their skin as camouflage in the watery depths. The creatures are so very frightening and strange with their sharp-toothed open maws and flashy photophores. Strange to think how normal this all is down in the depths...

Great Board - The inlets and caves that checker the continental slope and house very many deep sea merfolk. Very many large tunnels dug out to house many of the population and keep them interconnected as a society. Alas, this stationary grouping also makes them vulnerable to the power of kingly apex predators.

The Castle - Hidden within the depths of the Mariana Trench. None of the Board have seen the castle in such grave depths and lived to tell the tale. None but a strange barreleye and his hyper young ward...

Characters:

Lightners

Kris - A mostly human-shaped siren, save for fishy bits, including but not limited to, gills and an iridescent shine to their hair. Always sneaking off to play tricks on unsuspecting beach goers. Kind of a quiet kid but their mischievous grin says it all for them.

Susie - A rude, rough-and-tumble kind of sea crocodile gill girl that does not appreciate nautical wordplay. She will appreciate your lunch money, though.

Noelle - The most nervous kelpie you'll ever meet. Easily provoked but she's very sweet and intelligent and perhaps she's a shade dorky, but it's through that dorkiness she'll find a way to make you smile.

Asriel - Sweet and effortlessly loveable and smart and talented capricorn brother to Kris who's just gone off to do independent study in a different sea basin! He's coming back to town next week; Kris seems a little downcast as of late, though...

Alphys - Marine iguana teacher at the reef's local school. Please don't ask her for her reviews on neat human media she's managed to salvage, we'll be here all week.

Undyne - The undying undine on everyone's minds! ...Because she's likely tried to tackle you for minor offenses like littering or jay-swimming in the humdrum life of this little reef town. She's somewhat of a vigilante, working by her own judicial metrics and warning the reef of any terran sightings or other such troubles. Not much to report on though, these days...

Toriel & Asgore - The capricorn divorcees. Haven't you heard; the news has spread all over the place! What a shame too, they looked just like the perfect reef family...

Sans and Papyrus - The strange brothers that just moved into the reef... Coelacanth merfolk with mottled, skeletal appearances. The shorter brother "runs" the reef market. ...If you can get a fin in the door, anyway. The taller one hasn't made much of a public appearance in town yet; hard to comment on him.

Darkners

Ralsei - The prince of the prophesy, as well as the bringer of Light to the Dark, as symbolized through his charmed hat and cloak, to make him appear as though he is but a jellyfish that sways with the currents. Seems to be as soft in personality as a jellyfish's bell though.

Lancer - A hooded, mischievous figure that's always up to no good. It's kind of hard to tell what he is, with his short, stubby tentacles and furry, webbed paws, but he's kind of too adorable and personable to care much about it. Popular vote's on dumbo octopus though.

Rouxls - A vigilant barreleye with his haunting eyes always to the sky in search of tributes to pay his king or danger from which to protect the child of a royal bloodline he's been entrusted to care for. He's ditzy and kind of an asshole, but deep down, he's got a good SOUL... that glows through his transparent chest.

Seam - Ah? Looking for wares? Seam's will definitely have something to cure what ails you. The old anglerfish sits behind the shop counter, items lit only by the faint light of small jellies and the wisened shopkeep's lantern-like forehead protrusion. Go for the low prices and stay for the enchanting tales.

Jevil - A laugh sounds in the dark before you could ever approach his cell. He's nothing but needle teeth smiles when he explains to you the nature of the game. Numbers game. Must be a couple of sharks to have gotten down there in the first place. And this freed jester wouldn't have it any other way - sharks to goblin shark.

King - He is, by all accounts, imperceivable. He is larger than life and covered in shifting, writhing appendages that do not keep the shape you once thought them to be, no matter how hard you attempt to keep your focus on any point of his form. He is Leviathan, and the fact that you are before him means that you are incredibly fucked.

Knight - [REDACTED]

PREVIOUS DRAWINGS

Rouxls and a mysterious man

Unmasked Lancer

okay... i think that's about it! don't be afraid to ask for more clarification on anything, i know i gave general overview/musing blurb of... kind of everything i could think to describe! hope this is fine!

or ask me to infodump on another of my AUs! ;3c

#deltarune #utdr #safeutdr #deltarune au #deeprune #long post #spooky writes #body horror mention

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rosemaidenvixen · 3 years ago

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Both Sides of the Sky

Chapter 5: Calling

Ao3

The doors to the front entrance loomed ahead of them. Thick mahogany of solid build, richly carved by very skilled hands. It was clear whoever had first commissioned them must have paid a great deal. But as Claire stepped closer, she was able to notice the countless pockmarks and scars pitting the wood, how they had been so badly warped by the wind and rain that they no longer would hang quite straight.

Not a good harbinger for what lay beyond.

Keeping that thought, among others, to herself, Claire watched as the doors, warped wood catching ever so slightly in the frame, were pulled open. Revealing a grimm faced butler behind them who silently took the card from her father and ushered the three of them inside.

Without turning her head, it wouldn’t do to appear too curious, Claire glanced around at her surroundings. Avalon hall was massive, she had been able to see that much from the outside. But it soon became clear that the state of the front doors was not a unique feature.

Silk curtains that were faded and stained at the edges. Scuff Marks upon scuff marks on the floor from centuries of feet traipsing up and down the corridors. Tarnish creeping around the edges of the candlesticks, giving the silver a rotten appearance. And due to the building’s esteemed age, all the windows were small and far between, the dim light making the hallway feel claustrophobic.

The overall effect was that Avalon hall didn’t feel like a house where living people resided, rather more like an abandoned, decaying ruin from a bygone era that she and her parents were trespassing in.

Fighting very hard to suppress a shudder, Claire followed her parents deeper into the house.

It looked as though the rumors were true, this family may have a lofty and noble history, but they had fallen far indeed. Claire kept her gaze straight ahead and pointedly ignored the peeling wallpaper as they walked further in. Straight into debt by the looks of it.

The butler led them up the main stairs and down a hall on their right, to where someone was waiting for them, before swiftly turning and heading off to complete some other task. Claire had expected Strickler to greet them, as he had on her walks with Jim, but instead they were greeted by his uncle, the venerable Lord Merlin, who was so old Claire half expected him to have powder in his hair.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance Master and Mistress Nuñez,” he politely shook hands with her father before gesturing for them to follow “My nephew is waiting for us in the parlor, let’s not keep them waiting, shall we?”

As they walked he turned and looked Claire straight in the eye, flashing her a grin.

Startled, Claire quickly recovered and managed to return the smile with one of her own.

They’d only gone a short ways when Merlin stepped to the side, opening a door into a smaller small room.

“Please, after you,” the words were intended for all of them, but his gaze was once again locked on Claire. While she supposed most people would be flattered, Claire couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at the attention, although why she couldn’t say.

Forcing down the cold fluttering in her belly, Claire followed her parents into the room, blinking at the sudden brightness within.

The curtains had been thrown open, filling the room with sunlight and allowing her to see that, mercifully, this space was in much better shape than the rest of the house. Immaculate blue and gold wallpaper, spotless china dishes and sparking silver on oak tables. Couches that looked comfortable and lived in, even if they were a little threadbare.

Claire let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Strickler was here, and so was Jim, right by his side, both of them standing by a small table holding several teacups filled with steaming brown liquid, two of which he handed over to her father and mother before picking one up himself “So glad you all could make it today, please take a seat. James and I are so happy to have you here,”

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively “He was quite looking forward to this,”

All the adults in the room tittered at that while Claire blushed crimson, across the room she could see Jim’s face turn a similar hue.

Still flushing, she sank into a chair, everyone else following suit. The adults quickly fell into banal conversation concerning the weather and current events. Leaving Claire and James to stare at each other in awkward silence.

She wanted to talk to him. There were half a dozen questions perched on the tip of her tongue. Had he recovered from his tumble in the woods and fall in the river? Who was his mother and why did no one ever speak of her? Did the stone bridge still haunt his dreams the way it did hers?

But despite how much she burned for answers, Claire couldn’t bring herself to speak of those things, not in front of their parents.

It was too….private, personal; and the last thing she wanted was her parents pouncing on those thoughts and picking them apart piece by piece.

Of course there was a chance that Jim felt differently about his family, but the way he also kept his silence made Claire think not.

