#it's gotten to the point where I made an excel sheet to track all of my fics

[arbitrary-numb3r]

A missle somewhere: Target Acquired

Me: *dies*

the fact that i’ve read only 8 books but over 250 fanfics this year absolutely terrifies me. like when i open goodreads i’m like okay damn this is pathetic but then i open ao3 and see the number of bookmarks i have (because i use them as my what i’ve read list) and i’m like damnnn girlll??? you have a problem what the fuck

[theghostofashton]

semi-complete saturday

thank you for the tag @sanjuwrites and thank you to @heartstringsduet for coming up with this!

rules: share one scene or art that never made it into a/the finished piece and probably never will. (and if you want, share what it was supposed to be and why you left it out or never finished it) i actually have an doc of outtakes from you saw the truth in me. there were a few scenes i rewrote because i just wasn't happy with them (i have this thing about never deleting anything in case i may want to use it later lol) this is a scene that almost made it into the fic but was ultimately cut because i never felt like i got the tone of tk's instagram post quite right.

On his next day off, Carlos decides to pack up his stuff and spend the morning in a coffee shop. He gathers his laptop and headphones and slips them into his bag, and then heads to the nearest one, only a couple blocks away from his apartment. 

He orders his latte and finds a table at the back, then opens his computer and pulls up the Excel spreadsheet he’s been using to track client progress. He started this system a couple years ago, after pen and paper had gotten to be too cumbersome. He kept ending up with filled notebooks and running out of places to store them, and every time he needed to reference an old one, he’d tear his entire place up looking for it. The switch to digital was annoying, but necessary. 

Eventually, he’d taken an afternoon to sit and separate all his data into different sheets and put in a color-coding method he still uses, to this day, to track everything. 

Carlos pulls up TK’s and looks over what he’s programmed for him. He doesn’t want to change anything yet. TK is still struggling with push-ups. He’s been doing them slightly elevated for the past couple of weeks, and that’s working, but he’s not quite ready to do them the way they’re traditionally done on the floor. Carlos wants to give him another week with the modification before they start that. 

They need to get into the water at some point, but that’s less important than dry land training, ironically enough. TK doesn’t need to actually swim at the level of an Olympian, he just needs to look the part. The exercises they’re doing in the weight room are much more important in getting him there. 

He's been doing really well, so far. It’s actually pretty impressive how fast he’s picked up things. He’s still barely saying two words to Carlos during sessions, but he does everything asked without an issue. It’s a little scary how obedient he is. Carlos has never had a client like that. 

He closes Excel and pulls up Google. He did this a while back, right after he signed the contract, but since the casting announcement has officially gone out, there’s sure to be more. He types in TK’s name and waits for the search to load. 

TK Strand makes a shocking return to acting 

TK Strand, comeback or cash grab?  

The truth about TK Strand’s hasty comeback 

And there are hundreds more like it, from big and small publications alike. TMZ has some not so nice words for TK, but they’re TMZ, and Carlos didn’t expect much else. Some of the other websites, though, have him fuming a little. He clicks on the articles and skims them, and they’re exactly what he figured they would be: a ton of speculation, very little detail, and multiple paragraphs about the series of incidents that ended TK’s career in the first place. 

Carlos has read all of this before, but it stings a little, having now met him. The talk of his addiction and his intoxication on set, how there was a period of a few months where he was constantly drunk, high, or both, his violent outbursts at random seedy bars, and a failed engagement that TK’s ex seems far too delighted to keep speaking on. None of it paints TK in a good light.

But none of it allows him to defend himself, either. There’s no room for his side of the story. 

One of the articles features a photo of the statement TK put out after the events. Carlos scrolls down to it. 

Hi everyone,

There’s been a lot said about me online recently, and I wanted to take a moment to explain. Over the past few months, I have been struggling severely with my mental health. In the interest of transparency, I would like to share with everyone that I am currently pursuing treatment for substance abuse, and am beginning the long journey toward recovery. I ask for privacy during this time, as I work with my team to develop a treatment plan that will suit my needs.  

I am very sorry for any pain my actions have caused.  

-TK Strand 

The statement was posted to all of his social media accounts. TK’s tweeted a couple of times since then, but there hasn’t been another post on his Instagram or Facebook. Both of his profiles feel like graveyards, homages to the person he used to be. The pictures of him smiling with interview hosts and squished into group shots stop after a while, until it only becomes photos at nightclubs. There’s a picture of what Carlos assumes is TK as a little kid, held by a woman with curly brown hair and a wide smile. 

He clicks on that one, and freezes. The threat of tears is a shock, but his eyes well up immediately.  

I’ll miss you forever.

That’s the last post before his statement, dated about six months before.  

It’s a little dizzying, seeing it laid out like this. He thinks back to what Mateo was saying at dinner the other day, TK’s mom dying and his boyfriend’s infidelity happening in quick succession, how that was what set things off. Six months later, a statement about struggling with substance abuse.

Something twists in Carlos’s chest. He reaches forward to shut the lid of his laptop, suddenly feeling a little sick.

tagging @paperstorm @strandnreyes @reyesstrand @bonheur-cafe @lightningboltreader @carlos-in-glasses and leaving an open tag for anyone else who wants to share!

[cupcakemolotov]

When Blood Calls for Blood

Hmm. This was supposed to be a mafia story for the AU Season that @klaroline-event is putting on, and instead descended into the depths of blood magic and werewolves, and some horror. Your guess is as good as mine as how that happened. Anyway. Hopefully this still works for Crime week. People ARE murdered.

Here you go. You can read it on A03 if you prefer.

Warnings: Blood Magic, Werewolves, Necromancy, death, some gore but not a lot, discussion about sex but no actual smut in this.

                                                           -

The brandy in her glass was excellent, but she hadn’t expected anything else. Klaus had come a long way from the boy next door with skinned knees and paint smeared fingers. That it’d been nearly a decade since she’d seen him hadn’t changed nearly as much as she’d have liked. Same tumbled curls, same dimples, same charm that lingered like a second skin over the sharper, harder parts of his smile. But now, his thinness had filled out into lean strength and he’d grown into the shape of his nose, the curve of his jaw. 

Caroline hadn’t expected to like the look of him as much as she did after all this time. Had hoped some distance would dull the want that had once lingered between them. She also hadn’t anticipated the way his gaze could still trace against her skin with the same intensity of a touch, but now with a new, markedly adult male appreciation that hinted at all sorts of fun things. Dangerous things, thoughts she’d pushed away much easier with the naivete of a teenager than she was finding herself able to do as a grown woman. 

Klaus had never been easy to ignore.

“Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we?” She asked once he’d leaned a hip against the desk next to him when she’d chosen not to sit. She didn’t know this man as well as she once had and she wasn’t prepared to be that vulnerable. Not yet. “We both know what you sent Elijah to tell me you wanted. I want to know why you think I should go along with it.”

A hint of a smile curved his lips. There was a strange sort of affection in his gaze which surprised her, in this childhood home of his, this house of horrors that had birthed monsters. She wished Enzo was there, to tell them if there were ghosts. If the rotting bones of Mikael beneath their feet still suffered.

“I’ve missed your directness, love. Most people are too afraid of me to try it.” His lashes lowered for a heartbeat, and his voice deepened. “And far too terrified to offer such blatant disapproval.”

Caroline gave him an unconcerned look. “I agreed  to this meeting because we were once friends. Not because I bought into the spiel that Elijah was selling. I walked away from this kind of life, and I had very good reasons to do so. You know that.”

A flash of something wolf-yellow glimmered faintly at the edges of his gaze, but she didn’t flinch. Klaus was dangerous. So very, very dangerous. Here, in Mystic Falls where they’d both spent their childhoods, it was almost possible to forget the lessons Chicago and New York had already learned. But Caroline had learned to deal with Klaus and his caustic mix of power and temper years earlier. A little of the wolf wasn’t enough to warn her off. 

Though it did intrigue her. Before, his control had been something held together by tenterhooks, his rage palpable. She had wondered if he’d buried it deep in his bones, left it to fester in muscle and marrow, but that glimmer told her he’d made a different choice. 

She was glad.

“Blood calls to blood, love.” There was something in his voice, a note that was sharp and apologetic both. “And you are Bill Forbes daughter.”

Caroline wrinkled her nose at the reminder. “I’m going to need more brandy if that's the angle you're taking. Thankfully, he only provided half my genetics, and none of my looks.”

The hard line of his shoulders eased, her words answering some unspoken question. “I know.”

Her expression sharpened. She did not like that he was able to read her so well. “If you’re not going to get to the point, I will leave.”

His laugh was soft, and unexpected. And it did nothing to lessen her mad. Reaching up, he briefly rubbed his neck and when his gaze returned to hers. The blue was gone, awash with gold and wolf. Inexplicably, her own tension gave, if just a little. She might no longer know the man, but she understood the wolf. 

“Elijah says you are well informed of my ongoings.”

She rolled her eyes. “As if that’s hard. A werewolf with the bad taste to be born to a witch, and who the poor manners of eating other witches is not, exactly, an unknown creature in the local gossip. Mystic Falls does so love it’s little horrors. It’s not like it’s hard to figure out where you’re going or where you’ve been.”

His dimples creased his cheeks. “That’s true. And yet, here you are.”

The implied threat was said teasingly. Caroline deliberately took a sip of her brandy. “If your wolf had wanted me dead, it would have made the attempt that when I was thirteen and tossed you three pine trees to save Enzo. If the man had wanted me dead, Elijah would never have sworn a binding saying this meeting was done in truce.” Her smile was sharp. “At least not knowingly. My magic is not kind when it comes to broken vows, and he hates me.”

His gaze narrowed at the blunt reminder, but his voice held no hint of anger. Just a hunting triumph. “I found Rebekah.”

And everything snapped into place. Setting her glass down, she stared at him. “And Elijah couldn't have led with that?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“He doesn’t…” Caroline stared at him for a long moment before tossing back her drink and moving towards one of the chairs. Ten years. It’d been ten years, and she understood everything those words meant. “Fine. I’ll bite. What is going on?”

To her surprise, he chose the chair next to her. His gaze holding hers, he deliberately tipped his knee lightly against her own. “Rebekah is in New Orleans.”

Her brows furrowed and her words were honest as she tried to ignore the feel of him against her. That sparking challenge in his eyes. “But you looked there years ago.”

That slow, thoughtful smile curled on his face again and she wished she hadn’t finished the brandy. “You have been tracking me.”

Caroline sighed and for the first time, looked away. She did not want to speak of the need to know he was still alive, to trust that he’d find some kind of reason after the death of his step-father. The wolf could have easily poisoned the man with its hate as the man could have destroyed the wolf with its rage.

“My father… the things he did.” Her words died and she shrugged. “I miss her too.”

They were survivors, her and Klaus. Enzo and Rebekah, though they were missing. Witchborn and powerful, they were the last remnants of bloodlines and blood feuds that should have never existed. Klaus, with his wolf and his rage. Enzo, with his affinity for the dead and his wicked sense of humor. Rebekah, the living embodiment of her mother’s hopes and wishes, but without the same darkness. And she? She was her father’s daughter, for all the Liz Forbes had done her best to temper it. 

“Then you’ll help me.”

And that blatant satisfaction, the roughness of his wolf in his voice warned her that he thought he had won. She let her gaze return Klaus’ face, and the force of temper clashed against his. She did not like being boxed in. He needed to remember that. “Will I? What I owed you was a blood debt and that was paid in full. What my family did to yours was terrible, but what Esther did to my mother was also terrible. There are no debts between us, not anymore.”

Enzo might argue that point, but her wiley best friend had been missing nearly as long as Rebekah. 

“You’ll help me,” Klaus repeated, unbothered by her irritation. Her temper, the surge of power that came with it, had always bothered him as little as his wolf had unnerved her. “And in turn, I will help you.”

“And what,” Caroline drawled, “do I need your help with? I’m perfectly capable of burying bodies on my own these days.” She wiggled her manicured fingers. “I don’t even have to break a nail to do it.”

That flicker of affection again, tempered by determination. He reached for an envelope that sat on the edge of his desk and handed it to her. “I’d have helped you regardless, but this might make things more comfortable between us.”

She snorted even as she opened the envelope to pull out a single sheet. “Things have never been particularly comfortable between us at all.”

Caroline ignored the deeply satisfied noise he made and looked at the picture. Enzo’s face, battered, bruised, stared up at her and she went motionless at the tangle of anger and fear that swept through her. “How…”

She’d looked. 

“It took finding Rebekah.” A bitterness in his voice she understood. “And once I did, I knew where to look. The scattered pieces of our past are not easy things, love.”

Mute with rage, she glanced back at him. 

“When the Witch Council attempted to end the feud between our families, they were not prepared for the realities of what that would mean.” His teeth gleamed behind his lips. “They were ill prepared for our families' hate, I imagine our cooperation never occurred to them.”

Caroline snorted. They should have been prepared for all of it. Feuding witches were no small thing. Though in her more charitable moments, she allowed that some things just could not have been foreseen. Not the fallout from Ester’s affair, not Bill’s jealousy, not Mikael’s malice. 

Rebekah should have been safe. They should have all been safe. None of them had been. 

“They should have done better.”

His smile held teeth. “Yes.”

It had been her and Enzo, who had held Mikael with their magic while Klaus had shifted to wolf to rip his step-father apart. Enzo, who had commanded the dead man to dig his own grave in the study Mikael had been so fond of. Later, Klaus had opened a bottle of expensive bourbon and they had gotten drunk listening to the sound of a shovel moving dirt.

It had taken hours to repair the foundation with magic.

Mystic Fall was full of so many nightmares. 

Her gaze returned to the picture in her hands. And something turned cold and brittle in her chest. “That is the symbol of St. Augustine.”

“Yes.”

She stood then and paced toward the window. When she spoke, her words trembled with magic. Behind her, the desk shuddered. She hadn’t been this close to losing her temper since the day she walked into her home to find it smelling of blood and her mother’s death. Had found what she had been meant to see. 

 “The Augustine Society belongs to the Witch Council.” Her fists clenched. “And have Enzo.”

She knew the Augustine Society. The horrors the Witch Council offered them. She knew, because her father had also belonged to that society before blood madness had taken him. And they had possibly the greatest necromancer of her generation, trapped. 

Fingertips brushed lightly down the bare nap of her neck. The touch was possessive, careful. An old trick, to anchor her. It made it no less personal. “So it is.”

Caroline closed her eyes. She hadn’t heard him move. “What did my father do, that you cannot claim your sister?”

“It’s a blood bind. I cannot break it.”

“No,” she murmured, letting the soft touches of his fingertips focus her. “You wouldn’t be able too.”

“But you can.” His words were lethal in their softness, coaxing in their delivery. “You're more powerful.”

“Flattery,” she said. Then she sighed. “But you’re not wrong. Still, the witches of New Orleans will never allow me into their city.”

They’d never allow Liz Forbes' daughter in their heart of power. The thought brought a faint smile to her lips. So strange, for a city to fear her mother’s blood.

Strange, but not unwise.

“I didn’t plan on asking permission.”

She turned to face him then, letting the window at her spine hold her weight and studied his face. Such arrogance, but not unwarranted. A full coven might face the nightmare he gave shape too with his bones, but perhaps not. Klaus had cut quite a swath through the witch families in the US. 

His mother’s perfect monster. 

“A blood bind will not be easy to break, not after so many years since it was cast.” She considered what it meant, how far gone her father had been in his madness. “I will likely need a sacrifice, and that is a magic I have sworn not to use lightly.”

“You won’t fall to the same madness.” The assurance in his voice was so, so arrogant. “I will not allow it.”

Caroline gave a bark of laughter. “You cannot know that, cannot expect to dictate such a thing.”

“But I can,” he disagreed. “I’ve seen your magic, Caroline. I’ve witnessed the price of it, the horror of it, and justice of it. Esther’s death was not easy. I know what you are.”

“Ester deserved more,” she said. “But we work with what we have. And I am no longer, sixteen, Klaus. What anchored me as a teenager will not work for the adult.”

Then it’d had been enough to cling to his wolf. To bury her face and hands in the thick pelt of his fur while she rode out the drowning horror, the unrelenting ecstasy of her magic, to let the sensation of fur on skin be the distraction from the siren call of endless power. The blood she wore on her skin.

She’d always liked his wolf. 

Blood magic was dangerous. And witches who practiced it always, always lost themselves. Caroline’s father had been no exception. She would likely not be either. Thankfully, she wasn’t just her father’s daughter. 

“And what,” Klaus asked lightly, eyes deepening to the blue of the man, something as dark as the working of her magic coloring his voice. “Do you need?”

Her nails dug into her palms and she lifted her chin. “What are you offering?”

Klaus’ head lowered until his nose nearly brushed hers, his mouth tantalizing close to hers. “Anything you want.”

Her teeth sank briefly into her lip and she sighed. “We both know how my father chose to feed his need and how well that worked for him.”

Satisfaction and a want so blatant and greedy on his face, she struggled to suck in her next breath. “Steven knew what he was doing when he agreed to join your father’s bed. He was aware of the risks. So am I.”

Her voice shook only a little when she spoke. “Rebekah’s temper is no small thing, Klaus. If she wakes up to me fucking her brother, I don’t think she’s going to be pleased.” 

His hand lifted to curve along her jaw, thumb brushing tantalizing across her lips. “Elijah can secure Bekah, once she is free.”

And Elijah would just love that. “So you are planning on telling him you found her.”

“Of course,” he agreed. “Both he and Kol will be needed for this. Even if only a mirage, we must show the world where our loyalties lie.”

Caroline winced. “They still haven’t forgiven you for not kiling me, then.”

When Elijah had appeared at her home to request her presence for this meeting, she’d almost hoped. 

“As they are not strong enough to oppose me, their opinions of your magic do not matter.” His jaw tightened. “From either side of your family.”

“Klaus…” She caught his hand. “They are not wrong. Blood magic is an abomination, not counting what my mother left me with her death. Killing me would likely make the world a better place.” 

His eyes flared with his wolf, and his words were near violent with intensity. “I disagree. Am I too, not an abomination? You protested quite viciously when my mother attempted to do just that.”

His voice sounded the same as it always had, when he spoke of her murdering his mother. Delighted satisfaction with a hint of growl.

Caroline rolled her lip tightly between her teeth. This was what her mother had never understood. What Esther had miscalculated. This tugging in her chest, as she thought about a world without Klaus. The way he dared her with his eyes and his worlds to repeat herself, to suggest he would allow the world to exist without her. The thing that had left her walking away from him, uncertain what lengths she could allow herself to go to preserve it. 

The boy who had painted her flowers and the man who understood the depth of what she could become, what she feared. 

But he’d found Rebekah. Enzo.

“You understand that if I agree to this, it won’t end with rescuing Rebekah and Enzo,” she said slowly. Likely wouldn’t end with her willing to walk away from him a second time, and the bloody future that promised. “I’m not that forgiving. If the Augustine Society was part of this, if they supported my father? Enzo will want them dead and so will I.”

“Oh, sweetheart, as if I’d object.” His mouth curved. “But why stop there? Not when we both know the Witch Council had to be involved.”

So much destruction. So much blood. Carefully, she reached up with her free hand and traced the shape of his mouth while he went carefully motionless. “It would be helpful, if the sacrifice had a tie to Bekah.”

His lips pursed against her fingers for a moment before he moved just enough to respond. “The Salvatore’s are in New Orleans.”

And that terrible anger, that thirst she’d managed to choke into behaving for ten years unfurled in her chest. “What a coincidence.”

And Klaus, whose monster knew her own, just smiled. “Isn’t it just?”

“How are you planning on explaining my presence in New Orleans?”

Mischief, sudden and startling, crossed his face. “The witches can hardly object to my bringing a date to Mardi Grais. The same as I have done for the past four years, in fact.”

Caroline blinked, and tried not to think about the twist of jealousy in her gut. “I am not pretending to be in a relationship with you.”

“Who said anything about pretending?” His eyes laughed at her but his words were serious. “Shouldn’t you take a man to dinner before post ritual sex?”

She glowered at him, just to be contrary. “No.”

He shrugged, unperturbed.“We’re still sharing a room.”

She choked on a sudden laugh, at how easy and playful he made this. As they weren’t courting madness and the wrath of the council as they freed their family. As if everything was just a matter of them going out and conquering their enemies with his teeth and their magic. 

Simple, really. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Caroline questioned. “This… this will change everything.”

Klaus lowered his head, pressing his forehead to hers and smiled, dimples bracketing a smile made of sin and blood lust that struck her in her chest. The smile of a predator well satisfied.

“Yes, I think it will.”

[backslashdelta]

One thing that I don’t like about AO3 is their statistics page.

I like the things that they do have there; it’s wonderful to have one convenient place to go to check the stats for all of my fics. I can see kudos, comment threads, subscriptions, etc. That’s great.

What I don’t like is that I can only see these things at the time I’m looking at the page. I can’t go back in time and see what these numbers looked like yesterday. Or last week. Or two months ago. And that bothers me. I find it very satisfying to watch how data changes over time, but AO3 doesn’t let me do that.

