#peter has one of those that's really just a journal written to make it look like miles is taking after school classes with him at SI

[erinwantstowrite]

will peter be like an older brother to miles in lof ?

absolutely he is

there's about an 11 year difference between them (Miles is 14, Peter is 25), so it's a lot more like the older brother type of relationship that Peter has with Tim (despite Tim being his uncle). Peter has mentored(ish) other young heroes by this point (mostly in the Bats' universe) but since Miles is another Spider-Man, Peter takes up most of the responsibility in making sure Miles is safe and teaching him the ropes. That's HIS sassy child genius, thank you, and he's not a sidekick, he's Spider-Man.

He was also adamant that Miles tell his parents immediately, and gets along great with Rio and Jeff.

Which is HILARIOUS to me because at this point in time, Peter has built up a persona for the public eye just like the Bats did. In Rio and Jeff's eyes, they're gobsmacked that the clumsy, scatterbrained, and "scaredy-cat" kid that Tony Stark adopted a while ago is Spider-Man. (Technically, none of this is a lie. Because Peter is a terrible liar unless it's For the Jokes, and often comes across this way even if he hadn't meant to.) They're wondering how he pulled that off since he's the same age as Spider-Man, who is known to be an Avenger, and associates in the same circles as Peter. It helps that Peter and Spider-Man have been in a social media war, and that Peter works at the Daily Bugle that is known for disliking Spider-Man. Peter's been taking lessons for years atp to keep his identity safe. Which is also bonus points to Peter, because the two can tell that secret identities mean everything to him, but he told them who he was in a heartbeat (literally the very first thing he did when he found Miles).

In other words: Peter was ecstatic to become a teacher for his own matching superhero kid and it's one of the most important bonds in his life. That's his baby brother now!!

[punch-love]

ive been having trouble making time to sit down and write anything concrete recently because of my adhd so i tried what you said in one of the ask prompts you answered where you write a tagline and title at the top of the doc and just go it til you lose steam and oh my god. i was able to bang out 2k words in about an hour or so. im pretty disorganized with my writing especially bc i like to write/brainstorm in my journal and then type it up so ive been kind of stalling for the last month but this has completely changed the game for me. i know youve also mentioned using sticky notes before but i want to know if you have any other things you do youd like to share!

I'm happy to hear it worked for you man! I also have ADHD, so I know how hard it can be to make time and write down something concrete. I don't usually find writing tips or tricks that work for my brain, so it's very cool that I was able to help someone else write with my own methods.

I think I mentioned this one before, but whenever I get in a writing jam, and I'm not sure how to continue something, or I feel stuck, I pull up a random word generator and generate words to use as "mini" prompts. It adds some organic stimulus, while also giving you a chance to look at the scene you're trying to write from a different angle. It's kind of cool how many times I've used this thing and the words it generated worked so well thematically for my project.

I also found that when writing starts to become a chore putting it on my daily to-do list helps because, in comparison to my other "bigger" chores, I am more likely to do something creative because it feels easier to my brain (even if my brain thought it was too hard to do like, ten minutes ago)

I also find that writing kind of a free form draft at the bottom of the document that sums up the emotional beats of the work or next part of the work (especially if you've already started said project) really helps me as a reference point if I kind of get lost directionally.

Peter actually needs Wade’s help. They team up. Wade learns about morality and surprises Peter a little. The no kill rule is set (?) they clap off into the sunset. 

This is a summary I wrote about the next bit for one of my long projects that I tacked on at the very bottom of the project so if I'm ever writing and forget where I'm going, I can look at it, but it's not distracting me or anything. It's also not, like, a big summary - you can't actually get any plot details from this, it's just sort of a vague roadmap of the points you haven't covered yet.

I can't really think of any other specific writing tips right now, but hopefully one of those might be useful to you! Congratulations again on writing. It's so hard to get something from the brain and onto the page, but the hardest part is definitely over. I think the last piece of advice is that it's better to write a shitty rough draft than no draft at all. I always get lost in over-editing even if I've only written, like, a paragraph and have to force myself to word vomit before I reward myself with nitpicky editing.

[osoba99publiczna]

Emma Thompson offers her view on why people are still so invested in Love Actually

The inspiration

Curtis has guaranteed that it was watching friends and family rejoining at Remiss that previously propelled him to compose Love Really - and a couple of the lighthearted comedy's best-cherished scenes likewise pull from life. Peter (Chiwetel Ejiofor) and Juliet's (Keira Knightley) wedding gestures to the burial service of the maker of the Muppets, Jim Henson, which Curtis went to at St Paul's Church building. He makes sense of in the film's discourse track: "It worked out that every one of the folks in the remembrance administration had carried their manikins with them, and they lifted them up, and when you turned around and looked in reverse, there were 50 manikins generally singing… It was something phenomenal. So this was our little wound at that." Later in the film, Imprint's (Andrew Lincoln) well known statement of affection for Juliet follows the sheets in Weave Dylan's video for 'Underground Yearning to go home Blues'. Curtis clearly put together the personality of Imprint with respect to himself - composing five distinct adaptations of the scene to get it great.

The casting

Curtis generally expected for Hugh Award and Emma Thompson to play the state leader and his sister, and he really composed the piece of Natalie for Martine McCutcheon subsequent to considering her to be Tiffany Mitchell in EastEnders. Different jobs were less direct to project, in any case. Daniel's (Liam Neeson) love interest was intended to a like a be played by an entertainer supermodel, yet when none of the ones who tried out were very correct, Curtis wound up requesting that Claudia Schiffer step in. Also, he composed written by hand letters to Americans Laura Linney, Billy Weave Thornton and Denise Richards to request that they think about taking on parts. Likewise significant: Curtis kept the projecting locked down at whatever point he could. His girl with spouse Emma Freud shows up as the second lobster in the Nativity, while the shrewd man with the Bug Man face paint is the couple's child. Concerning the maid at Bringing down Road? She's played by Freud's mom.

The names

Broadly, every Curtis film incorporates a surly person named Bernard for a particular explanation: Conservative MP Bernard Jenkin took Curtis' better half at college. David Haig plays a lovelorn Bernard in Four Weddings and a Burial service; Hugh Bonneville is poor Bernie in Notting Slope; and Dominic McHale shows up as relative Bernard in Bridget Jones' Journal, who goes to the dropped tarts and vicars party dressed as an ecclesiastical overseer. In Affection Really, Bernard is Emma Thompson's "appalling" child with Alan Rickman. Curtis additionally deliberately named Colin Firth's personality Jamie after his own sibling, just so the children could say "I disdain Uncle Jamie!"

The areas

The film was taken shots at various notable London areas. Charge Nighy recorded 'Christmas Is All over' at Nunnery Street Studios, while the opening and shutting scenes were shot with stowed away cameras at Heathrow Air terminal. (Indeed, those are genuine explorers in the introduction.) Concerning Rowan Atkinson's splendid appearance as a present covering, it was shot in Selfridges at 12 PM - and was initially composed with Atkinson as a Christmas holy messenger, purposely moving gradually to attempt to forestall Harry (Alan Rickman) from taking part in an extramarital entanglements. Another great truth: the lake that Jamie (Colin Firth) and Aurelia (Lúcia Moniz) plunge into was only 18 inches down and loaded up with mosquitos. The main spot that was thoroughly untouchable to cameras? 10 Bringing down Road. Curtis and his creation originator Jim Dirt were just given a vigorously directed visit through the home - reproducing the insides from memory at Shepperton Studios.

The music

Curtis' #1 scene in Affection Really has a melodic component: Karen (Emma Thompson) crying to Joni Mitchell's "The two Sides Presently" in the wake of acknowledging Harry (Alan Rickman) is engaging in extramarital relations. Thompson quite ad libbed the crying - taking motivation from the aggravation she felt after her previous spouse Kenneth Branagh left her for Helena Bonham Carter. On a lighter note, Hugh Award's well known dance scene in 10 Bringing down Road was initially set to a Jackson 5 track - however was changed to The Pointer Sisters' "Hop (For My Affection)" at Award's solicitation. With respect to the Nativity execution, Thomas Brodie-Sangster needed to gain proficiency with the drums as far as it matters for him as Sam. Olivia Olson, then again, was excessively artistically capable for her job as Sam's affection interest Joanna. The creation had saved two days for her to record 'All I Need For Christmas Is You', yet she nailed it in a solitary take - to the degree that Curtis really had her re-try it to sound less wonderful in the event that watchers thought it was phony. Stay informed and stay connected with us for the latest headlines Read the full article

[citylightsbooks]

The Motor of the Essay: Rachel Kushner in Conversation

This is an excerpt of a free event we held in conjunction with Litquake for our virtual events series, City Lights LIVE. This event features Rachel Kushner in conversation with Dana Spiotta celebrating the launch of The Hard Crowd: Essays 2000-2020, published by Scribner. This event was originally broadcast live via Zoom and hosted by our events coordinator Peter Maravelis. You can listen to the entire event on our podcast. You can watch it in full as well on our Youtube channel.

*****

Dana Spiotta: I know that everyone's going to ask you these questions about writing fiction versus nonfiction. And I read somewhere that you said, with your novels, you begin with imagery more than an idea or a character. With the nonfiction, there is a range of pieces about writers and specific books to journalism--like the prison story and Palestine--and then there’s the ones that are personal essays, right, like the girl in a motorcycle. So I guess they might all have different origins. But where do you begin with that? And how is that different as a process from what you write in fiction?

Rachel Kushner: Yeah, so it is kind of a different process for me, although I sometimes feel guilty to try to make declarations about which is harder, or how one does one thing, because you know, for some people, the essay is what literature is.

For me, fiction is more difficult. And so in a certain way it's what I've signed on to do with my life, because the process can be so mysterious and fickle and unreliable. And I'm waiting to catch a wave, or get the drift and then try to figure out how to sustain it, and then how to change it in order to sustain it. Managing so many different things at once is a very curious hermeneutic, because you need to know where you're going.

But then you also need to let happenstance inform you. I think some of the ways that we are challenged, and how we learn in our lives and also as writers, are by having encounters that we did not anticipate or predict, and that happens in fiction. And then you're kind of in a "taking mode" and you know exactly what's for you and you go with it and you run.

Essays are a little different for me. I mean, obviously. Time is shorter. But usually the motor of the essay is a sprung sentence. I come up with one sentence that is doing something in the syntax and it's making something sort of declarative. And it's kind of a gambit. And it needs to be followed by another. And sometimes I'll have a whole paragraph like that. And those paragraphs will just be floating in the void of the potentiality of the essay that I haven't written yet. And I don't sweat, like, "How am I going to link this to that?" yet. Because I just know by instinct that they're both going in. And if I put them in the essay, then they are interrelated by virtue merely of their proximity to each other. Then I start to build links.

Some journalism is a very different process. Like you mentioned, for the piece that I wrote, originally for the New York Times Magazine, about prison abolition and the carceral geographer, Ruth Wilson Gilmore, they said it can be any length and made it long. So you know, it was like 20,000 words. And it was my version of that essay, and it probably was a pretty good essay. But I think the weakness in it was that I was not speaking to their audience. And they really--you have written for the New York Times Magazine--they want to be able to countenance everything you say, sentence by sentence. It's not like writing an op-ed, where you just say your thing and then people can fight it out in the comments. They want to be fully on board. And I wouldn't want to have to do that all the time.

It's extremely difficult, because you have to keep remembering how to bring in somebody who may have wildly different ideas about how society should be organized, and not seem polemical, not seem pushy. It's a kind of seduction I think that really benefits from collaboration with an editor. It's arduous, it takes time. That essay took two years to write, but because the subject matter was important to me, ultimately, I decided it was worth it.

Dana Spiotta: Yeah, it's such a great essay. And I learned so much from it.

Peter Maravelis: When you're writing about events and feelings from decades ago, how do you return to the experience? What takes you back?

Rachel Kushner: That's a really great question. So, you know, with some of these essays, like the first essay in the book called “Girl on a Motorcycle,” which is about the Cabo 1000--a no longer existent, illegal motorcycle road race where you span the Baja in the course of a day--was the first thing that I ever published and I wrote it 20 years ago. And after looking back over it, in order to put it in this book and to improve upon it, I opened it up; I wrote a new beginning and a new ending. There are so many details and scenes in that essay that I never, ever would have remembered had I not written them down when I was much closer to the meat of that experience.

But there are other essays like the title essay which I just wrote quite recently. I'd put the book together, and I knew it was going to be called “The Hard Crowd.” And then I just basically sat down and wrote this essay. And I think, you know, as maybe you're telling a story, or going through your life, sometimes things really do sort of trigger the release of a memory. And Proust has this conception of two different kinds of memory that he calls voluntary memory and involuntary memory. And voluntary memory is the kind of fixed story that you tell, you know, "Oh, he's telling that story again," meaning it's a kind of sclerotic, hardened account that, for Proust, doesn't really have any real artistic or intrinsic wealth to it. Whereas involuntary memory is maybe when you would smell a perfume that you haven't smelled in 30 years and it reminds you of this or that. And I think that writing itself can activate involuntary memory, because you start to see into spaces you haven't seen in a really long time.

Like when I was writing this essay, I somehow ended up talking about Terence McKenna, and remembered that I'd seen Terence McKenna give this lecture at the Palace of Fine Arts. And then I saw the Palace of Fine Arts and him on the stage and where I was sitting, and who was in the audience. And so then I mentioned in the essay that this noise musician who I don't know, but I knew who he was, was sitting right in front of me. And that was a funny thing because the New Yorker called him and asked, "Were you at a Terence McKenna lecture in 1991." “Yeah, I was.” I mean he probably thought like the FBI is after him or something. I can start to see things and details in pretty haunting detail, particularity once I'm starting to build the framework that will allow those kind of involuntary memories to come up to present themselves.

Peter Maravelis: Do you feel that maybe kids who grew up in a certain era share communal memories, like growing up in San Francisco in the 70s is full of shared moments and scenes?

Rachel Kushner: Yes, I do feel that, but I would maybe even particularize it to not just an era, but to kids who grew up in a certain world within San Francisco. And I'm going to just be blunt: it's the kids who went to public school in San Francisco in the 70s and 80s. We all traversed a world together, and the particularity of that world. I'm not saying that it's special or different. Everybody has a world that they traversed, and that stays inside of them as memory. And ours is ours. And those who experienced it do feel bonded, I think, for life, in a way. And it's something I've thought about a lot since that essay was published in the New Yorker because of the number of people who reached out to me and wanted to talk about their own memories of this same world that we shared.

Peter Maravelis: In the New York Times review, Dwight Garner mentioned the phrase: “At the party, she was kindness in the hard crowd," from the Cream song "White Room." Is that in fact where your title came from?

Rachel Kushner: It is. I mentioned that in the title essay, it all becomes clear, or at least somewhat clear where I heard that song, and why I made it the title of this book. It's a good line.

To see upcoming events at City Lights bookstore in San Francisco, check out our complete calendar.

[idk-maybe-i-did-it]

Scars: Year five, Chapter six

Remus Lupin x Reader

Warnings: Implied eating disorder, swearing, violence, alcoholics, 

James Potter

Sirius Black

Remus Lupin

Peter Pettigrew

James Potter

Sirius Black

Remus Lupin

Peter Pettigrew

James Potter

Sirius Black

Remus Lupin

Peter Pettigrew

Did you stay for the end?

Or are you just waiting for a beginning?

Because without her, the boys fear they'll never get either. ________________________________

Lily told me to get a journal to write in.

So here we go.

Dear Diary,

Wait am I allowed to call you Y/n?

I think I would prefer that better, let me restart.

Dear Y/n,

I miss you.

I also punched James earlier.

I'm not sorry.

I can just hear you scolding me about it and I can see you asking James what he did.

I know he didn't mean to knock you out, I just... I can't help it Y/n.

It hurts too much to do anything now and now that you're in a coma I can't get my daily dose of Y/n wonderfullness. I know that that isn't a real word but I don't care.

Goodbye for now my love, Please wake up tomorrow. ________________________________

" You comin Remus?"

James leaned out of the door and looked at the boy still sitting on the windows ledge.

" Not today James... I'm not hungry."

The boy signed and moved over to where he sat, squatting next him.

" Remus you haven't eaten in three days. Y/n wouldn't want this, she would want to see you happy and with food in your stomach. Come on Re, just one meal, for Y/n at least?" _______________________________

Good morning darling,

Don't ask about the name, I'm just trying something's out for when you wake up.

Anyway, I still miss you. I miss you every waking second of the day and I miss you like the sun misses the moon at day-rise.

Sirius says I need to eat more but I think I'm fine.

I got mad at Malfoy earlier and broke his nose.

James covered for me and punched him so it would look like he did it. I'm still not sorry for punching him last week by the way if you're wondering.

Transfiguration was nice. I mean, McGonagall accidentally said your name in class when assigning partners and I had to be excused when I started to cry.

Lily's been helping me with classes and homework recently because I can't focus in class anymore without you here. Kayla actually came to our dorm earlier this week too and dropped off your trunk and other stuff. I put it all by my stuff at the end of the bed.

Sorry Love, I have to go, James just came in.