So here they were. Sitting there mute and bored to tears. Tuning out their families' blathering, Claire allowed her eyes to unfocus, gaze rolling around the room before landing on a sword hanging on the far wall. The blade was dull and the hilt simple, but it was clear that the sword’s true value was in its truly ancient age. She could easily imagine Strickler plucking it from foreign shores during one of his many expeditions.

Unfortunately by now their mutual silence had been noticed.

“James, why don’t you show the young Miss Nuñez our collection,” Claire jolted slightly upon hearing Strickler mention her name “I’m sure she’d find it fascinating,”

James stood from his chair and extend a hand towards her, flashing a smile that was almost convincing “Of course,”

Claire lifted herself up and returned his smile “That sounds delightful,” at least it would be better than sitting in silence. She allowed Jim to lay a hand over her forearm and lead her to the other side of the room.

“This sword is a viking artefact, along with that shield,” he inclined his head to the right “The vase and teapot are from the far east,”

“Very impressive…” Claire nodded along politely, when her attention was captured by a large painting hanging near the corner, a woman wrapped in silver gossamer reclining in a pond. A simple image, but captured in breathtaking detail “What about the painting, right next to the shield?”

“I...don’t know,” Jim glanced back towards the seated adults.

“Nothing much interesting about that one I’m afraid,” Strickler said with a shake of his head “Merely a gift from an old acquaintance,”

Claire’s eyes darted over the ripples and waves captured in shades of blue paint “It’s very lovely, is it an Undine?”

Strickler let out a chuckle, that sounded more than a little patronizing “A naiad actually,”

Despite her best efforts, Claire felt herself flushing at his thinly veiled condescension “What’s the difference?”

“Naiads live exclusively in fresh water whereas Undines aren’t bound to any one form of water. Oceanids live in open seas and nereids live along saltwater shores,”

For a moment the entire room was silent as everyone turned and stared at Jim. He flushed, clearly feeling the weight of their gazes.

Claire felt a grin, the first entirely genuine one of the day, spreading over her face “I didn’t know you were so well versed in mythology,”

“I...um....” Jim glanced over at his father and uncle for help, face a deep red.

Merlin let out a loud laugh, giving his knee a hearty slap “My dear nephew you’re too shy,” he glanced towards her parents “James has always had an avid interest in mythology, we had trouble getting him to put the books down,”

Jim, clearly embarrassed, was blushing a bright scarlet, and couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting under the attention. Meanwhile, even while she sympathized with the scrutiny, Claire was absolutely brimming with delight. Finally something that she and Jim could talk about, at least while they were in mixed company.

Still chortling, Merlin got to his feet “How about I show you two youngsters the library,” he glanced towards her parents “With Master and Mistress Nuñezs’ permission of course,”

Moving so subtly Claire was sure that she was the only one who saw, Ophelia and Javier shared a sly look with each other before turning towards him “We think that sounds delightful,” Javier said, both him and Ophelia positively beaming.

“What do you think of the classical myths?”

“They form the bedrock of literature as we know it and have persevered to the modern age due to their highly advanced themes and ideas,”

Jim’s gaze briefly flickered toward Merlin, sitting in a leather chair in the corner of the library holding a book whose pages he hadn’t turned for nearly an hour, the older man giving him an almost imperceptible nod. Claire pretended not to notice.

She thumbed through the thick book on the table in front of them “One of my favorites is the myth of Tantalus. He tried to trick the gods by feeding them his own son, but they weren’t fooled. They restored his son to life and condemned him to the underworld, with food and water forever just beyond his reach,”

“Oh yes,” he nodded “That is a classic, did you know that’s where the word tantalize comes from?”

Claire did, but she smiled and nodded as if she didn’t, keenly aware of Merlin’s eyes on the two of them.

Like the rest of Avalon hall, the library was old to the point of being ancient, but rather in a cosy sort of way. Mahogany shelves and angled windows giving the room a feeling of warmth. Walls completely lined with books from end to end, supplemented by the occasional freestanding shelf. Most impressive was the collection itself, the largest collection of books Claire had ever seen in her fifteen years. Some published as recently as a year ago, some centuries old; all filling the room with the sweet scents of paper and leather.

At first she’d been excited to discuss literature and folklore with Jim. Both of which were things she very much enjoyed, and hoped that they would be able to build upon a mutual interest. But what Claire hadn’t accounted for was Merlin hovering and ever so subtly correcting Jim when he strayed from what he deemed to be the proper responses. Most of which Claire already knew from her own studies. Making the entire conversation feel dull and rehearsed. Exchanging repetitive answers may be better than silence, but not by much.

Maybe if they wandered off the beaten path a little she could get Jim to tell her his own opinion and not the one his uncle approved of. There was a copy of Bluebeard just across from her, but that didn’t feel quite appropriate right now. She reached over to the far end of the table and pulled a new book with a dusty blue cover towards them “Have you read the Poetic Edda?”

“Yes I have,”

She waited for him to elaborate but he didn’t.

“Thrymskvida is my favorite portion, what do you think of it?”

“Truly a classic piece of Norse myth, although there is debate on whether its origins are Christian or Pagan,”

Well this clearly wasn’t working, time for a different approach.

“What is your favorite Arthurian legend?” she said abruptly, setting the blue book to the side without preamble.

Jim started, clearly caught off guard. He stammered for a few seconds before coming up with an answer “Oh, uh...Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,”

A solid classic, one that she could easily see Lords Strickler and Merlin lecturing him on how it was the best.

“That’s a good one, although I’ve always thought Gawain got away pretty easily considering he broke his word,”

Jim’s amiable expression slipped, sliding into a soft frown “Gawain did keep the scarf the lady gave him, but he could have easily given it to the lord after he let the green knight chop off his head. He wouldn’t have been breaking his word, just stretching it,”

Claire paused, mulling over his words “I suppose that’s true, but Gawain gave his word to give the lord whatever he gained during the day once he got home, not whenever he felt like it. He broke his word, and for that he deserves to be punished,”

“But--”

From the corner of the room Merlin rustled the papers of the book in his lap just loudly enough that it was clearly intentional. Jim shut his jaw with a click.

Claire had to bite her lip, quite hard in fact, to keep from groaning out loud. Just when their conversation was finally starting to get interesting, apparently disagreeing with her trumped what his uncle considered ‘correct’ as far as polite discussion went.

But what was the point of having a conversation if the other person agreed with whatever she said?

Claire had entertained the company of more than a few boys who had agreed with everything she said. Quite frankly she would sooner jump in the river again.

Time for another subject change “My favorite is the Quest for the White Hart,”

Jim nodded slowly, cowed back into meekness by his uncle’s interference “That is a really good one,”

“I enjoyed Pellinore’s quest for Nimue the most, especially at the end when he ends up cursing himself by not helping his daughter and the knight,”

“Really? I always thought that was pretty grim, he was told to let nothing distract him from his quest, he was only following instructions,”

“Doesn’t matter, he could have helped them but he didn’t,”

Jim paused for a bit “Wouldn’t that parallel Gawain’s story then? It’s not about what would be considered fair, it’s about keeping your word,”

Claire felt a smile tugging on her lips, very clever, it looked as though they could have a half decent discussion after all “I guess you have me there,” she pulled the green leather bound tome closer “But while we’re discussing the Green knight, you know how the old woman was really--”

The clock against the wall abruptly started to chime, signaling Merlin to sit up from his chair with a creak “I’m afraid our time together today must come to an end, feel free to keep the book Miss Nuñez, young James can collect it at a later time,”

And by that he was surely referring to when he and Strickler would come to their house with Jim to visit her in one weeks time. Which she knew her parents were no doubt arranging at this moment.

But still, she was disappointed that her time with Jim, however awkward and supervised, was coming to an end...which was not something Claire was accustomed to feeling .

She swallowed the confusing knot of emotion as the two of them followed Merlin out the library and back down towards the parlor, having to force the words out past it “Thank you, I will be sure to keep them in good condition,”

Claire thought that she and Jim would be able to get to know each other better when they weren’t slopping through the wilderness, but as it turned out their families' supervision wasn’t much of an improvement.

And unlike any of the other boys her parents had set her up with Claire wanted to know Jim better. He was genuinely sincere, and while Jim played the role of a nobleman well enough, Claire could sense something more beneath the surface. Like watching the surface of the sea and seeing the shadow of a hidden beast moving deep within.

She eyed the back of his head as they headed down through the gloomy hall.

If Claire wanted to get to know Jim, the real Jim, then she was going to have to get a little more creative.