Luckily, I’m a statistician, so I decided to do it myself.

We’re under the cut now because probably nobody cares about this, but I’m just really excited about some graphs and I wanted to ramble excitedly and post them.

Alright so at first I decided I would just start recording my fic stats in an Excel spreadsheet. It was a bit tedious at first, but really not all that bad. I set up a nice Excel sheet, divided it into sections for each of my fics, and then made several columns in each section to record kudos, comment threads, etc.

Like I said, it was a bit tedious, but not awful. But then I kept posting more fics. And then I started posting podfics. And I was trying to record these numbers every day, so it just got to the point where it was too time consuming and kind of a pain (and also, prone to errors because I was typing all these numbers manually). On top of all that, it wasn’t all that easy to make the graphs I wanted in Excel, so I ended up just not making the graphs, which kind of defeated the purpose of tracking everything in the first place. I want to look at pretty graphs.

So I decided I needed to try something else. I needed a faster way to save all this data, since I wanted to save it every day, and I also needed an easier way to actually make graphs of my data.

Being the statistician that I am, I decided to write some R scripts.

The first issue to tackle was parsing the data that I already had recorded in the Excel spreadsheet. It’s pretty easy to read Excel files into R, so this wasn’t much of a problem. This script only needed to be run once, because once I’d run it I could save the data frame it produced and load that when I needed it, instead of parsing the whole Excel file again (which is a bit time consuming on my old laptop).

The second issue was figuring out how I should move forward with tracking new data. Ideally I’d love to have some way to automatically save the data from my AO3 stats page, and there probably is a way to do that (maybe I’ll figure it out some time in the future if I get sick of my current method), but I didn’t want to spend too much time figuring that out. Instead what I settled on is simply copy/pasting the stats from my AO3 Statistics page into a text file and saving that text file with the day’s date, in YYYY-MM-DD format. This lets me have one data point for each metric of each fic per day, which is plenty.If I wanted, I could look into getting more specific with time of day, but I don’t really think it’s necessary to get that specific, and especially not when I’m manually saving this data; maybe something to look into if I ever try to automate the data collection step.

Next I needed a way to parse this data. This was a bit more complicated than parsing the Excel spreadsheet, because I needed to account for the addition of new fics to the list, and also the fact that some metrics (eg, subscriptions) don’t actually show up on the statistics page unless they have non-zero values. All that being said, there is still a predictable pattern to how all this data appears, so it wasn’t too difficult to write a script to parse each of these text files and assign them a date based on their file name.

Once all of the parsing scripts were done, it was just a matter of combining all of the data into a single data set, and then the fun graphing could begin!

I wanted a lot of flexibility in the graphs I was making. I wanted to be able to look at my overall stats, or look at the stats for once fic individually, or look at the stats for a specific subset of my fics (eg, all of my podfics). So I wrote a function that would take any data set that I gave it and make me a set of graphs; one graph for each metric (ie, kudos, comments, bookmarks, subscriptions, wordcount, and hits).

So now all I need to do is filter my data set according to the fics I want plotted, and this function just... spits them out for me. Like magic. Except it’s not magic, it’s math, which is even better.

Now that we’re through all of my technical rambling, let’s look at some pretty graphs!

Kudos over time across all of my fics

Very cool! Looks like it goes up pretty consistenly, until this month where the slope is a bit steeper, which makes sense because I’ve been posting a lot for Christmas.

Kudos over time by fic

I filtered out the Christmas fics and podfics for this, but look! How cool it that! Also this makes it incredibly clear that IWOAK is much more popular than all of my other fics. But that’s okay, I can filter that out too!

Kudos over time by fic (without IWOAK)

And now that I’ve gotten rid of that outlier, it’s much easier to actually see the data for the other fics. Why don’t we take a look at a specific one!

Kudos over time for IWOAK

Now we can get a bit of a closer look at this outlier. I find it interesting that you can sort of tell when I posted a new chapter based on when the plots of the points increases. But it’s actually even more evident when we look at the comment thread graph!

Comment Threads over time for IWOAK

In this graph, there’s a pretty prominent increase in comment threads when a new chapter is posted, and it’s even more clear than the trend you can see in the kudos graphs. This makes sense to me, because I have a few readers who tend to comment right away every time I post a new chapter, and I don’t get many comments outside of those.

You can see a similar trend in bookmarks and hits:

Bookmarks over time for IWOAK

Hits over time for IWOAK

I’m going to cut myself off now, because I think that’s plenty of graphs and plenty of words. If you’ve made it this far, thank you, and I hope you enjoyed the graphs! If you’d like to chat about any of this with me, feel free to reply to the post, pop into my ask box, or slide into my DMs. I promise I don’t bite. :)

[lupinlongbottom]

Burning Bridges pt. 5

Neville Longbottom x Reader

Summary: Weddings are a beautiful thing, no? (Y/N) and Neville finally bring it upon themselves to make out up, trying their best to work with what they’ve got. 

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: bit of swearing

A/N: ooo fancy. squint and you can see plot, maybe? dunno.

Part 1 ... Part 2 ... Part 3 ... Part 4 ... Part 6 ... Part 7

___

The first thing Neville felt was the cold. The winter air nipped at his nose like an old friend, bitter and unrelenting. The cold contrasted the searing hot touch against his lips, suddenly and all at once. (Y/N) had pressed herself against Neville abruptly, effectively shutting him up.

“(Y/N),” He mumbled, pulling away reluctantly. “What’re you—”

(Y/N) pressed her lips to Neville’s again, a bit harder than before. Her hands connected around his neck, pulling him in deeper. Finally deciding the fight just wasn’t worth it, Neville gave in, snaking his hands around her waist, holding her close. The two swayed in silence, only breaking for a breath, going back deeper than they had left off. The tension that had been building like a taught rubber band for the last five years had finally snapped, blinding the two with a white hot light.

“Neville,” (Y/N) removed her lips from his, focusing on the flush of his face, noting the few freckles that had dotted the bridge of his nose. “I know this isn’t ideal—”

“—don’t care,” Neville mumbled, diving back in for another kiss, growing more daring by the whimper (Y/N) let out. The cold that had once bit at his nose was long forgotten. Neville grew more fearless in his motions, allowing his initial gentleness wash away, a low groan emitting softly from his throat.

“I never knew you were so daring, Longbottom,” (Y/N) pulled away, face thoroughly flushed. “Out in the open like this,” she glanced at the open courtyard, catching her breath. 

“Neither did I,” Neville smiled, resting his hands again at her waist, afraid to let her go. “But I need a push from time to time.”

“I’ll be here,” (Y/N) cupped his face, thumb resting above the scruff of his jawline. “I’m sorry if this fucks up our friendship—”

“—this,” Neville laughed, drawing circles in the sky with his nose. “Didn’t fuck up our friendship.”

“No?”

“No,” he smiled, pausing for a moment, thinking over his next words carefully. “Not talking to me for five years might’ve done that.”

(Y/N) slapped him playfully on the cheek, trying to pull an angry face. “Shut it,” a small giggle erupted from her lips. “Nev, can I be honest for a moment?”

“More honest than what we were just doing?”

She nodded. “Would it be completely insane of us to keep doing this?” Her eyes met Neville’s, looking for a wordless answer.

“I’m not following?” Neville replied, trying to see the suggestion in a different light.

“I want to snog you more,” (Y/N) admitted, not breaking eye contact. “I have a feeling you’d like to snog me more as well, but, someone may… catch us. Out here, I mean.”

“So you want to go snog in a broom closet like teenagers?” Neville laughed, pressing a kiss between her brows.

“Consider it making up for lost time,” she shrugged, grinning wildly.

“So you want to run and hide,” He started, watching (Y/N) nod. “Go snog in a dark room, hope that no one catches us,” Neville’s grin grew wider, smirking down at the woman before him. “At our friend’s wedding?”

“Bingo,” (Y/N) said, grabbing Neville by the hand and guiding him down the hall. Indeed they had passed a storage closet, thankfully unlocked. With one final double take of the hallway, the couple disappeared into the darkness.  

__

Sunlight filtered in through the darkness of the curtains hung carefully next to the bed. (Y/N) awoke with a beam of sun hitting her directly in the eye, blinding her momentarily. She felt warmer than usual, with a quick glance she realized that the blanket that had covered her legs was not her own. It was a deep green buffalo plaid print, terribly warm and inviting.

“What…” (Y/N) scanned around the bedroom. The layout was the same, bathroom to the right of the bed, dresser at the foot, doorway out to the living room adjacent to the dresser. Every corner of the room was decked out in greenery, from the various plants to the color of the sheets. “Oh…” she felt the bed shift next to her, begging her to look down.

It was Neville.

“Shit!” (Y/N) hissed, quickly glancing at what she was wearing. Realizing that she was still wearing the same dress she had worn the night before, (Y/N) let out a sigh.

Neville stirred in his sleep, groggily waking at the lack of warmth on his left side. At first, nothing was wrong, but the dream-like sight of (Y/N) practically threw him out of bed, toppling to the floor.

“Are you alright?” (Y/N) asked, quickly flying to the other side of the bed. 

Neville groaned in pain, having landed face first against the stone flooring. He mumbled a response against the marble.

“What?”

“Been…” Neville groaned, pushing himself off the ground, sitting next to the bed. He put his hands between his lap, stretching his back. “…better.”

“Don’t scare me like that!” (Y/N) said, flopping back onto the pillows.

“Scare you? Blimey, (Y/N) I would say that you’ve scared me a bit more just now,” he grinned, massaging his face, his eyes finding a large purple mark on his arm. “N-not that your face scares me! I just wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“Likewise,” (Y/N) admitted, running a hand through her hair, finally pushing it out of her face. A realization struck her. “We didn’t…?”

“Oh!” Neville shot up like a rocket, head practically touching the ceiling. “No! At least, I don’t think we did? I feel like I would’ve remembered? Right?”

“There’s no need to shout,” (Y/N) giggled, watching the tips of Neville’s ears grow redder by the second. “We’re still wearing our clothes from the wedding, so I don’t think so either. I don’t remember much from last night, which is odd considering I didn’t have anything to drink…”

“Neither did I…” Neville mumbled, flattening the white dress shirt from the night before, still buttoned mostly. “Come to think, I don’t remember coming back here?”

“We’re not forgetful people,” (Y/N) said, smiling. “Well, you’ve gotten better over the years.”

“Maybe someone used a memory charm on us,” He laughed, jokingly. “Let’s retrace our steps,” Neville said, sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from her. “We were at the wedding, we went for that walk, we—”  

“—made out, yeah,” (Y/N) added. “I pulled you to that closet—”

“—where we only snogged,” Neville pointed, thankful his face was turned away from (Y/N). “After that…?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “I don’t have the faintest idea,” she focused her stare at the potted plant hanging in the corner of his room, leaves dangling almost to the floor. “I remember the snogging—Godric do I remember the snogging,” (Y/N) sang, swaying whimsically a bit to herself. “You’re quite the kisser, you know?”

“I-I didn’t,” Neville turned his head, cheeks redder than a radish. “Thank you…” he said, twiddling his thumbs.

“You’re welcome,” (Y/N) smiled sweetly. “Look, Nev, I think we need to talk… about last night,” she sighed, watching Neville turn his body towards her. “Well, about everything, really. Things got a bit explosive—”

“—it’s my fault,” Neville said, waving his arm. He crossed his legs, now sitting at the end of his bed near (Y/N)’s feet, deeply aware of her presence and how terribly close he was to touching her. “I-I shouldn’t have looked through your things.”

“You didn’t,” (Y/N) said, noting the Gryffindor’s stuttering. Had he been doing that recently? “Like you said, I had it laying out. Not exactly a secret I was trying to keep, I suppose,” she shrugged, fingers playing with the lace of her gown. “To be honest, I couldn’t begin to tell you why I kept that cardigan in the first place,” a chuckle.

“It’s a warm cardigan,” Neville shrugged. “You’ve always had a thing for warm jumpers.”

“This much is true,” (Y/N) nodded, glancing at her wrist. The pink ribbon was tied neatly around it. “You’ve always liked my ribbons,” she laughed, holding her hand up, allowing Neville to see. “I’m real sorry for how I snapped, it’s just seeing the ribbon, from that day… To think you found it, and then kept it for so long, I don’t know. Something inside of me just broke open.”

“Something bad?”

“If it was something bad, I reckon I would’ve knocked you to the ground instead of kissing you, no?” (Y/N) smirked.

“Fair point,” Neville nodded, albeit a bit fast. She always had high marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts, excelling at the knockback jinx, her signature move. “I’m sorry I didn’t make a better effort to find you—”

“—you did,” (Y/N) said, stopping Neville in his tracks. “You said so yourself, searched all around the wreckage for me after the fact. I was the coward hiding at the lake.”

“Your dad died, (Y/N), you had every reason to hide from other people…”

“My dad,” (Y/N) scoffed lightly, her fingers still dancing against the lace. “The dad that was in Azkaban my entire life? The man who decided that fighting for a pure-blooded society was more important than the blood of his own family? Deciding the fate of the daughter he knew for a few days, planning to marry her off to another pure-blooded bloke just to keep their family blood clean? Some dad.” 

“You were mourning the man you wish he could’ve been, not the man he was, right?” Neville said, hesitantly placing a hand on (Y/N)’s ankle, trying to comfort her. (Y/N) nodded.

“Sometimes I have dreams, you know? About what my life would’ve looked like if he hadn’t chose the life he did. He would buy me sweets all the time, teach me how to ride a broom, spoil me rotten,” (Y/N) let out a choked laugh, but no tears came. “But… he didn’t. I know that and I’ve known that for years now. It’s still no excuse for the choices I made that day.”

“I don’t blame you, at all,” Neville admitted. “I-I mean, I did. Then, for a bit. Honestly thought you were a bit selfish, running off the way you did.”

“I run off a lot, don’t I?” (Y/N) chuckled. “Never really been one to share my feelings, hold them all in here,” she pointed to her chest, tapping it a few times. “I’ve been trying to get better about it, took my few years on my own to reflect on that.”

“A bit ironic,” Neville joined in on her laughter. “Reflecting on the fact that you run off a lot while you ran from everything, no?”

“Shove it,” (Y/N) said, kicking Neville’s hand off her ankle. He smiled. “I mean it though, I’m sorry about everything. I was selfish, wasn’t thinking straight. I should’ve given you a chance, considering I was the one who initiated the kiss… both times.”

“Interrupted me both times, too,” Neville hummed. “Another bad habit of yours.”

“I didn’t interrupt you the first time!” (Y/N) scoffed. “I was so relieved that you were alive!” she felt her face heat up again. “But the second time you had said that you… well…”

“Oh,” Neville remembered. “I guess I did say… that.”

“Do you mean it?”

“I think I did,” Neville nodded. “Well, I know I did five years ago. I loved you,” He  said, finally releasing the words the two of them had been avoiding. He let them hang in the air for just a moment. “I did, love you, I mean. For a while. Practically since third year, actually,” the words came sputtering out of Neville like a babbling brook, faster than he could formulate a thought. “You were my best friend. You cared about me, more than anyone else really did. I just assumed you’d never feel that way about me so I shoved it down, especially when you and Seamus started to have that little fling.” 

“I think,” (Y/N) took a second to collect her thoughts. “I’ve always cared for you, Neville. You said so yourself. I guess I never really knew how I felt until I saw you, after all the fighting, saw that you were still alive and breathing,” she shrugged again. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you that day, too.”

“Did you ever…?” Neville couldn’t bring himself to finish his question, the answer almost seemed plain as the day before them.

“I did,” (Y/N) nodded.

“Do you think we could get to that place?” Neville asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his words as fragile as glass. “To be able to love each other at the same time, I mean?” 

“I’m not sure,” (Y/N) admitted, looking Neville in the eye. He looked almost defeated, his face turning down to his hands. “But I think we owe it to ourselves to try,” she leaned forward, gently placing her hand atop of his, the pink ribbon on her wrist tickling his fingers. “Obviously we both had some unresolved tension, if last night was any indication of that.”

“I-I’m not usually that bold—”

“—I know.”

“But you’re right, if we take it slow, start fresh,” Neville nodded, still staring at their hands. “Nurture it properly—”

“Are you comparing the complexity of our relationship to gardening?” (Y/N) laughed, pulling her hand away. Neville shrugged. “Should we make sure it gets enough water, too?”

“I’m trying to be serious here,” Neville said, pointedly. “Don’t have to go and make a joke about it.”

“What’re you going to do?” (Y/N) teased. “Break up with me?” 

“You said so yourself,” Neville stood up, adjusting his shirt. “Can’t break up with someone you’re not dating.”

“Ouch,” (Y/N) pressed a hand to her chest, right above her heart. “That hit me hard, Longbottom. Just annihilated my heart, crushed it to a thousand pieces.”

“Right,” He laughed. “We’ll take it slow,” Neville said again, circling back to their original topic. “I think we can get back to a place of mutual trust and understanding.”

“I agree,” (Y/N) said, finally hopping off Neville’s bed, unaware of the amount of time that had passed. “What does that make of us now, then? Surely we’re not just friends anymore…?”

“No,” Neville mumbled. “I suppose not…”

“And if we’re not ‘dating’,” (Y/N) said, stepping closer to Neville. She flung a finger between the two of them, now standing only a foot away from one another, waving it lightly. “What are we calling this…?”

“That’s a great question,” Neville gulped, now fully aware of the space, or lack thereof, between him and (Y/N). “B-because I have no idea. For now, anyway. If we can make it work, I’d want to ask you proper, not just in the heat of the moment.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t worry about putting a label on it,” (Y/N) said, pressing her finger onto Neville’s chest. “For now.”

“R-right,” Neville nodded, glancing down at (Y/N). “For now.”

“What time is it, anyway?” (Y/N) asked, trying to draw herself away from the situation at hand, fearing she’d dive too far and drown.

“Almost noon,” Neville said, taking a look at his watch, still attached to his wrist. “It’s Sunday, we don’t have any classes.”

“Sunday,” (Y/N) repeated, wracking her brain. “I think I was supposed to do something today…?”

“Funny,” Neville said, standing up. “Me too…?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” (Y/N) said, picking up her shoes. “Well, I better go and clean myself up for lunch, one look at me and the students will think I’ve gone mad.”

“Agreed,” Neville nodded. “I’ll save you a spot at lunch?” A small smile danced across his lips.

“I’d like that,” (Y/N) smiled back, fighting back a bigger grin. She exited Neville’s chambers, moving quickly to her own before anyone could see her. Thankfully the hallway was empty, allowing her to enter the room next door with ease. After a quick change and a simple detangling spell on her unruly hair, (Y/N) was ready for lunch.

The Great Hall was nearly empty, as the end of the lunch period was almost over. Students had gone back to their studying or other activities. The faculty table hosted only a few of her peers, Hagrid booming from the end, sitting next to Neville.

“…was beautiful, the weddin’!” Hagrid said, nearly sobbing into his napkin. “Ginny an’ Harry looked so happy!”

“I know,” Neville said, patting the half-giant’s back. “They looked really happy together.”

“Oh! (Y/N),” Hagrid stopped, noticing the young witch arrive at the table, sitting down next to Neville. “Sorry ya ‘ad to see that,” he sniffled, putting the napkin back onto his lap. “But it’s nice to see the two of you awake!” he glanced between Neville and (Y/N)

“Awake?” (Y/N) laughed, taking a plate of mashed potatoes and a thick red sauce. “You saw us last night, Hagrid, we weren’t sleeping.”

“Ya don’t remember?” Hagrid asked.

“Actually,” Neville said, swallowing a bite of bread quickly. “We don’t exactly remember much from last night…” he turned to (Y/N), noticing her face grow pink. “…from a certain point, that is.”

“Do you know how we got home? Back to the castle?” (Y/N) asked, hoping Hagrid had the answer.

“Well, I carried ya o’ course!” he boomed, laughter echoing throughout the hall. A few remaining students stared idly, wondering what could’ve caused him to laugh so loud. “I was walkin’ outside, ya see. Heard a loud thump from the courtyard,” he took a bite from his apple, leaving only half left. “Found the two of yer sleepin’ in a closet! Must’ve been the punch, ‘ad a few glasses of it myself.”

“We were… sleeping?” 

“On the floor?”

Hagrid nodded. “Figured ya ‘ad too much fun, took it upon meself to bring ya home,” he scratched his neck. “Tried droppin’ Longbottom off first, but,” Hagrid pointed at (Y/N) with his fork. “Ya started wakin’ up. Insisted ya were goin’ to sleep right there.”

“…and you let me?” (Y/N) said, hardly shocked, but her face was telling another story.

“Looked peaceful enough,” Hagrid shrugged. “Sorry ‘bout that mark, Neville. Thestrals accidentally gave ya a good kick."