Goodbye Y/n, Wake up soon. _______________________________

Hello angel,

I know I just put an insert to this yesterday but I had something else to tell you today.

Earlier Sirius went out to do a detention and It was just James and Peter and Me in the dorm. Peter wanted me to see something outside so we went and sat on the window ledge outside of our window where Sirius goes to smoke at night.

Do you remember when we used to sit there and watch the sun go down while I held you in my arms?

Well Peter wanted to watch the sunset and I ended up crying while James and Pete sat beside me and hugged me.

James said that it's important to remember that I need to wait out for you.

I'm really starting to miss you Y/n.

Sirius says that I shouldn't be worried because he knows you're a stubborn ass who always comes back but I'm starting to doubt that.

Please come back love, I miss you ________________________________

" Remus can you put down the book for a moment?"

" Lily you're the one who told me to start it-'

" I know that Remus and you're a lot better now because of it but you also never put it down." ________________________________

Lily says I spend too much time writing to you because I write in class too sometimes.

I've only written about a third of the journal so far and it's been two weeks since you, y'know... but I think that it doesn't matter because I feel like I can talk to you all the time in here. Like I used to be able to talk to you all the time...

Of course I don't do this during my prefect rounds but I wish I could.

Goodbye button I love you, But please wake up soon. ________________________________

" Moony we won!"

" We bloody won Remus! We won!" ________________________________

Sirius and James won the Quidditch cup yesterday and made me go to the party.

I'm so sorry love.

I'm sorry...

I know you wouldn't've wanted me to drink but I did... I drank a lot.

I realized what I was doing about an hour in and went upstairs to take a shower and cry.

I really am sorry love, you hate alcohol.

I ended up wearing the last sweater of mine you wore afterwards. It still smelt like you y'know.

And I finished all my homework so I could tell you about what happened last night.

Anyway, I love you.

I want to press kisses all over your face, I wanna kiss your nose and your temple and I wanna kiss your forehead and I want to kiss your jawline again and I just wanna be able to kiss your lips again love.

Goodnight baby, Wake up soon please. _______________________________

" Come on Remus you gotta go see her. You haven't even visited the hospital wing since what happened."

" Peter I said no. How many times do I have to say it?" ______________________________

Peter got me to visit you today.

He didn't even seem affected when I cried with my head on your stomach. He just grabbed my hand and stayed with me.

I'm really glad he made me go visit you. It made me happier.

I also really miss laying in bed with you, my head on your lap or stomach or chest while you just hummed and kissed my forehead and hands and anywhere you could reach.

I Really miss those days. _____________________________

Hey Y/n!

This is Sirius, James made him start eating his lunch but he wouldn't unless one of us talked to you so here I am. When you wake up you better beat your boyfriends arse because he hasn't been eating much and he looks like he did in third year again and I know you wouldn't like that.

Speaking of your boyfriend, Remus recently got an owl telling him your mum and aunt died so we don't know who you're staying with when you wake up but I think Mrs. Potter has her hands full with both me and James so you'll probably stay with Remus.

Wait I have to give the book back to Remus. Bye sis, Love ya. _______________________________

Hi Y/n,

Your finger twitched today, I almost got my hopes up but Pomfrey said that was usual.

She made me leave to pack my things for the train tomorrow.

I won't be able to visit you over summer break and I don't think I'll be able to tell Mare and Ky and Jamal and Mum and Dad what happened to you.

Speaking of Mare, her and her girlfriend are engaged now. No actually her girlfriend is a boy now. James's parents are going to help fund the wedding whenever it comes. I love you, Please wake up before I come back to school. _______________________________

Today at home Mare was getting me to help pick the seating arrangements and she wrote your name next to mine in the first row.

That was the first time I ever cried in front of her and she didn't know what was wrong so I had to tell her what happened.

Will you wake up soon enough to go with me?

I love you Kitten, Come back to me Y/n. _______________________________

I have to babysit Ky and Jamal later tonight. Maybe I can write something new later Afterwards love. Anyways, I've a new book, Rising Stars is what it's called. Mare Recommended it to me yesterday. I think You're gonna steal it from me when wake up.

Mare's been making me eat more food. Everyone says I should eat more.

But Mare says I look more like myself now.

Love, Remus _______________________________

" Remus can we make cookies?"

The boy's head lolled back onto the couch's frame and Jamal stood on his thighs trying to get him up.

" Pretty please big brother dearest?"

The boy lifted his leg and swiftly sat up, lightly moving the children off of his body as he made to move towards his bedroom.

" Alright, the eight-year old's have it! Just let me get the book-

His sentence cut short at the sight before him.

There, standing outside the screen door of the kitchen, was Y/n.

The woman stood standing, hand in her pocket, arm in a position to knock on the door when she froze and saw Remus standing like a deer in headlights looking at her.

She looked full again.

She looked like Y/n again.

Remus was still staring at her when the two children came and mad ran out from behind him, peeking behind his figure to see who had been outside. Once Jamal and the other saw the girls face they ran for the door and pulled it open, grasping onto her fingers to pull her inside the house they were so exited.

Remus still stood there.

Shocked.

And yet he still stood and watched as she smiled and laughed with the two kids as they pulled her over to where he stood.

He watched as she sneakily slipped her arms under Ky's and pulled him upwards, sitting the kid on her hip as the boy started to mess with her hair.

Remus watched as she looked up at him with a wide grin that showed all her pearly-white teeth and he watched as she walked the last foot keeping them apart and grasped his jaw, pulling him into a kiss.

It took his body a moment to react before he was pulling the girl flush against him and kissing her full force, needing to feel her body, to feel proof that she was back. Just needing to feel her.

He could feel her hands move up to the collar of his shirt and he could feel her smile against his lips, breaking the kiss if only for a moment. His arms rested on the outline of her coat as he pulled it closer to his body, in turn pulling her.

Then he went back to kissing her full force again, his arms wrapped around her waist as he dipped her backwards and grinned.

" Gross."

Their heads snapped back to where Jamal and Ky stood, their noses scrunched up in disgust. Until they saw the smile on Remus's face.

They hadn't seen him smile like that in forever.

So when he went back to pull her into another kiss and when he started to pepper her face in kisses they simply looked away, not ruining the moment and intent on keeping that smile on his lips.

Remus reached behind Y/n and grasped the bag in her arm, grasping her wrist in the process and pulling her along with him to the bedroom.

" Are we still getting our cookies?"

" Yeah!" ________________________________

D'ya still hate me? 😀

Anyway- Nice reunion scene in my opinion.

I know it's not long but if you complain then I will legit show you how many fucks I give, Oh wait, I don't have any. _____________________________ Drop a vote, drink some water, eat some food, take screen breaks and remember You Are Loved! ^ - ^

[thestarkerisobvious]

The Thing That Lives Under The Bed

   art by @starker-sorbet​          a snugglefic for @mrstarksbaby​                   

                              Chapter Two:  Fifteen

3:  The Author Of All Your Misery

The next night he was back on the floor, of course.  Tony spoke to him from the blackness underneath the bed and soon was emerging from the darkness like an inkblack cloud.  Peter steadfastly closed his eyes until he looked like Tony again, and then Tony was beside him on the floor, clutching Peter’s arm with both hands like a drowning man and sucking vigorously at the veins on his wrist.

From there they crept into Peter’s bed, moving under the covers and keeping their foreheads together, whispering.  Peter lay on Tony’s left, leaving his right arm lying between them to give Tony better access to the ring finger on his left hand.  Sometimes Tony sucked the last two fingers into his mouth, sometimes he only suckled at the fingertip.  It gave Peter a very strange feeling, but he was getting used to it.

“Are you really a demon?”

 Peter asked when he was brave enough.

Tony looked into his eyes for a moment before he answered. “’Spheres’ are now called ‘stars’ and ‘planets.’  The ‘sun’ is now called ‘star’.  The college is now called “High School.”  I do not yet know what I am called now.  

“My novice magician,” he said gently, stroking Peter’s lips with the tips of his fingers.  “You have yet to tell me.”

“I told you I am not a magician.”

Tony smiled wryly.  “You also told me of the alchemy you used compel your make-seem volcano to erupt for a scholar’s prize, but lost the prize because your volcano erupted too violently and created a catastrophe…”  

“That was not… that was just science… that was so embarrassing.  You can drink all of that embarrassment. I don’t want to remember it.”

Peter turned in Tony’s arms, pressing his back to Tony’s chest, and was silent for a moment, thinking.  Tony’s hand played idly with the sleeve of Peter’s pajamas, sometimes slipping beneath it, and did not speak.

Peter had spent the day searching his memories, and then his journal, for the story Tony had told of a classmate named Wager.  Peter knew one boy named Martin Wagner, but he was one year older and never really talked to Peter.  And Peter couldn’t remember the last time he was told he couldn’t make a long distance phone call was too expensive – he was allowed one half-hour phone call a month to Ned as part of his allowance.

But in his pile of letters to and from Ned he found it.  He spent hours rereading the letters that Ned had written to him, and the copies of letters he had written to Ned.  And there it was.  Buried in the reports of the students at Devil’s Hollow High, including every student in Peter’s grade (there weren’t many.  Ned was fascinated at the idea of knowing the name of EVERY student in your grade.)  A description of Martin Wagner was there too, even though he was in a grade above.  The memories were there – the memories that no longer resided in Peter’s brain.  

Martin, the older boy who had been to Peter’s favorite museum in New York City and brought the postcard he had bought there for Peter to see.

Martin, who was in the 4H but knew plenty of science when it came to animal husbandry, and thus just enough to hold a decent conversation.

Martin who “said crude things about girls” but also was good for a lengthy conversation/argument about what MIGHT happen in the last Star Wars movie.

Peter pieced the rest together from what little facts stood out in his memory.  Martin was coming over to spend the night.  Peter was excited because he hadn’t had a sleepover since New York City. The phone ringing and Uncle Ben being told that Martin wasn’t coming, Martin’s father giving the flimsiest of excuses.  Uncle Ben swearing and stomping (a horror in itself, Uncle Ben rarely swore) and ranting about the ignorant, superstitious people of the town.  “They really give credit to those tall tales about Evan Post and that witch nonsense?  We live in a farmhouse, not a ghost story.”

Peter, slipping in quietly (timid because there were raised voices in that room, he was always timid around raised voices) and meekly asking if he could just call Ned on the phone instead, but being told that wasn’t possible. “You know long distance is too damn expensive.”

Had Peter cried?  Had he talked back, or actually raised his voice?  Had he scolded Ben and May for moving him away from New York City, away from all his friends (and all the decent libraries!) and a school with an actual science club?  Away to a notorious haunted-house that made him a pariah at school?  

Had the damn broke?  Had he actually yelled at them, finally after bottling up his feelings in silence for so long?  Something must have happened, because he was sent to his room so very rarely.  He had thrown himself on the floor by the bed and cried, he remembered that.  He remembered it, because he remembered the Thing That Lived Under The Bed had come and licked away his tears.

It was too alarming to watch as it emerged from under the bed, so Peter had closed his eyes.  The tongue that licked his face clean was small and sandpapery, and Peter quickly concluded that one of the cats had actually come inside and hidden under his bed with Tony. A cat that smelled of burned incense and earth.

He remembered that cat-tongue against the pulse in his wrist, too, although he couldn’t remember putting his entire hand under the bed.  It licked against his wrist for so long, he remembered, waking up and falling asleep again while he lay on the floor.  May had found him the next day, asleep with one hand under the bed.

That much he remembered.  That much was clear.  What came before?  was impossible to tell.  Each memory felt like something pretend, like a book he had read a long time ago and never really believed.  Tony claimed he had been punished by being “sent to his room” which meant he must have said something wrong to his Aunt and Uncle, but he couldn’t tell what was memory and what was imagination.  He didn’t remember a single conversation with Martin.  

Tony had taken it all.

“I am the author of all your misery,” Tony murmured, combing his long fingers through Peter’s hair.

“No, not really,” Peter assured him, thinking of all the reasons he had been so miserable since moving from New York City to Devil’s Hollow.  It wasn’t Tony’s fault Peter read so fast, or that the library in this town was so small, or that the librarian was so hateful.  It wasn’t his fault Peter only wanted to talk about theoretical physics or science fiction and now lived in a town where neither seemed to matter.  It wasn’t Tony’s fault the boys at school wanted nothing to do with him, any more than it was Peter’s fault he didn’t know a lot of dirty jokes and didn’t enjoy passing around stolen Playboys behind the school.

Tony propped himself up on ones elbow and began stroking Peter’s face with gentle fingertips.

“Your schoolmates shun you because of me.”

“No, they do that because they think I live in a haunted house.”

Tony used two fingers to turn Peter’s head toward him, looking into his face.

“You do live in a haunted house, Peter.  I am haunting it.  I am the author of your sorrows.”

“So… it’s true?  But… are you a ghost?” Peter said, turning around again.  He rested one hand on Tony’s forearm, feeling the muscle through the fabric of his billowy white shirt.  It seemed very thin, certainly it was thinner than Peter’s arm, but it was thicker than it had been the night before, in the dream.   In the dream, there had been nothing but skin and bone.

“Are you dead?”

“I am not dead,” Tony answered, caressing Peter’s arms as well. “I do not die.  I sleep.  I can sleep for a very long time.”  

“You’re not Evan Post?”

“Evan Post is dead.”

“Was he a witch?”

“No.”

“What was he?”

“He was a nothing,” Tony said as he stroked a lock of Peter’s hair behind one ear, then stroked it again to keep it in place.  They lay very close together, forehead to forehead as he spoke. Sometimes Peter reached out to stroke Tony’s chin, running his fingertips against the short-cropped beard.

He still wasn’t brave enough to do more.

“His forefathers had been apprentices of low rank in an order that has no name.  That order had stolen books from another order.  There were many books, Hector Post had only taught his son to read one. Of that book, Evan Post could read little.  The Patriarch of the Post clan had summoned me.  I was tasked to take messages to the city, when it was called New Amsterdam.  But it is difficult to recall.  I was sent into the ground to sleep for long periods of time. “

“Wait, there are books about you?  Where are they?”

“They are burned.  The staff that he said did give the Patriarch power, he bade me drown in the lake.  I cannot retrieve it.  I am forbidden.”

“Is it true, the story of the dead pigs?”

Tony gave a crooked smile.  “Evan Post despised his neighbors.  Sent me to destroy their swine.  I was to devour them.  I was hungry enough of the first night.  And on the second.  But on the third I was too sated and could eat no more.  Too many carcasses.  I could not consume the bodies. I tried to tell him.  He would never listen.”

Peter swallowed hard and thought carefully before asking the next question.

“Tony, did… did Mr. Post task to you to kill his neighbors?”

Tony’s eyes had drifted closed as he told the story of the swine, but they opened slowly when Peter whispered his question.

Tony sat up a little on his elbow, reached out and combed his fingers through Peter’s hair again, then ran one firm hand down Peter’s spine until it rested in the small of his back.  He used that hand to move Peter forward slightly, bringing their mouths close together.

“Why do you ask me questions that vex you?”

“Did you?”

“Should I answer you, and bring you pain?”

“Does that mean you did?”

Gently Tony brought the fingers of Peter’s left hand to his mouth and kissed the tips softly, as if kissing them goodbye.  He opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and closed it again.

Then he nodded.

“How many?” Peter asked, his voice breaking.

“Eight.  Nine. Maybe a dozen.  I do not recall.  Oh sweet one…”

Tony reached for him as Peter pulled away, but then let go.  As Peter curled into a tight ball under the sheets Tony only stroked Peter’s shoulder blade with his knuckles and waited.

“How?” Peter managed through his tears.  He had decided when they first moved to the house that Evan Post had been a good person after all, just a very lucky many who also liked living by himself.  The prettiest parts of the house had been built by Evan Post, or so they had been told, including the beautiful massive dining room table that Aunt May loved so much, and the chest of drawers in her room.  Evan Post had built the large empty barn where Peter had spent so much time reading and watching the barn owls.  The dead man had become like an invisible friend in Peter’s imagination.  He didn’t want to know that his invisible friend had been a murderer.  

“And now I am the author of more pain,” Tony whispered, leaning over to kiss Peter on the shoulder.  “Please ask me no more.”

“Just tell me.”

As Tony told the story Peter couldn’t help himself.  He missed Tony’s arms the moment he left them.  Slowly he pushed himself back, inch by inch, until he was back in Tony’s embrace again.  He pulled Tony’s arms around him and played with the long, pail, tapered fingers as the man spoke.  

“Evan Post despised other people.  All people.  He left his home so rarely.  When he went into the village he was filled with hate and loathing and mortal terror. He would return here and I would drink it all from him.  Then he would forget all his fear of people and behold!  Off he would venture into the village again!  More for me to feast upon.

“But more than once he would remember his hatred for his fellow man and send me out to slay them.  Some had scorned him, others had mocked him.  Some simply enraged him because they insisted on engaging him in conversation.  One old biddie and merely asked him when he would marry.  He despised all humankind.  I was sent into their beds so that they would not rise again.”

