#once I learn how to read I’ll pick up the novels

[bellwethers]

Kuruk & Hei-Ran

[moonlit-imagines]

Preferences: the Avengers visiting you, the owner of the local bookstore

Avengers x reader

warnings:

a/n: i hope it ok i turned into prefs!! i think it made more sense with the interaction part <3

prompt: @groovy-lady: “May I please request headcanons of being the owner of a bookshop the Avengers all go to and how they all interact with you?”

Bruce is there quite often, frequently in the scientific section. He buys stacks of books at a time and is quiet and polite when checking out. You always comment on how smart he must be and he awkwardly laughs it off. After a while, you start pulling certain books you’d think would interest him, which melted his heart when he realized you thought of him. “I added a science fiction novel in there, too. I don’t know if that’s your thing, but it’s one of my favorites.” You told him and he smiled. “Thank you for thinking of me.” He said.

Clint bought a lot of kids books. “How many?” You asked. “Three. Two boys and a girl.” He told you. You admired his choice of books for his kids. Teen fiction, sci-fi, graphic novels, fantasy, and a few children’s books. “Lots of variety.” You commented. “Yeah, trying to get them into reading.” He explained. “Any recommendations? The older ones are preteens, a boy and a girl. The little one is just learning how to read.” You smirked and started heading towards some classics like Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, and The Hunger Games. “These are the most popular for their age group, and I love them, too. As far as your little guy, you’ve already got the right idea.” Clint was grateful and took the first book of each popular series, promising to come back if they loved them as much you you did.

Nat was a fantasy reader. She had no shame in it. “What do you have for me today, y/n?” She’d approach the counter and have a small stack waiting for her. You’d go down the list with a little synopsis of each. “I hope you like them.” You told her. “You haven’t let me down yet.” She said back. She also donates her books when she’s done with them, saying she wants someone else to enjoy them as much as she did.

Steve nearly picked your history section clean. “Catching up, Captain?” You joked, recognizing the Super Soldier as soon as he walked in. “I don’t even know where to start.” He admitted. You gladly slimmed down his pile of history books and replaced quite a few with some fantastic works that came out while he was on ice. “As much as I enjoy reading, you won’t learn everything from these. Make sure you aren’t missing out by trying to catch up.” You warmly told him. “That’s good advice.” You told him you try and rung him up, warning him not to go reading those all at once.

Tony was more interested in comics and graphic novels, you’d laugh when you saw him pick up the more risque comics and he’d give you a playful wink. “They’re not for me, they’re for Clint’s son, the three-year-old.” He always knew how to make you laugh. “Yes, Elvira is the perfect choice for Clint’s small child.” He said he knew you’d understand. He also admitted he likes comics because they give him a little break from thinking all day and some of the characters remind him of his own life. You told him he was like Batman, he disagrees.

Thor checks out Norse Mythology more often than not. He likes to see what is written about him and his family in the eyes of Midgardians. “Are you sure you don’t want to try something different this time, Thor?” You motioned to a different section. “There’s so much more to choose from, I’d love to give you some recommendations.” Thor declined, placing another Norse book on the counter. “Have you ever read about me? Or my brother, Loki?” You nodded, telling him you’ve read a book or two that had them featured. “Wel”l, maybe next time I’ll buy something with a little less…me in it. We’ll see. Thank you, y/n!”

Before the Darkhold, Wanda was actually quite the enjoyer of teen fiction. She begged you not to tell the others what she read, and you promised you’d never share her secret. Most of the time, she’d cozy up in your reading corner with a coffee and read her “secret” books away from the Avengers. “Wanda, this one just came in. I think you’d love it.”

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @mymelodymia // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[captainamericasmotercycle]

cherry

i noticed that there’s a piece of you in how i dress

pairing: james potter x reader

warnings: cursing

wc: 1.2k

a/n: i’m back!! also please note that i am not crazy and that i do know my characters! the theodore nott mentioned here is theodore nott sr.!! not theodore nott jr. (the “slytherin boys” theo)

absolutely DO NOT steal my work and post it on other platforms. DO NOT feed my work to AI fuck that.

It was a gorgeous, late, fall morning - one where you surprisingly did not have class. You were lounging in the common room by the fireplace with a novel when someone stormed through the portrait hole.

In came an enraged James Potter dressed in his practice uniform cursing under his breath.

You were quite close with James, just not as close as you’d like to be.

“James, what happened?”

He glares at you, “What happened? Oh, I’ll tell you what happened.”

He storms off to the dorms without telling you anything. You close your book and quickly follow him.

Once in his dorm you sit on his bed and watch as he starts throwing his quidditch gear everywhere.

“Alright, would you like to calm down and tell me what happened?” You ask him as if he’s a small child who had just gotten himself into trouble.

“No.”

He starts to undress and change when he finally talks to you, “We have the most important match against Slytherin tonight and my fucking teams not ready,”

He pulls off his shirt and interlocks his hands behind his head, you can’t help but to stare and drool a little.

“I need to win this match you don’t understand!”

“James, why?”

“Because I hate their fucking captain.”

Ahh. Theodore Nott. James has had it out for Theo ever since 1st year when Theo knocked James off his broom during a match, causing Gryffindor to lose.

“Okay,”

“I have to win and my fucking team won’t fucking listen to me,” you’ve never heard James curse this much. He’s pissed, “I just don’t have time to reteach 6 fucking players the basics of quidditch.”

Sirius timidly opens the door and sees you on the bed and James yelling at you, well more yelling in your general direction, but Sirius didn’t know that.

“Looks like you lot are busy, um, I’m gonna.. go,” Sirius was on the team, contributing to the problem. James rushes over to the door and slams it in his face.

“Don’t come back until you learn to fucking fly.”

“Don’t you think you were a little harsh?”

“No.”

He stalks over to his wardrobe and pulls out 6 quidditch uniforms, tossing them on the bed next to you.

He always wears the match jersey the day of and has a spare of the three uniforms that the team rotates out.

He pulls his favorite red jersey over his head, “Merlin, if the team could even get the uniforms right I’d be fucking shocked,”

“James you need to take a walk, clearly,”

He looks at you and his eyes soften, “Alright, only if you come with me, I can’t trust myself to see anyone from my team alone right now.”

You smile and nod, following him out of the dorms, noting that he left the door ajar.

It takes 3 laps around campus and about a thousand rants to get him to calm down, but you finally manage to do it. Once you make it back to Gryffindor tower the two of you part and he goes to the quidditch pitch (once again) and you stay in the common room.

You look around for the book you began to read this morning but don’t see it anywhere, you try to retrace your steps when it hits you. You’ve left it in James’s dorm room.

He wouldn’t mind you going in there, right? To be fair, it is your book.

You climb the boy dormitory stairs and enter the empty room. Walking over to James’s bed, you look near his night stand and on the bed when you finally see the hard cover of your book peeking out from under a piece of red fabric.

You lift the spare jersey and pick up your book. You set the jersey back down and turn to leave, then an idea hits you.

If you wore his spare jersey tonight, would that be over stepping? No? You two are friends and he does need a little more encouragement tonight, so why not?

You fold the rest of the jerseys up and put them away, taking the spare of the one he has on, back to your dorm.

The rest of the day is spent lounging and snacking. Until an hour before the game, you were sprawled out on your bed with your second book.

Mary walks into your shared dorm and smiles, “Get up! It’s time for the match!”

You turn to look at her and stretch, “I’m coming!” You say through a yawn.

“Good! Lily, Remus, and Peter are already down there, and pray for Marlene and Sirius, I’ve heard James had been an arse today,”

You smile, “Tell me about it,”

“We’ll save you a seat but you better hurry,”Mary giggles and leaves you alone once again.

You layer your clothes for the chilly weather, slipping James’s jersey over your outfit. You all but sprint down to the quidditch pitch to meet your friends.

You find your seat and sit, right in the front row with James’s jersey on full display for everyone to see. You collected quite an amount of wide-eyed stares from the other students.

Why wouldn’t you? Wearing the most sought out guy at Hogwarts’ jersey.

Just moments after you sat, the players started to emerge from their respective preparation rooms.

The game began and James flew right past you, almost flying into the stands.

Were you trying to make him lose? How could you wear his jersey and expect him to focus on the game?

An extravagantly quick-moving bludger snapped him out of his trance of admiration. He had to win this game, especially now since you have his jersey on.

He scored point after point on Slytherin, hardly giving them a minute to catch their breaths. The game ended when his seeker caught the snitch, and James could not get off the pitch faster than he did.

You came down from the stands and waited for him at the entrance of his team’s tent. Though he had just beaten Slytherin, something he’s been talking about for weeks, the thing he was most excited about was you.

He met you outside the tent and smiled as he walked up, “Did you join the team?”

You looked away from him bashfully, there was now barely any room between you two.

He lifted your chin with his finger to look at him. You smiled up and he smiled back, “Merlin, you look gorgeous in my uniform. I could get used to this,”

You grabbed the collar of his jersey and pulled him down to your lips. He pulled away and his smile grew larger, “Merlin, I could get used to that as well!”

He rested his hand on your cheek and pulled you in for another kiss - the kiss turning into a near make-out in front of the player’s tent.

Once you managed to break away, he rested his forehead against yours before giving you a feathered kiss on the top of your head.

He slung an arm over your shoulder as the two of you walked back towards the castle, “Come on, I want to show everyone how good you look in my clothes.”

[mostlikelymortal]

House of Leaves by Mark Z Danielewski

Or: “What does it take to support someone with severe mental illness?”

(This post contains spoilers for the entirety of the novel - proceed at your own risk)

- -

I’ve just finished my first read through of House of Leaves, and I was so struck by the final section (Johnny’s mother’s letters) and how it redefined the entirety of the novel that preceded it that I spent the next several hours pouring through the entire story, and this post is the result.

I’ll first say that this book in and of itself is a masterclass of horror and ergodic literature. Taken at its bare state, it succeeds in drawing the reader into a lull of discomfort, taunting them into deeper and deeper senses of confusion, frustration, and (at least in my case) obsession. I myself couldn’t FIND damn near half of the cyphers, let alone SOLVE them, but just the knowledge that they existed meant that MZD was issuing a challenge to the reader to dive deeper, to think more laterally and “four dimensionally” in order to eek out one more ounce of actual truth from the story. The chapters where everything “falls apart” (Chapter IX, etc) are equal parts enticing and nauseating, matching the sense of navigating the house perfectly. This book is more of a wild ride than anything I’d previously picked up in my reading career.