Neville looked down to the growing purpling mark on his arm, oddly shaped like a horse’s hoof now that he took a better look at it. “At least that makes sense…”

“What doesn’t make sense is why we were knocked out in the broom closet,” (Y/N) said, voice growing low. “We didn’t have any punch and now we can’t remember?”

“Speakin’ of,” Hagrid said, setting his goblet down. “How’d yer meetin’ with McGonagall go?”

“Meeting?” the two said in unison.

“Semester briefing of course!” Hagrid laughed. “Reckon she gave me a nasty look ‘bout those murtlaps escaping, but we ‘ad a good laugh.”

“I don’t remember having a meeting today?” (Y/N) said, setting her fork down. “Neville, do you?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Hagrid, do all faculty have this meeting today?”

“Yep,” Hagrid nodded. “Don’t tell me ya lot forgot?”

“Shit,” (Y/N) said, slamming her head onto the table, nearly missing her potatoes. “We’re dead,” she slammed her head again. “So dead.”

Neville reached over, stopping (Y/N) from slamming her head again. “We’re not dead,” he laughed, noticing the red mark now adorned to her forehead. “Royally screwed? Maybe.”

“Why in Merlin’s beard would we have forgotten? I never forget this kind of stuff! Hell, I can remember at least a hundred potions from the top of my head!” She stood up, readjusting her robes. “We have to go and talk to McGonagall.”

“We? But we just started eating…”

“We’ll eat something after we’ve kept our jobs,” (Y/N) said, pulling Neville up by the collar. “Unless you don’t want to keep working here?”

“Right,” Neville said, face determined. “You’re right.”

The two marched out of the dining hall, quickly working their way to the headmistress’ office, giving small greetings to passing students. (Y/N) cleared her throat, mumbling the password to enter the office. The stairs began to move upward, Neville and (Y/N) standing next to one another. “How mad do you think she is?”

“Hopefully not mad enough to sack us, I quite like this job.”

The office, still adorned with portraits of past headmasters lining the walls, was warm and inviting. The faint scent of vanilla wafted through the air, a cauldron burbling in the corner. 

“Professors,” Minerva said, glancing up from her paperwork. “Glad you finally decided to take a break in your busy schedule to show up.”

“Headmistress, we can explain—” 

McGonagall raised her hand, silencing (Y/N) effectively. “No need,” she stood up, walking down the few steps towards the two professors. “Forgetting our meeting isn’t like you, (L/N),” she turned to Neville. “I can’t say the same for you, Longbottom.”

“Normally I’d agree…” Neville sputtered, growing hot at the accusation. “But this wasn’t my doing this time, honest!”

“Minerva, we’re sorry we forgot about our meeting. At the Potter’s wedding last night, Neville and I—”

“—I don’t need the details of your night, Professor (L/N),” McGonagall raised her hand again. “I’m truly disappointed that the two forgot about the meetings. What sort of example are you setting for your students?” The two hung their head in shame. “Thankfully I really have no need to have the meeting with the two of you in the first place.”

“What?”

“(Y/N), your student’s marks are impeccably high, across the board. Even students who were struggling in Potions last year are succeeding in your class, even if it isn’t by a large percentage,” McGonagall turned to Neville. “Your classes, Longbottom, have only gotten the highest praises from students passing in the halls. The two of you should be proud.”

“Thank you, Headmistress,” Neville said, bowing lightly.

“Thank you,” (Y/N) mirrored.

“Besides the praises,” McGonagall warned, her voice growing more stern. “I shouldn’t have to punish you like students to get the point across. But, for this instance, I feel it to be necessary.”

“Are you going to have us scrub cauldrons? (Y/N) already keeps them sparkling,” Neville asked, his voice growing lower as the Headmistress’s eyes fell upon him.

“Of course not,” McGonagall scoffed. “Cauldron cleaning is left for the Potions Master to dole out for detentions as she sees fit,” she nodded at (Y/N). “But, seeing as the two of you seem to have enough free time in your schedules, you can add Wednesday evenings to your patrol duties. Both of you.”

“Wednesdays were one of our only nights off, Minerva,” (Y/N) blurted, allowing McGonagall’s first name to slip.

“And now they’re not,” McGonagall hummed. “If I remember correctly, you said so yourself, (Y/N), you’ve always wanted to patrol the halls as a professor, any chance you got, no?”

“I—yes,” (Y/N) nodded, caught in her own words. “Of course.”

“Redeem yourselves and the patrols will return to four times a week. Now that the business is out of the way,” McGonagall cleared her throat.

“Longbottom, if I recall you have remedial Herbology with two Hufflepuff students this afternoon, do you not?”

Neville’s face dropped. “You’re right! I completely forgot!” He nearly sprang from his shoes, hoping back to the entrance of the office. “Thank you, Headmistress!” He shot (Y/N) a small smile. “See you tonight, Professor (L/N).”

“That man wouldn’t remember his head if it weren’t screwed onto his neck,” (Y/N) chuckled, heading towards the door.

“(Y/N),” McGonagall said, “I have a feeling there’s something else to discuss?”

“Professor,” (Y/N) said. “Headmistress, I mean. I know this isn’t work related, but I need the advice of another witch.”

“Yes?”

“Last night, at the wedding, Neville and I after a certain point can’t remember anything. We don’t recall getting home, or anything after that. We also couldn’t remember our meetings today…”

“Did you have any of that vile punch?” McGonagall asked, tipping her nose into the air. “Potter said that the Weasley twins had concocted it. Hagrid drank quite a bit of it,” she smiled. “Are you sure your memory loss isn’t from that?”

“That’s the thing,” (Y/N) muttered. “We didn’t have anything to drink, as far as I’m aware."

“And you’re saying that you and Mr. Longbottom can’t recall your memories after a certain point? None, whatsoever?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “No. We woke up this morning with no recollection of anything after—”

“—after, what?” McGonagall asked, watching (Y/N) grow stiff. “After you and Mr. Longbottom had disappeared from the reception?” She smirked, readjusting her spectacles.

“Yes,” (Y/N) blurted, only slightly ashamed. “A bit after that…”

“Have you considered this to be the work of a memory charm?” McGonagall asked.

“That’s what Neville joked about this morning,” (Y/N) laughed. “N-not that we were together this morning,” she coughed. “I highly doubt that it could be a memory charm. Who would use a memory charm on us?”

“Normally memory charms are used to erase a specific memory,” McGonagall hummed. “But sometimes, when used improperly—or depending on the case—properly, the victim can forget more than the user bargained for.”

“I’m still not following…?”

“I would bet my last Galleon that someone used a memory charm on the two of you,” said McGonagall.

“Really? No joke?”

“No joke.”

“I know this may be a stupid question,” (Y/N) started, her eyes falling on the Pensieve. “But would it be possible—”

“No,” McGonagall said, cutting (Y/N) off. “The Pensieve doesn’t work like that. Once your memory is altered, you cannot call the memories to the Pensieve. Unless the witch or wizard who cast the charm on the two of you reverses it, I’m afraid there’s not much I can do.”

“Surely there must be a way to reverse the charm otherwise, right?” (Y/N) asked, voice dripping with hope. 

McGonagall shook her head. “Unless you’d like to undergo intense torture and suffering, I’m afraid not.”

“Thank you, Headmistress,” (Y/N) bowed. “This has been helpful.”

“I hope it has,” McGonagall nodded. “And, (Y/N), please bear in mind what I had said to you on the first night of school.”

(Y/N) recalled the conversation. “Oh, Neville and I…”

“You two look good together,” McGonagall smiled. “But, please keep it professional. Students, they love their gossip."

“Of course, Headmistress,” (Y/N) nodded, finally bursting through the door. “How embarrassing…” she mumbled, walking back to her chambers. 

__

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[yungimmortals]

moving day | joel & jade

date: august 17th, 2021 summary: yeah that’ll be one vegetarian everything but the kitchen sink (“and yes that includes pineapple, thank you”) pizza

Jade dropped her overfull suitcase on the ground unceremoniously. He’d move it to the bed in a bit, since he planned on living out of it for the next three weeks, but for now she was interested in exploring the cabin that looked like nobody bothered to clean since it was last lived in. With pillows, blankets, and cushions strewn about into some sort of half-collapsed fort, it was at least cozy, despite the need for a bit of a revamp (and definitely a dusting).

The twins had been directed here by Chiron, who seemed less than excited about their arrival. He was probably informed of their stunt by the messenger gods that kept track of them, and the fact that they’d gotten him a PARTY PONIES: OHIO AQUATIC DIVISION shirt didn’t seem to lighten his mood very much. Whatever, Jade was still wearing his. Still, the centaur was nice, and polite, and let them know that this was the cabin that they’d be staying in, and if the twins wanted to find their siblings, most of them lived together in town. That’s right, siblings. Of course Jade was excited at the prospect, but part of her was nervous to meet them. Was one sibling not enough? What if they thought he was weird or didn’t want to interact with him? Whatever. She pushed the thoughts from her brain as she took a seat on her suitcase and let out a huff. “I can’t believe we went all the way to West Virginia and didn’t even see Mothman. We’re going back, since we’re closer than before.” He picked up a pillow to hold to his chest. “I want him to lay eggs in me like I’m a caterpillar and he’s a wasp.”

Ducking out from under a sheet that was tacked up between a wall and the corner of a long-unused bunk, Joel let out a low whistle. "Look how cool this place is, buddy." He reached up to scratch the chin of the bearded dragon perched on his shoulder. Where Jade had brought his stuff in before exploring, Joel had practically bolted into the cabin, ditching his suitcase in favor of exploring the place he'd be calling home for the foreseeable future. 

 He came to a stop in front of a wall of photos in the corner. Or what had been a wall of photos. The paint was discolored in places, sun-bleached from being covered for so long, he guessed. Here and there, a few stubborn pieces of tape still stuck to the wall. There were only a few photographs left and the sun had done a number on them too. "Jay, come check this out," Joel called, gingerly removing a photo from the wall as his twin entered the cabin. 

 When he didn't immediately come over to see the very cool thing he wanted to show him, he wandered out of the half-collapsed fort and back into the cabin's main area— just in time to hear Jade's Mothman discourse. "Oh, eugh. Gross. You would." Joel nudged her shoulder with a laugh. "I'm totally down to go back, just...give me two weeks before I have to get back in a car. My legs thank you in advance. They be achy. Oh, hey, look at this." Remembering the photograph in his hand, Joel let it flutter down to Jade's lap. "Think these were the other kids Chiron was talking about? Sure is a lot of 'em. They can't all be...right? Right?"

Jade grinned up at Joel as he bumped into him. He’d been hoping for a bit of a shudder, but he'd said far worse to him, so it was no surprise that Joel wasn't too off-put. "Yeah, I'm good not having to drive a couple hundred miles to get a bed and a shower." He stretched his legs out in front of him, grabbed the photograph that Joel had given him, and stood, inspecting the picture as he folded over, stretching out his back. "Hmm. You're wondering how much our father, who art on Olympus, got around?" Jade straightened up and twisted his neck to the side so that he could crack it, then reached up to scratch under Toothless's chin. 

 "I don't know. You think they're all here?" Jade held up the picture so that the two of them could inspect it together. "Maybe some moved away? And..." She pointed at two of the faded faces. "Are those the freaking clones? No way I'm related to a clone." He cracked a smile and then pointed at Joel. "Unless twins is a cover up. Who's the original? I call it."

"A shower!" Joel crowed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He lifted the collar of his shirt and took a sniff— yeah he was definitely (over)due for one. "Remind me to do that after we get settled. But heck, we're so close to the moth, the man, the legend. That'll be an easy trip when we feel up to it again. Maybe next time Toothless will pull his weight on the trip, eh?" When Jade cracked his neck, Joel made a face at the sound, as if he hadn't done the same exact thing the moment he'd extricated himself from their car. "He's a god, obviously, he fucks. Weren't the Greeks all about hedonism? Oh snap, that is them!" This was directed at the photo in Jade's hand, faded faces smiling up at him from the no-longer glossy picture. His smile mirrored that of his twin. "I'm the original, you broke the mold. Too cool for us all."

Jade barked a “ha!” at Joel’s description of Mothman, her eyes bright as she looked up at him. “Yeah, and then the Romans created stoicism to balance them out. All killjoys. Definitely do not fuck.” She pointed at Joel and bared her teeth in a grin so wide it was practically a grimace, her eyes crinkling up. “Of course you’d say that. I say I’m the original, you just improved the structure. Better posture, more muscle mass, but you sacrificed the most important part.” She stuck her tongue out. “My excellent personality.” 

 She stretched her arms behind her head as she yawned. “What do you say? We scope out the sibs before we sink our teeth in? Find out what they’re like?”

"Definitely not," he agreed with a laugh. "Hey, these muscles were hard work. Chopping wood really bulks you up. That and carrying Mrs. Wainwright's great dane for a mile when he gives up halfway through our walks but I have to get him back to her house somehow." Joel stuck his tongue out at her in return. "I could never hold a candle to your winning personality." 

Switching his attention to the photograph again, he shrugged one shoulder. "Might be a good idea. I dunno, I'm up for it if you are. Although, I've already got the best sibling right here." He slung an arm around Jade's shoulder and gave her a squeeze. Truthfully, he was excited to meet more potential siblings if there were any to be found. But at the same time, he had Jade. And the two of them had only ever really needed each other. Judging by the state of the cabin, he assumed any of their other relatives lived in town, if they'd stuck around at all. "Think they're all weirdos?"

“I never said they weren’t,” Jade replied breezily. “But that heart... maybe I am the clone. I would’ve left the dog to find his own way home. What can be programmed more easily, empathy for Scoob or a cool ass personality? Robots can be cool...” He trailed off as he considered each of the different options, as if he were actually wondering which of the two of them was a clone. 

“Well, duh, same.” Jade laughed and reached around Joel so that he could pinch his side. He were nervous, but the prospect of something new was so tantalizing it made him ignore the fear of rejection. He snorted. “If they’re related to us, I’d put money on it. Plus, you know, clones and jerks without shadows? Sounds like the right kind of weird.” He ground his teeth together as he grinned once more.

Joel jostled Jade, laughing. "Now, c'mon. You couldn't leave ol' Scooby behind.  He would've howled all sad as you walked away. Robots are cool. You a robot?" He made a surprised sound at being pinched, swatting Jade's hand away. "Truuuue. Y'know, it was the shadow that got me. What were the odds, honestly. I thought we were the only freaks like that." He snapped some finger guns at his twin. At the same time, his stomach growled loudly. "Unpack then food? Food then unpack? I wanna head into town to explore. How expensive do you think it is around here? I've got—" From his pocket, Joel produced a piece of lint, a very crumpled five dollar bill, and the drachmas they'd been gifted. "I've got enough. You hungry?"

Jade snorted and rolled her eyes, a crooked smile clear on her face. "And I would've turned my music up." She shook her head, as stiffly as she could managed and blinked at two different times with her eyes. "No. I am. Hu-man." She smiled and shook her head. "Nah, I knew there were others out there, I believed." When her stomach growled in response, she laughed. "I'm liking option two. We can check out what food they have out in town? Two birds?" She raised her eyebrows at Joel.

"That's some chameleon-type shit," he said matter-of-factly, then flicked a coin from his hand at Jade, trusting them to catch it. His flannel was already tossed over the corner of a bunk and Joel snagged it. Pulling it on over his PARTY PONIES tee,  he surveyed the cabin once more. His expression turned wistful. This would be home for them. This strange town filled with more strange things in one place than they had ever seen before. Joel was desperate to get out and explore. He nodded at her. "Yeah, that sounds solid. Two birds, one drachma. And maybe an extra large pizza."

[where2next]

How to Save Up Money for Travel

One of the biggest obstacles keeping people from traveling to their dream destinations is not having enough money. You can learn plenty of tips to significantly lower the costs, but the reality is that travel is still not a cheap endeavor.  Getting your finances in order is the only solution to reaching that goal of traveling every year. There are some concrete principles which need to be followed in order to put you on the path to your ultimate travel goals. The good news here is that these principles are not specific to only your travel budget but they can be used for every aspect of your life. You will have to put in the work, but you will be reaping the benefits of it for years to come, complete with being able to call yourself a world traveler!

Get started in financial literacy

For any area of life in which you want to make improvements, learning the important information is key.  Here you will find many of the core principles of budgeting and personal finance, but do not stop there. I fully encourage you to explore the wealth of knowledge freely available in blogs, podcasts, and videos. For our purposes, we highlight some of the basic actions to be taken so that you can start saving money for the purposes of travel.

Pay off high interest debt

The very first thing every person should do no matter what their travel goals are is to assess their debt. If you are buried in debt, your priority should not be traveling anyway until you are free from that burden. A good rule of thumb is to make a plan to pay off any debt above 5% interest. If you have any extra money at all after your expenses it should be put towards this debt. Mathematically, you should try to pay off the highest interest debt first because that will save you the most money. However, we are humans and it can be very unmotivating to try to pay off that debt if it is a large number. The most important thing is getting the debt paid off, not necessarily the order, so a popular tool people use is called the snowball method. With this method, you will pay the smallest balance first. For instance if you have $20,000 in student loans, a $2,000 personal loan and $1,000 in credit card debt, you would pay off the credit cards first. Once that debt is paid, whatever you were paying towards it gets added towards the next smallest debt, in this case the personal loan. You repeat that process until you are out of debt. Getting these small wins initially and seeing some results gives you motivation and will make it more likely that you will stick with it until you finally achieve freedom from debt.

Make a personal budget

It is true that “what gets measured gets fixed.”  To find the weak points in your spending habits, you need to first figure out what you are spending your money on. This can be done very easily these days with free budgeting apps like Mint or with more in depth paid software like YNAB. However, if you want to go fully customized, you can just plug your numbers into a spreadsheet on Excel or Google Sheets. Simply take all of the money you earn in a month and subtract all the money you spend in that month and see what is left over. If you have a negative number at the bottom, you have a problem. Budgeting is not glamorous work, but understanding your own habits can be very powerful and honestly quite surprising. When I started budgeting one thing I believed about myself is that I didn’t eat out very often; hardly at all. Well, after 6 months of tracking all of my expenses, I realized that what I usually spent eating out was roughly double what I had initially estimated. I just had a short memory. Once you have your budget you should get a clear picture of where you may be able to cut some expenses and you can choose what is most important to you. One example that always seems to come up in personal finance is getting rid of your morning coffee run to save money. That can be beneficial if you are motivated to do it but what if you really love that morning coffee? The point is your budget will help you prioritize which areas of your spending are more important to you. To continue with my own example, once I saw what I was spending on eating out I still wasn’t really motivated to change anything AT FIRST. However, things took a drastic turn once I started putting savings into my budget for travel. Afterwards when I would think about stopping to get some Chipotle I would ask myself, “Would I rather get Chipotle right now, or would I rather eat at home and go to Peru this year?” Sometimes I would still get the Chipotle but overwhelmingly I started choosing my travel goals and spent almost nothing on eating out. Putting my goals in the budget made them very real and motivating for me.

 Make a budget for your trip

Now that you have your monthly budget, you have to figure out what your savings goal will be in order to take your trip. This takes a lot of planning, but it can be a very rewarding process. Not only will you know how much money you need to reach your goal and how long that should take, but you will get to experience the trip twice: once while in the planning phase, and then again when you actually go there. Discovering the famous attractions and lesser known areas of a new destination can be very exciting and can help you keep your focus on why you are doing this. Find out what things you most want to do and then search for the deals around them for lodging and transportation. Add up all of those costs plus a little more for unforeseen expenses and you will have a number to set your goal. After that, it is just a matter of discipline and patience until you have saved enough and you can be on your trip!

Have an accountability partner

Anything that requires discipline and willpower is an easier process when you don’t have to do it alone. Have a friend or family member keep you accountable for sticking to your budget. If you plan to travel with friends, you can keep each other accountable and with this shared goal, it is much easier to stick to it until the end. Make sure you check in with each other at least once a week and you must be honest with each other. This is the only way you will learn and grow from mistakes made.

Ways to cut spending

One of the quickest ways to realize your financial goals is to cut any unnecessary spending. Once you start doing this, you will naturally start to prioritize what things are more important to you and what things you truly do not miss. Here are some common ways to cut spending:

Eating Out - Eating out can be an expensive hobby. It is also easy to fall into both from a social standpoint (all of your friends are going out) and from an energy standpoint (I don’t feel like cooking today). The thing is, this is simply not a necessity. Not only is cooking at home healthier for you, but it is going to save you a lot of money and helps you learn a valuable skill. If you are very busy and can’t cook all the time, buying ready-to-go meals at the grocery store is still cheaper than eating out.

Alcohol - This is another category that is not a necessity. Cutting out alcohol can also increase your health as well as your savings. Some people may want to cut it completely for the savings but even if you don’t want to cut it completely, budget to buy some alcohol for home. Don’t go to a bar where you will be paying for expensive drinks.

Coffee - Many people love their coffee. Still, if you want to save, consider making coffee at home rather than going to Starbucks or your local coffee shop. You will be spending pennies on the dollar.