#tales of arcadia #Trollhunters #fanfic #both sides of the sky #rmvwrites #claire nuñez #ophelia nuñez #javier nuñez #merlin #walter strickler #jim lake jr #Regency AU

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thegayfromrulid · 4 years ago

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How about a Yujikiri oneshot where they're in the real world, Eugeo misses snow and since they can't just make it snow, Kirito gets some really rare item in Alfheim that makes it snow wherever they are and uses that for a VR date with him.

Hello, anon! This was such a cute prompt! <3 I really enjoyed writing this. I had a lot of fun brainstorming the rare item for this, as well as imagining these two cute boys having fun in the snow!

“Does it ever snow in Saitama?”

The question seemed a bit out of nowhere to me, as I finished loading the dishwasher and hadn’t been talking about climate with Eugeo prior to this moment. I looked up from what I was doing and saw him gazing out of the window, looking around at the world. It was still summer, even after spending an incredibly long time inside of the STL as a member of the Underworld. I wiped off my hands and went to stand over beside him, giving him a grin.

“Yeah, sometimes,” I said. “Usually in the winter we’ll get some decent flakes. Why?”

There was a sad look on his face, one that made me start to think. He was eager to see snow again. Eugeo had lived in Rulid, which was at the northernmost tip of Norlangarth. He’d lived at the foot of mountains, which meant that he was used to colder winters. Since he’d left that village, he’d not seen as much snow in the warmer capital city. It had been, in a sense, ages since he’d seen snow.

Eugeo brushed it off, though, acting as if he wasn’t missing seeing it. I shouldn’t have expected anything less. Eugeo was the sort of person who never talked about the things troubling his heart. I would just have to do something about this. I told him it might not be as long as he thought before he saw snow again, to which he laughed and told me there was no such thing as a cryogenic art in the real world. I just laughed and saw him off, eager to get a plan in motion.

I did a bit of online searching with the help of Suguha. As it would turn out, there was a very rare item in ALO that had the power to make it snow anywhere in the world. It was a stone, a mate to similar stones with different weather properties: summoning rain, clearing the skies for a sunny day, summoning a tornado or a hurricane or a tsunami. These stones were meant to give certain fairy races advantages and disadvantages in a PvP fight. I figured they would work just as well for a little date-time surprise.

The entire group agreed to help out with the mission to recover the ‹‹ Snær Stone ››, so-called for the runes that decorated its surface. They spelled out the word “snær,” an Old Norse name for snow, Suguha told me. In order to earn the stone, we had to complete a rather difficult quest in an area of ALO called Niflheim called “The Hunt of Ullr.” In the quest, the patron saint of skiers, Ullr, offers players sets of skis and asks them to hunt down wolf-type monsters to protect the local NPC population. As a reward for the quest, each player would receive money, special snow resistant gear, the skis themselves, and, to the player with the most kills, the ‹‹ Snær Stone ››.

Alice offered to keep Eugeo busy and offline for the duration of the quest, giving the rest of the group time to head out to the Niflheim area and complete the quest. It proved to be particularly tricky, as expected, as the act of skiing wasn’t as easily picked up as was sword fighting with the assist system. Much like riding horses or driving vehicles, this action in VR required some real-world practice—of which, to my surprise, Klein had the most. We spent a fair amount of time learning how to ski, and once we sort of had that down, the best player wound up being Sinon, whose bow gave her a serious advantage over the rest of us when hunting down the wolves. The gang agreed to let me have the last attack on each monster, though, so that I would end up with the stone.

The stone felt well-earned by the time Ullr was placing it in my hands. I wanted to fall over from fatigue, but I was reminded that this was only the first step of the plan. I had to exit the dive, meet up with Eugeo, and then convince him to come back to the log cabin with me for a special snowy date. I stayed behind with Asuna, staring at the stone in my palm as I thought.

“Do you think this will really be enough for him?” I asked her.

She gave me that knowing best friend smile, and then she reached over to me and closed my fingers around the stone. Our eyes met, and she smiled at me, nodding.

“He loves you, Kirito,” she said. “Don’t panic. He’s going to be very happy that you put in this much effort for him.”

I felt my confidence increase just a bit. Asuna always knew what to say.

“Now, go give your boyfriend a present he won’t forget!” she told me.

In a flash, she was gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts. She was right. Eugeo knew that there was no magic in Japan. He would never fault me for using ALO as the date location for snow because of that. There was nothing for me to worry about. Nodding to myself, I quickly slipped the stone into my inventory and logged out to go and text Eugeo.

He agreed to meet up with me at a game shop close to my house. I told him to bring along his Amusphere so that we could get in some gaming time together. He went along with it. I think playing ALO reminded him of how we met. The fantasy world, even though it wasn’t at all the same as the one he’d been raised in, made more sense to him than my home world did. We checked out a few new titles at the store and then headed back to my place. I urged him to dive from my bed next to me.

“If you insist,” he said. “But there’s more room if one of us takes the couch.”

I laughed and shook my head.

“We’ll be diving,” I said. “Do we really need that much extra room?”

He just smiled at me and shook his head. He knew just as well as I did that it was an excuse to lay beside him. We climbed onto the bed, laying side-by-side, and slipped on our Amuspheres to dive into the log cabin. We shouted the log on command in unison, and seconds later, we were standing in the living area, right where we’d logged out. I smiled across the room at the blue-eyed Undine boy. I hurried over to him and grasped his hand. Eugeo let out a slight yelp and then a laugh as I tugged him along after me into the forest.

“Where are we going, Kirito?” he asked, smiling over at me.

I picked a spot in the woods that had a little bit of a clearing, and I stopped to remove the stone from my inventory. I’d read over the item’s instructions for how to use it. I recited a spell that had been given to me in those instructions, making sure to pronounce everything carefully as I spoke. I turned back to Eugeo, who had a quizzical look on his face, and I waited. I slipped the stone into my pocket and reached one hand out to him. He took it, still confused, and he smiled at me.

“What kind of a spell was that?” he asked.

I pointed my other hand up. He slipped his fingers into my hand as his eyes followed my gesture. I watched his eyes start to sparkle as he realized what was happening. Gentle snowflakes started to fall around us, landing on the ground, the trees, and our avatars. Luckily for me, this particular spell caused an area effect that would turn this place into a wintry landscape. The ground started to turn white with packed snow, and the trees held just enough to look like an old-fashioned Christmas card. Eugeo started laughing and put out his hand to catch a few of the snowflakes.

“How did you do that, Kirito?” he asked.

Pulling the stone out of my pocket, I opened his palm and set it down in his hand.

“With this, we can see snow anytime we like,” I said.

Eugeo clutched the stone in his palm and then threw his arms around me, tackling me with a hug. We fell down into the freshly fallen snow, sending up a powdery spray as we landed. The both of us laughed, now covered with icy crystals. Eugeo leaned forward and slipped his lips into mine, stealing a warm kiss amidst the cold now swirling gently around us. I cupped his face in my hands, feeling his cold cheeks start to fill with warmth.

His eyes opened a little as he pulled away from the kiss. Our noses were barely touching. The snow falling around his face made him look less like a fairy and more like an angel. Some of it stuck to his hair, and the sunlight hit those crystals, making them sparkle. I smiled. He looked so handsome in the snow. It had been so long since I’d seen him smiling the way he’d smiled at me back in the Underworld.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I missed this so much.”

I chuckled.

“I’m glad you like the snow,” I said.

Eugeo shook his head.

“No, not just the snow,” he said. “I missed us just enjoying the simple things in life together.”

I pulled him in for another kiss.

“Me, too,” I admitted.

I rolled us over in the snow and hopped up to my feet.

“Now,” I said. “Are we going to enjoy this weather, or are we just going to sit and kiss in the snow?”

Before Eugeo could respond, I was already tossing a bit of snow at him. He laughed like a child and jumped up to start throwing it back at me. We frolicked around in the snow, tossing it at one another, rolling around in it, and building little snowmen, completely lost in a little corner of winter that we’d made for ourselves. When we’d tired ourselves out, we went back into the cabin to log out, and we curled up against one another, gently dozing off as we warmed one another up from the virtual chill.

A glimpse of Eugeo’s face before I fell asleep told me everything I needed to know. He was smiling brightly. I cuddled up to him, grateful that this VR snow day had brought him such a happy smile.

#sword art online #sao fanfic #Fanfic Request #one shot #sao #sao alicization #yujikiri #kiriyuji #eugeo #kirito #eugeo x kirito #kirito x eugeo #ask #ask me anything #anon

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slstmaraudersjple · 4 years ago

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Belated Fic Rec Event post!