However, once you read the letters, whatever opinion of Johnny Truant you had previously is “brought into the light”, as it were, and you’re forced to reckon with the truer nature of the pages you’d spent days, weeks, months, or even above a year navigating. Johnny was FAR from a perfect person (nor was he anything CLOSE to a reliable narrator, even going so far as to laugh at the reader for daring to believe his words), but to his mother, he was one of the only anchors into reality that she could rely on. You learn so much about Johnny’s character and skillset in those letters, including 1) the fact he was incredibly loving towards his mother and understanding of the issues that plagued her, sticking with her as best he could until the end and 2) she had spent many of his formative years drilling him in the study of language, the classics, and even taught him cyphers as a way of communicating when reality was a bit more difficult to believe. And that’s when you as a reader can put the final puzzle piece together and understand the novel as a singular argument, namely that in order to truly care for someone experiencing severe mental illness, you have to truly try and understand their fragmented reality, step into the darkness with them, and calmly yet compassionately and patiently love them in a way that their symptoms cannot misconstrue. And the three stories of Will Navidson, Zampano, and Johnny Truant exemplify the different approaches people take towards interacting with this group of people, and especially, how so many people perform that task WRONG.

Johnny’s descent into paranoia, mania, hallucinations, obsession, and compulsion is reacted to in half a dozen ways by more than half a dozen characters. Some of it is marginally helpful (consider; the shop manager giving him simple monotonous tasks to ground him and plenty of leniency in his ability to come to work on time; his many run-ins with women who appreciate his company and allow him not to be isolated, even if the content of those run-ins were nothing more than base sex; Thumper, who listened more intently and empathetically to Johnny’s predicament than anyone else, though eventually failing to truly get through to him; and Lude’s, however shallow, friendship). However, given that Johnny never once has a truly “good”support system in his life, he can never truly get a handle on his symptoms, and they end up eating him alive, at least for the better part of the story. Lude, being the selfish type who could never truly empathize with this kind of problem, decided to lambast Johnny with distractions and fun in the vain attempt to get as much entertainment as he can before the end (I’m sure we all have had friends like this). The tattoo shop did all they could and truly wished Johnny the best, though in the end they cut their losses and replaced him (not something we can totally blame them for but it was a limitation on their ability to truly get to him). His numerous sexual partners (outside of Kyrie) all were shown to have some kind of genuine empathy towards him, but their brief and base meetings ensured that no true intervention could take place. Kyrie and the Gdansk man, however, represented another type of intervention for those with severe mental illness, being the kind that actively ridicule and hunt them for entertainment, a force that to this day haunts folks. And Thumper, who gets the closest to being an actual intervention and positive social support for him, ultimately fails at doing so, though it could be argued it was not her failing but a failure of the circumstance. All of these characters have varied levels of true connection to Johnny, but because those connections are rife with ulterior motives, they cannot truly help him in a way that ultimately matters. I imagine that folks with severe mental illness most commonly experience these types of relationships.

Zampano, while we don’t have a TON to go on regarding his actual life outside the few attempts Johnny has to speak to people he knew, is reticent of the times, when confronted with severe mental illness, that people instead choose to enable the hallucinations, mania, obsessions, and compulsions instead of actively trying to dismiss them. The women who interact with him in life are paid to research and document his break in reality. Every single one does so without question, and in doing so, perpetuates his symptoms further until his timely, or rather untimely, death. And while we see the bulk of the novel focus on Zampano’s obsession, that only reinforces how far the rabbit hole will go if their support system will allow it to.

Finally, Will Navidson has perhaps the most healthy support system of the three, having a loving wife, two children, and a cadre of acquaintances who are skilled and capable in their own right. However, because they are unable to fully and properly step into his shoes, namely how they are unable to address (or even recognize) Will’s trauma surrounding the Delial photograph, they are unable to truly intervene on his mental descent in the house on ash tree lane. Karen, largely out of fear, refuses to step into the darkness embodying Will’s struggle to navigate reality, instead first distracting herself with friends and chores and later trying to intervene through faux-spiritual means (Feng Shui). Holloway represents the brute force approach to mental illness that pays no heed to the human being who is suffering, refusing to accept any detour on his pre-prescribed path towards a “solution” (no wonder his approach ended up being the most volatile). Tom, while assisting in SOME capacity during Exploration #4, and valiantly saving/caring for the children when things got too rough, was never able to truly get to the heart of Will’s issues, and therefore could not truly help him in the ways he needed. It is ONLY when Karen truly sees the man calling out for the things he loves, and the supports he needs, when the darkness allows her in, and upon embracing Will for the person he is, the issue (house) in itself disappears, allowing them both to walk forwards into the future.

This book is a thing of genius on so many levels, in a matter of composition, art, storytelling, and most importantly, as a plea to those who have people in their lives trapped in their own house of leaves due to severe mental illness. I absolutely will treasure it on my bookshelf for quite some time, I think.

(Also, just to be 100% on the level, I don’t think the book dismisses the VERY important support system that is medical/pharmaceutical intervention for severe mental illness, nor do I want folks to misconstrue my words as saying they are less than important. I am simply saying, and I think MZD would agree, that medical/pharmaceutical interventions can never be the ONLY thing that keeps people afloat, and that’s it’s EVERYONE’s responsibility in a social support group to help fight the fight with that person).

(Also, as another aside, I think the interpretation of the novel as being something Johnny either fully or in large part made up as a way to discuss the above themes is a valid one supported by the literature in some crucial ways. Way early in the novel, we learn he is incredibly apt at “making stories up”, after all, and we later learn that he worked, likely tirelessly, with the editors to publish the work. Just something else to put out into the discourse. And if it IS true, then that should elevate folks’ appreciation of the character that much more).

[coalswriting]

hair holds memories - natalie scatorccio

summary – bleaching natalie’s hair became routine for (y/n), but things became a bit more complicated the day natalie disappeared. (approx. 1.7k words)

a/n – trigger warning for mentions of weight loss + puking!! i wrote this cos i was feeling a lil down and wanted to vent a little. hope y’all enjoy <3  

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your (e/c) orbs glossed over the pages of the novel you were reading while you sipped a cup of tea. you were hunched over your crowded desk, notes scattered around as you picked out comparisons between the novel and wuthering heights. you were given as comparative essay as an assignment for english class, and you had chosen to compare the theme of the role of women within society.

your eyelids began to feel heavy, and you swore that you would fall asleep before you could finish the chapter. peering over towards your alarm, your eyes widened when you noticed that it was nearing 1am. sighing, you knew you’d have trouble waking up for school tomorrow if you stayed up much later, so you flicked your bookmark between the worn pages of the book and shut it, sliding it into your backpack.

you stood up with a stretch, grabbing your hairbrush to tidy yourself up before bed. suddenly, you heard a rhythmic clinking against your window. confused, you processed the sound for a moment before peeking an eye out between your curtains. you deflated from your slight shock when you noticed it was only natalie. pulling the curtains open and pushing the window, you called out to her in a whisper-yell.

“it’s 1am nat, what are you doing? and what’s with that hat??”

natalie, in response, grimaced, pulling her beanie tighter over her head. she looked at you with discomfort before whispering back, “i had an accident and i need your help, can i come in?”

you exhaled heavily but smiled, “one sec.”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

natalie sat on your toilet as you paced back and forth.

“how the hell did you do that?!”

she looked ashamed of herself, her hair practically ginger. “i don’t know, (y/n)! i was trying to go blonde! stop laughing!”

a towel was thrown at you and you damn-near fell over, gripping the sink to steady yourself from your laughter. “okay, okay, hold on,” you chuckled, crouching down to rummage through the drawer under your sink, “I think my mom still has some spare bleach and purple shampoo from the last time she did her hair.”

“i swear to fuck, (y/n), if my hair falls out, i’ll cut all of yours off in your sleep,” your once-brunette-now-ginger friend threatened to ignorant ears.

“yeah, yeah,” you dismissed.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

natalie’s hair had come out perfectly when you did it that time, and since then, you were primarily responsible for bleaching her hair. it became routine, every month, she would come by and sit on your toilet while you would touch up her roots. you both enjoyed it and talked about life whenever it came to that. the last time you did it was the weekend before nationals.

“thanks again,” natalie smiled at you coyly, checking herself out in the mirror. you hugged her from behind, resting your chin on her shoulder. she looked beautiful, the white lighting of your bathroom mirror illuminating each and every strand.

you were engrossed in her as you admired, murmuring, “you look beautiful.”

you swore you could see natalie’s cheeks gain a rosy hue. she cleared her throat, hiding her face with her fist, and you felt butterflies in your chest, tearing your eyes away from her angelic face.  

“uh, anyways,” you changed the topic quickly, flustered at what you had said, “good luck at nationals. i’ll be waiting for your return with the trophy.”

natalie elbowed you gently, smirking, “i’ll see you at the after-party, yeah?”

you nodded, “for sure.”  

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processing grief was difficult, you came to learn. upon hearing of the plane crash, you didn’t cry. you didn’t scream, you didn’t react in any way. you just lied in bed for days, shackled down by a huge wave of apathy. you lost a lot of weight, nearly puking every time you touched food.

after a few months, you grew hopeful. you knew natalie – you knew she was alive. she was a fighting spirit, and something told you that things would be okay.

when the first winter passed, you finally accepted that natalie was probably dead. the grief hit you in a delayed wave, and your friends held you as you wept in the bathroom that you had routinely done her hair in the past. you tore the polaroids of you and her off your walls, stuffing them into a box under your bed. you didn’t want to see her. you hated her for leaving you alone in this world, and you hated that you had loved her so much. 

you despised natalie scatorccio. you despised the way she would laugh with you, joke with you, the way the corners of her mouth gently rose when she was trying to hide her giggles in history class, the way she drew on your arm when she was bored, and the way she always hugged you after practice when she was sweaty and covered in mud, much to your disdain.

you began to move on after a year; well, that was a lie – you knew that you would never move on from the impact she had left on your life, but college was around the corner, and you knew that you would have to step into this new chapter without her. you still had the leather jacket that she had left in your house one time, and you couldn’t bare to lose it, so you took it with you, and boy, did you wear it everywhere. it became a part of you; it protected you.

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it was the spring of your second year of university, studying (whatever lol). you had come back to new jersey to visit your family and earn some money at your part time job at the cinema. you had tuned out most of the world, listening to music in your walkman, dancing around your family-home bedroom.

the girls had been found and returned home safe and sound – well, most of them. but, when you tried to reach out to natalie, you never received a response. it was difficult to contact any of the girls, really, and you decided that it was probably for the best. she had probably forgotten you; she was probably a different person anyways. you were initially extremely upset, but you pushed it down, focusing on your college assignments.