Peter scrubbed the tears away from his face.  He knew it was ridiculous to mourn these people who would have been long-dead anyway.  Aunt May had explained what had happened in Devil’s Hollow when Evan Post had lived there. But World War 1 had just ended, and many people died in their homes, especially in the winter.  It was just that way back then.

“I have caused you so many sorrows.  Let me take them from you, I can make you forget.”  Tony said, nuzzling his ear.  He reached for Peter’s arm, pulling Peter’s wrist to his mouth, but Peter snatched it away.

“No.  No, I’m not going to forget this.  It’s important that I remember this.  It’s important to remember that it’s wrong.  It’s wrong to kill people, Tony.  You can never do it again.”

“Very well,” Tony said calmly.  He did not react to Peter’s sudden movement, nor the order Peter had hissed at him.  He settled his head back against the pillow and held Peter close.  He didn’t seem particularly concerned at all.

“Did Ev… did Mr. Post make you do other bad things?”

“My tender-hearted scholar.  He bade me kill the venomous snakes.  I devoured them by the score, convinced those I could not eat to dwell in other places. There were wolves in those days, though very few.  I was tasked to guard the animals.  Will you weep for the wolves and the serpents, too, sweet one?

“I’ll try not to.  Did Mr. Post know you were a demon?”

“The books he burned called me a demon.  Although his grandfather’s brother insisted I was a pagan god.  I enjoyed him.  The neighbors, when there were neighbors, called me Fae.  They left me milk and bread at the crossroads on their holy days. Evan’s grandmother called me the muse.  In New Amsterdam there were still natives at times, the Delaware, the Mohawk.  They called me Wendigo, when I was still allowed to consume the deer of the forest. But when the natives told stories of me, I was confined to the farm.”  

“Are you still keeping the rattlesnakes away?”

“I have not been tasked to in some time.  I convinced many generations of snakes to dwell elsewhere.  It seems they still remember.  Would you like them to return?  They are quite tasty.”

“No thanks.  Did you poison the wells?”

“I was never tasked to.  But I could tell him pure water from ill.  I protected the buildings from lightening.  I built many things for him.  He would build furniture but grow tired of it, and I was tasked to finish it.  He enjoyed building large things, I was left with the fine work.  Most often I was tasked to bring him news from the village so he need not venture there.  

“I protected the land, the pond and the forest beyond it.  I was given that task by his grandfather.  

“But as the years passed he created so very little.  Enjoyed very little.  There was so little to eat.  When I begged him to feed me he sent me into the forest to eat, or else cast me into the ground until he needed me again.  He lived for one hundred and twenty years.  Then when he died he burned his books and tried to cast me out.”  

Tony chuckled.  “But how does he cast without his spellbook?  His foolishness was always his undoing.  He tried to banish me back into the infernal realms, but why should I return there?  I have dwelt in the realms of men for so long.  I fought him.  He was unskilled.  He tried cast me into darkness, and so I sought out the darkness under the bed. He had no power to cast me further. It thought I had bested him.

“But then he was gone, and no one else came.  I could not consume his body, I had been forbidden.  No other magicians inherited me. I was all alone. I could not cast myself back to the infernal realms, and soon I was too weak to leave the darkness under the bed. I was trapped.

“Others came.  I made them fear.  I drank their fear.  But I could not touch them, so I could not take it all, not enough to make them forget what made them afraid.  They would become too afraid, and then I would be left alone again.  Time and time again it happened.  Unable to leave from under the bed I could not even venture into the forest to eat, only consume what poor fair found its way into the house. I feared I would be trapped forever.

“But Evan Post left a house that men would covet for generations.  Like a gingerbread house, drawing in little children for the witch to consume,” he said with a grin, kissing the side of Peter’s face.  “Wealthy men came to inspect it, I fed from their dreams of a quiet life of contemplation. Women would come to praise the art of the wainscoting, the furniture.  I fed from their admiration.  Workers would come, I would frighten them, then feed from their fear.  Wealthy families came to dwell here.  They were happy.  I could have fed from their happiness and left them plenty to spare. They had animals, I could have found enough strength to creep out on stormy nights and feed from them.  But I had feasted on fear for far too long.  I wanted nothing else.  I was so greedy.  I made them fear.  Frightening sounds, frightening words, frightening dreams.  So much fear to consume.  Then frightening images as well!  So much horror, so much terror to feast upon.  I made them fear too much.  Too many feasts.  They became too afraid, and so they left me.  My greed was my undoing.  I was left alone.  I cannot say for how long.  I have forgotten so much.  

“Then you came.”

He used one firm hand to pull at Peter’s arm until Peter turned in his arms.  Tony tilted Peter’s chin up with one crooked finger and brought their mouths close, and Peter found himself unable to look away from those dark eyes.

“You came, and I thought you would surely starve me.  You had no fear.  But you had a light the which I had not tasted since I was summoned to New Amsterdam.  Not since Simeon the Elder have I tasted so many questions.  My library-pilgrim.  My novice magician.  My Master Doctor.”

“I told you, Tony,” Peter whispered, suddenly nervous with Tony’s mouth so close to his own.  “I’m don’t have a Masters OR a Doctorate.  I’m still in high school.”  

“You know more now about the heaven above than any Master Doctor I ever served.  My scholar.”

“Tony…”    Peter’s mouth had gone completely dry, but the question burning in his brain was too big to ignore, so he dared himself to ask it out loud.

“Did you… drink my tears that night?”

“Of course, it is a form of your light.”

“And if you did drink by blood, literally, would that also be light?”

“No, that would be substance, and it would harm you.  But the sweat that forms at your brow,” he said gently, kissing Peter’s forehead again.   “If it were from fear or frustration, it would be light.”

“So… you’re saying that body fluids…”

He blushed and ducked his head.  Turned out he wasn’t brave enough to ask the question after all.

Tender tapered fingers lifted his chin and Tony leaned in to press their lips together, lapping gently into Peter’s mouth with the tip of his tongue.

He pulled away for a moment and Peter looked up into his face. Shyly, he smiled.  Tony smiled as well and repeated the action.  Peter stayed very still and let it happen, with one hand firmly gripping Tony’s shoulder, keeping him in place.  

Finally the action became too wet and Peter had to pull away, giggling as he scrubbed his face dry with his sleeves.  “Eww… that was worse than sucking on my fingers.”

Tony grinned and pulled him closer, holding him in strong arms until he fell asleep.

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

The Master (Post)

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ONE MORE - THE END OF CHAPTER TWO - TOMORROW

Questions, comments and constructive crit should be addressed to @witchwayisright​ where the story is being discussed.  

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MY FEELS:

@starkerprince – @starkeristheendgame – @dizziestofdaydreams – @twokinkybeans – @flush-styx – @silentsunplays​ – @statansterio -- @fleet-of-ships​ -- @castiruth​ -- @statansterio  -- @starkerthanreality​

If you would like to be added to the dinner menu please send me a note.  This list is being updated constantly.  Tony may need to be conjured to make all these links work.

[sortingabosincebirth]

Ooh i have some prompts for like rps but ill put those in as ideas!

[GHOST JAMES X CHOSTHUNTER Y/C, TW FOR HAUNTING, NEVER MET BEFORE!!!]

James was swaying along the chilly night, wondering who he should have some fun with. He always got laughs out of misplacing items and to see the still livings reactions were always hilarious. He had never messed with a ghost hunter though, whenever they came to his victim's house he would run off and make them look like paranoid idiots. He saw a house, someone's light on in there bedroom and he saw they were absolutely beautiful. He decided that was going to be the new victim. He ran through his wall, going to his invisible form as he sat on the bed, watching the person.

AN: So 1. I made the writing you gave me the first paragraph and I tried to match your style but I think I just sort of gave up halfway, lol. 2. I don’t know what James’ looks like so I avoided that. 3. The only lore I know comes from Supernatural and things that came out of my butt so forgive me and 4. It didn’t really end up as a haunting but I still hope you enjoy it. :)

James was swaying along the chilly night, wondering who he should have some fun with. He always got laughs out of misplacing items and to see the still livings reactions were always hilarious. He had never messed with a ghost hunter though, whenever they came to his victim's house he would run off and make them look like paranoid idiots. He saw a house, someone's light on in their bedroom and he saw they were absolutely beautiful. He decided that was going to be the new victim. He ran through his wall, going to his invisible form as he sat on the bed, watching the person.

The person sat at his desk and wrote something in his journal. He had dark curly hair up in a tiny bun. His skin was a brown chocolate color and his large round glasses concealed freckles along his cheeks but his eyes were the most striking part, a bright blue as icy as James himself. James had learned to conceal his temperature if he wanted to so he didn’t give himself away, but for a moment he forgot. The person looked up sharply. He set down his pen and rose from his chair, leaned over and opened his desk drawer. He pulled out a container of salt and started lining the door. James’ only coherent thought was ‘oh shoot’ and he bolted out through the window, finding himself on the lawn of the house. The house of a ghosthunter.

James began to pace, talking to himself. “This is bad. This is stupid. I should leave.” He positioned himself to fly away but he hesitated. If he left now, he might not ever see the man again. The image of his bright blue eyes came to James. ‘Maybe,’ he thought, ‘if I’m really sneaky about it I could still watch him some more.’

Then there came a sudden flash of light, and James disappeared from the lawn.

James opened his eyes to a familiar room. The dresser still had the man’s journal on it but it had been closed. There were salt lines along the base of the door, the windows, and even the walls. James looked down and saw the lines of chalk encircling him, the sigils spelling out a binding spell, super effective because his name was written in it to hold him. James knew he was trapped. The hunter was sitting on the chair, fiddling with his pen.

“So, you’re James, right?” The man’s voice was smooth and controlled, albeit a little higher pitched than James’ was expecting.

“How do you know my name?”

He doesn’t look up at the trapped ghost, still playing with his pen. “I did research. A name can do a lot in the ghost world. It’s the only identifier left after time has wiped everything else away.”

“Very poetic.” James snarked.

“Thank you, I’ve been practicing.” He said casually, like he forgot who he was talking to for a second. He finally looks up and his cheeks light up, probably from embarrassment. “I mean, uh…” His face only got redder and James couldn’t help but double over cackling.

Shepard was watching the ghost he trapped laugh at him. He wanted to retort with something clever like, ‘I’m the one who should be laughing at you’ or ‘you think your position’s funny?’ but he found himself preoccupied. This ghost was… very attractive. He’d dealt with ghosts enough to know they don’t always look very nice. Sometimes they still displayed on their bodies the more gruesome ways to die, like decapitation. That case still gave him nightmares. But this one looked so… human. If it weren’t for the chill in the air or his transparent nature Shepard would have thought he’d made a summoning mistake. The ghost, James, was still laughing at him.

“I’m not that funny.” He muttered indignantly.

James snorted and his laughter petered off. “Yeah, you kind of are.”

Shepard changed the subject. “You are still trapped, you know?”

“Yes, Mr. Pretty Eyes, I’m still not happy about that.”

“… You think my eyes are pretty?” Shepard reached up to touch his face and bumped his glasses with his fingers.

James watched him readjust his glasses. The hunter looked self-conscious. James didn’t associate with hunters, that was just ghostly common sense; but against his better judgment he found himself asking. “What’s your name?”

The man, against his better judgment, replied. “Shepard.”

[hsmtmts-fangir1]

Written In The Stars (Aidan Peters x Reader)

Masterlist / Prompts

Request Is Welcome

Anonymous request: could you do an aiden peters fic where the reader is harley's twin sister, and just when harley declares aiden is on the 'dead to diaz' list, the reader just starts to realize she has a thing for aiden. you can choose what happens in the end xoxo

Ever since Aidan moved next door to Diaz’s family. He was a pain in Harley’s butt. First, he was rude when they first met by throwing a ball into the girls’ room without apologizing. Then he went and ruined Harley’s camp. After that, he went to the same school as Diaz’s kids and pushed Harley to a meltdown with the whole school to hearing over the PA. He was officially put in the Dead to the Diaz by Ethan.

This whole time, Y/N never really made contact with him. She could see why Harley does not like him but she knows her twin. She could be pushy. Y/N has always been the girl to see both sides. It was helpful when the kids would fight. They would go to her mostly.  

“Alright kids time to bed. Let’s go!” Mom yelled, gesturing them to go up to their beds. Everyone went upstairs beside Y/N. “Mom, since it’s not a school night, can I go to the backyard. You know that I like to stare at the stars and write.” Y/N asked, putting her pouting face.  

Unlike her twin Harley, Y/N likes to stare at the stars and write stories or poems, anything really that comes to mind. “Fine but don’t stay out there too late okay?” She agree smiling, nodding. “Thank you” Y/N cheer and kiss her mom. She grabs her backpack and goes outside. She quickly sat down on the grass. She looked up and stared at the stars.

“You know you look creepy right?” Y/N heard a voice from the fence door. She quickly looked back and saw Aidan. Once Aidan saw that it was Y/N and not Harley, he quickly spoke up. “Sorry I thought you were your sister. You exactly like her from behind. ” “It’s fine. She is my twin.” Y/N shrugged and looked up at the stars again. “Do you mind if I join you?” Adian asked. “Go for it.” Y/N nodded. Aidan sat down next to her and stared at the stars too. “I don’t get it. Why are you staring at the stars?” Aidan asked looking at Y/N. “I like to look at the stars and write.” Y/N answer not breaking her stare at the stars. “I’m still not following.” Aidan question. “I feel like they tell me what to write.” Y/N spoke looking at the journal in her lap. “So they talk to you.” Aidan jokes “Kinda, I guess the easy way to explain is people sometimes look at the stars and make wishes right. So, they have a story as to why they wish what they wished for. I look at stars and I suddenly feel like there is a story written in the stars.” Y/N explain finally looking at Aidan. “So you write stories. Their stories.” Aidan asked. “Sometimes I write poems too.” Y/N shrugged. “Okay, now you don’t sound like a crazy person that thinks that the stars talk to her.” Aidan nodded.  “You’re funny.” Y/N looks at Aidan then back to her journal. They sat in silence for a while until Aidan broke the silence.  “You know, I’m kinda surprised. “Why,” Y/N asked, not looking up. “That you’re talking to me since I’m in the famous Dead to Diaz list. Your brother won’t talk to me. He is afraid of your twin.” Aidan explains, leaning on his hands. “Well if you must know. That list doesn’t mean anything to me and they know it. “ Y/N looked at Aidan once she was done writing. Aidan just stared at her for a while in shock.  “Did you write a story or a poem?” Aidan asked, looking at the paper in her lap. “A poem.” Y/N answer. “Can I read it?” Aidan asked. Y/N hand over the journal to Aidan.

Somewhere I heard that it’s best to write about something you’ve already experienced. So I wonder do books count? What about movies? And songs? Let’s not forget all those beautiful poems I’ve read. Do I have to live through it to call it an experience? Or is it enough to just feel it?

“Wow, that’s pretty good,” Aidan said, giving it back to Y/N. “Thanks,” Y/N said. “I know that this might be really weak to say but I don’t have a lot of friends around here actually I have none. You’re pretty chill. Do you want to be friends?” Aidan asked nervously. “Sure.” Y/N answer nodding. “I should get inside before my mom comes and takes me. I’m sure that tomorrow night, I will be here writing again. You know if you want to hang out.” Y/N stood up, making Aidan mock her actions. “Sure, I will see you tomorrow,” Aidan said smiling.

Once Y/N got into her shared room, she came face to face with Harley and Georgie. “We saw you hanging out with Aidan. “ Georgie spoke first. “Congrats on having sight.” Y/N rolled her eyes and sat on her bed. “Why were you talking to him? He’s on the Dead to Diaz list.” Harley asked like she had lost her mind. “One, that list doesn’t apply to me because you know what I feel about it. Two, he’s pretty chill when he’s not throwing balls against our fence.” Y/N listed off. “He’s a jerk.” Georgie throws her hands up. “Is he? Right now, he looked pretty simple and not a jerk. Look I won’t bring him over the house so you don’t have to see him. You’re happy?” Y/N spoke looking at Harley and Georgie, who looked at each other and nodded.

The next night, Y/N and Aidan found themselves inside the playground, talking and Y/N writing. It went on like that for weeks to come. At night, they would hang out in the backyard. Sometimes during the day, Y/N would go over and hang in the Peter’s yard in order that Harley and Aidan don’t come face to face.Y/N would go to his games and cheer him on. As they hanged out more, Aidan found himself, having a crush on Y/N.  He would stare at how she would sometimes jump in place when she writes as she stares at the stars like she’s happy or excited at what she wrote. Then once she was done, she quickly handed it to him. He was blown away at her writings. She took pride in them. Even when they won’t talk, he felt calm and understood by her. Sometimes Aidan would talk to her about his problems and Y/N listens to him. For once, he felt understood and not alone.  