Going to the movies - Going to the movies can be exciting, but more and more technology is letting us have just as good of an experience at home. Not to mention movie theater concessions have a ridiculously high mark up. Opt to make popcorn at home and enjoy a movie in the comfort of your own living room.

Going shopping - Most of us in the U.S. have more clothes than we need. In fact, many people have clothing hanging in their closets that has never been worn. Unless you absolutely need something like a new dress or new pants for a job interview, stop shopping retail.

Negotiating utilities and phone bills - Most people either don’t know or get complacent, but you can negotiate your bills! You should regularly be on the lookout for sales and promotions from your phone company, internet and tv providers, insurance providers, and more. Another good tactic is to switch providers of these services every so often because they will usually give some sort of discount to new customers. This is a great way to lower those bills that you pay every single month.

Ways to increase income and savings

Though this one can be harder to execute, it can also be the most effective. The easiest way to be able to save more money is simply by having more money in the first place. This is obviously much easier said than done but there are a few ways in which you can grow your dollars:

Ask for a raise - One of the quickest ways to get more money is to simply ask for it. Now this must be preceded by good work on your part, but many people could get at least a small pay bump just by asking for it. There are many helpful resources online on how to properly and effectively ask for a raise. If you get one, all of that money that you didn’t have before could be put toward your travel savings.

Avoid lifestyle inflation - Anytime that people do get a raise or get some unexpected income, they tend to adjust their habits to that new income level. However, if you are able to live just fine at your current income, then anything that you make on top of that should be put towards your savings. Do not succumb to lifestyle inflation just because it is easy. You know you can live on less. Do it and reap the benefits of more travel!

Start a side hustle - If you cannot get a raise or have already gotten one but still need more income, you can start something of your own to make money. If you enjoy woodworking, you can make furniture and knick knacks to sell. If you enjoy photography you can advertise to do pictures for people. If you don’t have a very flexible schedule but you have a car, drive Uber when you can. If you work hourly, see where you might be able to pick up an extra shift or two. There is technically no limit to what you can make into a side hustle. It is simply something that you do apart from your primary job that people will pay you for.

Save your tax return for your travel - When it comes time for you to receive your tax returns, plan to put it towards your next trip. If you have a good budget, your tax return isn’t needed in order to live anyway. Depending on the size of your tax return, that right there could fully fund your next adventure!

Open a high yield savings account - A quick and easy way to help your nest egg grow just a little faster is to put it in a high yield savings account. Most banks offer savings accounts that give less than a tenth of a percentage in interest. However, there are several online savings accounts like Ally Bank and CIT Bank that offer much higher interest rates up to 2%. This by no means will make you rich, but it is a good way to have the value of your money keep up with inflation.

Bottom Line

There are always ways to save up for the travel that you want to do. Once you understand how much your trip will cost, how much money you make each month, and how much money you spend each month, you can figure out exactly what you can save for your travel and how long it will take you. With a combination of increasing your income and slashing your spending, you will see positive results and before you know it, you will be on an airplane to your dream destination. Get out there and explore!

[adventuresloane]

Bones

Pairing: Carey/Killian

Rating: G

Words: 3.1k+

Raffle prize for @nothinelsemattered !

Read on AO3

In the middle of the night that followed the battle against the Hunger, Carey lay awake and thanked her lucky stars that she was not like other Dragonborn.

She'd accepted it a long time ago, of course. She'd had to. Her wisp of a body that refused to bulk up no matter how much strength she gained, her arms so thin and gangly that the larger members of her clan could encircle her bicep between their thumb and forefinger--eventually, she would wield these things in a way that would let her disappear completely as needed. Before she learned to be a rogue, though, her smallness and strangeness simply meant that she was there, but less so.

Nowadays, she liked her body for how it could run and strike and dodge and hide. She liked it for how it let her move. Only rarely were there times, like now, when she loved it in stillness, for just being. She loved how her form fit against Killian's, effortless as breathing during sleep. (And Killian, thank the gods, was breathing, was reassuring with every breath, was still alive.) Right now, she loved the tail that had inconvenienced her so much when she was younger. Hers wasn't thick and strong like others she knew, but whiplike and too long and so little under her control that she knocked candles off the dinner table more than once. Now, it was wrapped twice around Killian's ankle, not tightly, but securely enough for her to know that they would not be pulled apart.

They'd been attached like that for hours now, even before they'd settled into a half-broken easy chair together for the night. Carey had clung to her, too, as she tried to patch up Killian's arm while it bled and bled and bled and made the bandages slick in her fingers. Not even bandages, really, but strips of cloth she'd ripped. She couldn't think of anyone more woefully unaware of how to heal than herself. She tried not to think about the dulling of Killian's golden eyes, their loss of focus. The strongest woman she knew, letting her head droop under its own weight. She thought about it anyway, and it kept her up longer.

What kept her up longer still was the thought of what Killian had said at the time.

She fell asleep just before dawn and woke up once while the sun was still golden, then again in the afternoon, when it came in through the blinds and left neat lines of white light on the opposite wall. The third time she got up, late in the day, was the first time in almost twenty-four hours that she met Killian's eyes, wide awake.

"We did it, huh?" she whispered. Somewhere outside, far away, the clamor of voices in celebration sounded like ocean waves.

It was easy to forget, sometimes, that Killian's kind were mostly nocturnal. She'd never complained about adjusting to the daytime routine shared by most others on the Moonbase, and she'd always pulled off wearing around "cool guy shades" so well that one could forget that she did it to keep the sun out of her sensitive eyes. But Carey was reminded of it many, many times in the days following the battle.

Killian, who in the past would wake up with the sun in order to train under the now-shattered glass roof of the base’s gym, was more alive at night than she had ever been. Carey remembered it when the two of them sat together in front of the window and waited until moonlight was the only thing left with them in the room. The stars were friends to Killian as much as they were friends to any traveler. She knew all of their names and the stories woven into them. If Carey listened long enough, she could make herself believe that everything was the same, that she wasn’t living inside the skeleton of the place she’d once called home. That no one and nothing had been lost. Even with her Darkvision, the cracks in the plaster of this room didn’t stick out so much. She fell asleep slumped against Killian’s shoulder, sunk into her voice. 

She also remembered how the night suited Killian when the sun was out (the sky now clean of black ooze and surely, surely, she hoped, bound to stay that way). With their former daily duties now null and void among the ruins of the Bureau, they both stayed suspended in quiet as if in water. As Killian slept through the bright afternoons, her dark hair came loose from its waist-length braid and sprawled over the pillows, over Carey when she curled up close enough. She stayed awake and watched and imagined that hair falling over the throw pillows of a home. Then she stopped before she imagined the rest. She remembered later that night, when she bolted straight out of a nightmare and into a sitting position in bed, and she would have started to shake if not for the large hand placed gently on her chest to ease her back onto the sheets. Killian had been awake and stayed awake while she drifted back off. 

Eons ago, when they were new to each other, Carey’s heart hadn’t known the difference between fear and want, and it pounded fast either way. By now, it had learned to slow when she lay on the other woman’s chest.

She needed to do something. Killian rolled her eyes when she insisted on being the one to change her bandages and track the progress of her broken arm. But it was the same kind of eye-roll she gave when Carey used to goad her into racing back to the house, which meant really she appreciated it. Besides, Merle was busy enough healing everyone else and could use one less patient. He showed her what to do, and after only several instances of her forgetting the disinfectant or accidentally ripping the gauze on her claw tips, she got it. She wound the clean white material around the wounds on Killian’s thigh and sometimes thought about wrapping up the rest of her, wrapping her up in softness and taking her away. Then Killian would notice her slowing down and ask her if anyone was home in there, and Carey would reach up to flick her on the forehead.

While watching this, Merle kept smiling and nodding at her now and then, like he was answering questions she hadn’t asked him. She’d liked him better when he was more of an idiot. Though, she had to admit, she had never before seen him so at home healing, so unshakably content and present for those he helped, when before he seemed to do it because it was what he had always done. His kids tailed behind him much of the time as he went from patient to patient.

Killian did a lot of reading. Sometimes she did it out loud, which Carey liked best, because she only understood poetry when it came out of her mouth. Carey remembered her saying that, as a young adult, she hadn’t had much besides the books she borrowed from libraries and then never returned as she went from town to town in search of work. Thought of saving up and studying to be a lore bard, though things went differently for her, obviously.

Carey didn’t know who she could have become if not the person she was now. From the start, she’d been an excellent rogue. Fucking amazing, if she did say so herself. She’d come by it in the usual way, born with a natural deftness and a skill for turning her childhood falls into graceful tumbles. By the time she was fourteen, she could disarm someone with a well-placed strike, in the event that her smile and non-threatening size weren’t enough to let a target’s guard down. She might have gone on that way, using her powers to draw out gossip and steal things she could have simply bought with family money, but instead wealthy friends of friends of her parents got wind of what she could do. That was that. She hadn’t had to do much of anything, really, aside from the things that had always come as easily to her as breathing—sneaking and stealing and gleaning information from clients’ competitors. Kids’ stuff.

Even her position at the Bureau hadn’t been her doing. This, too, she’d tripped into. Then, as usual, she’d broken her fall and taken it in stride before anyone could notice she hadn’t meant it. If Carey hadn’t been assigned to track a snow-haired woman who was new in town and asking questions she shouldn’t have been, she wouldn’t have gotten to where she was. It was only because the Director—Lucretia, she insisted that people call her Lucretia now—because Lucretia had seen her snooping, sandwiched her between the wall and an invisible force field of magic, looked her over, and asked how she would like a better job.

Unlike her, Killian was deliberate, always. Carey had come to believe that she could do anything she chose. Now, with everything changed, she could make any choice she wanted, leave for anywhere. 

In the heat of the moment, on what people were now pretentiously dubbing the Day of Story and Song, Killian had said that she knew exactly what she wanted after the dust had settled. But that had been before the Bureau of Balance dissolved and everything fell into flux. That had been before she had had other options.

Magnus was the one who was able to pull her away, of course. He did it with all his usual boldness, walking up and tossing her a shovel and saying, “Bet I can clear more of the East Wing than you.” So she left while Killian slept, and she punched his shoulder and made jabs about his greying hair and helped rebuild, and at one point he tried to apologize for faking his death because he hadn’t properly before, and she promptly shut him up. He asked about that ring, too. She shut him up again.

She prided herself on how quickly she’d been able to adjust to the new way in the weeks after the Hunger ravaged the Moonbase. She liked, in the morning, when she could watch people’s tired faces turn up tired smiles as she called down to them from the bare rafters, cheerfully chide them, do her morning sunbathing under one of the many as-yet-unrepaired holes in the domed roof. It seemed to put people at ease. Everyone needed to be put at ease, these days. Maybe even she did. In these moments, it felt almost as it had before everything. She didn’t think about Avi’s desire to work on his own scientific projects, his saying that he wanted to travel for awhile and leave behind certain memories that the Moonbase held. Instead, she threw wet plaster at his cheek and ran off laughing, but not before she turned back and saw the smile that came to his face.

It was weeks later when Killian came up to her after a long day of this work, walking tall, as she always did, and with a purpose, as she often did, and for an instant Carey was sure of what she was going to say, and again her heart didn’t know the difference between fear and want. Instead, she said, “I need your help. I have an idea.”

The moon didn’t have an abundance of black rock. But that just meant that they had to go out looking together for longer, talking under the night sky or else letting the crunch of grit under their feet do the talking for them. The rocks had to be black, apparently. As they searched, Killian talked about Orcish burial. The rocks black as the earth would be painted white--color of death, light, and that which was lasting. Then, markings would be etched into them and reveal the black underneath again. Each cut would imitate a scar on the body of the dead, since orcs loved their scars so well, whether they were put there as marks of ritual or battle or life. Carey said she never thought Killian would be one to wax poetic about tradition, then wondered if it was insensitive to say so. But Killian chuckled. “Just this once,” she said.

Killian didn’t have any of the ritual scars, though she had plenty of others. Apparently, you only got those as an adult in a tribe, and she hadn’t lived among other orcs long enough for that. But she still knew the traditions. She knew how to construct the stone pillars that marked gravesites, those meant to be seen stark and white against dark, open fields by nomads traveling at night.

They got the same dirt on their hands. Carey loved her short nails and the way she carried smooth rocks as though they were fragile eggs, cupped and snug in her palms. They painted together.

They built the cairns near trees that survived the Hunger’s onslaught, near the edge of the Moonbase’s campus. Carey helped lift stones into place. This was something she could do. It was easy to do something, anything. Being was harder. She hadn’t attended many funerals in her life, none since cutting ties with her clan for good and none for anyone she’d been close to. In recent years, those in her life who had died got no funeral at all. When someone in the Bureau went, she had just waited until the erasure, until the forgetting could take away the heaviness in her gut.

But she remembered now. In the quietest hours of the past weeks, she’d done nothing but remember.

She saw them again, when she and Killian stepped back from the cairns that were built. On one stone, there appeared the distinct X-shaped scar that had been above Brian’s eye, a reminder of an overly enthusiastic play-bite from Spider Bryan. On another pile, a long line, stretching across several stones, to resemble the scar that ran all the way up Johann’s leg. All of the simple stacks of rock looking strangely like figures in the dark, standing up straight. Like her friends, standing up straight again.

Carey stood there, too, and tried to figure out what to feel. There was a hollowness in her gut that was not passive, like a hole in the ground, but active, like a drain sucking everything down. These were the friends whom she always knew, as an Enforcer, she might one day have to kill. These were the friends she’d let herself forget about. It seemed almost selfish that only now was she bothering to mourn them.

She would have kept thinking this way had the sound of a shaky breath not pulled her out of herself. Killian’s eyes shone, even more so than they normally did at night. That was all it took for Carey to go to her, wrap her arms around her waist and her tail around her leg. She reached up to whisper in Killian’s ear, “I’m sorry,” because she figured that that was what you said at a vigil, but mostly because she wanted Killian to hear her voice nearby. This she could do. 

“I’m sorry, too.”

Killian enfolded her easily, as always. Carey took in the scent of her shirt and couldn’t think of anywhere in the vastness of the planar system where she might feel more secure. If she didn’t have this, she wagered, she would never feel that way again. Before she even knew she was doing it, she spoke aloud the thought that stood out most in her mind. “Did you mean it?”

“What?”

“I said, did, uh…” When she took a deep breath, it felt almost hot enough inside her to hurt, the way it did before she let out a blast of fire and lightning. This time, she just exhaled and tried to let the feeling fade. “Did you mean it? During the fight, I mean.”

It was clear that Killian still didn’t understand. And then, all at once, she did. She almost jerked in surprise. Both of them, she knew, were remembering now how Killian, through her ragged breathing, had turned to Carey as she knelt to tend her wounds in the midst of the battle and said, If we get out of this, I’m marrying you.

“I think that depends,” Killian said, finally. There was a smile in her voice. “I can’t really marry you unless you agree to it first.”

For once, Carey Fangbattle did not have a snappy reply.

“What is it?”

“No, sorry, I just…” She scrubbed at her eyes, and the back of her hand came away wet. “It’s just a lot to process, you know?”

Killian couldn’t have seen her face. Her chin stayed settled into the crook of Carey’s neck. But it was like she didn’t even need sound to comprehend, only Carey’s breath. “That’s not all it is,” she whispered. It was not a question. 

“No, it’s…” But for once, even coming up with a lame excuse felt like too much heavy lifting. This was why she hated to feel this way, this dragging, graceless way. It only slowed her down, made her less able to do what she needed to do. 

A tighter squeeze. “It’s what?”

Sour spit filled her mouth and made the words stick together. Into Killian’s shoulder, half-hoping she wouldn’t be heard, she mumbled, “You were supposed to be the one who stayed safe.”

At last, after a pause, Killian pulled back. Carey resisted the urge to turn away from her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You got hurt really fucking bad, Killer,” she answered hoarsely. “And it...I don’t know. It’s stupid, but I guess it fucked me up, ‘cause in my head, you were always the one person who’d be fine and who’d always stay, and I thought maybe you’d be gone, and I didn’t know enough to do anything to help.” She looked over Killian’s shoulder at the stones.

“I mean, are you dumb? Because the way I recall, I wouldn’t have gotten out of that mess if you hadn’t been there to torch the Hunger like a badass.”

“Shut up. You’re dumb.” She sniffed but slowly grinned. “Everything’s changing. That kind of thing doesn’t normally bother me, but it does now.”

Killian pulled her back in. “I know everything’s going to be different,” she said. “But I want one thing to stay the same, and it’s this. If that’s what you want.”

Carey breathed her in again, and kept on breathing like that for several minutes, until her lungs and mind slowed again. They so seldom did outside of these moments. “Taako’s going to want to take over the catering for the wedding, you know,” she mumbled at last.

“I get the feeling we’ll need all the help we can get planning anyway,” Killian laughed quietly, wonderfully. “Everyone can join in.”

[kassandra-lorelei]

I would love a prompt of C.C. realising she is younger than Fran. And how our Niles reacts, of course :P

@missbabcocks1 Here we are, at last, my bestie! I hope this was everything you were expecting when you requested it!

But also, oh my God, I am so far behind on all these prompts! I’m so sorry everyone’s been waiting - work keeps me very busy! I will try to do more, more often, to get through them! I need to get back on track a bit, even though I work full time now. Besides, it will be good - who doesn’t love hearing about these two idiots and their adventures?

Niles had to say, there was something extremely pleasantabout C.C. having been told to go on maternity leave. In the days after thewhole extended clan had arrived in California, there had been so much work todo – particularly for both his wife and Mr. Sheffield at the studios – that itseemed as though neither one of them would get a break!

Fortunately, a small miracle had happened and Maxwell had,over the course of some months (as opposed to his usual years), noticed thatthe load was really too much for her to handle. Studio work, even forproducers, didn’t lend itself to anything apart from being on one’s feet allday when shooting and the rounder her belly grew, the more it was starting tobecome a concern whenever a live set inspection or meeting was called.

It was a relief for the butler when their employer hadfinally told her to simply rest at home for the remainder of her pregnancy. Notthat C.C. hadn’t put up a fight, of course. She seemed to have a constant worrythat things just wouldn’t get done if she wasn’t there to make sure of it, andfor the first long, few weeks, she hadn’t been able to help swinging wildly ona pendulum back and forth between “on edge and anxious” and “bored out of hermind”.

That was why Niles had done everything he could to keep heroccupied, which was what he found so pleasant about it, in truth. Having her athome meant that they got to spend more time together, just as they would’vedone had they still been at the mansion back in New York. They’d read books,watched movies, tossed playful remarks back and forth as he went about hischores – the works. He’d even bring lunch right to her lap if she was feelingtoo tired or uncomfortable to move.

As time moved forward and C.C. settled further into hermaternity leave, her worries seemed to settle as well. Not that they went awaycompletely, of course, but enough so that she could actually enjoy herself andnot think about working all of the time.

Not that she didn’t find some of that to do around themansion, as well. The office always had things that needed clearing, filing or reworkingand it wasn’t as though Maxwell would ever get around to it. So, C.C. had takenit upon herself to do a little bit of administration work, every once in awhile, whenever she felt the boredom creeping up on her again.

She had clearly felt the urge a little while after Niles hadbrought her lunch, because when he returned to the living room with his own sandwich(he’d cooked the bacon for this BLT to perfection, in his mind), her plate fromher meal was clean and she had retrieved another box.

She was sat going through the papers inside it, a greatCheshire Cat-like grin stretching across her gorgeous face.

He loved to see her looking so happy, even if it did alsointrigue him. What could she have found in that box that had made her sopleased? He could even hear her chuckling a little bit under her breath…!

Well, there wasn’t anything like having a little bit oftheir usual fun to ask her what was going on…

He sauntered over, allowing a grin to start to curl at thecorners of his mouth.

“You’re looking awfully chipper. Did Mr. Sheffield call tosay that he’s fired someone you hate?”

C.C. looked up and smiled at him brightly, “Better.”

“Oh,” he blinked in return, coming to stand over where shewas sat on the sofa, craning his neck a little to take a look at what she wasdoing. “Two people?”

C.C. half-rolled her eyes at him. He didn’t take itpersonally – he knew it was all part of the fun.

“No one’s been fired, Scrubbing Bubbles,” she told him. “Ijust happen to have stumbled upon an excellent piece of news.”

“Is that so?” Niles’ eyebrow raised and he leaned in towardsher, elbows resting on the back of the sofa. “Would you care to share thisexcellent piece of news with your now-very-curious husband?”

His wife pretended to think about it, before another verypleased grin began to spread itself on her lips.

She practically purred her answer, “I might, for a littlequid pro quo…”

That was an answer Niles always enjoyed hearing. He wasbasically finished for the day, not including dinner, which he could easily putoff for another couple of hours or so.

And he was sure he knew the perfect way to spend them.