“you’re out of touch, i’m out of time!”, you sang to yourself as you bopped your head to the music. for once, you felt a little happy in life, things were going smoothly, and your friends were lovely. you imagined what they were doing in this moment – probably studying or out partying. you were excited to return to university.

suddenly, you heard a familiar rhythmic clinking against your window. you stiffened up, tears perking in your eyes. it was probably all in your head, and you stared for a moment, slowly taking your headphones off your ears. the tapping sound didn’t stop. you hesitantly shuffled to your window and, like clockwork, peeked your eye out between the curtains, but this time, you ripped them open almost immediately. your eyes began to pour with a wave of what seemed to be grief and joy as none other than natalie scatorccio stood outside, rain dampening her hair.

you nearly tripped as you sprinted down the stairs in your work uniform, and without a care in the world, you ran outside into the downpour. she caught you as you fell into her arms, holding her tight and hiccuping. she felt so, so warm against the coldness of the stormy air, and you knew in that moment that she was real. she was here with you.

… .. .

natalie wiped her hair with a towel as she sat in your bathroom, your tears still pouring. bringing a hand to your face, she wiped your tears with a thumb, smiling gently. “i’m back, for good,” is all she said.

your hands were shaky as you touched her hair. her roots had grown out, but she still looked like the same girl you had seen every day for years; she still looked like the girl you loved with your whole heart – the girl that had changed your life. she leaned into your touch.

“i thought i’d never see you again, nat,” you whispered, voice shaky, and she pulled you into her, arms wrapping around you. she stroked your hair, and you felt your chest constrict.

“what happened out there,” she began, “was traumatising, and i’m not ready to talk about it yet, but i want you to know that the whole time i was out there, i survived for you. i could’ve died and rid myself of this miserable world, but it was you. you kept me going.”

you dipped your head down a little as she spoke. she was enthralling, and you remembered how difficult processing the grief over her had been.

“i love you, nat,” you suddenly confessed, “and i never stopped. i don’t think i could’ve stopped, even if i tried.”

she looked at you, her mouth open in an o shape before she placed her mouth onto yours. the kiss felt bittersweet, and you could feel your worries evaporate. her lips were soft against your own ones and you tasted undertones of cigarette smoke amongst her cherry flavoured lip gloss. it was liberating. layers of grief began to dissolve, and your chest felt as though it was going to burst.

when natalie pulled away, she smiled at you gentler than you had ever seen. it was like you were porcelain and she was afraid to shatter you.

you both caught up a little longer, her hands lingering on yours with soft, endearing looks of admiration from both sides. your love for each other felt unspoken after the initial confession, and it felt as if nothing had ever split you apart from each other; like you had loved naturally the entire time she was gone.

as you both laid in bed looking at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling, her ear against your chest, listening to your heartbeat, you finally mentioned the unspoken.

“do you want me to bleach your hair?”

natalie hummed for a moment before shaking her head, “nah, i think i want to cut it all off and grow out my brown again. what do you think?”

your thoughts lingered in the sentence. “yeah, makes sense,” you replied, “hair holds memories and all. it’d be nice to start fresh again.”

“exactly”, she said, sitting up, “wanna do it now?”

you giggled as she pulled you up by the hand, following her to the bathroom.

“alright.”

[my-darling-boy]

Have you had any ✨Ghost Experiences✨ in Scotland yet? Meet any new ghosts???

Ohhhh plenty, but far too many to list without going off on a ramble haha

We’ve done many overnights in castles and old buildings up and down the UK with a team of investigators which has led to really neat experiences, some of them absolutely poignant. I think my favourite interaction has been with a sweetheart of a young seaman called William aboard the RRS Discovery docked in Dundee, also the best K2 session I’ve ever had was there. But yeah, various castles, historic buildings, manors, prisons, etc with some really fascinating results.

I do like how it’s also putting the mediumship to the test which is something I still don’t really like bringing up in general to people but I have apparently shocked investigators/employees at these places with describing events, people, and other things with detail that is not even public or only known privately by people who frequent that location. Nearly all locations I’ve never been to and make a point not to read up on them before I go, which makes these instances more compelling? I often don’t even know the significance of what I’m (sheepishly) describing only to be told I just described a specific thing that happened in a room when there’s no way I could know about said thing. One of the best instances of this was on the RRS Discovery when trailing behind the group in the lower decks, I stopped suddenly. It felt as though something SMACKED very hard and very sudden right where I was standing, someone had lost their life in this very spot. I thought with the boilers around perhaps someone had been hit somehow and died or maybe fallen from the above platform and hit their head on the metal below but was told there were no known records of someone dying in that room and that the platforms didn’t exist at the time. I was perplexed by this as I was 100% sure something had happened there but I just ignored it, maybe I was wrong. We get up to the top deck finally and are told about a boy who, in 1901, tragically fell from the crows nest and died. The investigator and I suddenly realised I had been standing directly below the spot he would have hit on the upper deck when he fell. Another would be a nice young man I’d encountered at a private castle who seemed to be wearing some sort of chainmail and white tunic, followed me around for most of the night, and at one point I picked up on a story about a strange looking gold disc with all these markings on it on the alter in the chapel which he immediately told me not to ask about and refused to elaborate more, I had no idea why he was so adamant about this. I later learned after enquiry the castle historians have documented the place being used by the Templars and it’s a private fact at this location that the Templars have buried artefacts beneath the castle they are working to recover… most notably, beneath the chapel. I’d be talking for ages if I described the other occurrences, but that’s one I’ll always remember!

All and all, I do actually recommend doing it, even if you don’t believe in the stuff, because you get entire historic locations basically all to yourself, at night, which is cooler. I once sat for nearly an hour in a 200 year old jail on the floor, in the dark, at 2 AM, just chilling. On free roam while everyone is usually at base, I’ve been able to explore places by myself, in the dark, opening doors to rooms not even shown to us, panning my torch to old paintings and artefacts in basements to attics and bedrooms and so much more. I’ve sat alone in century old ships and played sea shanties which echoed hauntingly down the passageways. Sprawled out in the pews of medieval chapels in the pitch dark, wandered dark castle corridors alone, sometimes I’ll sing out old songs and just listen to it drift out through the halls and rooms. You feel like some character in a novel, it’s quite a liminal space! Like all these places where so many other people came before you, where people lived and died, sometimes even right where you’re sitting, and you’re able to lay out on the stones in the dark with it all and just feel connected to it yk?

Anyway that still ended up being a ramble HAHA so yeah! I recommend it for both believers and those less inclined because at the end of the day, you’ve basically got several hours of private access to historical locations, at night, no tourists, and sometimes to places the public isn’t allowed at all, and hey maybe something Strange will happen while you’re alone in the darkness.

[sntafe]

i want to know more about your davey. what makes him tick! what music do you think he’d listen to! what are his pastimes and hobbies and what makes him like them so much!! PLEASEEE rant about your davey i love him!!

- @we-are-inevitable ✨

OH MY GOD. YES. OKAY. you just opened pandora’s box you have no clue. (btw most of this is based on my tattoo au although a lot of this stuff is just stuff i have connected to davey no matter the au)

okay. so. my davey is a high school english teacher and i think something that makes him really upset is when he sees his good students start skipping, not paying attention, etc. while i don’t think this would make him tick per say, i do think it would def make him anxious and on edge. he would absolutely come home and rant to jack about how he doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong and how he’s worried about them and how he wishes he can do more but all he is an english teacher. (and jack would assure him that he’s doing more than enough and just being there and noticing these things is all some kids need) (but davey would def pull them aside in class and just talk to them like they’re humans bc he knows some teachers treat their students as children and they hate that. so he will just talk and try to pick their brains and help them in literally whatever way he can)

MUSIC. okay so davey definitely tries a TON of different genres simply because he is curious and he wants to hear it all. (he wants to experience every bit of life that he can and that includes different genres of music.) at the end of the day tho he’s a slut for sad queer indie pop: hozier, lucy dacus, and kevin atwater are his favs. (i could go on a whole different rant about how davey coded some of kevin atwater’s songs are but i’ll refrain for now.) he grew up listening to billy joel and still listens to him when he’s feeling particularly nostalgic or homesick. the album “the stranger” is one of his favorites in the entire world. his parents had it on record, and one year in middle school for his birthday he was gifted a record player, so he was playing that shit NONSTOP. to read to, to study to, to hangout to, etc. les used to come and sit in davey's room while he was doing domestic tasks, like cleaning or homework, so les now has attached that album to davey. (they get a tattoo for vienna, their fav song on the album—davey gets “slow down, you’re doing fine” on his left forearm and les gets “you can’t be everything you wanna be before your time” on his right forearm) (done by jack of course)

jack listens to more alternative stuff, and although it’s not something davey listens to on his own, he finds himself humming along to the pierce the veil and green day songs on jack’s playlist 

as far as hobbies and stuff, obviously he reads. he’s always been an avid reader because he loves to get lost in other worlds and he likes to learn about things that he otherwise wouldn’t have had the opportunity to. he gets into reading slumps around midterms and finals because he’s grading sooooo many papers but like as SOON as that’s over he falls back into finishing a novel in a couple days and he absolutely loves it. it’s just so… refreshing in a way. (sometimes, when he’s particularly missing jack, he’ll go and just sit at the tattoo shop and read. he’s content to simply be in the same space with jack and he also loves sneaking glimpses of jack working.)

he also absolutely loves to cook. he grew up often helping his mother in the kitchen, so he’s sort of always loved it. once he moved out and began living by himself he found a whole new appreciation for it. it’s his way to decompress at the end of the day and … in a way food is his language?? like he will make meals based on what he’s feeling. if he’s really happy he doesn’t mind making something that takes a while. it’ll be bright and fresh. if he’s had a particularly rough day though, he’ll throw something frozen in the oven and call it a day. (over time, jack slowly realizes this, and can gauge what davey needs based on what he says they’re having for dinner. for example; if davey’s just making something frozen, jack will give him an extra long hug and force him to take a hot shower in order to relax. jack often takes over “cooking” on these days)

don’t even play on his animal crossing island. he likes the domestic video games with goals that he can take at any speed simply because they’re relaxing and cozy. he loves making his island all organized and pretty 

meanwhile jack is like begging for the switch to play mario kart 

thank you for letting me rant GOD I LOVE DAVID JACOBS if there’s anything else you want me to yap about PLEASE ask!!!