“Why didn’t you bring your notebook to write. “ Aidan asked once he saw that Y/N didn’t have it in her hands as they entered the playground. “I just thought we could talk.” Y/N explains shrugging. “Okay then,” Aidan nods and plays with his hands. “Also there are no stars out tonight.” Y/N confessed pouting making Aidan chucked at her cuteness. “They must have nothing to tell,” Aidan said smiling at Y/N. “Maybe.” Y/N agreed, nodding.  They stayed silent for a while just hearing everything around them. “Thank you,” Aidan spoke looking at Y/N. “For what?” Y/N asked. “For being my friend,” Aidan confessed, making Y/N blush with the look in Aidan’s eyes.  Y/N also had a crush on Aidan. “Well, you make it easy and enjoyable being your friend.” Y/N said smiling. They just stared at each other. Slowly they felt themselves leaning into each other. They didn’t stop until their lips touched. They smile and touch foreheads. “I was kinda hoping we could be more than friends after that,” Aidan said. “I don’t see why not.” Y/N said smiling. They stayed outside holding hands for a while until Y/N knew that she was pushing it.  “I will see you tomorrow,” Aidan questioned nervously. “Tomorrow.” Y/N confirmed.

[aion-rsa]

Superman & Lois Episode 3 Review: The Perks of Not Being a Wallflower

https://ift.tt/3rzwEKz

This Superman & Lois review contains spoilers.

Superman and Lois Episode 3

“Morrissey’s a xenophobic has-been.”

This one line, delivered with deadpan perfection by Alex Garfin’s Jordan Kent pretty much sums up why Superman & Lois episode 3 is so good. Wait, really? Yes, stay with me for a minute…

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I loved the first two episodes of Superman & Lois. There’s no question about that. But there was a very slight nagging feeling in the back of my mind, that maybe this show was going to be a little too serious for its own good. That maybe in the process of making Jonathan and Jordan Kent as believable as possible, and as “relatable” (god, I hate that word) to young audiences as they needed to be, that the show would end up trying just a little too hard, get a little more wrapped up in its “family drama, but with Superman” high concept than it strictly needed to, and maybe forget to lighten up every now and then. I could excuse it in those first two episodes, which play like one feature length pilot when watched together, and which had a lot of work to do to get us to buy this very different take on the Man of Steel, but I wasn’t sure if the tone would sustain over a longer stretch of episodes.

And then along comes “The Perks of Not Being a Wallflower” to put those fears at ease. To be absolutely clear, this is absolutely not a drastic change in tone from what has come before. But now that we’ve gotten to know the Kents and their neighbors and classmates, and that the Smallville setting feels very much like the natural setting of the show, there’s a little more fun to be had. No, this isn’t suddenly The Flash and STAR Labs with a team of folks cracking wise at every opportunity, and it’s certainly not my beloved Legends of Tomorrow, but the humor is here, it’s subtle, and it works at every opportunity.

The opening scene with the family trying to paint the old Kent home is a charmer, a moment broken by Clark hearing a bridge collapsing in China which he speeds off to save. It’s another near-cinematic action sequence for this show, but the special effects aren’t really what sell this scene, it’s the moment of terror to relief to pure joy of a single fisherman as he realizes he’s witnessing Superman hold up a bridge…and Superman’s wordless interaction with him is equally joyful. This is something that simply hasn’t been done in live action interpretations of Superman since the Christopher Reeve years, and I honestly rank those few seconds with Supes and the fisherman as one of the best screen moments in the character’s history.

This episode is full of moments like that, even though Tyler Hoechlin once again spends most of his screentime as Clark rather than Superman. But even there, this is certainly Hoechlin’s finest performance as the character so far, bouncing effortlessly between Man of Steel to “Clark the superpowered dad dealing with problems new even to him” to “Clark who has to act like there’s nothing special about him.”

I worry slightly that Elizabeth Tulloch’s Lois Lane still doesn’t quite have enough to do as they build her Morgan Edge investigation through the Smallville Gazette. In every other aspect, moving the family to Smallville has worked, particular in regards to exploring completely new facets of the Clark/Superman dynamic, but Lois so far feels a little out of place. On the other hand, I should probably be thankful that they aren’t trying to “do a journalism” the way it’s so often been portrayed on Supergirl or The Flash, and maybe the slow burn is the more prudent move here. Anyway, it doesn’t change the fact that Tulloch is a delight in every scene, and she is quickly becoming the definitive screen Lois for me.

But the real highlights for this episode come in the form of Jonathan and Jordan, the two characters I was most skeptical about going into this show. I’ll confess, despite some terrific comics by the likes of Peter Tomasi, Patrick Gleason, Dan Jurgens, Brian Michael Bendis, Ivan Reis, and others in recent years, I’ve never been the biggest fan of the “Superman as dad” concept. I tend to like my Superman stories a little more unencumbered (or some might say traditional, but whatever). But Jordan Elsass’ Jonathan and Alex Garfin’s Jordan are just so darn likeable, and the story being written for them so compelling, that I can’t really complain.

The idea that Jordan would try out for the football team despite his burgeoning powers seems a ridiculous one, and I honestly thought that sequence was going to be revealed as a daydream (similar to Clark’s in the first episode of Smallville). But it’s real, and it doesn’t go quite where I thought it would. Jordan excels at football…as it turns out, he’s a bit more powered up than Jor-El suspected last episode. You’d naturally expect this to lead to friction with Jonathan, who has yet to get the hang of his new team, and for a brief period it does, but then the show does something unexpected.

This isn’t about football going to Jordan’s head or even about him “getting even” with the guys who have been bullying him. Instead, it’s the first time he’s felt part of something. After absolutely leveling Sarah Cushing’s boyfriend (well…ex-boyfriend now) on the field, he offers his hand and apologizes for that awkward kiss at the Shuster Mines. Jonathan, meanwhile, sees the good the team is doing for his brother and advocates for him with a Clark who is understandably annoyed that his son is using his powers to gain an advantage on the football field.

Read more

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Superman & Lois: Behind the Scenes of The New DC TV Show

By Mike Cecchini

I know, I know, this all sounds far weightier than the Morrissey joke I quoted at the start of this, but it all unfolds with a little charm, and some surprisingly light touches here and there. Jonathan and Jordan reacting to an incredibly awkward moment with Sarah and Lana, Clark overdoing his “dorky, eager dad” routine, and other little touches just make this feel like the show is settling into a rhythm with these characters and getting more comfortable being playful.

It’s perhaps a little worrisome that Wolé  Parks’ mysterious Captain Luthor is nowhere to be seen this episode, with the only superhuman punch-up coming in the form of guest star Daniel Cudmore’s mysterious, nameless goon who makes the mistake of trying to take out Lois during her investigation. That leads to a really sharp (but quick) punch-up between him and Superman, with a terrific sequence where Superman freezes him with super-breath before delivering a perfect uppercut that would look right at home in a comic panel. If this show continues to work out creative ways to use Superman’s powers the way they have with Barry on The Flash, I think we’re gonna have some real fun in the coming episodes.

But then there’s that ending. As Lois asks, why DOES Morgan Edge have someone with super powers working for him? More than one, apparently, as Cudmore’s mysterious baddie is vaporized by a woman with heat vision named…Larr. So far, the formula for Superman & Lois seems to be to give us a family drama heavy episode, punctuated by moments of cinematic action, and then to close with a mind-bendingly cool reveal. Well, if they insist, who am I to argue?

Metropolis Mailbag

There’s not a ton of DC or Superman Easter eggs this episode, so I don’t think it’s necessarily worth its own post. But, here’s what I’ve got…

The bridge collapse scene does faintly call to mind Superman saving the Golden Gate Bridge during the earthquake in Superman: The Movie.

Jonathan telling Clark that “if you’re not actually allowed to be special” etc feels like a subtle nod to teenage Clark telling Jonathan Kent in Superman: The Movie that he could excel on the football field if he wanted to, which Jonathan forbids, saying that Clark isn’t here to “show off.” But that Clark’s answer was a philosophical “is a bird showing off when he flies?”

Cudmore’s nameless character is apparently “Subjekt-11” a designation which calls to mind “Subjekt-17” an alien raised by the Soviets to make Superman’s life miserable in Kurt Busiek and Carlos Pacheco’s incredibly underrated run on the Superman comics.

Sharon Powell may not be a character from the comics, but the folks at Kryptonsite used their X-Ray vision to point out that the actress who plays her, Jill Teed, was known for portraying Maggie Sawyer on Smallville!

Tyler Hoechlin finally gets to talk a little baseball on this show. Before going into acting, he was a baseball prodigy.

It seems that’s Morgan Edge’s right hand woman, “Leslie Larr” vaporizing our mysterious baddie. The closest I can find to her is a “Lesla Larr” who was an obscure Supergirl villain. THAT version of Larr hailed from Kandor (post shrinking) and she made Supergirl’s life miserable from time to time. I don’t expect this version of the character to have too much in common with her comics counterpart, but it seems like “evil Kryptonians” are definitely gonna be a thing on this show going forward.

The post Superman & Lois Episode 3 Review: The Perks of Not Being a Wallflower appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3buqKEW

[downn-in-flames]

let’s keep it casual

this was written for a trope stew challenge on @hpfanfictalk​ - my assigned tropes were 1) roaring rampage of revenge, 2) snowball lie, 3) friends with benefits, 4) it's personal, and 5) mistaken for betrayal. somehow, i think i managed to squish them all in here :P

read it on: hpft | ao3

[Tuesday 10 May, 15:04]

james potter: u up?

lily evans: it’s 3pm

james potter: good observation

lily evans: you need to get more creative with your ‘hi i’m bored can you come over and fuck me’ lines

james potter: did it work though?

lily evans: be there in 15

*

[Tuesday 10 May, 16:42]

sirius black: ran into lily in the lobby a few minutes ago sirius black: tell me, when are you going to finally own up to the fact that you fancy the shit out of her and aren’t just casually fucking her with no feelings involved

james potter: hmm, but see, that would require that statement to actually be true james potter: seriously, it’s just hooking up james potter: we’ve got a good thing going, i’m not going to ruin that by catching feelings

sirius black: ~catching~ feelings? sirius black: dude sirius black: feelings have long since been caught sirius black: by both of you

james potter: ur wrong but i’m not arguing that point with u anymore

sirius black: because your counterarguments are shit and you know it

*

[Wednesday 11 May, 20:53]

lily evans: i’m going to kill him i’m going to kill him i’m going to kill him lily evans: I’M GOING TO KILL HIM lily evans: give me ONE good reason not to commit murder right now

james potter: you can’t fuck me if you’re in prison?

lily evans: damn you have a point there

james potter: also why are you contemplating murder, that seems extreme

lily evans: two words for you: severus fucking snape

james potter: that’s three words

lily evans: do you want me to kill you too, bud??

james potter: you can’t fuck me if i’m dead james potter: but seriously, what did that greasebag do

lily evans: remember when i beat him to checking out the last copy of that chemistry research journal from the library?

james potter: i believe you described it as ‘the most victorious day of the semester to date’

lily evans: and i stand by that lily evans: but ANYWAYS lily evans: the creepy fucker SNUCK INTO MY ROOM and STOLE IT lily evans: and had the nerve to leave me a fucking LOVE NOTE in its place

james potter: he left you a love note?? james potter: what does it say?

lily evans: that is not the part of this story you should be fixating on lily evans: he wheedled his way through the front desk security and came into my room and WENT THROUGH MY STUFF lily evans: not to mention, the damn journal is still checked out in my name lily evans: so if he doesn’t return it on time, I’M going to have to pay for it lily evans: those things are expensive as FUCK

james potter: what a fucking twat

lily evans: i just lily evans: i can’t with him lily evans: the creepiness and borderline obsession with me is one thing lily evans: the fact that he acts like i owe it to him to be in love with him is another lily evans: but straight-up violating my privacy AND sabotaging my perfect reputation with the university library?? lily evans: i’m taking him down

james potter: hell yeah, you show that fucker once and for all

lily evans: wanna be my accomplice

james potter: that’s perhaps the sexiest thing you’ve ever said james potter: ofc i will be

lily evans: will text u when i come up with the appropriate revenge scheme

*

[Thursday 12 May, 13:02]

lily evans: meet me at the library in an hour

james potter: is this part of aforementioned revenge scheme?

lily evans: obviously

james potter: i shall be there

*

[Thursday 12 May, 15:23]

james potter: okay what the fuck was that

lily evans: in my defense it was not supposed to go that far

james potter: mind telling me what you DID have in mind when telling the librarian that we’re engaged?? james potter: because i’ve been wracking my brain and i’ve got nothing

lily evans: she was supposed to give me edit access to my account to fix my last name lily evans: which she did lily evans: and thanks to my BRILLIANT computer skills from there, the journal is checked out in snape’s name instead of mine lily evans: but clearly i underestimated how close i am with the uni library staff

james potter: no shit

lily evans: anyways, what do you want on our wedding registry

james potter: what

lily evans: i’ve got to give her a wedding website link!! she asked for it, i can’t very well show up at the library next week and not have a wedding website for her lily evans: i also ordered a £5 ring on etsy lily evans: it’s huge and tacky and exactly the sort of thing a trust fund baby like u would propose with

james potter: jfc james potter: put one of those mini waffle makers on there james potter: also i’m offended that you think so poorly of my ring-picking skills

*

[Friday 13 May, 9:10]

lily evans: hi, i have a weird request

remus lupin: that’s always a concerning sentence

lily evans: can you take fake engagement photos for me and james?? lily evans: will pay you in bourbon and chocolate

remus lupin: ……. literally what the fuck, lily remus lupin: why on earth do you need fake engagement photos

lily evans: i need them for our fake wedding website

remus lupin: somehow, that still doesn’t make this make any more sense

lily evans: it’s a long story lily evans: can you though?

remus lupin: *sigh* yes

lily evans: bless u

*

[Monday 16 May, 8:57]

lily evans: thoughts?? lily evans: Attachment - 12 Images

james potter: wow james potter: those look… really good

lily evans: we actually look like an engaged couple lily evans: like….. go us lily evans: alright, time to upload these bad boys onto the website

*

[Monday 16 May, 9:12]

james potter: sirius james potter: oh dear brother of mine james potter: who is nothing but kind and supportive and never gives me shit for anything james potter: how are you this fine evening?

sirius black: spit it out

james potter: as you know, i have been pulled into the most hare-brained of schemes with none other than lily evans james potter: and it spiralled into remus taking a bunch of fake engagement photos for us this weekend

sirius black: i am well aware sirius black: you stole my boyfriend from me on what would have otherwise been a chill saturday morning and used him to take pictures in a fucking flower field

james potter: that is correct james potter: anyways james potter: it has come to my attention that we make a Very Cute Couple

sirius black: are u saying what i think ur saying

james potter: and now i feel weird because i kind of... wish they weren’t fake??

sirius black: u ARE saying it sirius black: oh my GOD sirius black: took you long enough

james potter: hey now, you agreed not to give me shit

sirius black: if you scroll up, you’ll see i never agreed to anything

james potter: i can’t believe you’re being so rude to me in my time of dire emotional distress

*

[Monday 16 May, 15:32]

remus lupin: heard you finally got your head out of your ass and admitted you like evans as more than a friend slash hookup

james potter: i’m going to kill sirius, he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone

remus lupin: he’d like you to know that he never agreed to that either remus lupin: but seriously, it was about time

james potter: :( stop making me feel like an idiot for having feelings

remus lupin: you’re not an idiot for having feelings remus lupin: you ARE an idiot for taking so long to realise you’ve had them

james potter: this is a new development james potter: i only had friendly feelings for her until yesterday

remus lupin: …… james remus lupin: you once woke up in the middle of the night to drive to that 24-hour ice cream shop on the other side of town at 3 a.m. so you could take lily her favourite milkshake while she was studying remus lupin: that is NOT something you do for someone you only have friendly feelings for

james potter: it isn’t???

remus lupin: would you do that for me or peter?

james potter: no

remus lupin: hence, not friendly feelings

james potter: … oh

remus lupin: you are useless remus lupin: absolutely useless remus lupin: truly do not know what lily sees in you

james potter: well that’s mean

*

[Monday 16 May, 16:53]

lily evans: is it sad that i keep forgetting this wedding website is fake?? lily evans: like, i am putting Way Too Much Effort into this given that it is an elaborate ruse to appease some librarians and i keep catching myself fantasising about a real wedding lily evans: literally what is wrong with me

remus lupin: jfc remus lupin: you two really ARE meant for each other

*

[Monday 16 May, 23:49]

james potter: wait what do you mean ‘what lily sees in me’?? james potter: remus?????