“Well, you know I am always happy to scratch your back, ifyou scratch mine…”

His motion to lean down and plant a kiss on her lips wasinterrupted at the very last second, when C.C.’s hand darted out and she pickedup his sandwich off his plate, taking a bite out of it and putting the restback.

She chewed for a while, during which Niles could only try tostammer out a protest but fail, eventually just letting his jaw drop and hangthere for a moment until she was done and ready to speak.

She dusted her hands off as she picked up the paper she’dbeen reading, “Now, you wanted to know what I’ve been looking at.”

Niles frowned in slight annoyance at his plate, “Yes, and Icould’ve enjoyed one whole, complete sandwich to go along with it…”

C.C. rolled her eyes, trying to look unimpressed but notreally managing to conceal her amusement.

“I’ll make it up to you later,” she said in a voice that luckilypromised it without using those words, before going back to the paper. “Youwanna see what I’ve found here or not?”

After a moment, Niles sighed.

“Alright, you’ve got me. What is it?”

“There’s the yenta I know and love,” his wife grinned,gesturing proudly at all her hard work. “I’ve been refiling and reorganisingall the household legal documents. The Sheffields’ and ours.”

“Both sets?” Niles quirked an eyebrow, surprised. “Shouldn’twe leave the Sheffields’ files for them to sort out?”

C.C.’s grin dropped away from her face and she gave him ALook. They both knew exactly what it meant, too – he had just been so takenaback by it in the heat of the moment that the answer hadn’t really registeredto him.

The Look meant something along the lines of “Who are youkidding, Butler Boy? Since when have the Sheffields ever done anything that wecould do for them?” mixed in equal combinations with “Would you trust Maxwellor Fran Sheffield to do something like organise and keep legal documents?”.

He could only really nod in return, once the understandinghad settled in properly.

“Good point,” he said, turning his attention back to thepapers. “What did you find? I’m assuming, of course, that your good news comesfrom one of these pages.”

“You’d assume correctly, lover,” she lifted one single sheetof paper out of her lap so that he could see. “Check this out.”

Setting his sandwich down on the one clear patch on thecoffee table, Niles took and peered at the document.

His eyes then went back to his wife, “It’s a copy of MrsSheffield’s birth certificate.”

His immediate thought was to ask why she had been looking atthat particular piece of paper in the first place, but it was almostimmediately interrupted by the rest of his brain asking him who he thought hewas kidding. Fran’s birth certificate was a closer and more heavily guardedsecret than the contents of the Vatican archives; he would’ve looked withouthesitation, if he’d been the one doing the filing.

They both already knew that C.C. knew this, too. There wassomething especially warming in that – they knew each other, inside and out, andknew exactly when the other would be interested in something they’d found.

“Mm-hm,” she hummed pleasantly, as smug as a cat who’dgotten both the cream and the canary. “Notice anything about it?”

Niles studied the certificate carefully, looking for the onepiece of information that she could be talking about. There was one reasonnobody ever saw this paper, and it was the one thing they’d both truly wonderedabout their friend for as long as they’d known her.

Of course, he had the information that she was in the sameclass as Val at school, who had accidentally let slip one time how old she was,but there was something more concrete about seeing the proof firsthand. Rightthere in front of him, on the official piece of paper that recorded Fran’s birthday.Besides, what if Val also lied about her age (poorly, compared to MrsSheffield, but even so)? Or what if the hastily-used excuse that Val kept beingheld back turned out to be true (because, well, come on)?

It didn’t take long to find.

In the butler’s mind, he’d more than half imagined that herbirth date would look…off, compared to other people’s. That was, he’d thoughtthere would be a day and a month, but no year. His sense of logic had steppedin in the moments he’d thought that and told him not to be ridiculous – itwould be scribbled out with a pen, or redacted, like an important militaryrecord, or the dates and locations of stories that authors wanted to representas “real life” in Victorian literature.

But, much to his surprise, neither of those things weretrue. The date was there, in full.

And his eyes could only widen at the number printed on thatpage.

“No…!” he exclaimed in some disbelief, incredulous at havingthe proof positive there in his hands. “It can’t really be true! Surely…!”

“Oh, yes,” C.C. was on the verge of chuckling in puredelight, clasping her hands together in glee. “Our good, perpetuallytwenty-nine-year-old friend, is at the same time, somehow older than I am!”

As if to illustrate her point and celebrate at the sametime, she began to half-dance in her seat, shimmying her shoulders from side toside and wiggling her hips as much as her belly would allow.

Niles watched in amusement, his hand dropping away with thepaper still in it.

“You really are pleased with yourself for finding this,aren’t you?” he asked, mostly rhetorically because the answer was obvious toanybody who had working eyes.

His wife scoffed, still in the middle of her dance number, “Likeyou’re not happy to have finally fully solved the mystery! I’m surprised youdidn’t do this back when she first started at the-oof!”

Suddenly, she flinched, doubling over and clutching at herstomach, halting her in her seated tracks.

In an instant, the butler tossed the paper back into the pileand flew to her side, seating himself next to her as alarm bells immediatelywent off in his head, loud and ringing like the end of the world was on its way.In his state of dread and panic, an impending apocalyptic event would haveactually been preferable to what he imagined might have been happening.

What was going on? Was something the matter? Was it thebaby?!

“C.C., are you alright?!” he cried out, fear of the worststarting to grip at his heart.

Much to his relief, she took in a few deep breaths andrelaxed, letting her arms slip gently around her stomach.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m fine,” she said, raising an accusing eyebrowat her bump as a faintly entertained smirk made its way onto her lips. “Yourlittle servant spawn must’ve felt my happiness and decided to aim a kick at mylower intestine!”

Niles felt the last of the fear be washed away by the toneof her voice and the look on her face as she rubbed at her belly. She was fine.The baby was fine. Everything was fine. He could calm himself back down.

He could get himself back on track. Besides, he had afeeling that it might distract her from the glee of finding out for definitethat she was younger than Fran, and they’d all be allowed to go on with theirdays.

He pulled her into an embrace, settling one of his hands ontop of her stomach and patting it lovingly.

“Getting creative at running rings around you, even from inthe womb,” he beamed proudly. “We have a little prodigy on our hands already.”

C.C.’s half-smirk blossomed into a full one, “And you’ve gotyourself a little clone.”

Niles slid his hand over her belly, taking her hand andentwining their fingers, “You say that as though it were a bad thing.”

She pretended to think about it in return, exaggerating alook of contemplation and using her free hand to tap at her chin.

“Essentially having two of you around the place? Now, why onEarth would I think that was a bad idea…?”

He slid as close as he possibly could in response, leaningin so that his nose was nearly brushing hers.

“You wouldn’t. You love me too much for that…”

C.C.’s slightly hitched breath was warm against his skin, “Maybe.”

Niles felt the corners of his mouth twitching upwards, “Alittle.”

His wife played at being stubborn, “Sorta.”

It was at this point that the butler knew he’d won the game,“Kinda.”

He felt his lips brush against hers, before C.C. pulled awayjust enough to give him a teasing look.

“If our kid turns out to be as big a sap as you…” she lookedlike she was trying to think of a good threat, but came up with nothing.Instead, she simply shook her head. “I really have no idea what I’ll do.”

“I imagine you’ll be forced to finally melt and renounceyour throne. Though I have no idea where they’ll find another Ice Queen at suchshort notice…” he closed the gap again and quickly pecked her lips. “Unless, ofcourse, you’ve already melted.”

She was back to smirking again in an instant, in a way thatmade him think she thought she’d caught him out on something.

“You’re not distracting me out of it.”

Niles’ brow furrowed, “Out of what?”

“Being happy for my little age victory over Nanny Fine,” shereplied, poking him lightly in the chest.

The butler felt his face fall. Damn, she really was good. It truly did go to show just howwell they knew what the other was thinking at any given moment…!

Well, all he could hope to try and do now was downplay thewhole situation enough that she might not keep that smirk of hers for weeks onend.

“I hadn’t intended to distract you from that – our littleone did the job for me quite well enough,” he eventually counterpointed. “Besides, whosaid anything about it having to be a competition?”

C.C. seemed slightly put out by his question.

“No one, but I don’t think it would kill anybody toacknowledge it.”

Niles bit back a frown. She did have a point; she wasyounger, and she had every right to be able to say so. Many years’ worth of“old” and “ancient” jokes could easily be deflected away without trouble, withthat knowledge out in the open, as well as in mind.

Besides, it wasn’t as though not being twenty-nine tookanything away from Fran. Their friend had many things in her life to enjoy andbe proud of, and her age didn’t have any bearing in any of them.

So, he smiled, giving his wife a kiss on the cheek.

“Alright. We’ll talk about it with her tonight,” he said,before pointing a finger at her, emphasising that he meant what he was about tosay. “Using gentle words, though. You say you don’t think it will kill anybody,but you can never be completely sure.”

C.C., chuckled and grabbed his hand, “As you wish, ScrubBrush.”

The gesture was tender, and her voice amused. She wasagreeing to his terms with neutral feelings, but she was enjoying the fact that hewas being so commanding over it.

He couldn’t hold back a smirk over how it wasn’t the firsttime.

“God, I love it when you agree with what I say…” he practicallygrowled, thinking back to her words before about “making it up to him”.

His wife’s eyebrow shot up and she began to grin, clearlyunderstanding, “Hoping to cash in on that promise I made just now, are we?”

Niles pointedly checked his watch in return, “Well, we dohave a few spare hours before anybody is due to arrive home…”

C.C. cast her eyes quickly towards his sandwich, remindinghim it was still there, “What about your lunch?”

The butler studied her for a moment, and then looked atwhere his sandwich was sat waiting, the bacon and lettuce crisp against the soft,cool tomato and the bread cut thick from the loaf he’d bought only that morning.

He reached out, grabbed his prized lunch and took one bite,chewing it rapidly and swallowing before setting it back down and taking hisnow-laughing wife into his arms.

“I’ll finish it later.”

[gelo-p]

Cycling Seasons, Fresh Skies: Memories

I knew from a long time ago that if I’d ever go for a T10, this would be it. When the event was finally getting closer, early estimates told me I was 900 flames short; I’d have to buy stars for this event.

(WARNING: A rather image-heavy post)

Perhaps the moment I honestly considered T10 instead of settling for T100.

Definitely the moment I knew there was no turning back. :)))

Believe me, this was not the only purchase I made for this event.

I needed a better Challenge Live team, so I knew getting a 4* Happy Ran is required, to complete my Happy Afterglow team. I’ve never gotten any 4* Ran before, so thank god the 4* Exchange Ticket had the perfect timing.

“WAIT. YOU WERE USING A HAPPY TEAM ALL THIS TIME???”

Yep. ^^ Well, my Multi Live team was Powerful Afterglow-based, but had only 2 4-stars, sooo I knew it wouldn’t cut it.

There she is <3

I’ve always stopped at Skill Level 4, but I really had to pull out all the stops. Ran is my first Skill Level 5 member. ^^ (everyone in my CL team also received the level 5 upgrade)

Alright, let’s do this! Hey Hey Hoh~!

The event has finally begun! I initially found it amusing seeing all sorts of titles being shown off. This one in particular stood out to me. XD

(Looking back, that Sinz person would later turn out to be a serious T10 contender. I think they changed their name to Pyokun after some time)

Here’s a screenshot of a rare T5 GeLö-P. I really wanted to share this with you guys, but I figured I’d jinx myself by revealing publicly what I was trying to do. :>

(I will doubt the existence of God Almighty, but believe in being jinxed. Life is weird sometimes.)

Well, that’s the Grand Room for ya’. Meta songs all the way~

How do you even react to that?

With this. :)))

NEXT YOU’LL SAY FUEEEEE

Home Street...

Home Street.......

HEY HEY HOH~! 

The moment I ran out of large energy drinks, and had to start spending stars. </3 Small energy drinks were still reserved for moments I can afford to wait out the 30-minute refill timer.

The 5 Horsemen of the Apocalypse

My first time doing the “recover waaaaay more than 10 flames” thing

Huhehe huhehe huhehe...

I too would like some of those Afterglow pins. T_T

Baby Shak my as-

Aaaand we have a dodger, ladies and gentlemen. XD

I think this guy needs to be banned.

Home Street? Pssh, that was so yesterday. Jumpin’ is the shit now.

Ganbatte, P5.

Himari~

My 2nd encounter with Ghostkillers (who later become T12..?). He chose Senbonzakura the first time, so when he did it again, I thought I’d save it for posterity. ^^

The “I too would like to live dangerously” gang 8-)

The first time I switched away from my dua T100 titles. I figured I’d stop trying to “scare” the competition.

First time tracking T10 scores. This would later prove to be very useful in seeing if my projection will hold (although I shifted to tracking T3 - T12).

Taking a break, so I watched ads for free flames. :)))))

Moca, Ran, GeLö-P, and a weird name. Huh. Okay.

Kyu~Mai * Flower was released! Played this one on Hard.

...this one I played on Expert...

...and thank fuck I got it first try, because oh boy I’m not playing that beat map again. >_<

“Ban me if you can” ?? Why??

Aaaaand this motherfucker right here was cheating and inflating his score. I personally reported him to the game admins over on twitter, and they’ve informed me that they were already aware of this idiot. Saw him just once more after this.

Yes. That’s 91 million, 798 thousand, 346.

I actually encountered them once before this, but didn’t notice anything off about their score (was already dazed at that time). And then a discussion started over at reddit, so when I met him again, I took screenshots.

Ganbatte :))

Had time for a quick hey hey hoh spam ^^

Which day was this..? Anyway I came up with my brilliant pun. Read the comment, see if you can figure it out. :3

MocaRan and YukiLisa. Sigh. I don’t think we can be friends, P5.

:)))

Told you, Ghostkillers only pick Senbonzakura XD

Tomoe’s Birthday! ^^

Even the game won’t let you have a GF, P5. XD

HEATHCLIFF STOP PICKING BABY SHARK

(almost sure they’re famous in the competitive scene... I don’t know them tho LOL)

I woke up one morning to find there was no internet.

FUCK ME

I knew mobile data was going to result to multiple disconnects, but thank fuck I had lots of challenge points to spare. I passed the time productively, and by the time I was done, internet was back. Whew.

Rank update: currently T8. ^^

More of Ghostkillers x Senbonzakura and JFC that name tho P2

Shitpost comment XD

First time seeing 2 other T10 contenders in the same room: Itsuki and Ghostkillers.

Probably the point where I started spamming Tokimeki Poporon instead of Home Street.

Also there’s a looot of interesting names in Bandori.

As a YukiRan / MocaLisa shipper (well more of SayoLisa nowadays), it is my job to destroy players 1, 3, and 5. >:(

Wallet: IT’S NOT POSSIBLE

Me: NO, IT’S NECESSARY

...aaaaaand I immediately threw away 10k stars hoping for Megane Ran, but got shit. (This would later force me to make 2 more purchases XD Seriously though, I could have saved a lot of money with a better star purchase plan)

I got Loli Rinko tho. <3

Which day was this...? I think this was the moment I knew Ghostkillers has given up. I was laughing my ass off reading the comments. I think everyone of us was half-dead at this point. XD

And so we’re down to the final 11.

I’ve started considering the possibility at this point that I might be the final one to bow out.

OMG I CAN’T SEE PLAYER 2

BUSHIDO~!

I was feeling the despair at this point, and thus started singing Komm Susser Tod

I do mini-sprints in the morning, so I’m T6 here. I usually fall back down to ~T9 in the afternoon.

I usually level up once per event. I started this event from Rank 193. :)))

(well it was technically 192, but I was like 2 games away from leveling up)

XD

There are no experts in this room :v

Jumpin = NO FEVER, but picks meta song anyway. Okay. :v

Hey! All Random!

Game: DID SOMEONE ASK FOR A META SONG

I have a lot of friend requests at this point (probably from people seeing me on the T10 list), but I don’t have enough space to accept them all :((

Bread-themed profile!

Poppin’ Party, Puff n’ Pastry... get it?

Itsuki started spamming BOF at this point.

Doki doki~

HIT ME BABY ONE MORE TIME~ ♪ ♫

P1 is an IRL friend :))) I’d later tease her about how slow she is picking songs LOL

Some Initial D reference for overtaking :P Of course I was badly falling behind at this point (T9 is hella dangerous), but I had no choice but to continue to believe in the math (and that early overtaking is a bad choice).

“Early moves lets your opponents recover from mental shock.” - Ryosuke Takahashi, Initial D 3rd Stage

No seriously, that’s exactly what I was thinking of. And also “Not yet, not yet, now” from Ford v Ferrari.

P1 & P5 get married already...

FINAL NIGHT.

I’m down to T11, and everybody else already did 2.3M-sprints some hours earlier, and have considerably slowed down.

I, on the other, was about to go to sleep. Yes, I, the current T11, was about to let the others pull away. All I could do was believe in the Math at that point, because let me tell you-

I had 105k challenge points left. That’s 3.4M event points I had yet to sprint.

This was during the final morning, 9 hours before event ended. When I woke up that morning, my heart was pounding like crazy. What if everybody has pulled ahead?

When I finally checked, most of the T10′s were still in the 17M-range. Itsuki was on T10, and he was only 500k away. I knew at that point that my chances were pretty good; however, I shut up about it, set my comment to “Now Playing: Running in the 90′s”, and got to work.

There was nothing else I could to but consume all the CP I had left. No more tracking. A literal 5-hour non-stop sprint to 19.2M points. If they can still catch up even after they’ve already expended their CP yesterday, then maybe I don’t deserve this T10 after all.

All I need to do was beat one of them. It was me or them.

Holy shi-

I wasn’t out of the woods yet, had to make sure at least one of them didn’t overtake me. Of course that was more up to them, since I didn’t have any strength left (my thumb stopped working at that point, no seriously, it’s still not working properly even today). I also didn’t have any significant stars left.

I managed to sneak in a few songs, but that was it. I was done. The others managed to close the gap, but I stayed in T6.

And then the event was over.

I fucking did it.

------

I would later learn that this was the bloodiest (Challenge Live) event in the history of ENdori. In one redditor’s words, I “ ...sure picked a hell of a time to go for it.”

I had no choice. This is Megane Ran we’re talking about. <3

I had some idea tbh, because I managed to read a tweet in the middle of the event, that “this was one lit T10″. Apparently we were on track to beat the previous record-holder, which was Sayo’s Umbrella event.

I’m... really glad to have been part of this event. I feel so darn proud of myself. >:3

But I couldn’t have done it without the help of the Grand Room. Seriously, I only played in the Grand Room.

Remember this?

I don’t have (competitive) friends. :))) So thank you, all. *bow*

I’d like to thank IRL-friend otearaisu over at twitter for putting up with my excessive score projection updates. XD I have a really detailed excel sheet to check if I was on track or not, and whenever there were developments, I’d always tell him about it, even in the dead of the night. XD

------

Would I ever do this again? Probably not. This was the only event that I knew I really wanted to go for, and I don’t see that changing any time soon. Maybe I’ll get a couple of T100′s in the future, but that’s it. ^^

See you in the lobby~

[marril96]

Smokescreen

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Rowena’s attempt at a surprise goes up in flames.

A/N: @angel-e-v-a and @rowenaisfabulous liked a backstory bit I mentioned in my fanfic Fluffs, so I decided to write it. It is not necessary to read that fic to understand this one, though. The two are totally separate.

Editor: @oswinthestrange

You couldn't have been gone for more than an hour. It was a quick run to the post office, a trip you'd made countless times. It was impossible for something to happen, for something to go horribly, terribly wrong in that amount of time. This was a small town. Aside from a few quarrels between neighbors, nothing ever happened here. Nothing sinister. Nothing remarkable.

Or so you'd thought until two minutes ago when the taxi had dropped you off in front of your house.

In front of your house, whose wide-open windows bled smoke like gaping wounds, while firefighters, scattered around your yard like crimson ants, rushed in and out, left and right, a flurry of movement and pounding feet and raised voices.

Heart stopping dead in its tracks, you started running toward it. The smoke, thick, dark, seeped out in gallons. Your house, shiny white, was tinted grey as if someone had wrapped a cloud of mist around it. What happened? How big was the damage? Had someone — a hunter, a demon, an unfriendly witch — attacked Rowena while you were away?

Where was Rowena?

Your blood ran cold, followed by a chilly cascade of shivers sliding down your spine. You looked around frantically, desperate, pleading to every deity you could think of that she was okay, that she was safe and unharmed and far away from danger. Please, you begged. Please, be okay. Please, be okay, Please be okay.

A rush of images flooded your brain. Tossed furniture. Blood-smeared walls. A charred skeleton lying in the middle of the room with a phone on its chest. A lock of hair on the bed, as crimson as blood on the walls, neatly folded, a souvenir of what had gone on. A prize. Pieces of scalp still clinging to it, staining the sheets underneath it.

The smell, as fresh as the day you'd first felt it, flared up your nostrils, burning like acid. The smell of burnt flesh, of death, of everything good forever gone, never to return again. Never to be the same again.

No!