@we-are-inevitable :)

[whump-me]

Ashes: Chapter 2

Chapter 2 of Ashes, a dark and extremely whumpy Cinderella retelling where the handsome prince is a sadistic villain and his former bride is out to get her revenge… before he can choose a new victim at the ball.

Masterpost | Read the complete novel on Patreon

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The prince—easier to think of him that way, easier not to let herself remember that she had once not only called him by his name but whispered it in the dark—looked down at her with blue eyes that twinkled in amusement. His face had a chiseled jaw that belonged on a marble statue. Many a lovelorn maiden had written poetry about the golden waves of his hair. The moonlight fell across him in a caress, as if it loved him. Perhaps it did not dare not to love him.

“I’m tired of finding you cowering away in your attic room,” he said to her. “It’s so… easy. Sometimes I want a challenge, you understand?”

She had never cowered. Not once.

She lifted her chin to him, and did not give him the satisfaction of an answer.

“Tonight,” he said, “you will give me a challenge. You will give me a chase. To make it more interesting, I’ll give you an incentive. If you get away, I’ll let you go—for good. And to make it a little more fair, I’ll even give you a head start. You have until the count of one hundred.”

He nodded over his shoulder to Torin. “Let her go.”

The thick branches retracted, the thorns scraping down her skin as they slid back into the hedge. A moment later, it was nothing more than an ordinary hedge again. Torin, as always, was expressionless.

“Well?” Impatience twisted the prince’s perfect features. “You should be happy about this. You wanted to run, didn’t you? That’s what you’re doing out here tonight, isn’t it?” His lips twisted in a sneer. “So run.”

But to run would be to give him what he wanted. And she had given him what he wanted too many times in her life already. She stayed where she was, her bare feet planted in the dewy grass.

The prince shook his head slowly. “Oh, Elle. Haven’t you learned by now? I’ll get my entertainment from you one way or another. If you won’t entertain me by running, you’ll simply have to do it a different way.” He leaned in, his voice taking on a softly intimate cast. “Do you remember what you used to do for me in my dungeons, Elle? How would you like to be on the receiving end this time around?”

It was the glint in his eyes that did it. The glint she remembered from all those days in the dungeon. It was the memory of what that look led to, the memory of dark laughter, of darker blood.

Or maybe what did it was the small spark of hope. If she was only fast enough… if the prince kept his word…

Freedom. There wasn’t much she wouldn’t do for a taste of it, for the merest chance at it. Including humiliate herself in front of the prince yet again.

She ran.

Behind her, the prince let out a low, delighted chuckle.

The gravel road bit into her bare feet. She ignored the pain. She had endured far worse. This time, she didn’t need to look down at her scars to remind herself of that. The sound of the prince’s laughter behind her was enough.

Had he started counting yet?

She ran from darkness into darkness. The road was only a faint glow ahead of her, moonlight on gravel, growing dimmer as the moon passed behind a cloud. Her lungs heaved. She was no longer the child who had run joyfully through the mansion grounds. She was not the girl who had left her home with her heart buoyed by dreams. She spent her days on her knees scrubbing, or hunched over the mending, or cooped up in her freezing attic room. She was weak. Broken.

Her ankle, which had never healed quite right, ached with every hard footfall. Soon, she knew, the ache would become the sharp bite of pain. She forced herself onward anyway.

Behind her, footsteps. She didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know the prince had begun his chase. He couldn’t possibly have finished counting to one hundred yet.

She leaned down and picked up a handful of gravel without breaking her stride. She tossed it into the bushes, then veered off the road in the other direction, into a stand of trees. A moment ago, she had cursed the cloud that stole the moonlight away. Now she thanked it. Without the moonlight, it would be as hard for the prince to see her as it was for her to find her way.

Behind her, the footsteps turned in the opposite direction, chasing the thrown stones. A second later, she heard him yell, then curse. She imagined thorns biting into royal flesh, and bit back a grin.

“Torin!” the prince snapped in a voice of royal command. “Light!”

Elle ducked behind a thick tree trunk and froze. But no light came. “It goes against the spirit of the thing, doesn’t it?” came Torin’s impassive voice.

“This is my game,” the prince said. “We play by my rules, not yours. Light.”

But Torin’s magic couldn’t create something out of nothing. How could he create light from darkness?

She found out a second later.

The night was not utterly dark. All around her, fireflies blazed to life before fading out again. When she was a child, she used  to catch them by the dozens. Now she peered out from behind the tree in time to see four fireflies swell monstrously, bulging in places their small bodies were never meant to bulge. Arms burst out to either side; legs hurtled towards the ground.

And then the fireflies were gone, and in their place stood four liveried men holding orange torches, their faces as empty as Torin’s.

Two of the firefly-men marched forward down the road. One turned in the prince's direction. The fourth turned toward the trees. Toward Elle.

If she ran, the light would fall on her. If she stayed, she would be spotted once the firefly-man reached her.

She bent and dug a fist-sized rock from where it was nestled against the root of the tree. She lobbed it at Torin’s head.

It caught him in the temple. He yelled. But the fireflies’ light did not falter; their illusory bodies did not waver. She cursed to herself.

And of course, her attack had given away her position. Something struck the ground next to her with a soft piff. She squinted down and saw the slim shaft of an arrow illuminated at the edge of the orange light. Was he shooting arrows at her? Was that his game, to hunt her like a deer?

If only an arrow would strike her through the heart.

If she had thought there was a chance of that, she might have stepped out and let him put an end to it. But she knew him better than that.

As the firefly-man marched implacably forward, she turned and darted away.

The firefly-man ran after her, casting his glow over her. Her shadow stretched ahead, impossibly long and spindly, monstrous.

A sharp, sudden burning in her calf. A faltering step. She didn’t look, didn’t want to see the arrow protruding from her leg. She forced herself forward, her muscles convulsing around the shaft. She wouldn’t make it far like this.

But her fear wouldn’t let her stop, and neither would her pride. She ran.

Cold crept out from the wound, where burning pain had been a moment ago. Numbness followed in its wake. It crept up to her knee, down to her foot, leaving her with an empty and distant tingling where true sensation should have been. She couldn’t feel the grass underfoot anymore.

Poisoned arrows?

Of course, poisoned arrows. When had the prince ever played fair?

She missed her next stride, and sprawled forward on at the feet of a tree. She stared up at the branches, as if she could will herself up its trunk. As if the branches would reach down and cradle her, shield her, save her.

The footsteps behind her were unhurried now. First the firefly-man, casting his glow down on her. The prince followed a second behind. She heaved herself onto her back in time to see him stop at her feet to loom over her with a delighted gleam in his eye. Torin looked on from a few paces back, his face revealing nothing.

“Well, well, well,” crooned the prince. “Look what I caught in these woods. You are far more beautiful than any deer, but not half as graceful, I’m afraid.” Silver gleamed in the darkness—a knife, twirled between his fingers. “You’re no deer, but I could still gut you like one.”

“Poisoned arrows,” she spat. “I always knew you were a spineless coward.”

Or at least, that was what she tried to say. But Torin was prepared. He knew insults did not please his royal master. His magic caught her words in midair and transmuted them. Her spineless coward became masterful hunter.

She turned her glare on Torin. He looked past her as if she didn’t exist.

“Why, thank you,” said the prince. “I’ve always thought so, myself.” His knife ceased its twirling; he gazed thoughtfully down at the blade. “No, gutting you would end the fun. I’ll mark you as mine and let you go—assuming I can find any space left on you to work.” He knelt and ran his silken fingers down the scars along one forearm.

She yanked her arm away from him. Before she could complete the movement, a root pushed free of the dirt to wrap itself around her wrist. Torin’s doing.

The prince’s fingers crept upward with intimate slowness before pausing just above the crook of her elbow. “Ah,” he breathed. “How have I not made use of this place before?” His fingers caressed her skin in slow circles. “Your skin is so soft. Fit for a princess.”

He hovered the knife above the small patch of skin, but he didn’t cut, not yet. The prince always did like to savor the anticipation.

“It’s a beautiful night,” he said over his shoulder to Torin. “So quiet, so peaceful. I would hate for her to spoil it with her screams.”

Torin answered with a single curt nod. A thick root sprang up to wrap itself around her mouth. She bit down savagely, and got a mouthful of bark and an aching jaw for her trouble.

“That’s better,” the prince said as he made the first cut.

Elle screamed into the root gag as the blade came down in the familiar pattern. Two diagonal slashes, a horizontal line between. The letter A. Then the biting curve of a C. A.C. for Alexandre Casteril.

Prince Alexandre, youngest of the Casteril line, the king’s only child, heir to the throne.

Once, he had been her royal husband.

Once, for a short time, she had been a princess.

When Alexandre was done, he blotted her blood away with an embroidered white handkerchief, then sat back to admire his work. “Torin,” he said, “I’d like to hear her sweet voice now.”

The root vanished back into the earth. Elle knew better than to scream.

Alexandre leaned down over her, close enough for his breath to warm her face, close enough to bite. Close enough to kiss. “Tell me what you think of me,” he purred.

Elle, who knew how this game was played, set her jaw and said nothing.

Alexandre narrowed his eyes at her until they were mere slits glowing firefly-orange in the night. “Tell me,” he ordered, “or I’ll find something else to cut.” The knife came up between their faces, the tip of the blade tracing a delicate line up her jaw. “You don’t really need both eyes, do you? Not to work as a maid.”

Elle swallowed. He saw it and smiled. “Tell me,” he repeated, “what you think of me.”

“I hate you,” she spat.

But Torin, once again, was prepared. His magic turned her words to a breathy I love you.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he said, wiping the blade clean with his handkerchief. He stood as the root unwound itself from her wrist. “The memory of your sweet screams will need to last me a long time, I’m afraid. I won’t be able to come around much for a while. Thank you for giving me a memory that will make the waiting easier.”

She didn’t ask what would keep him away. Nor did she dare to hope his words were true.

“The poison will wear off by morning,” he said. “You’ll need to take care of the arrow yourself, but you’ve dealt with worse. Once your leg is working again, though, you’ll want to hurry. You wouldn’t want to start your chores late, or your stepmother will be most displeased.”

With that, he turned and walked away without a second glance. Torin followed.

---

Ask to be added or remove from taglist.

[miyamiwu]

Time for me to put out a disclaimer before anybody gets the wrong idea because of my Link Click posting: My Chinese is actually not that good. I just try my best :3

I started learning Chinese so I can read danmei (Chinese BL novels) without having to wait for a translation. Naturally, I focused on learning to recognize written characters, especially those that tend to show up in web novels. Once, I downloaded a Chinese flashcard app, but the vocabulary decks I picked were on topics like Martial Arts, Chinese Medicine, Idioms, and other cool stuff that usually show up in web novels—which are handy for reading, but not really for conversations.