*

[Tuesday 17 May, 10:03]

lily evans: stage 2 of burn snape’s life to the ground begins tomorrow lily evans: are you ready?

james potter: should i be prepared for a fake marriage this time?

lily evans: haha no, i promise i won’t spring any fake relationship statuses on you this time lily evans: but now that you mention it… lily evans: check out this work of art lily evans: theknot . com / deerlybeloved

james potter: fucking hell, evans james potter: you went all out

lily evans: umm yeah lol lily evans: turns out designing a wedding website is a really fun way to procrastinate

*

[Tuesday 17 May, 10:16]

james potter: she used a deer pun in the fake wedding page name i actually can’t breathe

sirius black: the transition from complete denial to pathetic sod happened even faster than i expected

james potter: you are ruthless

sirius black: remember when i was the pathetic sod about remus and you gave me SO much shit about it?? sirius black: this is payback, bitchhhhhhh

james potter: you’re right, i deserve this

*

[Wednesday 18 May, 19:34]

james potter: truly, evans, i don’t understand why you’re studying chem when you’re this good at hacking into things james potter: in other news, i’m having the absolute fucking time of my LIFE on snape’s reddit account rn james potter: i just wrote a long essay about how i’ve learned the errors of my bigoted ways and am embracing the blm movement and intersectional feminism and i’ve never seen something get so violently downvoted so fast

lily evans: see, this is why i knew you were the right accomplice for this lily evans: keep destroying his internet reputation and trolling his weird alt-right community with all your research and logic lily evans: you’re doing amazing sweetie

james potter: studying human rights law does occasionally have its perks james potter: this, plus ya know the whole ‘making the world a better place’ thing

lily evans: i was about to say lily evans: i should hope the only perk isn’t trolling the internet

james potter: ahahahahah yessss one of the admins is threatening to kick me out james potter: also he keeps using mudblood as an insult and i’m like ??? james potter: what does that even mean??

lily evans: somehow i feel like you don’t want to know

james potter: update i found out, and yes you were right, i didn’t want to know

lily evans: in that case, not gonna ask

*

[Thursday 19 May, 17:35]

severus snape: Potter.

james potter: fuck i really thought i’d blocked your number

severus snape: You’ve pulled childish pranks in the past, but getting me banned from the Death Eaters Messageboard is a new low.

james potter: i’m sorry what james potter: i don’t know what you’re talking about

severus snape: Cut the bullshit. severus snape: In the process of reinstating my account - with none of my reputation points, might I add, thanks for that - I’ve acquired photo evidence of the posts that resulted in my expulsion. severus snape: I know no one else who would both make a play on words about deer and quote a Taylor Swift song in the same sentence. It was obviously you, you childish buffoon.

james potter: haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate

severus snape: I’m not joking around here.

james potter: baby i’m just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

severus snape: You’re going to regret this, mark my words.

james potter: i shake it off, i shake it off

james potter has blocked severus snape

*

[Thursday 19 May, 19:03]

lily evans: come over i’m bored

james potter: is this a ‘come over so we can have sex’ type of come over or a ‘come over so we can watch the good place for the hundredth time’ type of come over

lily evans: why does it have to be one or the other?

james potter: touché james potter: omw

*

[Thursday 19 May, 22:38]

james potter: RED ALERT I HAVE FUCKED UP james potter: you’re 1000% gonna roast me for this and i don’t fucking care because if i don’t tell someone i’m actually going to explode

sirius black: what happened with lily this time

james potter: bold of you to assume this has to do with lily

sirius black: does it have to do with lily?

james potter: ….. yes

sirius black: my bold assumption proven correct

james potter: anyways, we were shagging, as we do james potter: and it was the ~heat of the moment~, you know??

sirius black: i am not qualified to give you sex advice, if that’s where this is going

james potter: and i might’ve accidentally told her i loved her

sirius black: oh fuck that’s not where this was going

james potter: and now i don’t know what to doooooo

sirius black: well, what did you do after you said it?

james potter: honestly i blacked out james potter: i think i backtracked by telling her i meant that i love fucking her and then just like….. left as soon as we were done

sirius black: jesus fucking CHRIST

*

[Thursday 19 May, 22:54]

remus lupin: sirius is banging his head on the table repeatedly and given that he was texting you a few minutes ago i can only assume you said something on a whole new level of stupid

*

[Thursday 19 May, 23:01]

james potter: sirius??? james potter: help???

sirius black: i have never gone out on a date with a woman and even i can tell you that that is absolutely NOT what you do when you tell a girl you love them for the first time sirius black: you absolute knob

james potter: so what do i doooooo

sirius black: tell her the truth maybe? sirius black: the cat’s out of the bag now anyways and it’s not like you can make things any worse than you already have

james potter: but we agreed no one was going to catch feelings when we started sleeping together!! james potter: we pinky swore james potter: i can’t break a pinky swear

sirius black: ffs the fact that you two pinky swore on a sex agreement is something i’ll need to give you shit for at a totally separate time but that’s not the most pressing issue at the moment sirius black: my point stands, breaking a pinky swear is still an improvement on the current situation sirius black: just tell her the truth so you two can become that nauseatingly adorable couple and overtake me and remus as the most vomit-inducing pair in college

james potter: ughhhhh james potter: curse my blood-deprived brain for getting me into this mess

*

[Saturday 21 May, 9:37]

lily evans: phase 4 of fucking up snape’s life starts today - you ready?

james potter: uhhh yeah james potter: listen, are you okay?

lily evans: yes? why wouldn’t i be?

james potter: idk james potter: but good, that’s good

lily evans: yep, it’s good

james potter: how many phases are there to this snape plan anyways? james potter: will i get to know any of the phases in advance?

lily evans: 4 phases lily evans: phase 1 was putting the world back in its rightful order, phases 2-4 are all about destroying the things he holds most dear lily evans: see: his top 5 placement on that alt-right message board (phase 2), and his good reputation with all the chem professors (phase 3) lily evans: (i handled phase 3 on my own, btw)

james potter: fair enough, don’t know how i would’ve helped with chem professors anyways james potter: pretty sure one of them (slughorn i think?) hates me from that one time sirius and i let chickens loose in the science building

lily evans: oh god yeah he definitely probably does lily evans: anyways, phase 4 is sneaking into his room like he did to mine, and you’re gonna leave the note lily evans: he’ll be properly pissed off if he knows you got in, but he’d probably just wank to a note i left

james potter: thanks for the most cursed mental image of my life james potter: but you’re prob right tbh

lily evans: anyways, i’m pretty good at picking the locks on the dormitory windows, so i’ll go in that way and unlock his room from the inside - all you’ll need to do is show up lily evans: tonight at 7

james potter: roger that

*

[Saturday 21 May, 13:46]

remus lupin: have you talked to lily about the infamous mid-coital ‘i love you’ yet?

james potter: jfc must sirius tell you everything james potter: and no, i’m getting there i swear

remus lupin: get there faster

*

[Saturday 21 May, 22:40]

sirius black: is everything okay?? sirius black: actually wait i know the answer to that sirius black: you came in soaking wet two hours ago and grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the kitchen and have been blasting all too well at top volume ever since sirius black: everything is definitely not okay

james potter: fcuk lily evans james potter: and not in the fun way james potter: i’m never gonna fuck her in the fun way again

sirius black: what happened?

james potter: rememember how we were sabotaging snep’s life james potter: *sneep james potter: *snape james potter: turns out, she and sneep go way back james potter: motherfucker james potter: sneep is jsut his name now james potter: anyways, she set me up and betrayed me james potter: sneep knew i was gonna be there and put a booby trap on his door, and he and lily were inside LAUGHING at me

sirius black: wait what the fuck sirius black: lily would never

james potter: but she would apparently james potter: she even has pictures of them in primary school together james potter: i just james potter: fuck

sirius black: that’s actually beyond fucked up

james potter: originally this whole revenge on sneep thing was just me following along with lily’s rage james potter: but now it’s personal james potter: the lily revenge plan didn’t have a phase 5, but the james version does james potter: and i’m taking both of them dwon james potter: is it petty? yes james potter: will it actually fix th fact that evans betrayed me? no james potter: but will it make me feel better? yess james potter: and that, i think, is a valid reason james potter: will u hlep me??

sirius black: i mean, i’m always down to fuck with sneep sirius black: but uhh, maybe sleep off the alcohol first sirius black: and stop playing all too well

james potter: okye

sirius black: that was not an invitation to start playing you’re not sorry

james potter: taylor swift is th eonly person who gets my sadness right now i cant’ help it

*

[Sunday 22 May, 9:21]

lily evans: i called you like 5 times last night, why didn’t you pick up

james potter: i wasn’t aware you’d want to talk to me james potter: too busy hanging out with your bff sneep

lily evans: jfc you’re such a drama queen

james potter: excuse me

lily evans: also god no i’d never hang out with snape lily evans: sneep? lol

james potter: it was a typo that i’m making into an Official Thing james potter: you two seemed awfully cozy yesterday james potter: you know, when you betrayed me and led me straight into a trap

lily evans: ffs i didn’t betray you lily evans: if you would’ve picked up any of my calls last night, i would’ve been able to explain to you that this was all part of the plan

james potter: wait what

lily evans: i had to make you think i’d betrayed you because you can’t act for shit

james potter: why did you need me to think that

lily evans: for the real phase 4 lily evans: i’m destroying everything snape holds dear lily evans: which, yes, includes both his weird messageboard reputation and his teacher’s pet status, but you know what’s at the very top of that list? lily evans: his perpetual wank that i’m going to realise he was the perfect man for him all along lily evans: hence, i have lulled him into a false sense of believing his fantasy has finally come true so i can crush it under my heel once and for all

james potter: that is… downright diabolical

lily evans: i take revenge crusades very seriously

james potter: ok but how do i know you’re not double crossing me again?

lily evans: bc for fuck’s sake in what world would i EVER want to be with someone who treats me like a fucking prize that he’s owed for being nice to me as a kid?? lily evans: c’mon potter, you know me better than that

james potter: it felt SO REAL yesterday though

lily evans: that is because i, unlike you, am excellent at acting

james potter: why do you keep implying i’m a bad actor??

lily evans: because you are lily evans: exhibit a - you told me you loved me and then proceeded to full-on panic so hard that you gave the world’s worst cover up and ran away at the first possible moment

james potter: oh god, you noticed that

lily evans: of course i noticed that, because once again, you are the world’s worst actor

james potter: yikes james potter: i’m sorry, i know i managed to break literally the only rule we had going into this arrangement

lily evans: it’s actually kinda convenient, tbh lily evans: considering i broke it as well

james potter: you what

lily evans: as it happens, i have somewhat recently come to the realisation that my feelings for you are somewhat outside the bounds of what one would consider ~friendly~

james potter: was it the wedding website james potter: is that what did it

lily evans: embarrassingly enough…. yes

james potter: SAME

lily evans: wait seriously??

james potter: so serious i’m not even gonna make a sirius pun james potter: i mean, did you SEE how good we look together?? james potter: evans, we are a POWER COUPLE

lily evans: hell yes we are

james potter: a power couple who takes sneep down once and for all

lily evans: hell yes we are x100 lily evans: come over in a bit? gotta discuss the actual plan lily evans: i may have an idea that makes it even better

*

[Sunday 22 May, 10:21]

james potter: on second thought, plans have changed yet again

sirius black: i take it this is a positive change sirius black: given that you have now taken to blasting call it what you want

james potter: :)

*

[Sunday 22 May, 13:05]

james potter has unblocked severus snape

james potter: hey bro i just wanted to say i’m sorry for trying to sneak into your room

severus snape: You’re not my bro. Don’t call me that. severus snape: We both know you’re only apologising because you wanted to get into Lily’s pants.

james potter: not what this is about but go off i guess

severus snape: You’re just jealous because for once, the nice guy did get the girl. severus snape: Apology not accepted, by the way.

*

[Sunday 22 May, 13:13]

james potter: Attachment - 1 Screenshot james potter: at what point do i get to tell him i’ve actually been in your pants

lily evans: your time will come lily evans: but for now, stop texting sneep and put your phone down so that you can cuddle with your naked girlfriend who’s literally on the other side of the bed waiting for you

james potter: don’t have to ask me twice

*

[Sunday 22 May, 13:57]

lily evans: hey sev? wanna meet me at the founder’s garden this afternoon?

severus snape: Of course. Let’s do 4.

lily evans: looking forward to it xx

*

[Sunday 22 May, 18:59]

sirius black: heard sneep had a temper tantrum so dramatic half of the college overheard it

james potter: it was iconic

sirius black: also heard you and evans are engaged now???

james potter: ah, that part is just hearsay james potter: we decided to lean into the fact that we’ve already got a fake wedding website and just throw a fake proposal in there for good measure james potter: it’s still not an actual engagement james potter: but sneep doesn’t know that, and he never will

sirius black: that is so fantastically stupid, but then again, i don’t know why i’d expect anything less from you two at this point

james potter: i am going to buy her a less shitty ring though - not like an actual diamond one, but something in the middle ground, ya know? james potter: if she’s gonna wear it all the time it might as well be nice

*

[Sunday 22 May, 23:41]

severus snape: You are despicable. severus snape: You stole the girl who was clearly MINE. Lily loved ME first.

james potter: first of all, lily doesn’t belong to anyone james potter: second of all, she picked me

severus snape: And we all know you’re just going to drop her as soon as you get your dick wet.

james potter: not that our sex life is any of your business, but i can assure you that i have already disproven that theory

severus snape: That’s disgusting. I didn’t need to know that.

james potter: i mean, you’re the one who keeps bringing things back to getting into lily’s pants james potter: just wanted to share that the experience is indeed a pleasant one, 10/10 would recommend, not that you’ll ever get to experience it for yourself

severus snape: Fuck. You.

james potter: you know what i think, sneep?

severus snape: My name is Snape. Surely your pea brain can at least spell that properly.

james potter: i think you need to calm down james potter: you’re being too loud

james potter has blocked severus snape

*

[Monday 23 May, 12:54]

lily evans: fyi the uni library staff sent us one of those mini waffle makers as an engagement gift

james potter: oh my god james potter: best fake engagement ever

lily evans: figured you’d enjoy that

[mrsren]

👀🤓

I’ve been sitting on this since the end of July, and I’m determined to get to the end of it and post it all this year! There just aren’t enough Remus/Hermione stories out there. 

Chapter One

October 29th, 1998

Hermione exhaled, blowing her stubborn bangs from her face as she made her way through the castle. Of course, Harry and Ron wanted to leave their assignment for the last possible moment. That was so like them, wasn’t it? Though when she stopped to think about it, there was a falter in her step. 

After everything they’d been through, weren’t they owed the chance at a regular year in Hogwarts? A regular year—not that any of them had ever had one—would include procrastination when it came to assignments, Quidditch, and breaking curfew. They had done the last one quite a few times, but only when it came to underhanding a psychopath. 

She heaved another sigh. Apologies could come later, which her two friends would milk until the novelty of it wore off. A part of it was a result of her own issues, ones that could hardly be placed on their shoulders. 

It wasn’t as if Hermione had been reasonable, and just talked to them. That would have been too simple! 

Ginny passed her in the corridor with Luna’s arm looped through hers. “Hey, Hermione! We’re headed down to the pitch for a while if you want to come by later. I know it’s not as entertaining for you... “ She trailed off. “Is something wrong?”

Hermione shook her head. “Not at all. I’m going to work on a Charms assignment, but I’ll try to make my way down there soon.” She smiled. “Hi, Luna.” Ducking around the two girls before the more eccentric half could say something, well, eccentric, Hermione escaped through the nearest entrance of the library. 

There was something to be said about the way her heart pounded during the simplest interactions with the classmates she considered friends. As if there were something just below her skin, itching madly until she escaped, it was all she could do to hold a conversation or half of one. 

Shouldering her bag, Hermione made her way down the shelves, dragging her finger along the ageing spines, until she landed on the book she needed. It was a ragged copy, the spine collapsed, and the cover was about to fall off. It would completely fall apart within a few more terms, and magic wouldn’t be able to stitch it back together, she imagined. 

Carefully holding it together, she spotted a slip of parchment sticking out from the front. A student probably left their notes. She settled into the chair she always used, crossing her legs at the ankle as she opened the cover. “Mother of Merlin,” Hermione gasped. 

It was well of six hundred years old if the title page was to be believed. Surely it was the oldest tomb in the Hogwarts library, or close to it. Why wasn’t it kept in the Restricted Section for safekeeping? Madam Pince was overbearing when it came to her books…

She chanced a look at the librarian, half expecting the woman to notice the tome she held, and rip it from her hands. For some reason she didn’t understand, Hermione hated the idea, and angled herself with her back faced toward the front of the librarian. 

The spine gave a low creak, and her eyes widened. She would just need to be very careful to not damage the book anymore. As was her habit, Hermione pulled the parchment from between the dusty pages. It was curiosity that led to it. Sometimes she found meticulous notes, or other times a girl had doodled on the edges of an assignment. 

In second year, Hermione found a note that was a love letter addressed to Harry, from one Ginny Weasley, and she’d set it on fire. It wouldn’t have done anything but cause a dilemma had Harry received it. 

Hermione unfolded it, laying it on the table and flattening it with her hand. 

Do you believe in this rubbish? was written in a messy script, rivalling Harry’s. 

Yes. The reply was written in cursive, the loop of the first letter neatly looping into the second, and Hermione lingered on that. Just because you only believe in getting into a girl’s knickers and leaving doesn’t mean everyone else does, you ponce. Though the parchment was aged, it was clear that the one to write the second had been pressed down roughly, the ink bleeding furiously from their quill. 

It was interesting. 

I don’t just leave them, Moony. 

Sixth year. Prove me wrong. 

SIXTH YEAR WAS DIFFERENT. YOU SAID YOU UNDERSTOOD!! 

About that mate…. I lied. 

Hermione’s hands shot to her mouth to stifle her laugh. She wondered who the two arguing were. Moony was clearly a nickname, and one she’d heard before, but evidently, someone else had thought of it too. 

You’ve taken one or two tumbles in a broom cupboard. Don’t pretend that you’re any better than I am. 