You shook the thoughts away. It hadn't happened again. It couldn't have! Lucifer was dead, rotting in the Empty forever. Hunters, rogue witches, and everything and everyone else Rowena could handle.

Right?

Just as another horrible stream of thoughts flashed in your mind, you saw her. In the corner of the yard, behind a couple of firemen who were discussing something amongst themselves, Rowena stood tall (well, as tall as she could manage at her height) and proud. Her head was held high, lips a firm line that betrayed nothing, face equally blank. No emotion, all business. If the incident affected her (and you were certain it did), she didn't show it. These people, these strangers didn't get to see her weak. They didn't get to see her hurt.

"Rowena!" you called, relief washing over you. She was okay, you told yourself. She was safe. You had nothing to worry about.

She turned to you, and a small flicker of a smile grazed her mouth. "Y/N!"

You headed for the yard, only to be stopped by a firefighter. "Ma'am, you can't go in there," he said in that professional tone cops usually used. Polite, but firm. A tad friendly around the edges for a better effect.

"I live here," you told him. Gesturing to Rowena, you said, "That's my girlfriend over there!"

"Alright," he conceded. "But go no further than the yard. The house has still not been cleared."

You gave a nod and went in. Rowena met you halfway. As soon as you were near her, you threw your arms around her, wrapping her in a tight, bone-crushing hug. She smelled like smoke, but other than that she appeared fine. She stood still as a statue, frozen in place; she let you hold her, let you pull her in and feel her, bask in her presence. She was alive. She was safe. Nothing else mattered.

"Honey, are you okay?" you asked, pulling back and looking her over.

"I'm fine," she said, more tired than distressed.

Her hands were on her stomach, one clasped over the other. On first glance it appeared to be nothing more than a nervous gesture, but as you looked more closely, you could make out dark, reddish markings sprawled over her lower hand.

"What's this?"

Before she could utter a response, your hands were on hers, gently pulling it free to look it over. Aside from a defeated sigh, Rowena made no protests. It was useless to fight you. A losing battle she'd stopped engaging in a long time ago.

The top of her pale hand was red. The stain was sprawled over it like a crimson bruise, deep, dark, painful to even look at, let alone bear. You stared at it, shocked, mouth agape, then your eyes met Rowena's once again and you got a sudden urge to hug her again. No wonder she hadn't hugged you back.

"Its nothing," she said nonchalantly, but you could tell by her expression it was anything but. It hurt. Not only that, it probably reminded her of the last time she'd been burned.

The time when it wasn't just her hand — her entire body had been burned to a crisp.

You shook the unpleasant memories away, willing them to stay in the back of your mind where they belonged. Twice in one day was enough. You didn't need to remember it. You didn't want to remember it. You wished there was a way to erase the horrifying images out of your head for good.

"It's not nothing. You're hurt!" you said. "You need to get that looked at."

"I do not!" Rowena insisted. "It's just a wee burn. I've had worse." She shot you a meaningful look as she said it, a wordless reminder that you were there, that you'd seen it, felt it, smelled it right alongside her. That you'd held her hand and talked to her, even when she couldn't answer, when her throat and mouth hadn't regenerated yet, for hours on end. She'd survived that, and she would survive a mere second degree wound on her hand.

You were about to tell her it didn't matter, that she was still hurt, when one of the firefighters standing nearby said, "We offered to call for an ambulance, but she refused."

"She's good considering the entire kitchen was on fire," the firefighter next to him said. "That, and she wouldn't let us into the house."

You shot Rowena a pointed glare, a (you hoped) perfect replica of her murderous one. She rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Because I'm fine," she said, exasperated. "I had everything under control until these red bampots shows up!"

"Rowena!" you hissed warningly, cheeks flaming with shame. A small smile bloomed up on your mouth, fake but polite. "She didn't mean that. She's in shock."

The firefighters didn't appear convinced, but, with tight smiles and curt nods, they let it go.

Rowena gave another roll of her eyes, equally dramatic as the first one. You swore she had to have practiced them in the mirror.

"What happened?" you asked.

"Just a wee accident."

You looked to the small streaks of smoke still seeping out the windows and back to her. Your eyebrow shot up, suspicious, disbelieving. "A wee accident?"

"Yes!" Rowena exclaimed. She turned her head to the side, suddenly finding the fence interesting. Desperate to avoid your eyes, your suspicion, your accusation. Giving a sigh, she said in a voice that was barely above a whisper, "I was trying to cook."

No way! You had to have heard it wrong. "You were what?"

She glared at you as if you'd just killed her entire family. "I was trying to cook!"

Before you could try to hold it back, a snort escaped you. Then another, and another, and soon your were laughing heartily as if you'd just heard the funniest joke of your life.

Rowena had tried to cook. Not only that, but she'd almost burned the house down while she'd been at it. If someone had told you that, you wouldn't have believed them.

Rowena never cooked. Never. She made potions and tea and various other beverages, but she never, ever cooked. She refused, and you respected that. The restaurant food the two of you ordered was more than excellent. There was no need for either her or you to cook.

As it turned out, there was a reason she never did.

"You're horrible!" she whined, cradling her burned hand to her chest. Her lower lip popped out in a pout. "Laughing at an injured woman."

"Sory," you said in-between fits of laughter. You took a breath, one, two, three deep ones, to regain your composure. "It's just… you never cook."

"I wanted to today," she said petulantly. A bratty little thing she was.

Your bratty little thing. You loved her exactly as she was.

"It was supposed to be a surprise."

You cocked up an eyebrow. "A surprise?"

"Aye." Her cheeks burned red, embarrassed, awkward. Adorable. "I wanted to make your favorite food."

The admission made you melt like an ice sculpture hit by bright, warm sun rays. She wanted to do something nice for you, wanted to surprise you, and had gotten hurt in the process. You couldn't be mad at her for that, couldn't laugh and poke fun. She had nothing but the best intentions at heart.

"You're adorable, you know that?" you said.

Rowena's eyes locked right with yours, defiant. "Am not."

"Are, too," you insisted. "My precious little cupcake."

"Y/N!" she warned, not at all appreciative of the nickname, especially surrounded by strangers.

You grinned. "You are! And I love you for it. So much." You grabbed her healthy hand in both of yours and gave it a squeeze. "But I beg of you, never try to cook again."

"I don't intend to," she said with a scowl.

"Good. One fire was enough."

A snort, and then a chuckle, accompanied your words.

Rowena rolled her eyes. "You will never let me live this down, will you?"

"Nope," you said, popping the p.

"That's what I get for trying to be nice."

"Uh huh. No good deed goes unpunished."

"Rude."

"Always, honey." You pecked her on the cheek, a swift brush of lips over warm, flushed skin. Your eyes trailed down to her injured hand. "You really should get that taken care of."

"I will, when we're allowed back in," Rowena said.

"I volunteer to be your nurse," you said.

She smirked. "Naughty."

"Pervert," you retorted, laughing.

"You started it," she said nonchalantly.

"It's not my fault you sexualize everything," you teased.

"Sure."

"It's not!"

"Keep telling yourself that, dear."

The banter lasted for a good few minutes, until the firefighters announced the house was safe to go back in. The smell of smoke would linger for a while, they warned, and gave a few tips on how to make it go away. You listened intently, even though the advice was useless to you; Rowena already had a spell ready. A few Latin words, and your house would smell as good as new.

And, once you made a call to the restaurant, it would smell like your favorite food.

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @victoriasagittariablack @rowenaswife @dropsofpetrichor @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @1-800ahs @darkhumorsblog @wayward-kaia @angel7376 @rowenaisfabulous @ruthieconnells @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a

[xanderuwu]

for whom it may concern; here’s a letter

i wrote this long fucking rant about voltron, enjoy (click here to view on google docs)

My name is Alexander, I’m 23, and here is my sob story. I’m a bisexual trans man who grew up in a tiny village where people believed that being LGBT+ was just as bad as being a child molester. I spent the first 20 years of my life hiding my truth because of the fear & shame that was ingrained in me as a child; I was disgusted by myself. I have never gone a week in my‬ ‪life without contemplating suicide - I’ve tried to kill myself 9 times, the first time was when I was 8.‬

‪One of the main things that kept me afloat during my childhood & teen years were stories in any medium; film, TV, books, I swallowed them whole & they kept me sane. But they never made me feel goof about myself or my life. I didn’t experience the impact of good representation until I saw the first season of Glee in 2009 when I was 14 (that show went downhill as it went on too, wow). One of the main characters on Glee was gay & had an arc in the first season where he came out to his father, & his father … embraced him.‬

‪… I remember crying in bed, watching the coming out scene over & over in shitty quality on the Youtube app on my old iPod. I had never seen anything like it. Sure, I’d seen LGBT+ people in media before, but they were always either stereotype-ridden jokes, or they led miserable lives & never got a happy ending. & in so so so many cases … they died. Or their partner died. Or they got AIDS. Or they were framed as disgusting degenerates.‬

‪I’d never seen a parent accept & embrace their gay child. I had never seen a gay character who “made it” with loving friends & family. It gave me courage, it made me hopeful.‬

‪Hope is the most powerful powerful tool we have when it comes to suicide prevention within the LGBT+ community. Every day, thousands of people toe the line between life & death, & THAT is why our representation is so important. Yes, it helps normalize LGBT+ people to the cisgender & heterosexual audiences, but you have no idea how much hope & joy can blossom in the hearts of vulnerable LGBT+ people from good representation that shows LGBT+ characters being embraced & loved, finding partners, falling in love, getting that happy gay ending we so rarely get to see in media. I’m certain that that gay kid from fucking Glee of all things, saved me from the brink a few times.‬

‪In December of 2014, when The Legend of Korra made Korra & Asami the romantic endgame, I cried. Cried for all the LGBT+ kids who would, perhaps for the first time, feel good about themselves. I also cried for the child in myself who still struggles with the shackles secured around his feet from a childhood of isolation & self-hatred, because he needed it too. & then we got record-breaking amounts of well-rounded LGBT+ representation on Steven Universe, a show that not only features same-gender romances, but also explores gender & challenges toxic masculinity. & last year, Disney Channel, the fucking DISNEY CHANNEL, had a character on Andi Mack come out as gay! Freakin’ DISNEY, man! & Korra was on Nickelodeon, Steven Universe is on Cartoon Network - those are all huge traditional television broadcasters where shows have to be assessed by a whole lot of boards in order to make sure they’re suitable to broadcast.‬

‪Netflix, on the other hand, has more freedom. Many of their live-action shows have had explicit LGBT+ representation. Watching as more & more mainstream TV shows & films with prominent LGBT+ characters get released makes me believe in the change, from when i was a kid in the early 00’s to now.‬

‪I first encountered Voltron: Legendary Defender in the form of gifs, fanart, & screencaps on Tumblr. The first thing that caught my attention was Allura’s design; she’s gorgeous & I’m weak. I found out that she was from the Voltron reboot which, not gonna lie, sounded kinda dumb to me at first. I watched Voltron: Defender of the Universe as a kid, not because i’m old enough to have been a child in the 80s, but because we were a family with six mouths to feed & no disposable income that could be spent on cable TV. So we got public service television, & they ran a lot of cartoons from the 80s because they were cheap to license I guess.

Anyways, I was obsessed with VDOTU (we’re using abbreviations now because this is getting stupidly long & typing is hard) as a wee lad, Allura was my favourite character because she had long hair & a pink uniform - as I said, I’m weak for pretty people. So in late June of 2016 I watched the first season of VLD & I was so pleasantly surprised. VLD is animated by Studio Mir; one of my favourite animation studios, & the show has writers & producers who have also worked on Korra, so that, in addition to the show being distributed by Netflix, made the possibility of clear-cut LGBT+ characters & storylines seem more plausible. ‬

‪I loved the first season of VLD. I very quickly latched onto Keith & Allura, but as I kept watching I found myself adoring the whole team. Having Pidge be a girl was cool, & I was so excited when I found out that she was voiced by a gay actress! & whoever came up with the idea of making Allura, Hunk, & Lance brown deserves a high-five. ‬

‪(We’re getting to the real meaty LGBT+ rep rant soon, just stick with me here because I wanna talk about some other gripes I have with this show first).‬

‪So, we had a show with a diverse main cast of characters, good writing & pacing, a good balance between character & plot, & gorgeous animation. I was excited to see the second season.‬

‪However, the second season was when some of the show’s main flaws popped up for the first time. That nice balance between character & plot from the first season seemed to have driven right off its tracks and straight into a bio-hazardous lake. In the first season, each character got a fair amount of attention, but in season two Hunk & Lance were just … barely there? Keith is my favourite character & I liked the Blade of Marmora stuff, but Keith’s amount of screentime came at the expense of other characters, especially Hunk & Lance. Having Keith’s entire arc in season two pretty much only involve himself & Shiro did every character a disservice. & the reveal that Keith was Galra was so underwhelming. We only saw two characters react to Keith’s alien heritage. The episode with Keith & Hunk in the Weblum was lovely, but we haven’t really gotten team bonding episodes like that since season three so :/ And oh God, the whole subplot of Allura, a black-coded character, being “racist” against the Galra is a WHOLE other mess that I don’t think I can adequately explain. Just, why. ‬

‪Season three was good, the balance between character & plot seemed to be getting back on track & the lion switch-up made for some good character development, especially for Lance & Allura. Episode four was a mess though like y'all could’ve been just a liiittle more sensitive with that kind of stuff. Also it is embarrassingly obvious that in the first two seasons, Allura was portrayed as being around Shiro’s age & the two of them shared moments that seemed to be hinting at a future romance - until, suddenly in season three Allura is at the same maturity level as the other paladins? What, is it because that was when you decided to have Shiro be gay because you weren’t allowed to kill him after season two, & so instead of doing Shiro/Allura you started pairing Allura with Lance? That’s just absolutely stellar mate.‬

‪Season four - character/plot balance swings off the rails once more & to this day it hasn’t been recovered. This was the season where y'all’s plot became way too fucking convoluted & too damn big! The plot takes so much room, OF COURSE character development suffers! Season five had the same problem, & whoops Allura has a new love interest! It’s Lotor, a grown-ass man! Great! Totes loved it!‬

‪Season six had some good moments but again, y'all’s plot left no fucking breathing room for the characters! Also, Lance’s crush on Allura is suddenly True Love now? At this point you need a fucking Excel sheet to keep track of the plot & subplots. Lotor was an asshole all along & betrayed Allura? BITCH WE BEEN KNEW! Lotor’s betrayal could be seen from miles away. Bad.‬

‪SEASON FUCKING SEVEN HERE WE GO.‬

‪You ruined Keith’s entire character. Plain and simple. Keith & Shiro’s backstory was the highlight of the entire season. And in those flashbacks we see Shiro’s BOYFRIEND! Shiro is GAY! Shiro being gay & having a partner was revealed at San Diego Comic Con in July, & fans were so fucking happy. Remember at the start of this monstrosity of a letter where I talked about LGBT+ representation in media igniting hope? That was what you saw from fans after SDCC; pure joy & hope. It was amazing, people cried because they were so happy! & the showrunners said we’d learn more about Adam & get to meet him, shit I was so hyped!

Was Shiro, the character who has struggled the most in the show, going to get a … happy ending? As a gay character? With his partner of the same gender?‬

‪…‬

‪Y'know,‬

‪There’s still probably hundreds of thousands of LGBT+ kids who are growing up in a similar environment to where I grew up. They feel the same way I felt. That … indescribable loneliness that pierces through your bones, the self-hatred & hopelessness that weighs too much, you are the deer and the headlights is every person whose approval & love you need most. ‬

‪& then you see someone like you in a story, & they are happy, they aren’t alone, because people like us aren’t destined to be tragedies.‬

‪It gives you hope.

‪VLD could’ve given that to people y'know? And maybe that’s the saddest part, that instead they chose to kill the man Shiro loved, & thus put their only remaining confirmed LGBT+ character through even more suffering. ‬

VLD killed 50% of their confirmed LGBT+ characters. ‬

‪Imagine if they’d killed 50% of their female characters.‬

They killed Adam to show the gravity of the situation, to show that with war comes death. But LGBT+ viewers don’t need that reminder. We die every day. We know war, we know that war walks hand in hand with death.‬

‪And we didn’t even really have any feelings about Adam aside from “Shiro’s boyfriend!!!” We only got a tiny snippet of his & Shiro’s relationship. From a basic storytelling standpoint, killing someone like Colleen or Sam Holt would have been so much more effective because we know a lot more about Pidge’s relationship with her parents than we know about Adam & Shiro.‬ Adam’s death fell flat because we never knew him or his & Shiro’s relationship.

‪So why did they decide that the gay characters had to lose? VLD could have made something beautiful, something that would help people. But you didn’t.‬

‪Why didn’t they?‬

‪And why, in the same season, did they suddenly make Allura show signs of returning Lance’s feelings, despite her having shown zero romantic interest in him for over a third of the series? Why did they push Keith & Acxa together, two characters who had never spoken before this season? ‬

‪They take away the prospect of a same-gender romance, & then shove some half-assed straight relationships in our faces? It’s as if they’re doing this to be intentionally cruel.

‪Even if Adam somehow returns, that doesn’t repair the anxiety & hurt they caused their LGBT+ fans. With this season, VLD gave us the same age-old tale we’ve been told since we could understand words.‬

‪Happy endings belong to straight people. Gay people are doomed to live through tragedy after tragedy until we die young.‬

‪I believed in this show. I honestly thought the slow-burn romance would be Keith & Lance. Already in season one they had the “bonding moment” that was a textbook example of how to convey romance through visual storytelling. In that scene, Lance said “We are a good team” to Keith, & that was supposedly just bros being bros? But in season six, Lance says the exact same phrase to Allura as a flirty line, so what’s the deal here?

Are Allura and Lance the slow burn? Allura had never shown interest in Lance before now, when she suddenly noticed that Lance is … nice? What … is this? Honest to God, what is happening? VLD really decided to do the guy-likes-girl-girl-doesn’t-reciprocate-but-if-guy-keeps-trying-she’ll-like-him-back-eventually thing? Ah yes, If you flirt with a girl & she ignores your advances, you shouldn’t stop & move on, you should keep pushing, that’s how VLD staff want people to treat women I guess.‬

‪Keith & Axca … looked at each other three times & now they’re in love. Very good slow burn, I cried, 11/10.‬

‪Had the straight romances at least been well-developed I might’ve been slightly less angry. But no, you killed the man Shiro loved & then presented us with some gourmet heterosexual nonsense - no really, where are your Michelin stars because this hetero bullshit is top notch, truly.‬

‪I’m not saying this as a bitter shipper. I’m saying this as someone who invested so much time into your show, only to be severely let down. VLD has had some incredible episodes, but season four & onward was a massive display of incompetent storytelling. It’s as if seasons one through three were created by a different team!

Not to mention the showrunners themselves, who have consistently been dismissive of valid concerns from fans, & when given chances to confirm that Keith & Lance’s relationship was strictly platonic, they instead remained vague, instilling hope in fans - giving people false hope to string them along so they’ll keep watching your show is cruel.‬

‪There are so many other things I could say here, but I’m running out of time.‬

‪Y'all could’ve done extraordinary things with this show & these characters. You could have made something amazing, your show could have been remembered as a trailblazer. But instead, it’ll only be remembered as a clusterfuck & as an example of what not to do, for future creators to learn from.‬

‪I don’t know how or why y'all ended up turning your show into a damn mess. I don’t really care. I just wish you hadn’t exploited the fragile hopes of LGBT+ people.‬

The only thing that can save y’all now is if season eight makes me physically shit hundred dollar bills so I can buy a fucking boat, sail to the middle of the ocean, and just scream for a good six years or so.

Thanks.‬

[doodlelolly0910]

Close Encounters of the Spiritual Kind

Summary: Emma Nolan spent a lot of time alone, and that was fine by her. Because one is never truly alone. She should know. She can talk to dead people. What she didn’t expect was one of these spiritual encounters to hang around, taking her down a rabbit hole of missing women, revenge, and, least expected, love. Can she save the day and Killian Jones? Is there even another choice?

Read it from the beginning on AO3 and FFN!

A/N:  *pokes head in* Hi guys! So some of you may have noticed there wasn't an update from me last week. If you follow me on here, you already knew there wouldn't be one, but I thought I would acknowledge that here as well. I struggled a lot with this chapter, and had a lot of personal issues with writing in general over the last week. I definitely apologize and appreciate all of your patience while I worked through my mental kinks. If you ever have any questions, or you just want to know what's going on with me or my writing, just send em a message or an ask. My inboxes are always open. You can follow me here as well, I’m usually moaning about my writing woes on my blog anyhow lol. More than ever this week, thank you thank you thank you to my wonderful beta and friend @kmomof4 for being so awesome and supportive, and also I will forever be in melting fangirl joy over the beautiful art that @courtorderedcake made for this story. Give her some love, and read all her stuff. She's amazing. And last, but not least, thank YOU, my lovely readers. The fact that y'all take time out of your day to read anything of mine just fills me with joy. So thank you. So much. Without further ado, here's chapter 16!