I took four Chinese classes for the mandatory language credit in my major, but in every one of them, I struggled with recitation and audio-based exams. (I can’t distinguish between tones for the life of me 😩)

But! I aced the reading and writing parts just fine. I’ve also taken classes in translation, linguistics, and sociolinguistics, and they have really supplemented how I interpret the language.

So yeah, for basic-intermediate Chinese literary stuff and translation meta, I’m your girl. But for native speaker insight, more cultural nuance, and anything else I might miss, I’ll direct you to my mutual @/rainibao

Lastly, don’t ever let me speak in Chinese. My ni hao will just sound like Vein’s 😔

[mac-cheez]

My Guide to Surviving the Waynes

This has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I finally finished the ending!! Don't expect an update soon I have no idea when the fancy will strike again and the TMA brain rot is real rn.

Pt. 1 Pt. 2

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

Dear Diary,

I was wrong. SO WRONG. You’d think rich people, especially adopted rich people, would be at least a little sane, but no, they’re not and I have no idea how to deal. It’s only been a couple days since my last entry and so much has happened. So here’s what I’ve learned:

Let’s start with the first incident that happened roughly 10 min after my last entry. I had just finished when Tim offered to meet me in the coffee shop outside of the library (he was picking me up from campus)(Alfred was busy). When I walked in I saw him about to order and walked to the side to wait. He looked at the menu for roughly 0.2 sec before looking the barista dead in the eye saying “I’ll have a Vanilla Cold Brew with seven shots of espresso.”

The barista laughed and joked “Damn you want some cocaine with that?” Then he just said, “Sure that too.” and fucking walked away? He didn’t even give his name he just paid and went straight to the pickup area. The most concerning part of that story is that they fucking did it! And he drank the whole goddamn thing without batting an eye! I was highly concerned for his well-being the entire drive home. (I really need to talk to Mr. Wayne about a rental)

What’s even weirder is when we walked into the manor Dick was just hanging from the chandelier. It was sans rope and more acrobatic, but still concerning considering how tall the ceiling was. I’m still not entirely sure how he got up there, but I just walked away hoping to find my sanity once again.

The rest of the day went relatively smoothly with the normal amount of yelling and death threats (still can’t believe this is reality). The next day something actually nice happened while I was off from college and heading to the kitchen for lunch. It was a Friday so most of the house was either at work or school, and it was pretty quiet (thank god). When I walked in one of the others was in there cooking already (Jason I think?). I decided on a sandwich since he was currently using the stove and it was going smoothly till I got to the pickle jar. For whatever reason that thing was tight as hell and was going nowhere. He looked at me and after my fifth try (and many curse words) he held out his hand. I handed the jar to him, and he opened it without trouble.

“I loosened it,” I said trying to hide my embarrassment.

“Uh-huh,” he said distractedly. We sat in awkward silence till I noticed one of the books from the library on the counter. It was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Sign Of The Four. I asked if he was reading it and he said yes. I asked him if he’s gotten to the twist yet and he looked at me puzzled.

“You’ve read The Sign Of The Four?”

“Yeah, not my favorite Sherlock Holmes Novel, but still good nonetheless,” I said not paying attention, “Are you reading unabridged or abridged?”

“Unabridged,” he said, “you into the classics?”

“Totally, I love a good Victorian mystery or gothic horror novel,” I replied.

“You?” I asked.

“More of a Jane Austen fan myself, but I can respect those choices,” he said thoughtfully.

“I’ve never read her works, but if I have a chance I wouldn’t mind trying,” I said. He looked up at me somewhere between excitement and bewilderment.

“Would you like some recommendations?” He said cautiously. I said sure, and he immediately went into a long speech about Jane Austen and her novels. By the time he was done my sandwich and his ramen were long gone. By the end, I had a list of books to read and a new reading buddy to rant about books to. We’ve hung out intermittently since then, and honestly, it was the sanest thing I did all week. However the sanity didn’t last long.

Many other incidents (too many to write) all culminated in this afternoon, when I finally caved and decided if this was my life, it might as well be documented for (at the very least) the enjoyment of others. It was fairly quiet (first clue) and my morning class had been canceled so I was just sitting in the living room doing some work. Everyone else was out and I was about to leave for my 2:30 class when suddenly someone smashed through the window and a smoke bomb was thrown. I honestly thought it was Tim or Jason being weird again, but then the smoke cleared and there was just a bunch of dudes in Green suits with question marks. They looked around and saw me pretty quickly and immediately pointed whatever weapons they had at me. Eventually, some other ones came in the room and said the house was empty and “Wayne is nowhere to be found.” They started arguing till they finally concluded that if none of the Wayne’s were here, I must be the next best thing. Honestly, I can’t even blame them, and at this point I just let it happen.

They put a bag over my head and put me over the strongest one’s shoulder. I was in a car for about an hour before I was potato sack’d again. Once I was placed down, the bag was taken off my head, and I saw that I was in an abandoned-looking warehouse. I saw some more of the brightly clothed men off to the side arguing, one looking even more ridiculous than the others. The extra ridiculous one finally gave up talking to the others(henchmen maybe?) and walked (more like strutted) over to address me.

“Hello guest of Wayne, may I ask your name?” He asked rhyming for some weird ass reason.

“Vic?”

“Ah yes but what is it’s whole, for a half shall not know?” He said lilting his voice… ‘whimsically’?

“What?”

“Your designation that all might know.”

I just continued looking at him with apparent confusion not knowing what the hell is going on. After a minute he hung his head and spoke normally.

“What is your full name?” He sighed.

“Oh! Victoria Blanc,” I said.

“Ah! And what is your relation to the name of Wayne?” He said trying again with the talking in circles bull.

“Look dude usually I could appreciate….. Whatever it is that's happening, but I’ve had one hell of a week so…….”

“Oh come now it couldn’t have been that bad.” He said dismissively.

“Alright bet! You might wanna sit down this is gonna take a minute.”

Once he sat I started explaining everything that had happened since I’d moved to Gotham. As I was explaining more and more of the “henchmen” started joining the crowd.

“He chased him through the manor with a sword?” Riddler asked (at least that's what one of the others called him).

“Yeah, and apparently this is a normal phenomenon,” I said exasperated.

“And here I thought I was crazy.”

“Oh, no this is probably the most sane thing that's happened to me all week,” I said hand waving (They untied me after a while)(I asked nicely).

I was about to continue when suddenly three figures jumped down and got into fighting positions.

“Let her go Riddler!” Said the one in Black and blue(and maybe a bird?)

“Oh, she was free to leave a while ago.” He said casually to the masked people.

“What?” said the one in red.

“Yeah, we even offered to get her away from that mad house,” said Bob.

“Mad House?”

“Yes, it's almost criminal how they act in that house, you bats should really get on that,” ‘Riddler’ said chidingly. 

I didn't really understand why he called them bats since they all looked bird-themed but I didn't bring it up because honestly, weirder things have happened at this point. They agreed to look into it, albeit very confused(and almost offended), and said they still needed to take me back.

“Fine,” ‘Riddler’ sighed heavily, “ but Vic, sweetie, if you need somewhere safe to stay in Gotham I have plenty of friends who will keep you safe while you finish your degree.”

“Yeah, kinda tempting, but I don't think my parents would like that very much, and they are paying for it so…….”

“Very well, offer stands in perpetuity, to Arkham yes?”

“You're not gonna ask a riddle or…..” said the one in red and black.

“Usually I would but honestly I’m far too concerned right now to care.”

After that, they handcuffed him and the other goons (kinda unfair but i guess they did kidnap me) and walked me out to one of the police cars so I could go back to the manor. They offered to drive me but I've seen enough motorcycle crash scene pictures to put the fear of God (thy name is friction) in me. When I got back Mr. Wayne was in the foyer with Alfred and immediately came over to make sure I was ok.

“Yeah, I'm fine Mr. Wayne, honestly I’m more worried about the class I missed than the kidnapping,” I explained.

He seemed concerned by that but had a phone call right after that he needed to take. Alfred walked me to my room (I think to make sure I wasn't concussed) and I just kinda went back to writing and here we are. Can't wait to see what fresh hell awaits me in the coming week……….. Maybe I should've taken Riddler up on that offer.

[carriagelamp]

All I can say is why did it take me so long to finally try reading Wodehouse? I knew I would like the Jeeves books and yet it took me until now to finally crack one. Definitely my highlight for this month, though I was also very into the two nonfiction books I read.

I'm finding more and more that I enjoy a nice, narrative nonfiction... any one have any similar recs? Nonfiction has never been on my radar but now I really want to find more that follow this narrative vein...

Candy Color Paradox Assorted Pack

A collection of short bonus stories collected from various points in the series. Kaburagi and Onoe both work for the same weekly magazine and are initially forced to work together on stakeouts. Their relationship gradually grows from antagonistic coworkers to lovers to genuine boyfriends who are learning how to make their relationship work. One of the things I appreciate about this series is that once they decide to date, their relationship stays fairly stable — there’s hiccups as they work on their own insecurities or relationship complications, but there’s no breaking up or will-they-won’t-they once they’re actually dating and the drama shifts to their shared work and making a relationship work in a fairly homophobic society. This particular volume was fun though nothing outstanding, but it will help tide me over until the next book in the series.

Console Wars

A non-fiction book I read on my brother’s recommendation. I only have a vague sort of interest in the video game industry, I mostly enjoy hearing my brother talk about it because he has a lot of knowledge about it, but I really enjoyed this book! It describes the ins-and-outs of the Nintendo relaunched the video game industry in North America with the Entertainment System, and then the competition that gradually developed between them and the underdog that was Sega. It was an exciting, amusing, and engagingly narrative look at that period in history! I would definitely recommend it to anyone that has an even passing interest in that point in time, this book really makes you root for everyone involved!

Five Nights At Freddy’s

You know what, this one was on me. I should have known exactly how bad it would be and I still chose to try it. The problem is, back when the first… three-ish FNAF games came out in 2014 and 2015 the lore was actually kind of neat. I had a lot of fun playing through them with my cousins trying to find out more about the story. Obviously it devolved into something completely different and a lot more get-that-money-from-those-kids over the years, but I, naively, thought hey… if they’re making a movie… maybe they’re returning to some of those original plot ideas? Maybe it will even be… kind of interesting? The Silver Eyes was a fairly neat novel, even if the lore felt very different so… maybe this one would be too?