Yes, I snogged my girlfriend—a key word missing from your vocabulary—in a broom cupboard after patrols. You wouldn’t know what those are, but when a student is very, very good, they get a shiny badge. It gives them powers to take points from you for being such a dumbarse. 

That’s shite. Where’s my shiny badge then? 

You’ve never been good in your life. 

Neither have you, shitehead. 

Yes, well, I’m better at hiding it. Just this morning, you openly flirted with McGonagall. 

She was giving me detention. Minnie loves me. 

Hermione’s eyes widened. Minnie? 

Sure she does. That’s why she gave you three detentions instead of the one. 

Hermione folded up the parchment, her lips curved into a wide smile while her shoulders shook. She set to writing her notes, fact-checking the information she’d already learned as she went. 

As she scribbled a soulmate charm can transcend time and space and it can invoke itself without a caster, Hermione neglected to notice the pages sparking below her left hand, hidden by a curtain of riotous curls. 

October 30th, 1978

“Moony…” Sirius sang. 

Remus buried his face in his pillow, covering his ears as he bent the pillow around his head. “Go away. It’s Saturday.” 

His bed dipped below a sudden weight, probably Sirius’ knee. “Wake up, you said you’d come with us today. James and Peter are already downstairs.” 

He groaned. “I don’t want to go.” 

“Are you mental? Marlene McKinnon and a bunch of other birds are doing yoga by the Great Lake. How can you not want to go?” 

Wearily, Remus lifted his head just long enough to glare at his friend. “I don’t want to watch them, Sirius. It’s a bit too creepy for my taste.” 

“Creepy?” Sirius echoed, looking aghast. 

“Lecherous, whatever,” Remus waved his hand. “Why is James going? He’s already won Lily over.” 

“Lily is also doing yoga, and we both know James isn’t going to give this chance up.” Sirius shook his shoulder. “Come on, you can have a lie-in anytime!” 

“No, I really can’t Not with you lot always waking me up for something. Leave me be.” Remus ripped the blanket over his head. “I’ll meet you later, but not before noon.” 

Sirius grumbled under his breath, calling him several colourful names, but the door swung shut moments later. 

Finally, Remus thought. He’d been running behind on sleep since the full moon and had yet to catch up. It was already difficult to drag himself through classes in the week following, but why Sirius thought he was going to tag along to watch yoga, he had no idea. 

As he was on the edge of sleep, dreams skirting around him, the bedside table seemed to be...vibrating? Remus shot up, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight. His glasses tipped over the edge as the entire table rocked back and forth. Opening the drawer warily, Remus found the book he’d checked out yesterday was glowing. 

He ought to not pick it up. It would be better to involve a professor since he didn’t know what could happen, but Remus stretched out his hand anyway. The book written on soulmates was decrepit, a few users away from disintegrating. At first glance, it didn’t appear to be particularly interesting. 

At a later glance, considering it was glowing around the edges, it might have been special. 

He picked up the book, magic pooling around his fingertips as they made contact. Remus sat crosslegged, rubbing his eyes, as he opened the book. Curiously, the parchment that held his and Sirus’ squabble had vanished. 

There was a set of notes in place of it. “What?” Remus quietly mused while he lifted it. The notes were much like the ones he had in his own bag, detailing soulmate charms, the causes, and effects. Only they hadn’t come from him. The writing was feminine, the i’s dotted neatly, and the t’s crossed with a straight line. 

He stared at the parchment for a long moment, several seconds passing as he searched it. There wasn’t a name, but he found the initials H.G. and there was a date in the upper corner of 29/10, the year left off the end. 

He’d checked the book out yesterday morning, just as the library opened. How could someone have put their notes inside of it, and taken his when it had been with him since? 

Between the next two pages, he found a short paragraph. It seemed to be a journal entry, and dread filled him as his eyes focused on one word: war. 

I’ve decided not to meet Harry and Ron at the pitch even though I know I’m acting like a coward. Something has shifted since the end of the war. They make the effort to remain friends, but I know they’ve moved forward, and I’m… I’m stuck. I remember everything, a sick replay in my head, and I can’t forget. I don’t know how they can adjust to being back at Hogwarts where everyone—

I can’t even say it to myself. I don’t know how they can stand to walk into the Great Hall. I’m not sure I’ll ever reach that point. 

Parchment was thin, light, but as he held it, he found himself with a weight that only grew heavier. The war was ongoing, current, just outside the castle walls. Remus didn’t know where all of them would go after school, but he was certain that all paths would lead to violence, one way or the other. 

She spoke as if the war were over, as if Hogwarts had been ground zero. 

Remus didn’t know why he pocketed her thoughts. They weren’t his, but he found that he was unable to help himself. Reaching for the table, he plucked a quill and scrap of parchment from inside. 

Who are you? He shut the book, trapping his words amongst the pages, and waited. 

October 31st, 1998 

Hermione stared at the note for twenty-four hours, opening the book several times throughout the day to be sure she hadn’t imagined it. Her paper was gone, and her stomach was in knots ever since. Everywhere she looked, she wondered if she was looking at the student who had nicked her words for themselves. 

Over the day, nothing happened. No one stared at her in her classes, and not one person approached her. 

“‘Mione!” Ron yelled. 

Her head snapped up and she slammed the book shut, wincing immediately at her harsh treatment of a book that was already going to fall apart. She didn’t need to speed up the process any. “What is it?” 

The corner of his mouth twitched. “You didn’t hear a thing, did you?” Ron laughed. “They’re throwing a party in Hogsmeade for Halloween.” 

She knew that, she just hadn’t planned to go. “It’s for Samhain, Ron. There will be rituals for it.” 

He’d already tuned her out, as soon as her tone switched to the one she used for academics. “Yeah, yeah. Adults will be doing that, but we’ll be up to our ears in Firewhisky in the Three Broomsticks.” 

It sounded like a time that would result in her throwing up for the majority of the next morning. “I’m not getting drunk.” She muttered, and Harry bumped her shoulder without breaking his conversation with Ginny. “I’ll come, but I’m bringing my book with me.” 

Ron sighed, but let it go since it was the only way she could be coerced into going. 

How did you get my book? I’ve had it since yesterday. 

Hermione finally swallowed her pride, unsure of what would follow, but one thing was for certain: it was a mystery, and she wanted to unravel it. The Three Broomsticks was a flurry of chaos around her, her friends clinking their tumblers together, and booze sloshing from the edges. She cast a water repelling charm to keep the book from being ruined. 

After sixty-nine agonising seconds--she had counted while the contents of her dinner rolled over in her belly--Hermione watched the paper she’d just slid against the spine vanish. Squeaking, she lifted the book, her high regard for keeping it in pristine condition slipping as she held the book by the cover and shook it. 

Nothing fell from the pages beyond dust. 

“Hermione?” Ron said from beside her, arching an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” His speech wasn’t slurred, not yet, but his breath smelled of booze. 

She swallowed. If Ron had noticed her odd behaviour, it was likely everyone else would too. “I lost my notes. I just didn’t want to rewrite them.” 

He laughed lightly. “I’m sure they’re in your dorm. Why don’t you have a drink? You’ve been on edge, haven’t you?” 

Her eyes widened. “You noticed?” Hermione breathed. 

Ron looked offended. “I know I used to have the emotional range of a teaspoon, but I’ve got at least the range of a tablespoon now.” He slung an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her. “Come on, just drink something. It doesn’t have to be firewhisky.” 

Surprising him, but mostly herself, Hermione ordered just that. She sipped it slowly, the liquid burning a path down her throat. 

She couldn’t be sure when the reply appeared because Hermione had been too busy talking, or drinking, or some combination of the two. Still yet, there was a folded piece of parchment tucked inside where hers had been. 

I ought to ask you the same thing. I checked this out days ago, and no one has had it since. Who are you? 

Hermione glanced around her. No one was watching her, too busy minding their own business to notice that while she always had her nose in a book--they thought that, but she hated that she was put into one category--this was no normal book. 

My name is Hermione. 

Then you don’t go to Hogwarts. The reply appeared instantly, and Hermione rose from the bar after downing the rest of her glass. 

“I’m going to head back to the castle.” Hermione whispered to Ron, apologetic as she interrupted his retelling of Gringotts. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He nodded. “Do you want me to walk you back, or are you okay?” 

Hermione murmured that she was fine before stealing out of the building. Off the path, she sat on a bench that was halfway to the castle, sitting cross-legged. 

Pardon? I’m currently a student here. 

What’s your house? 

Gryffindor. 

Impossible then, because there is no Hermione in Gryffindor. I would know. 

Since you’re a prefect? It seems to me that you’re slacking then. As Hermione replied, and the note vanished, a stone sunk in her stomach. She didn’t fancy herself as popular, far from it, but there wasn’t a witch or wizard in Wizarding Britain that didn’t know her name. You don’t recognise the name, Hermione Granger? 

Should I? I’m a seventh year, and I can assure you that I’ve not once heard of you. 

Seventh year. Seventh year. 

That didn’t make any sense. Hermione picked up the self-inking quill, scribbling a reply that would either force the other party to admit this was a far-fetched joke, or that--

She gulped. The other option was that she was toying with magic she didn’t understand at all. 

Have you ever heard of Harry Potter? 

Seconds turned into minutes, and Hermione thought she’d won. It was all just a juvenile prank, nothing to work herself into a tizzy over. It wasn’t as if--

The only Potter I know is James Potter. There’s his parents, Charlus, and Dorea, but. I’ll ask him if he knows a Harry. 

Her screech echoed in the trees, forcing several birds from them. She scribbled furiously, digging her quill into the parchment. DO NOT DO THAT. 

Why not? He’s right beside me. Granted, he’s pissed, but he’ll remember the names of his relatives. 

Please don’t. Hermione couldn’t breathe. Her heart pounded in her chest as something vicious twisted her stomach. Can you tell me the date? 

It’s Halloween. 

No, I mean the year. I need to know the year. Do you have a newspaper clipping you could place inside the book? 

You’re very strange. Her worst fears were confirmed as a clipping of the Daily Prophet appeared to her. She lifted it, panic clawing its way up her ribcage. 

31. 10. 1978. 

DARK FORCES GATHER IN THE WIZARDING WORLD

She vomited, the firewhisky burning her throat as she heaved in the brush. A cold sweat broke out across her forehead, her hands growing clammy. Twenty years. 

There were twenty years between the two of them. The realisation that she could be speaking to someone who was dead now weighed on her, and she glared at the book, still open on the bench she’d abandoned. 

Hermione? 

What is your name? She had to know, didn’t she? Speaking to someone from the past could have devastating consequences. What if it changed the timeline and the war they had gone through was for nothing? 

Yet she still asked, still had to know, and she didn’t look away when a familiar name landed in front of her. 

Remus. 

She slammed the book shut as if it burned. 

This wasn’t happening. 

It couldn’t be allowed to happen. 

[prettylittlelyres]

My Year in Writing (2020)

Hello and Happy New Year! I thought it might be nice to share with you all an overview of what I've written in 2020.

First of all, let me say that I haven't written nearly as much as I wanted to, but that's OK, and it's OK if the amount you've written feels or looks pretty similar. The point is, it looks some way (I daresay pretty) because you've taken up the pen and put some words on a page.

I don't want to gloss over how bad aspects of my 2020 Writing Year have disappointed me, because that would be as silly as casting a damper on the whole thing by focusing only on the trickier bits. What I'm aiming for here is a balanced review - even if it's a rather informal one - of my achievements, and my feelings about my writing this year. In the interest of balance, let's start with something GOOD!

Right at the beginning of the year - around January - I started redrafting a rather fabulously dark fantasy romance, of which you've probably seen a little bit on this blog: Songs from the Crypt Forest, which I dropped after 9,800 words, because I wanted - and needed to work on my first dedicated book, and on my Year Abroad Research Project.

I managed to write about 17,000 words of the dedicated book in its original form before I realised that it wasn't quite working, and that I ought to try a different tack. The story I was telling there is a story I still want to tell, but I just wasn't ready to write it at the time. I'm hoping to pick it up properly in 2021.

I realised I needed to try getting back into the world I wrote in 'Violins and Violets', by writing something set around the same time and involving some of the same characters. In March, I started writing 'Book J', for which I didn’t have a proper title until I was nearly done with its first draft! I gave it the working title 'Book J', because I was writing it for my friend Jenny. By the time summer came round I had 52,000 words, and a first draft that was as complete as I think it ever will be.

Lockdown hit my life quite hard in Spring 2020, and I lost my language assistant job in France when all schools closed, and I had to come back to the UK to live out the academic year with my parents. Nevertheless I had to carry on working with my Year Abroad Research Project, Which I was able to hand in by 18th May, having squeezed all my findings into a dissertation of 6,000 words.

Now that my YARP was out of my way, and I had no more work to do for university, I started redrafting Jenny's book, now called 'Vogeltje', and cut it down to 44,000 words, which I polished until August... when I had copies printed for Jenny, so that she could read a book written especially for her. I would have given it to her in person in France, but lockdown happened, and I ended up posting her copies from one part of South England to another. A rather typical outcome for a meetup planned in 2019 for 2020, I suspect!

During lockdown, I also trained as a proof-reader and copyeditor, and did some volunteer work for a company that needed translators. Online training courses have been a godsend, and I've particularly enjoyed a novel writing course and a travel writing course that I've been following. The novel writing course has pushed me to flesh out plans for a number of books, including more detailed and cohesive outlines for 'Songs from the Crypt Forest' and 'The Night Has Teeth' (two books I want to write in a similar universe), along with my on-again-off-again WIP 'The Manylove Quarter' - and the plans for these three alone come to 7,850+ words!

I moved back to Southampton in July, and took August to start drafting 'The Manylove Quarter ', but that ended up petering out with about 19,200 words of prose on the page. Still, I spent a lot of time querying, and got plenty of reading done, so - especially considering the heatwaves in my area and a pretty enormous academic crisis in my record (fixed in November, after writing a LOT of letters and reports!!! So, this is where I send a million hugs to my lecturers and tutors for all the help they've given me, thank you, thank you, thank you all SO MUCH!!!) - I still felt fairly well-accomplished at the end of the month. I also did quite a bit of painting.

In August and September, I started typing up the journal I've been keeping since the beginning of April, once I'd settled back into life in the UK, to keep track of my feelings about the pandemic and my reactions to what I've seen or heard in the news. I write an average of 6,000 words per month, so I'm coming up to 50,000 words on the whole thing (but have yet to type up November or December). One day, I'll use it to write some extremely illustrious memoirs about how much fun, I had stamping up and down the stairs in my parents' house in order to get my steps in! (I really did get quite fit, though, and I want to get back to it in the New Year!)

At the start of September, I published a 2,500-word travel log my university's "study abroad" blog, all about how much I came to love the French city of La Rochelle, where I spent my 3rd year working. I think I will polish it at least a little before I post it here, but I would love to post a redrafted version on this blog!

My final year of university (BA Modern Languages, French and German) started in October, so all my reading and writing that month - or so it felt - was linked to my course. However. I've lost count of how many pieces I've translated between English, French and German, just to prepare for each class. I love my course, but it doesn't leave much energy for anything else!

Welcome to November, when all my graded assignments were due at once, and the associated stress started taking its toll. Luckily, my tutors were there to help me get extensions for work I couldn't hand in on time because my brain had turned into mashed potato. By the middle of December, I ended up with a 300-word translation and 300-word scripted scene for French, a 1,000-word commentary on a translation into English, a 2,500-word essay for French History, and a 2,000-word short story for German, which I've translated into English, and will post here any day.

This has really been a big year for letter-writing, especially since I came back from France. My cousin and I love writing longhand letters to each other, as I love writing them to my grandmothers, and, as such, I've written about one hundred letters this year! My cousin and I have kept every letter we've ever sent each other, and these collections have approximately doubled in size since the start of 2020.

I keep trying to redraft the first chapters of 'The Manylove Quarter', but never seem to get very far. With about 3 redrafts started since Autumn, I'd say l have about 1,000 words typed up. I can probably say the same of the story I'm trying to write as a kind of Standalone, kind of Sequel to 'This Still Happens' and 'Curls of Smoke', except that I'd put those around the 2,000-word mark.

If my Mathematic capabilities still stand up, I estimate I've written about 210,000 words in total this year (not including text messages, letters, emails and entries in my regular diary (which I keep separately to my pandemic journal)), which. honestly, makes me feel a little like I've failed myself.

That's why l'm making this post, actually, to address that feeling - because | know it's not rational, so I'm not going to call it "that fact" - and to tot all my work up in one place, so that I can see my achievements as one big hulk. Looking at my 2020 in terms of projects l've actually finished, it's disappointing! But to look at 2020 as a final wordcount makes me feel an awful lot better. My sister just pointed out that "210,000 words" is "nearly a quarter of a million words", and, put in that way, it's much easier to feel like I've accomplished something of which I can - and Should - feel proud. I've written a lot this year!

Now l'm asking all of you who feel like you've "not done enough work in 2020" to reassess the way you're looking at it all, and to see that:

Productivity shouldn't define how much you feel you're worth, no matter how productive you've been. Please don't fall into the capitalist trap of thinking you're only "doing the right thing" if you're working! You're worth a huge amount and you deserve to be proud of yourself!