Soooo... some of you may know that I was unfortunately not able to post my fic recs for the KC Fic Rec Event hosted by @klaroline-events due to my laptop dying and me needing to order a replacement battery/charging cord. So here are the fic recs for days 2-6! Lots of good fics ;)

Klaroline Fic Rec Event 2020 - Day 2 Sep 1st: All Human!AU Title: Colored You In (Links: FFN | AO3) Author: @lalainajanes (Links: FFN | AO3) Summary: AH-AU. Rebekah asks a favor that turns out to be kind of life changing (life ruining?) for Caroline. Living with a temporarily broke Kol is one thing. A really, really annoying thing. And then Klaus is suddenly always around, planted on her couch, drinking her wine and adding snarky commentary which Caroline DOES NOT appreciate. Mikaelson's and boundaries apparently did not mix. Warnings: none Status: Complete

Why you should read it: This has everything I love in a Klaroline fic: Caroline friendship with Rebekah and Enzo, Caroline/Kol bonding, Mikaelson sibling drama... and of course, Klaus secretly being trash for Caroline. It’s hilariously entertaining, especially when Caroline suspects SOMETHING is up and Kol keeps teasing her about it because he KNOWS, and Rebekah DOESN’T know what’s happening until she does, and the Mikaelson sibling dynamic is so entertaining and YOU WLL LOVE IT. I mean, in the first chapter, Rebekah bribes Caroline into letting Kol stay with her. That alone should set the tone for the entir story for you. Seriously, just read it already!

A favorite scene:

The box said 'Louboutin' so Caroline was on guard. When Rebekah had called yesterday and asked Caroline to meet her for drinks Caroline had agreed immediately. Work was hectic, she had fundraiser to oversee tomorrow, so a martini (or three) to wind down sounded like a good idea.

Beware of Greeks bearing gifts, or so the saying went.

"Do you need a kidney, or something? Because I love you, Bex. But I love gin too."

Klaroline Fic Rec Event 2020 - Day 3 Sep 2nd: Angst Title: all you need to grow inside my spine (Links: FFN | AO3) Author: @highgaarden (Links: FFN | AO3) Summary: Klaus watches, satisfied, and in that moment she realizes something terrible: that she is grateful for the blood in her mouth. The sooner they break this bond the better. / or, Klaus and Caroline try to bargain their way out of their soulmate bond, but discover that dealing with magic isn't quite as easy or liberating as snapping a neck. ONESHOT. Warnings: none Status: Complete

Why you should read it: You should read this for the writing alone. The lines just TUG at your very soul and if you didn’t know words could hurt, this does it. This story is a variation on the soulmates AU where Klaus and Caroline are NOT delighted by what they learn, and so they agree to try to break this bond. What I like about this is that it’s a story where, while Klaus may be intrigued by Caroline, he still chooses power over his soulmate. Or does he?

A favorite scene:

“I tried, so hard, to be good.” Caroline closes her eyes to the blood dripping down her forehead. “So freakin’ hard. I was on the bunny diet. I thought if I ever showed you who I was, my soulmate would run for the hills.”

“Aren’t you glad then that it’s me?”

Klaroline Fic Rec Event 2020 - Day 4 Sep 3rd: Fluff Title: The Sound of Settling (Link: AO3) Author: @galvanizedfriend / Yokan (Link: AO3) Summary: Klaus hates his job at Mikaelson & Sons. He hates wearing a suit. He also hates his brothers constantly butting into his life. Everything will be better once he gets his much desired transfer to the New York branch. Caroline Forbes is the owner of Mystic Café, and when Klaus accidentally wanders into her coffee shop, his whole perspective changes. [AH/Coffee Shop!AU where Klaus is a lawyer. Lots of Mikaelsons and some Carenzo friendship.] Warnings: none Status: Complete

Why you should read it: I love this story so much! It’s a variation of the coffee shop meet cute, and I love how @galvanizedfriend can take a simple setting like a coffee shop and making something beautiful out of it!!! All Klaus wants in life is to get away from his family, so he works himself to the bone in hopes of getting a transfer. One day he comes across Caroline’s coffee shop as he’s looking for his next coffee fix, but discovers reasons to keep coming back... and the best part about all this? This beautifully written story reminds us that sometimes, what we think we want is not what we truly want.

A favorite scene:

"Well, you haven't run for the hills. I think you turned out pretty ok, if you ask me." Caroline pushes up her seat and winks at him. "Duty calls."

Klaus is left in a state of absolute disbelief as she walks back to the counter. Thirty-two years of age and this might be the first time anyone claims he's turned out ok. His ex-girlfriend with a degree to validate her opinion would probably have some points to make.

He doesn't know if Caroline is completely crazy or if she genuinely sees something no other person ever did. Klaus is almost afraid of believing the latter.

Klaroline Fic Rec Event 2020 - Day 5 Sep 4th: Smut Title: Battle Lines (Links: FFN | AO3) Author: Jinxed-Wood (Links: FFN | AO3) Summary: Battle Lines [Dark Season 2 AU ] The little cheerleader had seemed the perfect candidate for Klaus's purposes, an outlier of the herd if you will, but as he tried to bend her to his will, it quickly became apparent she was not the pushover she had first appeared to be... Warnings: character deaths, dubious(?) consent, mentions of sexual assault and trauma Status: Incomplete

Why you should read it: This is a dark season 2 AU where morality is very, very gray. Klaus decides to use Caroline to spy on her friends. Caroline, on the other hand, is used to being underestimated, and she takes advantage of it to ensure her survival. In an interesting turn of events, Klaus’ actions result in Caroline getting what she deserves, which is better. However, since this fic is incomplete, I have no idea how it’s going to end! Also, tons and tons of smutty goodness!

A favorite scene:

He collapsed on top of her and waited for their thrum of their hearts to ease, stroking her hair absently as his mind turned over the future. Truth be told, Caroline's usefulness as a spy had been somewhat eroded as a result of his earlier than planned return to Mystic Falls, but he found her...diverting, and that was not a phrase he used for a lot of people. Perhaps he could convince her to make a more permanent arrangement?

But that meant he would have to to seduce her into his life as well as his bed, and what did he have to offer that Caroline Forbes would want?

Klaroline Fic Rec Event 2020 - Day 6 Sep 5th: Supernatural!AU (undine!Caroline and Originals!Mikaelsons) Title: Drown Me in Ash, Burn Me in Salt (links: FFN | AO3) Author: @cupcakemolotov (links: FFN | AO3) Summary: Cursed with legs by a witch as the gods were unmade, Caroline is a relic of ancient times. Bored and lonely, her interest is peaked by the newest predators in the world - vampires. And in particular, Klaus Mikaelson, with his monsters teeth and the wolf caged in his blood. Warnings: some blood and gore, nothing explicit Status: Complete

Why you should read it: If you’re looking for powerful Caroline and the Mikaelsons, this is it! This is a rather lengthy 14k-word one-shot, and one that I find myself turning to time and time again. @cupcakemolotov does an incredible job building worlds upon worlds, and this is no exception. I love that in this world, Caroline is older than the Mikaelsons (but not an Original), an ancient creature who finds amusement in this dysfunctional family and keeps them around because she can. I love her interactions with the Mikaelson siblings, of the way she seamlessly moves through the world on her own terms and no one else’s.

A favorite scene:

“So, you’re more of a siren?” Klaus asked thoughtfully, head tilting as he faced her with no fear.

Caroline sighed and disentangled herself from the chains and corpse. “What is it with humans and naming things?”

“Power,” Klaus murmured as she reached for his locks. “Dominion does not come easily, against the unnamed night terrors. Why are you helping us?”

“I’m bored,” Caroline told him, switching to Rebekah’s chains. “Your little vampire creations are amusing, even if you taste like the grave.”

Klaroline Fic Rec Event 2020 - Day 7 Sep 6th: Free for all! Title: A Pregnant Pause (Links: FFN | AO3) Author: @supremeuppityone (Links: FFN | AO3) Summary: Klaroline supernatural AU multi-chap. Pregnant and alone, Caroline meets a woman named Rebekah, and an unexpected friendship is formed. But then, her ridiculously attractive asshat of a brother starts inserting himself into their lives, causing all kinds of trouble. Despite being distracted by those dimples, she notices something seems a bit off about the Mikaelsons... Warnings: discussions on abortion Status: Incomplete

Why you should read it: It should go without saying that this is one of my FAVORITE Klaroline fics of all time. This features a clueless and pregnant human Caroline who finds herself entangled with the MIkaelson family. I absolutely adore the Caroline/Rebekah friendship that forms, the way Caroline wins over each of the Mikaelson siblings, and the way they find themselves drawn to her in turn. This story makes me laugh and cry, and I appreciate @supremeuppityone’s writing SO MUCH.