Chapter 16

Why she was still so affected by a stupid kiss, Emma would never know.

But here she was, studiously avoiding looking over to where Hook was standing with a small, rotund man called Smee of all things (oh, the irony) in order to obtain something that was not very easy to obtain. Which was apparently what William Smee excelled at, obtaining hard to get objects. She hazarded a glance at the two men, simply to find out what was taking so damn long, and immediately regretted it.

Smee was scrutinizing her, his distrust clear as day, but that wasn't what threw her. It was the set of bright blue eyes that were locked on her rapidly reheating face and the peek of tongue that slipped past Hook's lips as he swiped it over them. He thumbed the scruff on the edge of his jaw, responding to something Smee said half heartedly, his gaze staying resolutely on her face.

She couldn't look away fast enough.

Good man, Milah whispered without warning. Emma jumped, her face reddening further, utterly embarrassed to be caught in some sort of moment with Hook by his dead ex-lover. Slowly, the scent of jasmine filtered into her senses.

“Hello to you, too,” Emma grumbled, then froze, her eyes widening and her brows climbing her forehead.

Did she know about the kiss?!

Yes, Milah murmured and Emma felt her stomach turn as the spirit answered her unasked question. Good man. Worthy.

Emma's heart stuttered through a change in gears in her chest before ramping up in speed. She swallowed thickly, trying to think of a response but coming up entirely empty. She looked to where the two men talked out of the corner of her eye and saw them turn and walk into the building.

“Can you just… not… do that. We get along now. That's enough,” Emma said through gritted teeth. A silence descended in the car around Emma.

Good man.

The final whispered words faded away along with the scent of Milah’s perfume and Emma was alone again. She sighed heavily, Milah's words weighing on her already heavy mind.

Emma startled as the door opened to the passenger side of the bug, but she recovered quickly as Hook settled himself in beside her. He didn't appear to have anything new with him and Emma's brow knitted together in confusion. He glanced at her face and then quickly away and she just knew that he had done something she didn't approve of.

“All set, Swan, let's go,” he said, patting the dashboard with his good hand and shifting in his seat. She didn't move to start the car, only staring at him intently, trying to figure out just what it was that he was hiding.

He exhaled sharply through his nose and turned his head only slightly to get a better look at her stone faced expression.

“You know, vehicles usually function better once they're running.” He gestured to the ignition with his hooked arm, still not making eye contact.

“What did you do?” she asked bluntly and Killian looked genuinely surprised before steeling his features once more.

“Well you saw most of it. We had a chat, went inside, and now it's time to leave.”

“And what happened while you were inside, Killian?” He winced at her use of his given name.

“Business,” he replied, his tone clipped. He turned back to look out the windshield.

“What kind of business?”

“The kind you needn’t concern yourself with, love,” he said softly, but his tone brokered no arguments. Emma studied him for a moment longer. The way his dark hair fell over his forehead, his bright blue eyes avoiding hers. His jaw ticked, not in anger, but frustration. Her senses still fired off red flags that he had done something he shouldn’t have, but Emma recognized his behavior for what it was. He was trying to protect her.

So she let it go.

For now.

Wordlessly, she reached up and turned the keys dangling from the ignition, the engine to the little yellow bug rumbling to life behind them, and she drove them back to the compound. As soon as they had gotten back, Emma hadn’t even needed to worry about putting space between them. Twilight had already descended around them and Hook wasted no time in disappearing into the shadows between buildings.

“Get some rest. You’ll need it for tomorrow,” he said before he vanished. He was obviously avoiding her, but that was fine by Emma. If he hadn’t put the space between them, she would have, certainly.

Emma made her way back into the living quarters, staying clear of the office area in case that was where Hook had escaped to, making her way into the bedroom Hook had led her to before. She was tired. So very tired. These kinds of things tended to happen, though, when you hadn’t slept in a week and sustained more than one head injury. The cut on her head throbbed with her heartbeat a few times at the thought, but Emma ignored it. She was getting good at ignoring the small things. She had to stay singularly focused. There was no room for anything else.

She spied the blanket, sheet, and pillow that Hook had left out at the foot of the bed, for her, she presumed, and picked it up, setting it on the ground. She wasn’t a hundred percent sure whose bed this was, exactly, but she was almost positive it was Hook’s and she wasn’t looking to put him out. She just wanted to relax a moment. Setting the pillow against the wall where the headboard would have gone, had there been one, she toed off her boots and spread the sheet down over the top of the already crisply made up mattress. She walked across the room to where a small card table sat, empty of all things except her messenger bag.

She wasn’t sure what had possessed her to bring in her sketchbook from the car, but she had, and now she knew it would bring her the comfort she sought in this moment. She grabbed only one pencil from her bag and flipped open the book to a blank page before settling onto the bed. The moment the pencil touched the paper, she was lost in the motion of the drawing, unsure of what she was even sketching until a flower began to take form over the page. Long, thin, pointed petals began to fill the space in the shape of a star. She shaded a bit and began another. And another when that one was finished.

Suddenly, she was in a field of flowers like the ones she had been drawing. Instead of leaning against the wall, her back was against the rough bark of a large tree, her sketchbook having disappeared entirely. The hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention, goosebumps exploding over her skin despite the warmth of her surroundings, and she knew she wasn’t alone. Emma eased to her feet, finding she wasn’t nearly as sore as before, and turned around, laying eyes on the tall man standing off to her left.

Liam’s mouth was set in a firm line as he watched her get to her feet and approach him and Emma grew wary of the obvious disapproval in his stare.

“Hello, Liam,” she greeted him warmly all the same.

“Emma,” he returned coolly. “Would you care to explain why you were snogging my little brother in the street today?”

Emma blinked rapidly at his blunt words before the anger and embarrassment swirled in her abdomen again.

“You know, between you and Milah, I’m beginning to think I don’t have a moment’s privacy. Do you watch me shower as well? Keep track of my toilet habits?” she snapped, folding her arms across her chest. Liam blushed but his expression remained stern.

“I don’t keep track of your anything, unless it has to do with Killian. What were you thinking?” he asked tersely. Emma’s patience was already wearing thin. As she brushed her long blonde hair over her shoulder, her hands found their place on her jean clad hips.

“I was thinking that your brother is an insufferable ass who needed a dose of his own medicine. It was just a kiss to shut him up. And he kissed me first, by the way.” A thin honey colored brow arched high on her forehead.

Liam made a low humming sound, as if he didn’t entirely believe her. She wasn’t sure she entirely believed herself.

“There is a fine line that you’re flirting with, Emma.” He folded his arms over his broad chest.

“Pun intended?” she snarked.

“I mean it. You’re not here to fraternize with Killian. He is in real trouble, and if you’re only going to complicate things rather than help him, maybe it’s best if you bow out.”

“Not a chance in hell,” she growled, kicking the flowers at her feet. They exploded into a flurry of white petals, looking much like snow swirling between them.

They glared at each other for a long minute before Liam let out a sigh.

“Listen, lass, I know you’re under a lot of pressure. You’re tired, maybe not thinking straight, but I’m telling you now, getting involved with Killian is a mistake. For him and for you. Don’t forget, at the end of all of this, you’ll be going your separate ways. Think of your own heart, if nothing else,” he murmured, taking a step closer to her, and Emma scoffed.

“My heart is just fine. Your brother has become a friend, at best. You know, you and Milah, you guys came to me for help. Not the other way around,” she reminded him. Liam nodded.

“As you’re well aware, I’m sure, options to reach out from beyond are… limited. At best.” Liam’s brow pinched, deep furrows of concern working their way into his forehead. “I need to know that your priorities are straight.”

“That is one thing you never need to worry about. And, sorry to disappoint, but Killian is not my top priority right now. Finishing this case is. Finding these missing girls is. Taking down that bastard Gold is my number one priority. And nothing, not even your brother, and especially not some stupid, fucking kiss, is going to push me off my path,” Emma said, now shaking with the weight of the words pouring from her. Liam’s face was unchanged.

“You say that, Emma, but I see my brother. I watch him every day. And his heart is definitely on the line here. I’d bet my eternal soul that yours is, too,” he said, more gently this time. That statement struck Emma hard, her breath evaporating from her lungs.

His eternal soul.

The only thing he had left. The only thing that truly mattered in anyone’s life. His slate blue eyes stared into her jade green, the intensity of his words washing over the moment. There was no other way to answer him but honestly.

“I won’t let any feelings from Killian or myself get in the way of what I need to do,” she replied quietly and Liam’s shoulders sagged in relief. “And Killian will come around. We will fix this.”

“I truly hope so, lass,” Liam said, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder. “Get some rest. You’ll need it for tomorrow.” Emma smirked at his echoing of his younger brother’s words from earlier. The Jones men were so alike sometimes, and then others, they couldn’t be more different. Emma looked down to pick a white flower from the field, and when she looked up, Liam was gone.

Emma decided that she was going to take advantage of the beautiful dreamscape she found herself in, turning to head back to the tree, but as soon as she made the rotation, the scene was gone as well. She was at her apartment building, at the end of the hallway by the elevator on her floor, but there was a red string in front of her door. Her eyes followed the string down, down, down until she saw the other end laying at her feet.

She bent down, the flower in her grasp fluttering to the ground beside her, replacing it with the red string between her fingers. She began following the string, one hand on it at all times, passing it to the other and back again as she walked towards her apartment. The door was open and she followed the string inside.

She wasn’t prepared for what she saw.

Women, naked women, battered and bruised, and lifeless, their eyes staring blankly into the void of her living room, piled atop one another in a heap, all of them bearing faces that she'd only seen in case files. Emma stood frozen in the doorway, her mouth hanging open in utter horror and the string gripped tightly in her fists. Limbs stuck out in every direction, cuts and bruises marring the flesh. Suddenly, from the middle of the pile, one of the hands began to move, just a slight twitch of the fingers. Emma ran towards the indication of life, desperately moving arms and legs and hair to reach whoever she could still save.

A woman with short, dark hair in front of her face was at the other end of the movement. Emma swept her hair away to look at her pale, blemished features. She recognized her immediately. Ivy Belfrey. The most recent woman to go missing. Her big brown eyes were dimming, her life force fading like all the rest, and Emma grasped her hand tightly.

“Stay with me, Ivy, I'm gonna get you help,” Emma told her and a single fat tear rolled down Ivy's cheek.

“Why didn't you save us?” Ivy asked on a cracked whisper. Emma's throat closed up at her words and her green eyes blew wide. Ivy's expression twisted into something dark and angry and she reared up from her place within the corpses. “WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE US?” she screamed. Before Emma could answer, Ivy had reached down and yanked the string from Emma's hand.

The entire room blew apart in a fiery explosion and Emma screamed…

“EMMA!”

Emma's eyes snapped open and she sat up in the bed she was in, looking around frantically. She was still at the compound. Her eyes cleared from the haze of her dream and found Killian, staring at her in the dark of the room, concern etched into his features. Tentatively, he reached up with his hand and brushed a wild snarl of blonde curls out of her face, his knuckles skimming her cheek soothingly as he withdrew, but Emma instinctively leaned into his calming touch. At her motion, Killian moved closer to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side.

Then Emma did something she hadn’t done in years in front of another living soul. She cried. She turned her face into his chest and her tears were immediately soaked up by the cotton of his t-shirt. She wasn’t sure when he slipped further up onto the bed, or when she’d ended up curled up half in his lap, him murmuring soft, calming things in her ear as sobs racked her body, but she did know one thing: she felt the safest she had since this whole ordeal started right there in Killian Jones’ arms.

[ericlwoods]

Not sure how to start this write up. There is some hesitancy on my part, but not for the usual reasons.

Not for fear of Leica adherent backlash. I am a casual member of the same. Very much enjoyed a brief Leica film dalliance I fully understand the Leica allure.

https://flic.kr/p/26omc7J

And I loved what the Leica M3 (KEH Blog Post here) could do.

https://flic.kr/p/YPNiHi

What happened? As much as I loved the M3 functionally it was a dead end fiscally.

Body: I would rather in body metering. But that means a film M6 (M5 also technically) which currently goes for more than a few brand new full-frame digital cameras.

Lens: Had and loved the Voigtlander 50mm f/1.5. But why not a proper Leica? They are quite expensive, especially when you go wider than f/2. Multiples of the cost of the M3 body alone used in fact.

Media: An M mount digital Leica was beyond my reach. The cost of moving to a digital M mount was a hard proposition for me personally.

Sidebar: Not saying digital M mounts are not worth the price. They are. Simply a matter of them costing more than I am willing or able to spend.

What did I do next? I already enjoyed Voigtlander lenses so I went for a less expensive Voigtlander Bessa R2 that has in body metering.

https://flic.kr/p/261676d

Perfect for my purposes for much less spend. So it looks like I dodged the Leica bullet. What happened? Put simply the Q happened.

As soon as it was released back in 2015 I knew the Q would haunt me. Some scoffed at such an expensive all in one camera. Not me. Without knowing anything more the mere fact that this was a camera with:

An AF Summilux lens included where a manual focus M version would cost more alone.

No rangefinder, but zoom and peeking aids like those I grew to appreciate on other mirrorless cameras.

Full frame. As much as I appreciate the Leica name I would not purchase a less than full frame lens Leica product.

I stopped reading further. Knew I was in trouble. A close encounter with a Q in the wild proved problematic as well. On a local photo walk accomplished photographer Edde Burgess took what is still to this day my favorite portrait of me.

Edde took this with his Leica Q that I tried not to look directly at during the walk for too long. In short, I had a medium format film camera in hand and a bag full of digital gear, while Edde was rolling with one self-contained wonder. Still, I resisted.

Then after some years went by…

A Q showed up at my local camera shop recently.

Dang it.

Took it in hand and told myself not to look at the price on the bottom. I looked. Was initially stunned by, but not really surprised by, the price. Holding its value better than I had hoped.

Went home and looked at the prices of examples online and realized the Q really holds its value. This local example was very much priced to move. If I ever was going to get one this would likely have to be it. Dang it.

Went on to finally read and watch the reviews and deep dive into the specs I had all avoided all of these years. Hope was that these would back me down. Snap me out of it. Sheesh. A rare consensus. Praise after praise. And the specs listed features I did not expect of any all in one camera, especially a Leica.

OIS

Found this particularly surprising. My one real bogey, the RX1, does not have this feature. Digital stabilization does not count. Having long become spoiled with OIS it is now a must-have feature.

Macro

So avoided early reviews and specs that I had no idea that it had a macro function. The party piece is the shifting distance markings. Amazing bit of engineering and design that actually works.

Leaf shutter.

Silent shooting with physical shutter up to 1/2000s and flash sync up to 1/500s. Will not ever likely use flash, but the silent shooting is a definite plus.

E-shutter.

Up to 1/16,000s shutter. What? This means completely silent stills in daylight with the aperture wide open without an ND filter any time I want.

WiFi/NFC.

Well implemented remote control and file transfers by all accounts. I see you Leica.

10fps… 10fps!

3 years old and bests the rightly highly regarded newbie 8 fps A7iii (No ding intended. Love that camera. Just facts.).

AF.

Fast and accurate AF on a full frame Leica. That is a ‘take my money’ sentence.

Direct manual focus.

With assists. WIth hard stops. Focus tab with an ingenious AF/MF switch built in.

Not drive by wire. With zoom and peeking. No. it is not a proper rangefinder, but it more than makes up for it with it’s well thought out and elegant implementation.

Face detect AF.

Another ‘take my money’ feature.

Touch screen with touch focus.

Greatly helps to mitigate the omission of a tilt screen for me.

AF Tracking.

Actually works.

Favorites menu.

Most recent firmware I installed added a favorites menu where you can choose what comes up first. Found the menus already to be intuitive and quick to navigate, but this is even better.

User profiles.

Quickly switch between my favorite self defined configurations (B&W/High Speed/Street/Normal) just like I have set on all of my other cameras.

Video.

Not pro grade. No mic jack. Not 4K. But AF tracking is good and more than serviceable for the few occasions I would want to capture video.

Decided a test drive was in order. Does it add up? Have been disappointed in the past when real life experience does not match the hype and/or spec sheet. Not the case here.

Lower price non Leica comparisons.

Having owned and tried many digital cameras (Sony RX1 line, Fuji X100 line, Ricoh GR line and the like) I can honestly say that this camera is greater than the sum of its parts. It is not about capability since any number of cameras can produce excellent images. But even if you took the word Summilux out of the equation this camera matched or bested every camera listed above ergonomically in my book. I spent near no time staring at the camera wondering how to change setting X or Y. Switch to MF? Move the focus wheel on the lens away from AF. Change the aperture manually? Move the dial on the lens off of A. Change the shutter speed manually? Move top plate mounted shutter dial off of A. Change the ISO? Press button on the back marked ISO and turn the wheel. Hey, what is this unmarked dial on the top do? What do you know it adjusts the exposure compensation. All this in the first few moments after having picked up the camera without ever picking up a manual or visiting Youtube. Your mileage may vary, but add the Summilux name back in on top of that (and my notes below) and it is a no brainer for me.

Higher price Leica comparisons.

Leica M acolytes look away until the next paragraph. Nothing to see here… Seems absurd to say, but at the Qs price point there is value to be had here. To achieve the equivalent Leica M specs of this lens and body combination one would need to spend many thousands more for a digital 24MP M 240 body (new or used) or Summilux lens (any focal length used or 28mm new). And I did say ‘or’ not ‘and’. Combine the two and you easily surpass what I paid for my dadmobile daily driver on up into five digits. Some would say that an M advantage is that you can change the lens. Moot point for me. Truth is that if I ever did buy a comparable M lens and body there would be no budget left ever for another lens. And no AF at that price. Tell me of a less expensive AF true Summilux full frame experience anywhere and I am all ears. Not arguing worth. Stating what I am personally willing to pay.

But both comparisons ultimately miss the point. To say the most cliched of cliched things you have to use it and evaluate the results for it to make sense. Hard to relay in words, but since we are here let me try. Imagine if you combine:

Summilux.

I.E. outstanding sharpness wide open, class leading sharpness stopped down a little, great focus fall off, great contrast, creamy bokeh, and wonderful colors. Best lens I own hands down is permafused to this camera.

Near DSLR speed swift and accurate AF acquisition.

Even in low light. How they did this with contrast detect AF only I have no idea. Some Panasonic partner magic perhaps?

10fps.

With useable AF-C tracking in a pinch. That bests all of my other quite capable interchangeable lens cameras.

Best of the best mirrorless manual focus implementation.

Utterly silent shooting.

Best of any digital I own 1/16,000s shutter speed available.

Not to be used for panning/fast moving objects or it will distort, but fantastic in relatively static brightly lit conditions. 1/2000s leaf shutter available if need be for motion.

24.2MP.

This the goldilocks MP count for me. Any less is not enough of a post crop detail safety net for my liking. Any more eats into archive RAW archival storage space quickly and noticeably impacts the speed of my post processing workflow.

Full frame.

Some of my favorite work ever was done in MFT. APS-C is just fine for most all purposes. But if available I prefer full frame.

OIS.

Mentioned above, but deserves mentioning again.

Time lapse, panorama and other scene modes.

Have not gotten around to using any of this yet. But glad it has them.

Macro.

Mentioning again, because this is not just macro writ large on a non macro lens, but actual fast AF wonderfully implemented real deal macro capabilities.

EVF.

Best EVF I have ever used. And I have used a lot of EVFs.

In body 35mm and 50mm field of view crop.

May seem silly since you can crop after the fact. Made more useful since the images are so sharp that cropping still leaves plenty of detail.

Great for sharing real time with the Leica app. Crop while you shoot instead of after the fact.

 If you shoot RAW and JPEG like I do it is the best of both worlds since RAW files are not cropped.

Monochrome JPEGs.

 There are other JPEG settings, but this is the only one that matters to me.

 Small.

No, not as small as the also full frame RX1 line, but tried it and that camera is too small for my beef mitts. Bought and sold two RX100 cameras for the same reason. For me there is such a thing as too small. A nice size with half case and hood, but remove both and I am able to get this camera into a jacket pocket. Plus more compact than a similar M set up. And far more compact than a similarly spec’d A7III and lens. I believe this may be the most compact brighter than f/2 full frame digital camera and body combination on the market currently.

Summilux, summilux, and in conclusion summilux.

But not so fast. There have to be minuses, right?

Focal length.

This was one potential demerit that concerned me. As I have pointed out ad nauseam my usual go-to prime focal length is 50mm or thereabouts. But in use, the 28mm focal length has not proved to be an issue at all. It has forced me to move in to get the shot sometimes, but this is where the small, silent, and quick nature of this camera pays dividends. So far I have thoroughly enjoyed taking shots while in the fray rather than having to back up and away. Has proven handy with environmental candid shots also. And if I do need to step back the bright aperture, ample MPs, accurate focus, and very sharp lens means that cropping is no issue. I should not have been surprised since two of my favorite all in one film cameras are 28mm.