You've achieved a lot more than you first thought, whether in the projects you've finished, the number of words you're written, the ideas you've had, the research and planning you've done, the time you've put in, the skills you've honed... OR THE FUN YOU'VE HAD! It all counts, and it's all important, and you can be proud of all of it, just like you can be proud of yourself.

If you don't feel like you've done enough, find a new angle from which to look at what you have done. I'm willing to bet someone out there can see how brilliantly you're doing already. Try to see yourself through that someone's eyes!

[shotsbyshae]

Rock & Roll (Part 2)

Warnings: Vomit inducing fluff, angst

Words: 2.9k

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

A/N: Takes place post Endgame, so spoilers. For those who have age issues, Peter is over 18 in this scenario.

Song: Rock & Roll by Led Zeppelin

It's been a long time, been a long time.

2025

The room looks familiar, but absent of all the personal touches your old one used to have. There are a couple boxes stacked near the dresser with your name written in permanent marker on the side. They were some of the things you had left in Tony’s garage, Happy had come across the boxes and offered to bring over for you. You’re not ready to open them yet though, so you slowly unpack the few clothes you do have, mentally making a note to add a shopping trip to your list of things to do in the upcoming weeks. Hotel living for the past two years had meant only the basics when it came to clothing.

Once you finish putting away everything you brought, you turn to look at the boxes once more, trying to muster up the courage. Your brain wants you to unpack the ugly brown cardboard eyesores, but you’re not sure what’s in them, after all, you stayed over at the Stark’s more than you did the compound after the snap.  

You make your way into the kitchen, placing your phone on the counter, as you notice the far wall has a large board with a collage of various small photos pinned to it. It’s an addition you hadn’t seen on your first walk through, so you approach it and immediately see a photo of Steve and Bucky, both in stealth suits, wide toothy grins on their faces. Beside it is a photo of Natasha, she’s wearing boxing gloves and Clint’s in the background, waiting on the sparring mat. Another photo is of Wanda and Vision standing in the kitchen, the messy counter in front of them makes it apparent they were attempting to cook something. There’s also a photo of Tony, Steve, and Thor, all three laughing heartily about something in the common area of the compound. Another photo is of the entire team before the fallout, a much happier time and everyone’s faces show it.

Two pictures catch your attention, one you recognize, because you have a copy tucked away in your journal, and one you don’t remember. The one you have is from the lab, you’re standing beside the table and Tony has one arm draped across your shoulders and he’s kissing your temple. You’re not looking at the camera – eyes closed – caught in the moment. Parker had taken that photo; you remember Tony giving you a copy of it. The other picture is of you and Peter, both of you baby faced, and he’s holding the camera out to fit both you in the frame. The background doesn’t look familiar, but he’s sitting in the floor in front of a bed that you’re lying on. Both your smiling faces are side by side, although each is a little bruised and dirty.

“Done unpacking?” A voice draws your attention away from the board and you glance over to see Peter approaching.

You nod with a smile, “Yea – hey – where’s this from?” You point to the photo in question.

He moves closer to get a better look and laughs a little, “Oh wow – yea – that was Berlin.”

The memories slowly start to come back as you glance over at the photo.

“You’re done, take Parker back to the hotel,” the metal fingers are wrapped around your wrist tightly. “Wait for me there, understood?”

“Yes sir,” your response was automatic as he glared down at you.

“You did good kid,” his eyes had softened slightly as he released his grip. “Now go – hurry.”

You had quickly made your way across the lot to the kid in the red and blue suit who was still lying on the ground. He managed to prop up on one elbow as you got closer and you offered him a hand, “You must be Parker.”

“Peter – yea – P-Parker,” he stammered a little as he took your hand and you pulled him to his feet.

“I’m –” you tried to say as he fidgeted with the red mask in his hands.

“I know,” he interrupted you quickly and raised his eyebrows in astonishment. “You’re – wow – I mean – you’re awesome.”

“I saw you web up Captain America. I’ve never seen anyone slow him down,” you had remarked with a smile. “That’s pretty impressive Spider-Man.”

“That was after the fight?” You question Peter and he nods as you remember slowly. “Back at the hotel – that’s right.”

“We ordered so much room service we thought Happy was going to kill us,” he remarks. “That was so long ago.”

“Look at us – we were just kids,” you touch the photo gingerly.

“It was fun though,” Peter glances over to you, still seeing the same girl he’s had a crush on since that day in Berlin. I’ve missed you, he thinks to himself. “Hanging out with you was always fun though.”

You smirk as you glance up at him, still trying to get over the size difference, “Just because I was older, and it impressed your friends.”

“No,” he begins defensively crossing his arms. “Well, yes and no. Ned did have a poster of you in his room, I think he died a little when I told him I met you.” You roll your eyes as he continues. “No, you were always the nicest to me, treating me like an equal – you know – and you were funny and really smart and the way you twirl your hair with your left hand when your working a problem out in your head – I always thought that was cute.”

You raise an eyebrow at him curiously, “How observant, but I also twirl my hair when –”

“You’re sleepy,” he finishes your sentence with a smirk. “I know.”

Those dark eyes pull you in again and you stare at him for a brief moment, trying to decipher what’s happening. Your phone rings from the counter, interrupting the moment, and Peter notices the name Happy Hogan on the screen as you reach for it. Sliding the green bar sideways you answer the video call and see the man’s face staring blankly at the screen, smiling suddenly as your face appears on his end.

“Hey,” his voice is more enthusiastic than he is when talking with Peter. “So, I’m over here, helping out this evening and someone wanted me to give you a call.” He moves his phone beside him to reveal an adorable dark-eyed little girl who is smiling brightly.

“Aunt Sess,” she squeals in excitement. “We’re having ice cream for dinner!”

“You are,” you try not to laugh at her statement. “That’s so awesome, I wish I could have ice cream for dinner.”

“Are you home now?” Morgan questions. She’s more mature than most kids her age. “With Uncle Rhodey?”

“I am,” you smile at her warmly, those dark eyes reminding you so much of her father.

“What are you having for dinner?” The little girl questions curiously, taking you by surprise.

“I’m not sure,” you glance over at Peter for a moment smirking before looking back to the little girl in your phone. “Only boys live here, so there’s probably not a lot of options.”

“Hey,” Peter sounds insulted, “there’s a few things. Sam cooks sometimes.” Morgan’s face scrunches up in confusion as she listens to him speak and you turn the screen so she can see him. He waves at the child with a grin, “Hey Morgan.”

“OH!” Her voice blasts through the speaker as the idea comes to her. “Uncle Peter can make you a grilled cheese. He’s the best cook.”

Peter quickly raises his finger to his lips, “Ssshh – that’s supposed to be our secret.”

“It’s okay, she can keep a secret,” the girl assures him with a confident nod of her head. “I got to go, my ice cream’s melting.”

You angle the phone to fit both you and Peter in the frame before you speak, “I’ll see you soon okay? Sleep tight.”

“I love you tons,” she replies with a smile before blowing you a kiss with her small hand.

“Love you,” the two of you say simultaneously, each moving your hands from your lips toward the screen.

The call ends and you lay the phone on the counter, before you glance over at Parker, “Grilled cheese huh?”

“She did say they were the best,” he comments, standing up from the bar stool.

“We’ll see,” you remark as he moves around to the refrigerator and begins gathering the ingredients.

“It’s nice though,” Peter says glancing over his shoulder, “I didn’t know you talked to Morgan – I mean – since you’ve been gone.”

“I face time with her at least once a week,” you respond, glancing down at the phone. “I left because I needed to – not because I wanted to. I didn’t want her to think I’d left and forgotten her.”

“That’s good though – you staying in her life. She’s a great kid,” he moves a skillet onto the stove.

“She had a great dad,” the words slip out before you realize it and the two of you share a moment of silence as Peter continues working at the stove.

“Question though, why does she call you Aunt Sess?” He finally asks.

“Well,” a laugh slips through at the memory, “one day, I’m sitting there and she’s – I don’t know maybe a year old – maybe more. She’s already saying dada and mama at this point. Anyway, I’m there and she’s in her playpen reaching for me saying ‘Sess, Sess’. Pepper’s like, ‘So, you’re Sess, she’s been saying that word and I don’t know where it came from.’ All we could figure out is maybe she heard Tony call me princess and that’s what stuck with her, but I’ve been Aunt Sess ever since then.”

Peter turns from the stove with a smile, “I just thought you were her imaginary friend, when she’d tell me about Aunt Sess and how one day you’d come back home, but you were off on adventures, slaying dragons and saving princesses.”

“Technically,” another voice joins them as Sam approaches from the hall, Bucky trailing along behind him, “she was an heiress and he was the leader of one of the largest drug cartels in South America – so same thing.” You move quickly from the bar stool to embrace the man. He hugs you tightly noticing Peter at the stove, finishing up on the grilled cheese he’s making. “What’s this?” Sam pulls away from you, keeping one hand on your shoulder. “You show up and suddenly Parker knows how the stove works?”

“Shut up,” Peter shoots back at him, watching as you smack Wilson against the chest before moving over to greet Barnes.

Sam walks towards the stove while Peter moves to the sink with the now empty skillet, subtly watching you with soldier. There’s a small embrace, his metal hand lingers at your waist as the usual pleasantries are exchanged, then Barnes questions, “Was that the cartel in Bogota?”

“Yea – you were there,” you respond.

“With that shitty motel.” Bucky continues, glancing over at Sam. “Someone said it was the only one available.”

“It was,” Wilson defends himself as he tears one of the grilled cheese sandwiches in half and takes a bite from it.

Peter turns his attention back to the skillet, turning the water on and grabbing the scrub brush. He hadn’t thought about anyone helping you over the past two years, especially not Barnes. The idea of the two of you working together – alone – sharing a motel room. Maybe that’s why he looks comfortable with his hands on you, because they’ve touched you before. A wave a jealousy washes over him as visions of you and Barnes flash through his mind. A loud snapping sound brings Peter back to the present and he quickly turns off the water, looking down at the broken skillet in the sink – snapped in half.

“What the –” Sam steps over to look at the source of the sound.

“Oops,” Peter says bashfully.

The man shakes his head at him, “Really? This is why we can’t have nice things Parker.”

You walk across to the plate Peter had prepared and grab the half Sam left on top and take a bite for yourself, as the man throws the broken pieces in the garbage. You grab another half and offer it to Barnes as he walks over and accepts it, before you take another one for yourself to carry back to your room. Walking towards the hall, you reach up to pat Peter on the chest, “It is really good.” You hold up the grilled cheese. “Thanks for dinner Parker.”

His smile is a mix of awkward and warm as he watches you head down the hall toward your room, “You’re welcome.”

Wilson waits a few moments before he leans back against the counter, eyeing the man suspiciously, “Damn, man.”

“What?” Peter questions him.

Sam glances across to Bucky, “He’s got it bad.”

“Worse than we thought,” Barnes replies with a nod.

“Wha – no,” he stammers, placing his hands on his hips. “It’s not what you think.”

“Dude, you cooked,” Sam looks at him in disbelief.

“The only other person you’ve ever cooked for has you wrapped around her finger,” Bucky chimes in, “and she’s like seven.”

“She just got back,” Peter tries to defend himself. “I was being nice.”

“Uh huh,” Wilson looks skeptical. “Is that why your shirt looks two sizes too small?”

Parker flicks his left wrist at the man, the watch he’s wearing quickly shooting a web across the kitchen, catching Sam’s hand as he reaches for another piece of grilled cheese and plasters it to the countertop beside the plate.

"Hey!” Sam protests, trying to pull his hand free from the adhesive. “No webbing in the kitchen.”

“Jokes on you,” Peter gives him an unimpressed look. “This is your shirt.”

He turns and walks away as Bucky snorts, trying not to laugh, causing Sam to glare at him, “Real funny, now help me get this shit off.”

2017

“You two can stand there all day,” Tony remarks loudly without turning away from the table, “or you can actually come in and learn something.”

The two of you move quickly from the doorway and across to the table, each on opposite sides of the man. Peter looks a bit frazzled, “Sorry Mr. Stark, I just –”

“Don’t apologize,” the man cuts him short.

“You know I never interrupt your genius in action,” you say smoothly.

A wide smile spreads across Stark’s face and he glances from you back over to Peter, “That’s why she’s my favorite – take notes.”

Peter looks across the table at you, slightly annoyed, and a little envious of just how easy you make it look. You’re only a handful of years older than him, but he imagines you’ve always had this rebel attitude – too cool for school – never awkward.

It’s obvious you’re the class favorite and not just with Stark. During the fight in Germany, Peter can remember seeing Wanda fling a car at Rhodey, but he dodged it quickly, leaving an unsuspecting you in the path of it as you were chasing after Barnes. Steve Rogers had managed to tackle you out of the way before the car crashed into the pavement, metal and glass exploding around the two of you.

“You good?” He had questioned, as you both stood back up.

“Yea.” Peter can remember you had looked a little shaken and embarrassed.

“I didn’t want this – I’m sorry,” Steve informed you sincerely before he turned to rejoin the fight.

Captain America had given you respect that day and Peter a black eye. He knows normally anyone else would be jealous of that, and maybe it’s because he’s geeky and awkward, but it makes him like you more.

Peter would never admit to anyone else, but he loves spending his spare time at the compound hanging around the lab with Tony because – well duh, he’s Tony freaking Stark – but you’re always there too. You’re the only person who doesn’t treat him like the awkward teenager he truly is. Always asking his thoughts or opinions on things, never talking down to or chastising him in anyway.

“Hey,” Tony looks over to you, “will you go up to Rhodey’s office and get him, I need his thoughts on a few things?”

You give him a quick nod, “Sure thing boss.”

Peter watches you leave lab; not sure what Stark has said in the last ten minutes because his mind has been elsewhere. He turns to see the man move over to his computer and begin typing away in a program.

“If you’re going to spend time in my lab,” Tony says, not looking at Peter, “I’m going to need your full attention.”

“Yes sir.”

“That means stop looking at her like a lovesick puppy or I’ll have to split your time in the lab,” his tone is abrasive.

“I’m – I don’t – I’m not,” Peter stumbles over the words as he folds his arms across his chest defensively.

“She’s too old for you,” Stark spins around on the stool he’s sitting on to face Parker.

“I know,” the boy responds.

“The age thing won’t matter in a few years,” he cocks an eyebrow at his protégé, “she’s out of your league though.”

Peter clenches his jaw, furrowing his brows in confusion at Stark’s words, “I – I know that.”

“Good,” he glares at the boy for a moment. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

Stark spins the stool back to face the computer and Peter takes a deep breath, “Yes sir.”

“Always go for the ones who are out of your league kid,” Tony comments nonchalantly, fingers flying away on the keyboard. “Remember – they’re the ones worth chasing.”

Part 3

[triggeringthehealing]

The Adventures Of Teen Werewolves In A Town Sitting On Top Of An Evil Tree Stump

Derek/Stiles | PG | 1811w | AO3

Summary: It’s been on Stiles’s mind for a while now, the fact that their experiences aren’t recorded anywhere for posteriority. It’s when they’re looking at the mementoes in the Hale vault that he decides to bring it up to Derek. 

A/N: Written for the @fullmoonficlet challenge: prompt #339 - record

"You know, I didn't realize that we never managed to put down all the shit we've been through into some sort of journal or diary, in all the years," Stiles says, shaking his head.

He's standing in the Hale vault that's still safely locked underneath the high school, still full of items from the family's history. The history that is now his too, in a tangential way. There are rows of shelves with all sorts of things on them, from mementos specific to some family members—he's pretty sure he saw a tiny basketball jersey at some point—to general items that were obviously important enough to be kept locked away. The same way that the tea that saved Malia, Scott, and Kira a while back was.

"Would you want to relive those things at some point?" Derek asks from across the vault, his tone incredulous.

"First of all, not all of it was bad," Stiles points out. "Second of all, we've encountered things that I feel would be worth having a record of, especially the parts about how to get rid of them.'

"Shitload of luck and a healthy dose of chance," Derek tells him with a snort. "With a few exceptions when we actually knew what we were doing. Most of those latter ones were also just humans fueled by anger-inducing irrational fear."

"Oh come on, Gerard would warrant an entire chapter all for himself," Stiles says.

He puts down the vial he's been staring at, right next to the tomes that he thinks are important documents, though maybe not quite as valuable as the bonds that were in a separate little safe and had been used to fund Peter's unintentional��or well, not deliberately conscious—deadpool scheme. Derek's already only a few steps away before Stiles starts moving toward him.

"But seriously, with the amount of crap that was thrown our way," he says, walking closer, "we really should put it all down on paper or something, for future generations."

"Are you expecting all those things to return?" Derek asks. "Because I honestly really hope none of them will, ever again."

"You know some of them will."

"Monroe is not that stupid, she won't set foot in California, let alone this town, again."

"Fair. But she does have minions who don't have such self-preservation. And I didn't mean the hunters either, I'm sure there's enough said about them in all the world's packs' records," Stiles tells Derek, reaching out to link their fingers. "I meant more things that go bump in the night. And not the fun kind of bump."