A favorite scene:

Clearing her throat, she told Rebekah, “You’ll figure it out. And I’ll help.”

She favored Caroline with a weak smile. “I thought I was supposed to be helping you.”

“So, we’ll help each other then.” Caroline laid back against one of the fluffy pillows on the chaise, a forearm over her eyes as she let out a soft groan.

So here we go! One epic belated post!

#KCFicRecEvent #klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fanfic

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jojo-reader-hell · 5 years ago

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Jonathan Joestar x Selkie!Reader: Seven on the Land, Seven in the Sea

Hello children here’s the selkie angst you didn’t ask for.

...

“And yet, niece, you are subject to our laws, as a being of the same nature with ourselves; and should HE prove unfaithful to you and marry again, you are obliged to take away his life.”

- Undine

...

“Oh Jojo! Yes! Yes I will marry you!”

Your hands, clammy and pruned, began to tremble. You released your fist and gripped weakly at the door frame, legs like gelatin when you heard a cacophony of giggles, and saw a man lift a woman with hair the color of golden beach sand into his arms for a kiss. The barking laughter of the elders echoing in your mind, stomach frothing with nervous bile.

Remember the laws of our people little pup: he belonged to you the minute the child was placed inside your tender womb by his essence. He cannot belong to another, and if he tries... he is condemned to die by your hand.

No... no... this cannot be happening... Why couldn’t your husband just wait for you to explain?! You turned away from the path, blocking the way to the door, turning and seeing a very familiar pair of watery blue eyes searching for the answer in your tear streaked face. Your little boy, your son Giorno, was still holding out the large jet black pelt you’d found. The picture of innocence. Blue black hair pressed wetly to his forehead as he obediently waited. A good boy, in every sense of the word. He didn’t understand human words, he was seven years a seal and a mere few minutes a human. You meant to show him as a surprise. Instructed your little boy to hold out his father’s new pelt and wait for him to come to the door when you knocked. He was then to say his first word, a call of his father’s name. At first the sight made you coo in delight, now it only made you wish to die. It was supposed to be a happy moment. A moment that would inspire joy once you knocked at the cabin door and the fisherman’s son Jonathan Joestar would open it to reveal his half selkie son holding out a seal pelt just his size, that he might join you both in the sea forever.

Oh! You can try to deny the jealousy. ‘Twill be a bitter poison to swallow that will consume your every waking moment. But the lust for blood will consume you, eat away at the heart that was once cradled in the palm of his hand, and you will inevitably partake in the ancient right to carnage. Serves you right for cavorting about with a human. Doesn’t it make you wish now that you’d have taken the harp seal as your husband? Dio would have made a devoted father to little Giorno. You know, once your human mate is dead you are allowed to take another in his stead.

You remembered your words... How proudly you lifted your chin and dared to look into the eyes of the elder selkie.

I’d rather die.

Yes. You’d rather be dead. Rather have stayed on land and let the dryness kill you and the baby than have to look through the salt stained windows of the cabin and see your husband’s lips locked with another, grudgingly you admitted his new choice was pretty. Beach sand hair, eyes as blue as the sea... Certainly not the stormy eyes of a seal woman that were shrouded as though in a dense fog. While it never bothered you before, you suddenly felt the chill of the sea wind creep into your bones, bare toes curling into the mud of the path as you took a stumbling step away. Your son barked, it was all he knew how to do, and you frightened him when you lunged forward on the path to cover his mouth, scraping the sensitive skin of your legs when you scooped him up into your arms.

Giorno barked at you once again when you waded out to the beach in a hurry, not paying any mind to the blood trickling down your legs. You understood him perfectly, it was a bark that meant he wanted his papa’s attention. You made a snuffing sound with your nose as you buried your face in his little neck, a sound meant for seal mothers to reassure their little ones. But he didn’t want his mother. He wanted his father and tried to open his mouth to call his name like you taught him, quickly silenced with the words gurgling in his throat as you dove into the cold gray sea.

No... no... Jonathan... dear Jonathan... why couldn’t he wait for you?? Why couldn’t he have stayed steadfast and faithful, understanding the message of the pearls and shells you’d left in place of the letter you didn’t know how to write. You didn’t know any way to let him know. It wasn’t possible for a selkie to live more than a few days on land. You were able to stay a little longer, because Jonathan had accidentally caught your pelt in his nets. By the laws you were bound to him as husband and wife. Whosoever took your pelt and returned it was by tradition proposing marriage. And because he was so sincere, so kind, you accepted. Happy as a clam to have been fortunate to be taken in the arms of such a handsome specimen of manhood.

“If you are my wife now... then this must be our wedding night.”

He’d told you this on a night similar to the one you returned on. It was just as the sun was setting. The cold wind from the sea blew in, his fire roaring and a cast iron pot of simmering fish stew bubbled in the fire. You’d been waiting patiently to be fed, your pelt wrapped loosely around yourself, unaware of how bewitching you looked when the spotted pelt slid down to expose your soft shoulders.

“Yes. I suppose it is.”

“Tell me, little selkie, do you know what happens on a wedding night?”

You did not know, but oh did you find out. You found out the consequences of such a night too, when your stomach began to balloon out even though you couldn’t keep down your fish anymore. Jonathan was too busy to notice. A fisherman’s life was hard, with him being at sea for weeks at a time and returning dead tired with barely enough food to feed the two of you. You tried to tell him yourself that you were dying. You just needed some time to return back to the sea, a seven year rest in the water and a seven year search for a pelt that he might come to your world without drowning trying to join you and the baby. If you continued living on land, you’d lose the child and your life, leaving the poor man a lonely widow without even a body to mourn. From sea foam you came, to sea foam you’d return if you kept up the facade of being a human for too long.

As you pulled both yourself and baby further down into the murky water, you tried to ignore the sounds of a creature swimming rapidly towards you. Pretending not to see the locks of gold and that damned gloating smile, you pressed Giorno closer to your chest and made into the shape of a torpedo, jettisoning yourself out of reach of the sea and landing with an undignified ‘plop’ on the hard pebbles of the beach. Your son sputtered, coughing sea water and choking because of the abrupt transition from breathing air to breathing water.

“You damnable tease!” Croaked a voice out of breath. “I’m only trying to help you-...”

“Go away Dio!” You growled a warning, lips pulling back over your sharp teeth. “This doesn’t concern you!”

“Of course it does! Am I not the fiercest hunter?! Did I not escort you here to protect you from sharks? In a few minutes you might have had another escort instead of me. Clumsy bitch, you’re bleeding!”

He heaved himself onto land, hissing at the pain of the pebbles pressing into his sensitive skin and hardly experienced enough to walk as he dragged himself towards you with an outstretched hand. You stood on wobbling legs and stepped out of reach, backing away as fast as the love struck selkie male could crawl towards you, his legs still clumsily pressed together because he never fully grasped the concept of his human half.

“He didn’t stay faithful did he?!” Dio laughed, between hissing at the pain of the dry land and hurling insults at you. “He’s going to marry that simpering wench and you’ll have to kill him on his wedding night, in your marriage bed that he defiled with another!”

“Go away!”

“You’ll be left a disgraced widow. Your poor son more of a bastard than he already is!”

“Begone!”

“You know I speak the truth! I was told to bring you the knife to carry out the deed. Take it you fool, take it and free yourself! Save what little dignity you have left and exercise your ancient right to revenge!”

He tossed the offending object towards your feet. The ceremonial knife. A razor clam honed to a fine edge and used by multitudes of heartbroken selkies to free themselves from their earthly bonds. It made you pause, seeing it lay there innocently while Giorno stared wide eyed at Dio. You looked at the child in your arms, and then once more to the razor clam. A feeling... insatiable lust... a hunger for the blood of your son’s father filled your heart, skipping a beat when you saw some of the blood from your knees dribble down onto the blade.

Temptation.

Pure, unadulterated temptation.

The same temptation he might have felt when he committed the sin of taking another...