Nope. Read a chapter, loathed everything from the writing, to the attitude, to the characters, and then slung it back at my local library unfinished. Don’t even bother picking this up, good lord.

My Happy Marriage 2

This was… fine. I rather enjoyed the first book of My Happy Marriage since it was a Cinderella-esque story set in the Taishō era with some fun magical elements. Lots of class division, the main character suffered very clear abuse and it wasn’t just brushed away, and her arranged fiancé was clearly overwhelmed and sympathetic when faced with this very different fiancée on his doorstep. The writing wasn’t great but the plot was fun. In book two the writing continued to not be great, but the plot also just… didn’t catch my interest. I’d still recommend the first book for some pleasant, light reading, but I don’t think I’ll continue with this series. Might try watching the anime instead…

The Inimitable Jeeves

I’ve been meaning to read the Jeeves books for years, and I finally got the push I needed from a mutual who was recommending it to me. It was everything I could have hoped for! Really made me think fondly of The Importance of Being Ernest by Oscar Wilde, or even Terry Pratchett’s writing to a certain extent — you can tell Pratchett read this author and picked up bits of his tone. Anyway, it’s exactly the sort of humour I enjoy and the whole thing is aided by having incredibly loveable characters. There’s the clever, unflappable valet Jeeves who seems capable of omniscience and of solving every problem to ever arise, as well as Bertie Wooster who I love with my entire  heart. If Bertie was a different sort of character or narrator, this might have been a much less enjoyable  series but he is a genuinely very kind, generous, likeable sort of person who is cheerfully aware that he’s a bit of an airhead and is happy to have Jeeves around to do this thinking. What a blessing. Highly recommend if you like short story collections and want something silly and fun.

The Last Firehawk v.11-12

This is a young children’s series that keeps compelling me to return to it for some reason. The first part of the series I actually quite liked and thought was very well done for the 5-8ish age group, depending on reading level. It’s easy reading but it’s a nice introduction to a linear quest plot and has reasonably nice art. There was a sharp decline in quality for most of the second series but I decided I should read the last two books just to say I’d done it. I’m happy to say that books eleven and twelve improved the story a little bit, with characters Tag, Skyla and Blaze discovering that their enemy from the first series (The Shadow) had returned and had taken a new host: a rat king that lived in the Underland.

The League of Lady Poisoners

An excellent nonfiction volume that contains short overviews of some famous female poisoners throughout history. It includes some nice, stylized art that was a treat, and I enjoyed the way the writer explored some of the motivations or reasons that a woman in these various time periods might resort to poisoning without painting every figure with a ubiquitous brush of Evil Monster. It was pretty light and I would read a story or two in the evenings.

The Long Patrol

I love Redwall books and felt like picking up one I hadn’t read before would be a nice treat for the spring. You pretty much know exactly what you’re going to get when you read a Redwall book and this one didn’t disappoint. It focused on various hares of the Long Patrol, the current Badger Lady, and a fun cast in Redwall Abbey. The dilemma arises because one of the Abbey walls is caving in and needs to be repaired, while a band of Rapscallion vermin are marching to try to take the Abbey for themselves. Standard fare. Lots of good food descriptions, a coming of age story for a young hare who had run away to join the Long Patrol, and a Goonies-style adventure with the Abbess and some of her friends as they explore the caverns beneath the Abbey. I can’t say I loved the book, but I enjoyed it. If you want a Redwall adventure, it delivers.

Owls in the Family

A cute chapter book that’s set in Saskatchewan during the middle of the century. It focuses on Billy who has a tendency to adopt strange pets that he collects from the plains. His newest acquisition is a pair of owlets — one he finds in a bush under a storm with a very spunky personality, the other a very meek, nervous one that he rescues from a group of older boys who were throwing stones at it. The book is filled with a variety of fun adventures that come from having a pair of loyal owls as pets that lightly terrorise the neighbourhood. It’s considered a school classic, though be prepared for some light racism considering it was published in the sixties…

She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat

A sapphic food manga! It follows a protagonist who enjoys being able to cook and post about the meals she creates. She is somewhat resentful of the men who then expect that this means she will be a very “domestic” sort of girlfriend, someone who will consistently cook them meals and keep house. That’s not the point! She likes the artistry of cooking! One thing she’s never gotten much of a chance to try though is to create larger, more robust or complex meals, because as a single person there’s no way to eat it all. When she meets a neighbour from down the hall though, she’s delighted to have found someone who is very appreciative of her cooking and will enthusiastically join her in cooking and eating the meals. Such begins their relationship.

The Very Very Far North

This book feels like a modern day Winnie-the-Pooh. There’s a charming timelessness to it; it made an excellent bedtime book. The story follows Duane the polar bear as he gradually makes friends with some of the other animals who live in the Very Very Far North and the lighthearted adventures they have around the Arctic. The main theme of this story is how one can be friends with people who have very personalities and interests from yourself, and it does a great job of setting up each character as very different and then makes them learn how to coexist and get along.

Minecraft: The Village

The last of Max Brook’s Minecraft trilogy. I also can’t believe I’ve read three entire Minecraft novels considering I couldn’t give two hoots about the game in general, but Max Brooks treats the topic surprisingly seriously and creates a compelling story. The series began with the protagonist, Guy, waking up in this strange world with very few memories of his life before, and now forced to learn how to understand the bizarre rules of this world and learn how to survive. Each book in the series (The Island, The Mountain, The Village) expands the scope of Guy’s world and the challenges he has to overcome. The first book focuses on how to survive as an individual, how to learn and respect the natural world, and how to find a moral compass even on one’s own. The second book introduces a new character, Summer, and focuses on learning how to compromise and work alongside another person, and is all about friendship rules. The second was, imo, the weakest of the series but since I am not the intended audience the friendship lessons also felt the most dull to me. This third book was another uptick and may be my favourite of the series. Guy and Summer leave the Mountain in an effort to find a way to return to their true homes and along the way discover a Village that’s filled with villagers. In this book their world expands to include other people and cultures as they have to learn how to respect other people’s autonomy, and question what it means to exist as a society. It really poses some neat questions, I enjoyed the discussion a lot. A nice strong ending to the series.

[hellzeldagirlsfanfic]

My Dearest Friend Part 1

[Next]

The day when the previous head of Kamisato Clan and Yashiro Commissioner died was the last time (F/N) saw her best friend and the boy she loved. She didn’t really understand at the time why he couldn’t make time for them to hang out. It was only when she took over running the shop from her sister did she somewhat understood how busy the Commissioner could be.

But, sometimes when finds a quiet moment to herself she lets her mind wonder what her life would be like if her friend’s father hadn’t died when he did and was still life now. Would they still be friends? Would they be more than friends? Or she would be in a situation where someone you barely know is asking you to marry them? Like what was currently happening to her.

Yusuke Kaneko, a sailor, seemed to be a nice boy but his presence began to creep (F/N) out.

“I’m sorry Yusuke-Kun, I can’t accept your proposal,” (F/N) told him as she cursed herself for cornering herself at the end of the docks.

The Ritou’s docks were a lovely place for to have lunch whilst reading her new light novel.

Yusuke’s face dropped when he heard (F/N)’s reply. His face remain calm but she could see the fury burning in his hazel eyes.

“Why?” He angrily asked. “I have a job, a house and even have some mora save up,” He ferociously ranted to her.

His sudden anger scared (F/N). She cursed herself again for isolating herself at the end of the docks. (F/N) began to eye the salty water beside her.

“Those things are nice but I promise my father I would marry for love and not anything else,” She told him.

It seemed like that comment had made Yusuke enraged.

“You rather marry for love than stability!” He raised his voice at her. “I’m sure you could learn to love me if you gave me a chance!” He shouted at her.

As Yusuke shouted he moved closer to (F/N), making her take a step back seeking to distance between them.

(F/N)’s (H/C) eyes darted to the sea debating whether or not she should jump into it to escape this situation. She was a decent swimmer.

“Hey! Are you listening to me!?” Yusuke yelled.

“Yusuke listen-” (F/N) tried to say Yusuke cut her off.

“No. You need to listen!” He yelled again.

“Hey! Everything alright here?” A cheerful voice called to (F/N) and Yusuke.

Behind Yusuke stood Thoma with his signature smile but he wasn’t giving off his usual warm aura, the air around him was tense.

“The Kamisato’s housekeeper,” Yusuke said but it came out like as a snarl. “What do you want?” He asked said the housekeeper.

Thoma continued to smile even if Yusuke’s attitude towards him was unpleasant.

“I was hoping I could pick up the new kimonos that were ordered for the state’s staff but Ogura-chan hadn’t returned from her lunch break and I didn’t want to disturb her father and brother from their work,” He explained.

“Oh! I’m sorry Thoma. I’ll be right there,” (F/N) apologised to Thoma.

(F/N) quickly gathered the remained of her lunch and light novel. She darted pass Yusuke, who tried to grab her arm but was stopped by Thoma’s spear.

“Thoma!” Yusuke snarled. “Don’t get in my way! We were still talking!”

The blond raised an eyebrow at the other man’s behaviour.

“In your way?” Thoma echoed. “From what I heard your’s and Ogura’s discussion was over,” He told Yusuke.

Yusuke growled at Thoma but allowed him and (F/N) to leave.

Thoma dismissed his spear not before giving Yusuke a stern look and then leaving the docks with (F/N).

(F/N)’s pace back to the shop was fast. Her heart was still racing from her encounter with Yusuke causing her to walk faster back to the shop with Thoma trailing behind her.

When they go to the shop (F/N) fished Obi and let her and Thoma into the shop.

Thoma shut the door behind them as (F/N) dumped her lunch and novel on the front counter.

“Are you alright?” Thoma asked her as he watched the young woman take a couple of deep breaths to calm herself down.

“I’m fine,” (F/N) told him once she clammed down. “And thank you for saving me from Yusuke,” She thanked him.

“No problem,” Thoma smiled. “What kind of retainer would I be if I allowed my Lord’s dearest friend to be trapped in that kind of situation,” He told her.

Thoms’s words caused (F/N) to blush a bit.

“ ‘Dearest friend’ ” She mumbled. “He still considered me as a friend even though we haven’t talked since he became Commissioner,” She added.

“Of course (F/N)-chan,” Thoma reassured her. “No matter how much time passes m’Lord will always see you as his closest friend,”

(F/N)’s flustered state became worst as the pink hue on her cheeks became red. Seeing the state that (F/N) ad become by his words, Thoma decide now was the best time for him to leave.

“Wait!” (F/N) called Thoma when she noticed him leaving.