Lack of weatherproofing.

Would have been nice. But not really an issue for me. Some of my cameras are weatherproofed technically and they all get put away at the first sign of rain regardless.

Saved the most biased, eye roll/cringe inducing, subjective assessment for last.

Fun.

Fun to use. Fun to review the results. A highly technical and very capable contraption that is simple to use for any situation that does not require a superwide or telephoto lens. I have cameras that have high keeper rates. The Q is the rare camera that has a high “wow factor” rate. And the only one I own film or digital with that “wow factor’ that does not have some usability compromise involved.

So much so that I have gone from carrying a gear bag everywhere to just carrying this camera. In fact I have already traded quite a bit of the gear the Q displaces without hesitation to partially fund this acquisition.

But lastly it has been out so long you might mention. True. But I know of no camera released since that tops this camera. Some mentioned a Leica Q 2 one day, but why? In my humble opinion there is little that would improve this camera.

So in case you were still wondering I like it. A lot.

Here are some sample shots below and here is a link to an ongoing gallery.

Happy shooting.

-ELW

The Leica Q 4 years on: An amazing camera still. @leica_camera #leicaq #leica #leicaqtype116 Not sure how to start this write up. There is some hesitancy on my part, but not for the usual reasons.

[mollyraesly]

Love Drought -- My Thirsty Lily Fic, Chapter One

Hey everyone! Here is chapter one. I don’t think this will be a very long fic, and I’m not taking it too seriously. But I hope you enjoy it.

Two years ago, Lily used to tell herself that her little habit of lusting after James Potter was not a big deal.

They were both only in their fourth year at Hogwarts. He was still stick skinny, and she was still barely fitting into her A-cup bras and recovering from a horrible spur-of-the-moment-regret-it-for-months decision to cut her own fringe. They were only intermediate students, still children really. Her fantasies were all very tame based less on her own meager sexual experiences and more on stories that the sixth-year Hestia Jones would tell them about her trysts with Benjy Fenwick.  

Lily mostly just cared about James Potter’s eyes. They were hazel, but really they were green and gold and brown, like blooming sunflowers surrounded by blades of grass. This information was not easy to come by, because his eyes were often covered by spectacles, as he was more or less blind without them. On rare occasions, though, he would remove the spectacles, and if Lily were lucky enough to be near by, she would sneak a peek at those eyes. His sunflower-grass-hazel eyes.

And his lips were worth watching because they were always breaking into smiles. And he had the best smiles. They made his eyes glow and his lips twitch. James was one of those rare people who when they smiled the corners of their lips turned down instead of up.

And his hair. His stupid hair that could not stay in one place. His hair that fell into those eyes of his. His hair that looked perfect for grabbing onto and made her question if it was as soft as it looked.

And his hands were good too because his fingers were long--much longer than hers--and she sometimes wondered what they would feel like against her skin. Some nights she would stay up late squirming against her sheets and thinking about his fingertips trailing up her thighs.

Lily had still never been properly snogged, but she often imagined James Potter’s lips on hers and his hands on her skin and his eyes closed and her fingers in her hair. And the fantasy of that felt so good and made her spine tingle just so that she wondered if maybe it was better than an actual kiss. It was certainly better than the actual kisses she had experienced thus far.

 But all things considered, her habit was manageable because she was able to stop thinking about James Potter’s eyes and lips and hair and hands when she needed to. More often than not, she could focus on the spectacles and not the eyes behind them. She could ignore his smiles and do her best to forget about his hair. She could force herself to stop thinking about his hands.

So she did. Lily loved being a student at Hogwarts, and she took her school work seriously. She did not spend every minute in the library, but she did her assignments and received good marks. She had a great group of close friends and many acquaintances. Yes, she snuck into the kitchens every now and then, and once in a while she brewed illegal potions so long as she gave Slughorn his favorite crystallized pineapple. And she might have gotten more than a little bit drunk on firewhiskey after the last Quidditch match and then puked in Mary McDonald’s shoes. No one was perfect.

Still, she wanted to be made a Prefect. That meant cutting down distractions. That meant doing excellent work, always being seen as following the rules (even if not actually following them), and occasionally sucking up to McGonagall. It also meant ignoring the buffoons who teased her for being Muggleborn, taking some Calming Solution every time a letter from her sister arrived, and resisting the urge to hex her roommates when they woke her up from a perfectly good dream. She managed easily enough.

However, when they came back to school for their fifth years and Lily was actually given that Prefect badge, life became more difficult. Whereas Lily returned feeling proud that she was proving herself at school -- and that she finally had advanced to a B-cup--James had returned having grown what seemed to be another four inches and yet somehow having also filled out. Gone were the knobby knees and overly large Adam’s apple. In their place, were broad shoulders, a slim waist, strong legs, and muscled forearms.

Lily had never known that thinking about the length of someone’s arm from the wrist to the elbow could drive her to distraction, but fifth year was a brand new world. A brand new world of marveling at the genius that was a men’s button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

She had learned on the train that he had been made Quidditch Captain for Gryffindor and had spent the majority of the summer with Sirius running drills.

Upon hearing this news, Lily did not know whether she wanted to weep for joy or from frustration. But she bit her lip so hard she almost broke the skin.

Now, it was not just James Potter’s eyes and lips and hair and hands. It was also his forearms and his shoulders and his voice, which seemed to have deepened by an octave.  

As James got more attractive, he also seemed to become more and more of an insufferable git. James Potter had always been popular, for good reason. He was attractive, wealthy, well-bred, bloody brilliant, and dead witty. He and his close knit of friends were also infamous pranksters. Everyone, including Lily, looked forward to their pick-me-up hijinks during exams and the parties they threw after Quidditch matches.

Lily might have worked hard to appear to be a rule-follower and someone who would make for a good role model for younger students. If McGonagall were walking by, she would be sure to give ruler-breakers a stern talking to. But she loved nothing so dearly as a well-thought out prank. Something clever, something harmless. Something unexpected. Something a little bit naughty.   

After catching her sneaking back into the Common Room six hours after curfew, Sirius Black had once called her an “absolute rogue in disguise.” Lily bore that title as a badge of honor.

But in fifth year James’s pranks became more than naughty; they became mean, personal, pointed. Particularly when the butt of the joke was Severus Snape.

James strutted around the halls like Dumbledore himself had made him Headmaster. His antics increased, his cheekiness grew, but his popularity only further escalated.

Lily recognized that James usually only ever targeted those who themselves tormented others, but she still did not approve. Particularly concerning Snape. He was no victim; he provoked James and threw out the first curse more than half the time. He was not even Lily’s friend anymore. She was doubtful that he could ever go back to being a decent person now that he had spent so much time with his Pureblood friends--if he ever was a decent person to begin with. But she did have some sympathy for him; at least, she thought she had. She was not so sure anymore, if she were honest with herself. But she was good and rid of him, at least.

Before she ended their friendship, Severus had accused her of liking James Potter. She had denied it at the time, to save face, but Snape had been right.

Lily was furious during their confrontation at the end of fifth year by the lake. But sparring with James was more thrilling than she felt comfortable admitting. James Potter might be a git, but there was something about his increased bravado, even when he was being an absolute berk, that was dead sexy.

He had asked her out then, but Lily figured it was just a joke--just something to rile her up even more. Afterward, though, Mary McDonald had asked her about it. Repeatedly. Wanted to know if James had ever done anything to make a move before.

The answer: an astounding no. She got off to thoughts of James Potter on nearly a daily basis. If he had showed sincere interest in her, Lily damn well would have noticed.

Mary had only sighed in disappointment. She had said they would make cute babies.  

Merlin, Lily had imagined just how they would make those babies. At least a thousand ways since. She was particularly partial to the fantasy where he took her against the door of the Trophy Room after she snuck into his detention wearing nothing but his Invisibility Cloak.

After fifth year, things had only become worse. She could not look at him without imagining him licking up her thighs. She mentally kept track of his class schedule and the girls he smiled at in the halls. She had all the dates of the Quidditch matches in her diary, and planned to be in the Common Room when the freshly-showered team got back from practice. She knew his favorite food was treacle tart, that his favorite color was three shades darker than Gryffindor red, and that his favorite shop at Hogsmeade was Zonko’s. She knew when his birthday was and always made sure to look nice on that day, in case he would notice and ask if she dressed up for him, so she could shrug and say she forgot it was his birthday.

Lily Evans was an absolute tart with an unhealthy obsession with James Potter.

Not that she had ever acted on it. She still had kissed only two lads, and both times she had pulled way first. And then wiped her mouth.

And not that she would ever admit her obsession to anyone. Most days, she refused to even admit it to herself. She was only in lust with James Potter in her mind. And that’s where she wanted the obsession to stay.

Lily told herself that these were just normal observations that anyone with half a decent memory would note after having spent five years in the same house as someone.

But she could not list nearly as many facts about Peter Pettigrew--or even Remus Lupin, her fellow Prefect.

James Potter could make her completely lose her train of thought during a Transfiguration class just by sitting there and taking notes. She would make sure that her observation of him was not too obvious, but as she took her own notes, she was acutely aware of what his body was doing--and how that made her body feel.

One day, she spied him lick his fingers to turn a page, and she nearly fell off her stool.

As a general ethical principle, Lily was strongly opposed to house-elf enslavement and thought that they should be allowed to live however they wished and properly compensated for their efforts, should they choose to seek employment. She had mentioned to the Head Girl more than once that she thought that as students they should do more for the creatures who took care of their basic needs without ever being seen or heard or paid.

But because of the embarrassing number of wet panties Lily had needed laundered during her fifth year, she was tremendously grateful that the house-elves kept to themselves.

Lily was not ashamed of her desire. She was a teenager, surrounded by teenagers, with--let’s face it--very little adult supervision. Half of the upper-level students seemed to be shagging on a regular basis.

On days where she was more willing to be honest with herself, she saw her lustful fantasies as normal. Yet, that recognition did not make her happy.

It was not the lust itself but the object of her lust that troubled her.

James Potter was one of the fittest blokes in all of Hogwarts, so she could admit that she wanted his body. Specifically, she wanted his naked body on top of her body--or beneath her, or thrusting into her from behind, it varied from day to day. This image could make even the dullest History of Magic Class pass by in an instant.

What bothered her was that while she could daydream about his eyes and his lips and his hair and his hands and his shoulders and his forearms and the tenor of his voice for hours, actually paying attention to the words coming out of those lips in that low voice made her, at best, roll her eyes and, at worst, want to put an everlasting silencing charm on him.

Because James Potter was an absolute git.

An absolute git whom she desperately wanted to have sex with.

And what was the worst part? The absolute worst?

They were in their sixth year now, and he wasn’t even a git anymore. He was smart and considerate--even sweet. Two days ago, she caught him helping a first-year boy with his Transfiguration homework. And the entire time she watched the exchange, Lily wondered what he kind of father he would be like if the boy were their child. And that’s when she knew: it wasn’t purely physical. She didn’t just want to have sex with James Potter or bite his lip to force that devastating smirk off his face or ride him like a broomstick. Lily liked him--as in she wanted to knit him sweaters, meet his parents, and actually listen to him as he told her about his day.

And with that realization, Lily knew she was truly fucked.

[afishtrap]

mapping characters

The past few weeks, I’ve been (finally) going back and looking at the story I'd set aside for all of 2017. I knew whatever was broken lay in the opening chapters, so I started reading a bunch of advice on story structure, stakes, character goals, and whatnot. 

What kept tripping me up wasn’t really that every character must have a goal (duh). It was that this goal should in some way be thematically tied to the final resolution, and the lie the character believes, the character’s normal world, don’t even get me started on the inciting incident, and what is my theme, anyway. 

I’m not a plotter by nature, but neither am I really a pantser. Apparently there’s an in-between type called a polisher:

Unlike a pantser who gives over to the freedom to write whatever comes to mind or a plotter who decides it all ahead of time, a polisher will write a scene then analyze it. Is it good enough? Does it work with the previous scene(s)? How can it be made better? What needs adding or changing in previous chapters to facilitate this new revelation? Only when everything previously written is polished and perfect is this writer ready to move to the next scene. 

Which is fine, except that when the opening chapters aren’t solid, it’s a story built on sand. The issue now is fixing that bad foundation, and that means nailing down the character arcs.  

Some recommendations: K.M. Weiland’s site, with excellent deconstruction of structural elements into comprehensible pieces. Another: Take Off Your Pants! by Libbie Hawker. It’s a little (70-page) ebook, but her approach is simple and genius. And also: Lessons from the Screenplay’s Logan vs. Children of Men — The End is in the Beginning, and Just Write’s Avatar: The Last Airbender — How To Write A Compelling Backstory.

In case this helps anyone else, behind the cut is the process I’ve figured out, and a google sheet in case you want a jump-start. 

The character arc spreadsheet’s first page goes in order of questions to ask, with a column for each character (up to eight, since that’s the number of POV characters I’ve got). I find the order confusing for long-term keeping, though, so the second sheet reorders it more logically, with additional rows for for digging into each character arc’s plot points. You should be able to re-save a copy of your own, or download it. 

And now for the explanations of what goes into each row:

1. what the character goes by

Just the character name. 

2. who is...

Enter a 4-8 word description of the character, at the start of the story. 

eg: "youngest daughter of border family"

3 internal need

Ignore the title there, for now. Just ask yourself: when the story ends, what lesson does the character learn? What’s their moment of truth in the finale? That’s what the character needs (to learn) over the course of your story, ergo, it’s the character’s ‘internal need’.  

Since I almost always have the finale set piece in my head from the beginning, this was easy: “no one is coming to save you, and you’ll have to fight even though the odds are bleak.”

4 major flaw

Now that you know what the character needs to learn, work backwards: what kind of person needs to learn this lesson? What significant flaw would be corrected by this lesson? (This has to be something the character can overcome; a character may struggle with being dyslexic, disabled, wrong skin tone, etc, but these are not flaws; they’re who the person is.)

I considered ‘passive’ but that makes for a boring character, until I realized the character’s real flaw is being sheltered. And since a certain invulnerability often results from being overprotected, I added unrealistically optimistic.

5 external want

This is the part that made my head explode, ‘cause I’d honestly never thought of it this way: given the character’s flaw, what’s the one thing, above anything else, that would satisfy them? What objective, if gained, would let them stay complacent, and never address this flaw? You want to find the hardest thing for the character to walk away from. 

Since this character is sheltered, her greatest desire must relate to being protected. Okay, her parents are both deceased, hrm, but something’s going on that requires a family elder, so her goal is to track down her long-lost uncle and convince him to come home. 

6 antagonist

This might be one character, or several, who want to either obstruct or compete with the character’s goal. If the character wants, say, a specific pony, the antagonist might be the person who refuses to sell the pony, or the antagonist is another buyer who also wants that specific pony. 

Which means if the uncle doesn’t want to leave the city, then the character’s antagonist is her uncle. But since his superior also doesn’t want him to leave, she’s got two antagonists: uncle and superior. 

7 who is...

Another 4-8 word description of the antagonist. Just a general idea. For multiple antagonists, I guess I could break this into 2-3 lines, but this is enough for now. 

So I went with uncle-monk and head-monk.

8 who wants...

This just helps to clarify what the antagonist seek. It needs to be either the opposite of the character’s goal (won’t sell the pony), or the same goal (buy pony so you can’t). 

If the antagonist is the uncle, that means his goal is stay in the city and keep being a monk. Note that his goal is not ‘refuse to go home’ -- that’s not a goal, that’s his response. His goal is why he makes that response. 

9 ally

This is another of Hawker’s insights that I haven’t seen anywhere else, and it’s not in the classic sense of ‘the one who helps’ (although the ally may do that, too). The ‘ally’ is the one character with power to force the character onto the correct path and/or to recognize the truth. 

Just as importantly, this could be anyone. It might be a frenemy providing a harsh wake-up call, or a consistently supportive friend -- but it can also be the antagonist, if their interaction makes the character realize what lies ahead if she doesn’t change.

I have another set piece just before the finale, where the character’s mentor gives her a pretty brutal wakeup call about what they’re facing. So that mentor is probably filling the ally role.  

10 who is...

Another 4-8 word description of the ally, but since this character’s ally is also a POV character with her own arc, I’ll just copy-paste this to that character’s list when I get to her. 

So for now, the ally is described as lady of the castle.

11 lie they believe

Take the flaw, and see it as a coping mechanism. Then ask: how does the character rationalize this flaw as necessary to survive in their world? That’s the character’s lie. That’s their core belief that’s going to get broken down over the course of the story. 

I’m thinking the lie is probably going to be along the lines of it won’t be that bad or why worry, it’ll work out.

12 normal world

And another step backwards: the ‘normal world’ is the setup in Act 1, before the catalyst turns everything upside-down. The normal world reinforces the lie, so the character can keep rationalizing their coping mechanism, and remain complacent.    

That means in my story, the normal world should reinforce that’s someone else’s concern, or maybe you’ll be okay as long as you have a protector.

13 wound

And another step backwards: the ‘wound’ is some past event that led to the character developing the lie and the coping mechanism. It could be negative or positive -- but something about it prompted the character to develop the lie and the flaw. I say ‘positive’ because ‘being loved and cherished as a child’ is good, but at the extremes, it’s stifling.

I first went with raised with strict limits, but later I came back and changed this to was unprepared for/overwhelmed by losing protective loved ones.

14 greatest fear

Now we’re into character elements that we’ll use to hammer the character over their arc. First is their biggest fear -- so for this step, think of what someone with this major flaw might fear the most. 

A sheltered character would probably be the most afraid of not having anyone to turn to or not knowing whose advice to take. 

Having these fear-variations means I can hit one note in one scene, and hit the other in the next scene. That way the hammering doesn’t feel too repetitive.

15 strength

Looking back up the list, there’s got to be some quality this character has that’ll make it possible for them to overcome their flaw and learn that lesson (the internal need). It doesn’t have to be the opposite of their flaw, either. It just needs to be something they demonstrate, that gives glimmers of what they’ve got that will help them grasp or accept the truth. 

I’m going with tenacious and compassionate. 

16 true self

When the story ends, the character’s lie is tossed aside, flaws acknowledged (if not fully resolved). What’s the character really like, now? Note that for sequels, this ‘true self’ becomes the foundation of the next story’s ‘major flaws’. 

This character will end with self-reliant and outspoken. That way, in the sequel, she’ll start with flaws that distort her to an extreme: rigid and brash.

17 key incident

Aka, the second half of the catalyst. It’s tied thematically to the overall character arc -- but not obviously so, since most characters wouldn’t willingly put themselves on a collision course with their lie or flaws. The inciting incident creates the crisis, and the key incident is what appears to solve it. Together they form the catalyst that kicks everything off. My aha moment was thanks to Lessons from the Screenplay:

The best inciting incident is one that makes your hero think he has just overcome the crisis he has faced since the beginning of the story. In fact, due to the inciting event, the hero has just gotten into the worst trouble of his life.

Again keeping in mind the character’s flaw, lie, and goal, the key incident should present a solution that gets the character moving, and/or provokes them into identifying the goal listed in step #5. But at the same time, it should be a solution that appears to let their lie and flaw go unchallenged. 

That means for my character, the key incident is friend must travel to the city but specifically that the friend offers to be protective escort.  

18 inciting incident

The inciting incident is a short-term, concrete crisis, and the one place you can use coincidence to kick things off. It just needs to be a problem (lack of money possibly being the most common) that can be resolved via the key incident. Btw, you can do #17 and #18 in either order. I just find it easier to figure out the solution (key) and work backwards from there to identify a problem (inciting).

I’m going with landlord requires signature of eldest family member.

and lastly, stakes

That’s right, stakes aren’t called out ‘cause they should shift and grow across the course of the story. The preliminary stakes lie in the catalyst, though, and those stakes will carry to about the first plot point (where the antagonist or obstacle becomes clear). 

External stakes should pile on all the way up to the finale, but I’ve come to see the internal stakes as lying in that conflict between the external want and the internal need. For the first half of the story, the character’s internal stakes revolve around holding onto their lie, and acting in accord with that. But every time they do, the story should hammer them with some element of their greatest fear coming true. 

The midpoint drives home how unprepared they are (thanks to their lie), and it locks them in so there’s no going back. Then comes the ‘dark night’ where they realize the final thing holding them back is the lie they’ve believed; this is when their internal stakes shift from ‘stay who I was’ to ‘become the person I really am’.

multiple protagonists

Although the spreadsheet is set up to do multiple protagonists, the steps here don’t really go into how each protagonist will impact the other. You do want to bring their threads to a unified conclusion at some point (usually the finale), but if you merge two sooner than that, then you might want to do a new arc for each character starting from that point. 

Frex, two characters come to the city (to get jobs), meet, both fail (not hired), but now they’re stuck (no money for train home) -- so they might concoct a new goal between them (rob a bank), and set about on that. In that case, you’d treat that first arc as Act 1, and launch them into a life of crime at Act 2.    

Hopefully some of you will find all of this useful. Happy arcing!