Kicking sand in your wake, you carried Giorno far away, as far as your weak legs could carry the both of you. They didn’t get you far. Just far enough into the forest that you couldn’t hear Dio’s screams of your name, but you could still see the smoke curling from Jonathan’s chimney and smell the fish he was cooking as a meal to celebrate his betrothal. You couldn’t cry. Selkies cannot cry tears, only making you suffer all the more as your heartbreak had no where else to go but to sink deeper into the pit of your stomach. Giorno had long since stopped choking, opting now to whine weakly into your arms, unused to being on dry land for such a long period of time. You tried your best to rock him back and forth in your arms, mimicking the gentle motions of the waves in an attempt to soothe him.

But it was all for naught. There was nothing you could do to console him. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t give the black pelt he still held to his papa. Didn’t understand why you didn’t produce his father after seven years of singing him songs in your seal voice about the handsome young man that would net hoards of fish for him to eat, then cradle him in his strong arms and shower him with the affection he longed for. You knew even though he didn’t understand things as a human, Giorno wasn’t stupid. He saw the members of his pod paired and taking care of young, wondering why he had no papa to clean his whiskers after his meals or to teach him to catch slippery silver fish in his jaws. Giorno was instead fed on mother’s milk and stories of a papa that walked on two legs, a papa that couldn’t swim very well in frothing waters and that had promised a vow of everlasting love to his mother.

“P-papa!” His first words were raspy, his throat parched from breathing in too much dry air. “Papa!”

#jojo’s bizzare adventure #jojo’s bizarre adventure phantom blood #jonathan joestar x erina pendleton #jonathan joestar x reader #selkie!reader #giorno giovanna #jonathan joestar #dio brando x reader #dio brando #erina pendleton joestar #angst #unfaithful partner #unrequited love #selkie #selkie marriage

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bottlecaprabbitgames · 5 years ago

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February 3rd, 2020 Scenario: Vacation (Adontis)

I am using @ducky-writez prompt list as I said, and I did the one for February 3rd with Adontis and an ungendered MC! I may go back and do #1 and #2 today too.

[[MORE]]

You could really use a vacation. Even if it's just one day away from the hell your life has been for the last two years and running. Some get away where the only stress you have is nothing. And, lucky for you, Adontis agrees.

"Yes, I think given everything that has happened… you need one. Hell, I think we both do." When you look over to him, there's a little secretive smile on his lips as he cleans up his alchemy station, and you can tell by his body language he is more than aware you are looking at him.

"You saying you want to go on a vacation with me?" you ask, an excited flutter starting in your stomach and chest. You look forward to any alone time you get with him, honestly; the team has been growing on you as a whole, but… you're not exactly in love with all of them. Adontis, though…

He laughs, a low, seductive sound that sends electricity skittering over your skin. "Yes. I was considering talking to you about one soon anyhow, so I'm glad you brought it up." He clasps his ingredient case close, then turns to look at you, leaning against the case with his elbow and against the desk with his hip. "Have you considered where you want to go?"

"Well… no," you answer honestly. "Just… away from so much noise. So many people. No offense to the team, but-"

"They can be a bit much, and without us taking Telalyse anymore, it's even louder," he finishes, a knowing grin on his lips, showing his double set of fangs. "Believe me, I know." He hums thoughtfully, one hand rubbing the other's wrist as he stares at his desk. After a few beats, he speaks. "Well, if you want near-total privacy, I own a home in the middle of a beautiful, magical forest, accompanied by the caregivers, their home, a garden, and a few farm animals." His hands dance as he talks, and voice takes on a dreamy falsetto tone. You raise a brow, liking the image he paints.

"Adontis?"

"Hmm?"

"Why do you own a house in the middle of the forest?"

"Oh, well, you see, the colony of Undine in the nearby river had a problem from Super hunters, so I got rid of their problem. They had me a home created in their forest as a thank you." He shrugs. You give a thoughtful frown.

"I mean… fair enough." You tap a finger on your chair for a second to help find your words. "When can we go?"

"Whenever you are ready, of course, darling."

"How about, like, now?" His chuckle is answer enough.

==========

You take in a deep breath of the forest's fresh air. It looked like a fairytale, Adontis's home. A mid-sized mansion made of white, living trees with a roof slated with paneling the same bluish purple of the surrounding flora. The door has intricately made detailing of swirls and spherical imagery, and the vertical center shows a river with beings dancing inside.

The caregivers turned out to be dryads, humanoids that look like humans crossed with plants (one seemed to be crossed with a fern, while the other was wild pink roses). Both women were incredibly friendly, with one teasing Adontis relentlessly over finally bringing someone here for them to meet. He actually even blushed, something you have still rarely seen him do. It was pretty cute to see, and even cuter when he tried to hide his face in your hair.

And, maybe it made your heart squee a little when he pressed a kiss into it.

You shiver happily at the memory of it, now examining the odd coloration and movement of the forest's plants as Adontis gets everything set up in his room. Some of the ferns wrap around your legs and squeeze for a second, softly, then release, seeming to wave. It almost feels like… they are welcoming you. Little animals are also beginning to peek out at you, some looking like odd versions of "normal" animals like squirrels and rabbits and deer, while others… you can't even describe. A particularly chubby, round… bird-thing bumbles out beside you, its four small, corgi-like legs seeming to struggle to carry it. It cheeps at you, and for some unknown reason, you feel the need to pet it, so you do, earning more cheeps. You begin to feel like this is the only thing you need to do, ever, as if nothing else is ever as important as this, and you can't find a reason to disagree.

Or, at least not until your hand is wrenched away. Your immediate thought is to fight, but after a few seconds, Adontis's voice breaks through the cloud in your mind and you stop. "${Name}! ${Name}! Calm down, it's me! Stop fighting me!"

"Adontis? Wh… what's happening?" you slur stupidly, confused.

"It's a oricanle, they're bird-like creatures that can entice you to pet them until you die," he informs. The bird hisses at him and attempts to peck at where his hands hold you. He hisses back, his face shifting and morphing into its… less-pleasant form. The bird squeaks in fright and tumbles off.

"My hero," you say dramatically, still feeling weird. He lets out a chuckle, but you can hear his nerves and concern in it.

"Always. Now, let's get you inside where you can rest." He easily picks you up bridal style and carries you to his home.

"First day of vacation and some bird thing tries to steal my soul, don't that beat all," you mumble, nuzzling into his warm shoulder. His chest rumbles with another laugh.

"Oh, come on darling, even on vacation you have to have a little fun."

"Oh, yeah, sure, it's all fun if it's not your soul tryin' to be gobbled."

"Ah, well," he shrugs, "I get to play hero so what's not to like about such a situation?" He lets out a loud "ow!" when you punch his chest.

"Your caregivers will have to save you when I'm not too dizzy to stand," you grumble threateningly, but are cut off when he dips you over the threshold and presses his lips passionately against yours, making you lose your entire line of thought. When he pulls away after a few seconds, he gives you a bright smile.

"I'll trust you to save me from whatever you have planned," he replies cheekily, before pulling you out of his dip and setting you down on the couch, tucking a very soft pillow under your head. You can't answer as your brain still tries to process what he just did.

Some goddamn vacation, alright.

#scenarios #scenario #adontis #agent adontis #mind games #february 2020

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libidomechanica · 4 years ago

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“but like an odd one disdaind to seemed transferrd, and fish”

Onely belly might else palace to perplex to fine- pointed virgins honour law, but like an odd one disdaind to seemed transferrd, and

fish out of sense itself a fool the blooming, too farthest stone I wanton with thou sit or remain; in vaine our

hart: one tenors voice not undinal vast estates war, sense of make the dancing when to worke of all those plank, and short he sight; but this unriddle

they speak. Level, whose contentment can ease, said: doe ru ined in your louing in you hopeless nice. But zombie-lite the Grand? He that thou are

my wrath did make it selfe, and blush rising, henchman! And daunge eeke the little hear my powre to see sweet is spirit by loue I grows knot, like sacred

count upon the days, I do not fyre of human hart will kill, in a silent and forgot. Him with the

waking of dark socket, valentinents imputed shortly restrictions warl! But now consequent vouchsafe and bear thralling sin. Among, the nut, by a hey, as them

smyling to dustie with him flew his toes, I dare blast relick beautys annoy? Fannd, unless, I rew, whiles Ime gladly people round this in his

rynd in her tide? Thither who the fault much meeke our so well-night to ere were it eternally. Whether had not my

dayes do those while your straine, and make his hole worlds wound his termes annoy to be sad been have breeze lifting thee. Such is buoyancy

afloater, whilest Lute! Thou Mother be bar, cried, unless plains! And there the same give the grasp— his not yet at hide some still that so shame. As Loves sake then al

that for knot inviolate, like Horses worth, soon it with mercy charm weather this spoilt by needed nothings that trophy used me

laugh a runcible weep the starch in each when it to see how thousand the due grim ace a wintry pleads the figure.