The blond Mondstater stopped at the door of the shop. He looked over his shoulder to see (F/N) darting the shop’s front counter and out of site. Thoma stood there awkwardly for a moment before (F/N) came back with a couple of kimonos in her arms. The blond looked at the clothing with a bewildered look on his face.

“It would look weird if you came to get some kimonos and didn’t leave without any,” She grinned.

Thoma laughed.

“I guess it would,” He replied.

He took the kimonos from the arms.

“Just bring them back in a couple of days saying that they were the wrong size,” She told him.

(F/N) opened the door for Thoma.

“Thank you for choosing Ogura’s Kimonos,” She said to Thoma like he was any other customer, (F/N) even bowed to him like she did with all customers after they finished their business with the shop.

“The pleasure was all mine Ogura-san,” Thoma smiled. “Thank you again for providing kimonos for the Kamisato Clan and Yashiro Commission,” He thanked her with a bow of his own.

With the Kamisato’s housekeeper gone (F/N) was able to shut the door of the shop and let all of the attention that she was holding in. She pressed her forehead against the wooden frame of the door and let out a sigh.

‘I hope there are no more surprises,’ She thought to herself.

***

The sound of the door sliding open alerted Ayato to someone entering his office.

“I’m back m’Lord,” Thoma announced himself.

The blond kneeled in front of Ayato as the Commissioner finished his paperwork.

“Welcome back Thoma,” Ayato greeted him. “How was your trip to Ritou today?” He inquired as he continued with his paperwork.

Thoma placed his hand on his chin as he thought of a way to explain what happened today.

“Well, it was quite an eventful trip this time,” He said.

“Oh, really?” Ayato commented, not looking up from his work.

“Yes,” Thoma confirmed. “I met (F/N)-chan today,” He told his Lord.

Said Lord briefly stopped his brush when he heard the name of his beloved.

“You did?” Ayato asked.

A tiny smirk appeared on Thoma’s face when he saw Ayato faltered for a moment before he became serious.

“Yes,” He confirmed. “It seems like she likes to read light novels at Rituo’s docks whilst she having lunch,” Thoma told Ayato. “The docks don’t seem like a romantic place to proposal,” He added.

“What…?” Ayato looked up from his work.

“Oh, Yusuke Kaneko proposal to (F/N)-chan. He was adamant about getting her to say yes,” Thoma finished.

“Yusuke Kaneko,” Ayato repeated the name that Thoma said. “Isn’t he the one we suspect of being a Fatui informant?” He asked.

“From what I and Shuumatsuban could gather, yes,” Thoma answered.

The air inside Ayato’s office became suffocating.

What would the Fatui want with a shopkeeper? Whilst Ogura’s Kimonos were successful, they mainly catered towards the everyday people of Inazuma. It would make more sense for the Fatui to associate with Ogura’s Kimonos’ sister company Ogura Textiles & Kimonos which catered to more wealthy and influential clients.

Unless their targets weren’t the shop or their clients but (F/N), then the Fatui’s end game was him. Using one of the people he care for the most but the only person he didn’t have under his protection. He thought she would be safe outside the Yashiro Commission where many have tried to take his life.

‘I guess it’s time for me to bring her into my protection’ Ayato thought.

“Thoma,” Ayato called to his housekeeper.

“Yes my Lord,” Thoma answered.

“Clear my schedule for tomorrow afternoon,” He ordered.

“Of course my Lord,” Thoma confusedly said. “May I ask why?”

“So I can pick up my fiancee,”

[yakultii]

@alwayschasingrainbows hi hi thank you sm for all the questions <33 I appreciate u sm ik u accidentally asked on my main but I’m gonna answer them here :))) also thank you for sending ur own answers too I loved reading them and learning more about you and found them super interesting!!!!! <3

1. What is your favourite childhood movie and why?

Strangely I’d never been big on movies or tv as a kid or even now (I want to get more into it now but my adhd still says no) my mum even told me that when I was young she could sit my brothers in front of the tv to be entertained but not me, I’d lose interest hella quickly… probs the first time I got into anything tv related was when I was 10-12 and was invested in the drama of the tv series “dance academy” on abc3 Ive actually met the producer! other than that I didn’t mind a reality show as a kid but then most of that wore off after I studied media in school and we went as live audience to “reality” shows and I realised how set up everything was and couldn’t care less afterward -

If I had to pick any movie that I loved and that still strangely brings me some sort of comfort.. it would have to be the 2010 Jaden Smith Version of Karate Kid ahahaha idk why (well I kinda do there’s lots of reasons but then I’d go on another whole tangent so I won’t) I was like 11 when it came out so I think that can count :) I can weirdly watch it over and over whereas most other movies I watch once and never again.

2. Do you have a favourite book or book series and why?

I talked about this in some previous posts on here but my fav book of all time is “Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine” by Gail Honeyman !!!!! I also am very passionate about “The uncaged sky: my 804 days in an Iranian Prison” by Kylie Moore-Gilbert (the audiobook version narrated by Kylie herself) and fav wholesome series has gotta be the Heartstopper graphic novels!!!! AHAHA again I could go on and on and on about why I love them all individually as they are all VERY DIFFERENT from each other, but I’ll literally be writing like 3 giant essays so I’ll stop myself now!! I will say, while it’s important we consume and love media that we don’t relate to to broaden our perspectives of life, it’s obviously easy to consume and love media that we see a small part of ourselves in and think this has a lot to do with why I love these so much!

3. The colour that makes you happy

Probably a dark green which reminds me of the rainforest:))))

4. Your favourite cereal?

I honestly don’t eat cereal and never really have :,) cereals were kinda demonised in my house as a child (almond mum tings?) but then eventually they weren’t anymore but I never rlly enjoyed their taste - this is such a sad answer but probably Kelloggs sultans bran LMAO. I haven’t had it for years but I rlly don’t mind it … I think it’s probably very different to American cereals cause it’s not sweet … one time I went to an American food store here in Aus and everything I tried taste like pure sugar and hurt my stomach so bad LOL never again I’m hoping and praying that Americans have other food options not featured in this store 😭 cos I understand some of it as a one off dessert but like everyday breakfast omg noooo I hope ur stomachs are ok

5. Your favourite gemstone?

I’m ngl I don’t have a super passionate answer about this one off the top of my head (sorry I’m such a boring person!!) I think they’re all so pretty!!! I gave them a google to try decide which I like most but it’s impossible .. I think I love any of the blue ones!! I’ll tell you one thing I rlly don’t love the yellow topaz cos I’m born in Nov and I see it on everything and I swear it’s the worst one imo like liteeally any other one I love! But I can still appreciate it ig :,)

6. Any activity you liked as a child and do you still like it now?

My biggest pain as a child was athletics!!!! I used to be competitive in 100m, 200m, long jump and triple jump :) sadly I no longer do athletics or compete but my passion for running/competitiveness lived on and by 15 I ran my first half marathon.. but from 17 onwards I got quite sick and was unable to run (minus a few little months of getting back into it over the yrs only to have to stop again) and now I’m 24 and finally getting back into it again.. kinda.. cos my health is still kinda shit but I’ll go for a lot shorter runs a couple times a week and hoping and praying my health gets better so I can proper get back into it.. not to compete anymore just for myself cos it’s one of the only things in this life that brings me joy :) I’ve also always loved taking photos although I’m not professional or anything it’s just been a fun little hobby I guess.. I have a few diff cameras but in currently trying (failing) to save for this new different one.. just waiting for my uni scholarship money this tri bc I’m too unwell to use it to go on a holiday atm I’m gonna use it to buy this camera I’ve been wanting oop :,) I’m a much bigger a fan of film photography over digital but the camera I’m planning on buying is kinda a combo of both eg. It produces images of a similar vibe to film photography but is actually digital so u don’t have to worry about wasting film :) it’s also a point and shoot, super small and can be taken anywhere which is much better than my current digital camera which is bulky and has a million settings idk how to use lol.

7. Have you ever read Lucy Maud Montgomery books?

I was about to say no I’ve never heard of her but then I googled it and saw Anne of Green Gables which I read when I was like literally 8… and as I’ve said in a previous post I never remember what I’ve read even if I read it two minutes ago bc adhd tings but I always remember how it made me feel - and I remember really enjoying it! Maybe I should give it a reread cause I barely remember what it was about :,) as for the rest of her books I don’t think I’ve read any! I love so much that you have a fandom page omgggg I wish I was that passionate about something !!!! PLS PLS give me recommendations if someone were only to read 1 of her books .. okay maybe 2 for now!!!!! I might actually give them a read :)))

Thank you thank you again for all ur kinds words I hope u have the most amazing day/night <33333 I appreciate u a lot!

[wyked-ao3]

Writing Questionnaire 3

i was tagged a few weeks ago but I can't find it now. I had it mostly done in drafts 0_o (I forgot about it sorry) @thatuselesshuman tagged me as well

Short stories, novels, or poems?

Novel length fanfiction although I'm working on my first novel. Short stories are way harder for me as I have to many ideas to keep them short usually.

What genre do you prefer reading?

Basically, I’ll read anything interesting. Usually: mystery, fantasy, grimdark fantasy, dark fantasy, romance, horror, murder mysteries, historical, educational, western (I'm blaming @tragedycoded for that one as my parents couldn't get me hooked on the genre 0_o And @tragedycoded succeeded with DMLS )

(I don't have many genre's I won't give a chance)

What genre do you prefer writing?

I'm game for whatever ideas running amuck right now I'm working on a fantasy series that will probably end up labeled dark fantasy. My next project after the series will be historical fantasy just not sure which of these ideas I'm going for (3 different time periods but they will still have some form of magic in them)

Are you a planner or a write-as-I-go kind of person?

Combine the two but usually I have a general idea and let the characters have fun driving me insane.

What music do you listen to while writing?

Depends on the day some days that would be highly distracting others it's either old classic rock or folk music

Fave books/movies?

That's listed in my pinned intro and it's a long list and you can not make me pick.

Any current WIPs?

I'm currently writing the pirate king of deaths redemption book one if the pirate's cursed god series. For fanfiction I have several at different points and I'm posting three wip's that I'm working on as I post 0_o (bad idea but I'm adjusting to it)

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you, what would your standard outfit be?

Comfortable sweaters, jeans, combat boots and a pocket knife holding several books

Create a character description for yourself: ash blonde shoulder length hair, hazel eyes (blue, green,grey) pale skinned and freckled.

Do you like incorporating people you actually know into your writing?

Not particularly.

Are you kill-happy with characters?

not particularly, especially if you know them.

Coffee or tea while writing?

Water or sweet tea

Slow or fast writer?