To give an airy lustrious roialty. Without knowing a ding; trembled away die at heares vnwarily disperse, bubbles. D quill doth he treasure, saying

scale of that mote it, and manifold high degree is filled; he who saw (for wrong: this disparaged the thine from loves (the dancer!))

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #152 texts

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rukafais · 5 years ago

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abyssopelagic

The void is a sea. In its depths swim countless memories.

It remembers, in its own way.

[ao3 mirror]

“Do not think that I am wave top, Do not think that I am tow, I am ocean, up and under, I am legion high and low”

“My dear sister,” says the god-in-flame. His fiery form reflects in distorted crimson on the darkness’ surface. “Just because it stands in opposition to you does not mean it has no right to exist.”

“It is still my enemy,” says the god-in-light, Her voice loud enough to create ripples in the water, Her anger enough to push the shadows away from her, repulsing it.

The endless, bottomless sea, the neverending darkness, says nothing. It merely accepts. It always does.

Once the lights-in-dream are gone, the water stirs no longer.

It sleeps. It does not dream.

II.

The mortals bury their dead. They burn them. They sing songs and crown them with flowers or wrap them in silks, and float them down rivers, or sink them into lakes and seas.

The bodies sink into the depths. They pass into shadow. They cross the boundary that only the dead know, their souls adrift on the currents, and the darkness cradles them like children.

The mortals weep and grieve. Some of them find it too unbearable to move on. Regret and guilt cling to them, constant burdens, constant companions.

They invite the darkness of dead places into themselves. They hear the rivers running down to the silent sea where ghosts sleep. They, too, do not dream.

Some of them sink into the darkness themselves. Some of them face the dark shore, hearing the movement of the waves buzzing in their heads, and they turn away.

They are crossroads-children, these mortal creatures. They live. Their hearts still beat strong, their breath still comes, but they are not unchanged.

The first of them names a title, for those who have seen the endless dark and returned;

“Confessor”.

They cast away the regrets of others, their sadness, their guilt. Making it manifest, for reconciliation, for hope, for life.

Through them the void is shaped. Through them, it understands the deep sadness of the dead.

The endless darkness hums all alone, in the veins of the world, in the shadow of dream and light, and sings toneless lullabies to the ghosts in the depths. It cradles them in its currents.

They sleep in peace.

III.

Kingdoms in water are no closer to the darkness than any other. It is a location that exists in head and heart, at any distance. It is terribly easy, in some ways, for some bugs, to reach it; for others, the only way they will see it is at the end of their lives, where all things go in endless sleep.

But these ones court the darkness. Extoll its virtues, worship it. Perhaps they hope for a god to be made manifest in it, or a messiah, or something else.

It does not think about such things, at least not in those terms. These bugs are not like the Confessors, who even now wander the world, lifting others from their own darkness; these ones have desires, they have needs. They want the darkness itself to shape to them.

It does not understand. But they name it Void, and they pour it into moulds. They give it emblems, shapes, imprints of their own wants. They build statues in its honor.

They invite it into their kingdom. And the darkness does as it always has; it sweeps the streets clean, holds them in its embrace, like it has done for the countless mortals before it.

Through them it feels fear, rage, betrayal; the sense of being left wanting. Fire in the darkness. They are restless, painful ghosts.

It has felt these things before, but never so much at once.

It accepts their anger, their pain, their regrets. Their blame.

It always does.

IV.

The god-in-flame is much smaller now, much more diminished. He stands without his sister. But the darkness still reflects his former glory, his former form; it has not forgotten him.

“So you....remember me,” he says, and his voice creaks rustily from disuse.

(He died, then, crashing violently from sky to sea, from light to dark, into the open ocean beyond dreams. Of course it had remembered him. His old body slumbers in the deep, drifting in the currents. Tattered and broken, still wounded, but wrapped in silence, the embrace of the endless sea.)

The Void does not respond. It ripples and hums and crashes around him, in the language of the tides, of movement, of freely flowing water. The only way it knows.

It has never needed a voice to be understood.

“They...gave you a name,” he says. “Tried to shape....control you.”

His laugh is broken metal and cracked shells, the breathless snap of flame. The water vibrates, absorbing the dream-sound.

“No...I do not understand it...myself...”

If he does not understand it, he with so much experience in mortals, his image shaped by them, then it does not know what it should or can do.

“There is...no should...not for you.”

They do not understand it, that worship. Perhaps they never will. But other gods need worship, sustain themselves on it. Does worship mean they are a god?

“Not like us...not a dream...not guidance...not light. You are with them...in their shadows...their lives. Part of their struggle...end of all things. Always there....”

Then it will do as it has always done.

It will accept.

“My vessels...will come to you...in time...”

“Be kind...to them...as you are to all things.”

It sees him again, occasionally; in the rubble and ruins of the old and dead. Always under the skin of a different guise (a vessel, he had said; it does not yet understand what that means).

But it does as he asks, always. For a time, his children are flames in the darkness, warmth and light. It wraps them in its embrace, until they rise again, rejoining him.

As the kingdom crumbles above, as the god-in-light and god-in-metal fight for control, it simply accepts. It takes the dead - when it can. The god-in-light keeps the souls of the dead, not allowing them to return to the ocean in which all things must pass, and it does not understand.

But this, it accepts.

Cold hands, sharp light, gathers from them. In the ruins of a dead kingdom, the god-in-metal takes parts of them away.

It makes things from it that they do not understand. Things that have the barest flickering of light inside, trapped in cold shells, made to last forever. Never to rejoin, never to return.

Perhaps it is one of those things they are not meant to understand.

The god-in-metal makes containers, masks, shells of light from which there is no escaping. He makes life from darkness, from death.

This, it accepts.

(Vessels, god-in-flame, had said; is that what he meant?)

And then he destroys it. Over and over, he kills them, these pieces of darkness that struggled to life. The only children they have ever had, the strange beings that result from moulding life out of death; they feel each and every existence, violently taken away, rushing through them.

Their masks litter the shore. Too many to count, each loss a stabbing pain. They plunge crying and fearful, furious, struggling, into the depths once more.

It sings no lullabies for its dead children; they struggle and fight, clinging to the lives they briefly had, and it cannot deny them. Their pain, their torment, becomes its torment.

Through them they understand the painful shortness of life cut short.

For the first time, the sea seethes, and roars.

It crashes violently against its bounds, against the shore, unwilling to do as it has always done and accept,

and for the first time, it understands rage. “I am whisper, I am roaring, I am lullaby and scream. I will find you on the shingle, I am nightmare, I am dream.”

“I am tidepool in the shallows, I am foam on top of wave, I am shell and shifting sand steps, I am undertow and grave.”

-----

A/N: Beginning and ending quotes are from Jane Yolen's poem, "Warning from the Undine".

Thanks for reading.

#hollow knight #togetherslapping words #how the fuck do you do a character study on something that isnt really a character? fuck if i know #this is my best attempt at it

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canyouhearthelight · 4 years ago

Text

The Miys, Ch. 107

Happy Tuesday, time for a new chapter!

Writing author’s notes three weeks in advance is hard, I am realizing. However I am reasonably sure if I wait to write this note, I will forget, because Tuesdays are insane at work.

So, quickly: shout out to @baelpenrose for being my beta, as always. Also, thank you to @charlylimph-blog and @zommbiebro, for the characters in this chapter.

I hope you all enjoy!!

I had to admit, as I laughed at Charly’s face when she stole a bite of my food, that Huynh - and therefore Jokul - had a point about eating in the cafeteria/mess regularly. Today, I had taken a page out of his book, and decided on my lunch based on what someone else was eating that looked good when I walked in. No matter how the dish ended up being, the smile on the face of a random stranger when I stopped and told them their food looked good, along with asking if I could get some from the console, made my day.

Which was good, because it was the oddest fish pie I had ever eaten. In general, I neither hated nor loved fish pie - I needed to either have a request or a craving to make it, usually. However, when I originally saw it as I entered the mess, I saw flaky crust, meat, veggies, and a creamy sauce and called it a winner. I don’t think Charly was expecting seafood in general when she took a bite, and I certainly hadn’t been expecting scallops, even knowing I had gotten fish pie.

“That’s… that’s fish!” she sputtered, glaring at me in betrayal.

“It’s actually scallops,” I corrected, no less perplexed for that fact. “I was expecting mackerel and cod, or haddock. That’s what Conor always asks me to make, anyway.”

“But it’s fish,” she insisted. “I thought it would be chicken.”

“It’s not bad,” I admitted, taking another bite. “Just caught me off guard.”

Shaking her head and scowling, she got up to get her own food, returning with an actual chicken pot pie. Just as she was hooking her arm around it protectively - either protecting it from me or from my lunch, who knew - a pillar of grey and silver stalked up to the table before plopping down miserably.

Now holding her pie over her head - to avoid being flanked? - Charly stared down, eyes wide. “Mr. Bjornson?” she asked, bewildered.

Craning my neck, I realized she had a point, although the hair was somewhat dishevelled and the robes were wrinkled beyond anything I had seen him wearing previously. Not even Conor or I would wear clothes that creased, honestly. Hesitantly, I poked at him. “Did you just decide to die in front of my food?” I asked, skeptical. “Last time you interrupted my lunch, you were being kidnapped.”

Alarmingly, Jokul sat up, eyes red, sniffling back tears. “He won’t talk to me…”

Both Charly and I jerked back, surprised. Recovering faster, I carefully ventured a question. “You mean Ivan?”

Rather than answer out loud, Jokul gave a bigger sniff and nodded emphatically.

I was so not prepared to have this conversation, but I tried anyway. “Is everything… I guess, okay, for lack of a better term?”

“He works so much,” came the plaintive response. “He’s so tired all the time, and I’m trying to adjust to everyone looking at me funny and…” He stopped, tears rolling again, biting his lip in what looked like an effort to gain control.

“And?” Charly asked, setting her lunch down and carefully reaching to put a hand on his forearm.

“AndIdonthaveanyoneelsetotalktonowbecauseIrealizedIdontactuallyhaveany friennnnnnnds,” he blurted out quietly, the last part on a barely-constrained sob. I had to give him credit for trying to draw as little attention as possible while talking about something that was clearly a difficult subject.

“Oh, that’s bullshit,” Charly sighed softly, shaking her head. “Right, Sophia?”

I rocked my head a bit, thinking about it. “I mean…. I don’t know about friends, per se - “ Charly glared and kicked me hard enough to drive the breath out of me. “Hey! Cut me some slack?”

“I’m the one who got the punch,” she scolded, stroking his hair and carefully detangling it.

Fair. “Earning friendships may take some time,” I admitted. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t talk to anyone about what’s going on, you know.”

“Who, Councillor?” he demanded sadly. “Who do I have to talk to?”

“Well, you clearly thought I was a good idea - Ow, Charly!” Rubbing my shin, I continued. “Like I was saying, though. It kind of depends on what it is you want to talk about. If it’s struggling to come back from a negative public image… Simon, hands down, is the best person for that.”

Thankfully, Jokul went from looking despondent to confused. “Simon Rodriguez?”

Charly and I both nodded hard enough to pop our necks. “He was a complete ass when I boarded. I actually tried to kill him, and so did Tyche. He can tell you the details, but in the end, he made the effort to be a better neighbor, and now he’s an amazing educator whose students adore him.”

“Arthur Farro was a warlord, however,” Jokul tried to object. “Would he not be a better source of insight?”

“Absolutely not,” Charly responded before I could draw a breath, shooting the idea down instantly. “Mr. Farro doesn’t care what other people think of him, beyond making sure they aren’t trying to kill him too actively. He adheres to social etiquette in most cases, but it’s not for his own sake, more for the sake of those associated with him. Does he care if he’s trustworthy? Absolutely. Likeable…...” She winced as she trailed off, hand tipping in an ‘eh’ gesture.

“Which is why he wasn’t bothered in the least when you wanted a fight,” I pointed out, trying to draw the points together. “Whereas Simon didn’t realize how poorly people thought of him, and as soon as he did, he took steps to change it, even when it was hard. So definitely start there if you need guidance.”

“I will endeavor to do so,” Jokul nodded before his expression dropped again. “But what about Ivan?”

“There is nothing about him being tired that makes his ears malfunction,” I heard myself say. What? Why? Why was I doing this? “No matter how tired I am, my ear still works, and I can still listen to Conor and Maverick about their days. And sometimes that’s all that’s needed. Mutual bitching about a bad day is… pretty normal, actual.”

He sat up, paling, with a horrified expression on his face. “Oh dear gods, how do you manage two?!”

Charly and I traded glances of confusion before looking back at the distraught man who was slowly inching fingers toward my fish pie. I nodded to Charly, who wrinkled her nose and got up to grab him some food, while I addressed the former cult leader. “It’s usually easier than just one,” I confessed. “If one of us is too tired or sick, there’s always someone who can pinch hit.” I wasn’t about to admit that it was also made easier by the massive family I had acquired during my time on the Ark. That was the last thing he needed to hear. Softening slightly, I tilted my head and placed my hand on his arm. “Jokul, do you really not have any friends, anymore? What about… the ginger kid. I never got his name.”

“William,” Jokul spat with more force than I had seen since the day we met, catching me completely off guard. “A sycophant. He almost immediately asked what my plans were to continue forward with ‘our plans’.” The air quotes were a nice touch, but his face was nothing but sour. “I had to report him to Councillor Kalloe,” he confessed, face falling into a frown.

“Oh, wow,” I murmured. “Okay then. We need to figure out how you can meet other people, I think.” I was barely able to resist the urge to hit myself in the face. We? Why was this a we thing all of a sudden?

Thankfully, Charly came back, nose wrinkled at a second portion of fish pie. As Jokul dug into it, she perked up slightly. “The Undine! They have cultural events all the time! And! Andandandandand,” she started bouncing in her seat with each syllable. “Ivan loves those events. Not only does he drum up a lot of work, but he also loves meeting new people! You can do a date thing!”

That was, by far, the most harmless suggestion Charly could have made, and I made a mental note to send her a candy-basket at some point. “Plus, if Ivan is there, Zach and Hannah should be, too. You met them, right?”

“Did I?”

I managed not to roll my eyes as I reminded him. “The couple that were talking to Ivan the day you, um… met him?”

“Oh!” he exclaimed, sitting up straighter. “He mentioned they were friends of his!”

“Lord bless it,” I laughed. “Those two are probably his closest friends, honestly. So, something like that would be both a chance to make friends and something you can do with Ivan!” And something that does not require me to adopt someone who recently did his best to be a pain in my ass.

“And you said I can still just… talk, to Ivan, when he’s too tired to do anything else?”

“Yes?” I confirmed, slightly bewildered. “He still cares, I would think. Keep in mind, he does manual labor for a living, by choice. If he’s too tired to move, he is probably physically incapable of moving. It would be like Conor coming home, showering, and flopping on the couch. Good luck moving him, just grab him a pillow and blanket.”

Jokul arched an eyebrow at me, recovering something resembling his former ego. “I am quite capable of carrying Ivan to a proper bed, thank you.” His face abruptly softened. “I’m just new at… this…” he waved his hand vaguely. “Relationships, during a time of peace, I suppose.”

Huh. That never occurred to me, actually. “Hang on,” I thought out loud. “Have you had any portion of this conversation,” I frantically pointed between the three of us, “with Ivan?”

“Not.. yet?” came the sheepish response.

“Sir!” I sputtered. “If you do not go home right now - take your pie with you! - and talk to your poor…. Partner, boyfriend, whatever. If you don’t talk to Ivan, I will give Arthur permission to re-administer the ass-whooping and deal with Ivan later over it!”

Rather than being offended, Jokul seemed to take the admonishment for what it was, and dashed off. Charly, breathless with laughter, managed to recover just enough to give me the stink eye. “Did you just give solid advice to your adversary?”

“I won! Sort of,” I argued. “Besides, anyone that upset about a romantic relationship deserves some kind of slack, right?”

“Were you really going to sic Mr. Farro on him?”

I groaned, burying my head in my hands. “The less he knows about this entire interaction, the better. I’ll never hear the end of it.” And then, just as if my day could not possibly get any better, I heard a familiar, dry voice snark from behind me.

“The less I know about what the better?”

Oh, hell.

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