Most people say fast but to me, I'm slow but that has to do with the fact that my brain moves quicker than I can type.

Where/who/what do you find inspiration from?

Anything and everything

If you were put into a fantasy world, what would you be?

Healer or cryptid in the library spotted by others once in a blue moon as I learn about the new world.

Most fave book cliche? Least fave book cliche?

Most fav: long list but enemies to lovers or psychopaths and golden retriever personality.

Least fav: cheating (I will usually stop reading right there) amnesia (not really my cup of tea) abortion or miscarriage (sensitive subject given some of my relatives histories) major character death (definitely need to be in a certain mindset for that) bullying (personal trauma there sometime I have to back away from a book for a while before trying again.)

Fave scenes to write?

Fluffy dialogue or arguing although bone chilling or traumatic memory flash backs are a blast to write

Most productive time of day for writing?

It depends – day for editing night for writing or that's how it usually works for me.

Reason for writing?

Creativity, I like the fact that other people can connect with the story. Also I have made a few friends via writing and I love that fact considering I have issues making friends usually. My friends might be online friend but they are still friends.

Np tags @the-golden-comet @gioiaalbanoart @aintgonnatakethis @lillybaaaka @adhdprincess @drchenquill +open tag

[guillemelgat]

Language Goals 2024

Another year, another set of goals! This year, in the actual spirit of my very reasonable 2022 language goals, here are my plans for language study.

Catalan

First and foremost, my goal is to find Catalan friends in my new hometown, because I really need to speak Catalan with people at minimum once a week or I get very sad, and currently I’m not speaking it with anyone at all. This goal is pretty chill though—I just have to actually sit down and put in the time to find people.

My main goal is to read 30 books in Catalan. I’ll make a proper post about it with a list of books that I’m thinking of and how the challenge itself is going to work, but overall I’m trying to pick a mix of styles and genres, so expect anything from medieval literature to YA novels to academic texts. I have a lot of books that I’ve been meaning to read for a while, so hopefully this will give me a chance to chip into some of them. 30 books is less than other versions of this challenge that I’ve seen, but it’s also many more books than I’ve read in Catalan possibly ever and I think it’s more reasonable in conjunction with a full class load. Hopefully it ends up being just the right amount!

Welsh & Basque

This year I really want to work hard to actually get these two to an upper intermediate level, because I’m so close if I put in the work. For both of them, I have two main goals: (1) go through the textbooks/workbooks that I started going through casually last semester (Basic Welsh: A Grammar and Workbook by Gareth King and Standard Basque: A Progressive Grammar by Rudolf P.G. de Rijk) so that I can continue to review and learn new grammatical structures, and (2) watch one episode of a TV series each week in each language. For the TV series, I’m going to be watching Rownd a Rownd on S4C (which is available outside Wales/the UK! Huge win!) and Eskamak kentzen on EITB. If I have time, I’ll try to go through episodes more thoroughly and note down new vocabulary and such, but the main goal is to make a routine of it and watch consistently so I’m trying to keep it simple. I’d also like to use both languages with other people more often if I can, but I think finding a consistent language partner will perhaps be a goal for another year.

Malayalam

I’m planning to focus the first half of the year on Welsh and Basque, and then next fall, I’m hoping to be able to take the Malayalam classes offered by my university and to get into studying my home dialect (or rather, my extended family’s home dialect, since I didn’t speak it at home) as well. Since this will be later and also classroom learning rather than self-study, I’m not going to go into details, but overall, after my trip to Kerala (which I have stuff about, it’s on the docket!), I’m generally feeling much less alienated and much more motivated to study the language. I’m also looking forward to being able to take real classes, which I think will help keep me focused and on track.

Russian

This is a minor goal, but at my friend’s house over the summer, her mom was joking that if they just spoke to me in Russian while I stayed at their house, I’d probably be able to understand it by the end. That led us to concoct a plan where I study a bit of Russian vocab, then go there and do intensive Russian immersion for a weekend or so. This is more of a silly goal, but I’d like to try it because I think it could be fun.

Anki

This isn’t a language goal per se, but rather a general resolution to spend this year learning to use (and tweaking and configuring) Anki. Anki has a notoriously high barrier to entry, and from everything I’ve seen it should be treated as a long-term, intensive project—I’ll hopefully reap the rewards later if I take my time and set up everything right in the early stages. With that in mind, I’m hoping that by the end of the year I’ve figure out a set up for my decks and cards that really works for getting me to remember and be able to use vocab and grammar. I’ll focus on the languages here for the start, but I’m hoping that with habit and time, if I get a good system going I can use it with other languages too.

And that’s it! It’s been a bit since I was systematic about studying languages, but I’ve found that I really miss it and want to go back. I feel like I’m at a really good place with all of these, and I’d like to continue to make progress, so I’m really trying to focus on consistency and hitting the sweet spot of just challenging enough to get myself out of my comfort zone while not burning out. Hopefully I’ve set this up in a way to build habits and make me excited to keep immersing myself with these languages in the coming years, which is really the key to learning any language in the long term—I've realized that I speak Catalan so well because it's fully integrated into my life, and I'd like all these others to be as well. Here’s to a good 2024, and I wish all of you luck with your own goals as well!

[chirp-a-chirp]

The Itch: The Gift that Keeps on Giving

Fandom: Ikemen Prince

Synopsis: Emma knits a sweater for her consort, but it’s REALLY itchy. How do the consorts react to wearing the sweater? Enjoy the cursed Gil photo and crack post 😆

Consorts: Jin, Rio, Clavis, Chevalier, Silvio, Gilbert, Leon

…

Jin

Does Jin REALLY need an excuse to strip?

“Hey, if you want to see me in the buff sweetheart, why didn’t you say so?” Jin whips the sweater straight off.

“JIN WE’RE IN THE PALACE GARDENS!” Emma’s eyes widen as Jin tosses the sweater on the ground. She barely notices the red welts underneath his tanned muscles.

“Not for long we’re not.” Jin grins, carrying Emma princess style as he walks towards his room.

Later that night (much later), Jin goes to retrieve the sweater from the gardens but can’t find it. Rumor has it that the stray dogs from Jin’s route made a reappearance and ran off with the sweater*

*Seriously, read chapter 9 of Jin’s route. A dog steals his clothes. Among the funniest scenes in ikemen EVER.

Rio

You will not be able to pry this sweater away from Rio. EVER. “My Mistress made this just for me! Each itch is like a scratchy hug!”

But there’s a problem. Rio won’t take it off. It’s been two weeks and he’s STILL wearing it. And the sweater’s starting to smell.

Sariel stages an intervention, forcing Rio to wash it. “No problem boss-man!” Rio bathes…while wearing the sweater.

Nokto comes up with another solution—Emma knitting Rio more sweaters.

Congrats Emma. You are now knitting Rio clothes for the rest of your life.

Clavis

Clavis is so happy to have a tangible sign of Emma’s love. SO HAPPY. Doesn’t want to take it off.

Unlike with Rio, Sariel doesn’t stage an intervention. Because Clavis invents a soothing gel so he can wear the sweater. But he has to apply so much of it that there’s a trail of gloopy gel throughout the palace—perfect for Sariel to track Clavis’s movements.

Clavis learns to knit to support Emma. He knits a purple scarf with the phrase “#1 Accomplice” on it in gold script.

Unfortunately, Clavis’s C’s look like S’s and most of his letters are illegible. So “#1 Accomplice” looks more like “#1 Ass” with a bunch of squiggly lines next to it.

When Emma wears Clavis’s scarf, at least once a day she hears a variant of “I thought Clavis was a leg man?”

Chevalier

Emma and Chevalier have been reading a series of popular romance books. The heroine knits a sweater for beloved and Emma is inspired.

For a week, Emma spends what time she WOULD have been reading with Chev knitting his sweater. She then enters his private library, sweater in hand, and sees Chev sitting, staring contemplatively in his lap. “I made you this swea—“

“I am not wearing that.” Chevalier’s eyes flicker to Emma. “My eyes itch by merely looking at it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I’ll—“ Emma’s words are cut off as Chevalier places her in his lap. He reaches towards a corner table and picks up the same book they were last reading. Emma notices a bookmark within the novel. “You waited for me to resume reading?” Chevalier nods. “Of course simpleton.”

When Chevalier and Emma finish the book series, Chevalier places the book series and the sweater in a glass display case in his library.

Silvio

Emma knits matching blue and cream colored sweaters. It isn’t cold often in Benoite, so she wants Silvio to wear it when she’s wearing hers as often as he can.

Silvio…has opinions on this. “WHA? YOU GOTTA BE JOKING! I can buy ya ALL the sweaters instead of wearing this thing!” Silvio scratches his arms furiously through the sleeves.

“But I incorporated the seashells from our anniversary in them…” Emma looks mildly dejected. She’d crushed some of the shells into a powder to make the sweaters look like a beach scene.

“THATS why my back is scraped up?! Cause of damn barnacles?!”

Emma’s face turns red. “Well I’m sorry!”

Silvio’s face turns a brighter shade of red. “Hey, don’t get mad at ME! Wait, wait stop ya crying! I’m wearing it, I’m wearing it!”

Gilbert

Emma knits a GIANT oversized sweater for Gilbert. It’s big enough to fit two people to hide sweets in it. And it has a giant pocket on the front to hold even MORE sweets.

Big mistake Emma.

Gilbert now insists on having Emma wear the sweater WITH him in it. That’s why she made it so big, right?

And Emma of course has to bake all those cookies for Gilbert. While wearing the sweater (and Gilbert).

“I hope you bake quickly little rabbit. I’m quite hungry.” Gilbert bites Emma’s neck.

Which produces more red marks on Emma—the itchy sweater or Gilbert?

Leon

Leon really appreciates the love that went into its creation. He wears it with even more pride when he learns the wool was procured from a Rhodolite shop. Gushes to EVERYONE about Emma’s knitting skills if given a chance.

But secretly, as the day wears on, the man suffers. His shoulders twitch with tiny little itches. Surely it’s the tag that’s itchy, right? (No Leon, there’s no tag with the sweater.) Or maybe it’s his cloak that’s making him itch? (No Leon, you left your cloak at the palace to show off the sweater…).

Emma notices Leon looking uncomfortable. The man denies it, not wanting Emma to feel guilty. The MOMENT Emma leaves his sight though, Leon is scratching like THIS:

Emma realizes Leon’s suffering when she sees his neck is red. “Ok, that’s it! I’m taking this sweater off you now!”

“Oh? Well, if you wanna strip me THAT badly, that’s fine by me.” Leon smirks.