"So, what are we talking about? The Dread Doctors? Because we're several decades away from those being around again, provided someone who's currently human will decide to go down that route for immortality."

"No, I meant things like the Kanima," Stiles replies, his lips tugging into a smile. "We could absolutely get Jackson to help with that one, past and present."

"There's already all that information in the old Hale Bestiary," Derek points out. "Remember where we got it from when he was evolving? Into the creepy thing that I hope never to see again."

"But he didn't and I bet there's nothing in there about a Kanima becoming part werewolf. Or about the way its tail continues to be usable after that transformation," Stiles says with a grin.

"That face you're making is telling me that there are things I do not want to know about Jackson's tail. Ever. Not even if it would help in the future."

Stiles chuckles and tugs on Derek's hand, pulling him closer. He can feel the metal of the ring on Derek's finger against his hand and it makes his heart flutter, still. They've been married for over a year now and the thrill of it hasn't worn off yet. Stiles isn't sure it ever will.

"All I'm saying is, maybe it would be worth it to write it all down. There's stuff that's unbelievable enough that we could maybe disguise it as fiction, publish it as a book."

"The adventures of teen werewolves in a town sitting on top of an evil tree stump?" Derek suggests, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"That's a bit of a mouthful, but for all I know, it might just work."

"You might be on to something," Derek says then, his eyebrows scrunching.

"Really?"

Stiles can't help it, he's surprised that Derek seems to even remotely consider the idea. It isn't one that Stiles thought through, just something he said in the moment, his brain wandering off on a tangent. But it feels like it might be a way to preserve their experiences along with information that might potentially help not only Beacon Hills in the future but also packs around the world. It would definitely be easier to distribute a book that is presented as fiction than it has been trying to get hands on Bestiaries and other similar records of all things supernatural.

"No."

Derek shakes his head and Stiles's growing enthusiasm deflates like a flat tyre.

"There's no way you could put in all the information that you want to put in," Derek says, then holds up a finger when Stiles opens his mouth to protest, indicating that he's not done. "You'd need to have too much info dump and that doesn't make for good fiction. But I'll admit that no matter how much I don't want to go back through the memories of those years, we probably should at least add to the information that Peter already has in his laptop."

Stiles shakes off the disappointment about having his idea—one that he thought was kind of genius—shut down, because Derek agreeing to collect and record what they know is still a win.

"You still have Peter's laptop, right?'

Derek nods.

"Then we'll need to start looking through it."

"Right now?' Derek asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Not right this second, unless you have the laptop with you.."

"I don't. And we were down here for a reason," Derek points out.

"Right. Yeah. Reason."

Stiles steps closer and leans in to press his lips against Derek's.

"Would you like to go back to looking for my birth certificate? Or should we just forget about it?" Derek asks when he pulls away from the kiss a moment later.

"I would like to keep looking, yes," Stiles says. "We can't file for the adoption otherwise."

Because that's why they're here, in the vault, digging through piles of paperwork and—in Stiles's case—poking at all the treasures that generations of Hales left behind. They need Derek's birth certificate to apply for the adoption of Leah, a werewolf cub who found her way to them a few months ago, her pack decimated by hunters adjacent to Monroe's dwindling army. They've been taking care of her since, Stiles's father officially registered as a foster parent and in charge of her. But with multiple strings pulled and with Leah already attached to them both and to the pack, they want to make things official.

Derek is back across the room and looking for the necessary paperwork when Stiles gets an idea.

"Hey, Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think I could try and take some of the stuff that we survived and make it into a story book anyway?"

"You're not reading stories about the Alpha pack or the Nogitsune to a three year old werewolf cub," Derek says firmly.

"I would not—“

"You would. But you won't."

Stiles wants to argue, but the urge only lasts a few seconds. After that, his mind comes up with all the possible results of retelling the Nogitsune events to Leah and he balks at the thought of not only traumatizing her with some of the parts but also inspiring her with some others. Her curiosity is off the charts as it is, she really doesn't need encouragement. Which is probably why Derek's putting an end to the idea before Stiles can even try to make it happen.

"I won't," Stiles says in a defeated tone.

"We'll have our hands full anyway, there's no reason to make it worse," Derek tells him, confirming that Stiles was right about his motivation. "But maybe you're right."

"Wait, what?" Stiles asks, surprised at that last addition.

"About recording things. Putting all the information together. Maybe even doing it the way you said we could," Derek tells him, looking almost like it hurts to admit that Stiles is right.

It's a tone and expression that Stiles has seen many times before, Derek grudgingly admitting that Stiles has a good point. It never fails to be satisfying.

"I get to write a book?" Stiles asks instead of openly gloating.

"We get to write a book. All of us," Derek says. "There are things that some of us know that others don't, so we'll need to work on it together. With everyone."

"Not Peter."

"Yes Peter. Seeing as there are things he’s been part of that no one else was. Also your dad."

Stiles cringes but nods. There's no one person who has all the information that he wants to write down, no single member of the pack who would know everything exactly the way it happened.

"You're right."

"I am," Derek says with a grin and he turns to a folder with what looks like paperwork that's on a shelf right next to them. "I also found what we were looking for," he adds as he reaches for the folder and flips it open.

"Yeah?"

Derek turns a few pages, then triumphantly pulls out one of the sheets in there.

"Derek S--"

"No."

"Come on, you know my first name."

"And I don't know your middle name. So you're not reading mine," Derek says, holding the printed side of the certificate out of Stiles's line of sight.

"Genim," Stiles says easily. "That's the easy one. Now can I see?'

"No."

"Derek."

"Stiles."

"Is that your middle name? Because that would be weird," Stiles says, grinning when Derek levels him with a glare.

"I'll tell you when Leah's adoption is complete, how's that?" Derek offers.

Stiles nods because he can wait that long. Maybe if he's lucky he'll even get to see the documents before that, so it's a win either way. He's already won one thing today, the fact that they'll write down all the things that happened in their lives up to this point. He hasn't said it, but part of why he wanted to was so the future generations would have a record that would be easy to find, notes on all the possible dangers they could face.

So that when Leah will grow up, she'll be better prepared for the world than he was. When Derek reaches for his hand and links their fingers, Stiles figures that maybe he gets it too.

[dailyaudiobible]

08/05/2020 DAB Transcript

Ezra 1:1-2:70, 1 Corinthians 1:18-2:5, Psalms 27:7-14, Proverbs 20:22-23

Today is August 5th welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it is…it is a joy, like every day, to be here with you as we just come in out of the…out of whatever's going on and center ourselves, quiet ourselves, just come around the Global Campfire and just allow a moment of serenity as God's word speaks into our lives for the day. So, it is a joy and an honor to take that next step forward with you. And here…here we go at the Old Testament, at threshold of reading the Old Testament today and we find ourselves opening a new book, the book of Ezra. And, so we finished second Chronicles yesterday which leads us to the threshold of Ezra.

Introduction to the book of Ezra:

And what we’ll find is that Ezra generally, at least historically, picks up where second Chronicles leaves off. The children of Israel have finally gone into exile, completely, northern and southern kingdoms with the southern kingdom falling to Babylon and the people being carried off into a foreign land for their rebelliousness against God. And this book of Ezra that we are about to encounter, it’s gonna cover a period of about 80 years. So, we’re slowing things down. We’ve been moving through Kings and Chronicles and reading of all the different kings and all of the different things that they did both in the northern and southern kingdom. But, kind of more rapidly so that we can move centuries in one…in one reading. So, we’re focusing now on a period of about eight years. There are three kings involved, none of them are Israelite kings - Cyrus the Great, Darius and then Artaxerxes. And what we’ll find is that these foreign kings all give favor, and even cover for a remnant of Israelites who are being allowed to go back to their ancestral homeland. And it’s Cyrus the Great that begins the process. He has a desire actually to rebuild the Temple in Jerusalem for the worship of God. And he's got…I mean…in his mind he rules the world, all the known world. And, so, he wants…he wants all the God's that may be upset to be appeased and he wants the God of Israel to have a temple. So, about 42,000 Israelites that have been exiled in Babylon and they have been weeping and they have been crying and longing for the day that they could be restored, they finally get to make the trip back and their leader is somebody we’ll meet. His name is Zerubbabel and their going back to rebuild Jerusalem. And we’ll watch that…they don't…it's not just a joyous parade that they go back from captivity and then they just clear the foundation and just rebuild everything. They’re gonna face all kinds of trouble, all kinds of opposition, intimidation from those who are in the region, political maneuvering but we’ll also watch them not lose sight of what they're trying to do, that they’re gonna stick to the specific task. And that gives us so much for our own lives as we stick to the thing God has given us to do, no matter what the voices are saying, no matter what the maneuvering is, no matter what the intimidation is. And, so, in many ways we can see the book of Ezra as a…as a living historical metaphor for…for our own lives. So, let's dive in. We’re reading from the Christian standard Bible this week. Ezra chapters 1 and 2.

Commentary:

Alright. So, yesterday in the book of first Corinthians Paul was calling for unity. And remember we talked about this because some of the people were saying, “I am of Paul” and others were saying, “I'm of Apollo's” and others were saying, “I'm of Peter” and then others were saying, “I am of Christ.” And this was causing rivalry and division about “who are we supposed to listen to?” Like, “who’s supposed to tell us…who’s supposed to teach us? Who’s authorized to teach us? And who should we be following? And we see in today's reading Paul’s trying to lift their viewpoint, like “that…that's…that's not the right question.” And he does it by saying, “all of what we believe to those who don't believe it, it's nonsense. It's foolishness. It's foolishness to say strength is found in weakness or spiritual wisdom is found in what the world would consider foolishness.” And Paul uses the Scriptures here is his defense by quoting from the book of Isaiah, “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise and I will set aside the intelligence of the intelligent. And, so, we ask, ‘who is the one who is wise? Where is the teacher of the law? Where is the debater of this age?’ God made the world's wisdom foolish.” So, he’s saying, “you’re like trying to pick your camp, you’re trying to pick your favorite preacher, your favorite teacher and follow this person but if you’re gonna go about it from a human perspective, it's all foolishness.” Paul says, I’m quoting here, “for the Jews ask for signs and the Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to the Jews and foolishness to the Gentiles.” And, so, we get clues here that there are Jews and Gentiles in this faith community in Corinth. And Christ crucified for a Jewish person is a stumbling block because the Scriptures say who…“cursed is anyone who hangs on a tree”, right? Like, just right out of the gate. And Paul will address this later, but for…for the Hebrew people, like this...this is something to just dismiss - Paul outright. And then Gentiles, the Greeks, they’re seeking wisdom. They want to understand and yet trying to understand what Paul's preaching, that…that the son of God came to earth in human form and allowed Himself to die in order to reconcile the world to Himself, this is like a wisdom or an understanding that seems like foolishness to them. But Paul says, “those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ is the power of God and the wisdom of God because God's foolishness is wiser than human wisdom and God's weakness is stronger than human strength.” This is Paul pulling people from this faction “us and them” kind of argument to look at the bigger story, that if you’re gonna look at this faith through human understanding and human wisdom it's…it's gonna seem foolish, but like most of the rest of the world things are backward. And when we can see, when we have eyes to see and ears to hear we can see what's really going on. And that is a bigger story, a way bigger story than saying, “I'm of Paul. I'm of Apollo's. I'm of Peter. I'm of Christ.” And, so, then he rounds out, “brothers and sisters, consider your calling. Not many were wise from a human perspective, not many powerful, not many noble from birth.” And we can deduce from there that in this church some were, like some were powerful, some were of noble birth, some were wise from a human perspective, but not all. And, so, this is a mixed community and an urban center and a melting pot city in the Roman Empire. And, so, lots of people think lots of things and that's why they're trying to figure out what it is they're supposed to do. And what Paul says is God has chosen what is foolish in the world to shame the wise, and God has chosen what is weak in the world to shame the strong. In other words, if you think you're one of those, then you…then you better pay attention because God is doing a new thing in the world or just to quote Paul, “God has chosen what is insignificant and despised in the world, what is viewed as nothing to bring to nothing what is viewed as something so that no one may boast in His presence. It is from Him that you are in Christ Jesus, who became wisdom from God for us, our righteousness, sanctification, and redemption in order that, as it is written, ‘let the one who boasts boast in the Lord.’” This is Paul responding to “I’m of Cephas. I am of Christ. I am of Apollo's. I'm of Peter.” He’s saying, “you can’t get an identity that way, you can’t get prideful that way. You are lucky to be here at all.” This is not the last time we will come across this theme, but it is a good time to remember what he is saying because it still applies. It's not an irrelevant notion that has of fallen out of context because the world has changed so much. This is just as important now as it was then.

Prayer:

Holy Spirit, we invite You into all of the ways we try to be right and we allow fear to come in because we’re afraid to be wrong or that we need an identity by who we’re selecting to…to lead us or what denomination we’re a part of or however it is that we are finding a way to distinguish ourselves from another believer so that we have a separate identity. May we understand that it's foolishness if we try to go down that road. It's only going to seem like foolishness. But if we have eyes to see, we can see the wisdom and the strength of Your hand in it all, making us aware that those are somewhat irrelevant arguments. We are fortunate, so, so fortunate that You are even aware of us, that You even care who we are. And, so, may we be humbled by that as we try to release our unbelievable desire to be right and force everyone who doesn't see it our way to be wrong. Come Jesus we need You and we ask in Your name. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website, it is home base, and it is where you find out what's going on around here. So, be sure to tune in and check it out. Certainly, check all these things out in the app as well.

But at the Initiatives section, Check out the Daily Audio Bible Shop. There are just a bunch of resources in there for this journey including the entire Global Campfire line of things - some fun things and some serious things, ways to…well…like our journal, our journal 2.0 and all the writing things that we have for…for journaling our way through the Scriptures. That's…that’s something that we…well…it's, I mean, it’s part of a pattern in my life but it's…it's important. Isn’t crazy how we can hear something really important to our lives and kinda carry it around but the next day can come around and we can be like, “wait a minute. What was that again” when it was really important for us to remember. It's important for us to write these things down because we’re…we’re writing the story of our spiritual journey and we need to be reminded. That gets foggy sometimes and we can see God's faithfulness in our lives when we write down the things that His word speaks to us and the things that He brings us through. But it's also…it's also a beautiful thing to write the story of your life in your own hand knowing that future generations somewhere someday may see your own hand, that you wrote your own story of God's faithfulness in your life. And, so, yeah, we have all of these resources in the Daily Audio Bible Shop for this purpose. So, check that out.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com as well. There’s a link on the homepage. Thank you profoundly. I say it every day, humbly. It's true every day. We wouldn't be here if we hadn't done this together thus far. So, thank you for your partnership as we continue to move through the summertime. So, there's a link on the homepage. If you're using the app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address, if you prefer, is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can hit the Hotline button in the app, which is the Hotline button, the red button up at the top. If you have the app be hard to miss it. So, no matter where you are in the world you can hit that button no matter what time of day or night it is or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

[katsens-writing]

See You Again, Part 1

Summary: Peter’s current mission is starting to wear on him emotionally. Tony has a rough day.

Content: This part is emotional, angsty. Some language, alcohol/temptation to drink. Let me know if I need to add anything.

Word Count: About 2.9k

A/N: This story was inspired by a post I saw and an ensuing conversation I had. If you have not seen Far From Home yet, do not worry, this is spoiler-free. This part has a flashback within a flashback so apologies if it gets confusing! Thank you to @itsallavengers and @wisemanwhodoesntknow for the inspiration!

---

     The cool night air blew gently past him. In spite of his suit, he could still feel it, and he closed his eyes, gently reveling in it. He opened his eyes with a sigh and looked out at the very familiar, yet somehow foreign city that lay out before him. He was in New York, perched atop the Brooklyn Bridge, looking across the river over at Manhattan. Upon landing on the bridge his eyes were immediately drawn toward the one building he always sought out among the skyline in every universe he visited. He didn’t even think about doing it anymore, it was as if his eyes were just drawn to it. The sight of it often brought him some comfort after a long night in an unfamiliar world and it had definitely been a long night tonight.

     He was told that the Spider-Man in this universe wouldn’t be in New York when he was there, but he was told he would need to wear his different suit anyway. When Fury first told him he would have to wear a different suit, he wasn’t surprised; he had already been expecting some kind of catch that would make him not like this mission.

     “Can’t you find someone else?” Peter asked Fury when the former director came to him. “Thor? Captain Marvel? Anyone?!”

     Fury explained to him why he couldn’t. He met Quentin Beck and listened to what he and Fury had to say. Fury even went so far as to mention his name. After they had finally finished, Peter looked Fury right in the eye.

     “I’m sorry,” he spoke, his voice firm. It took all he had to control his voice and keep it steady. His whole body was trembling with anger. He couldn’t believe Fury would dare use his name, trying to guilt trip him. “I can’t help you. You’ll have to find someone else.”

     He walked out of the warehouse unhindered and walked to the nearest block, wondering why he hadn’t grabbed his suit. He hailed a cab and gave the driver his address. Once he got back to his room, he found Ned sound asleep on his bed where he had put him after Fury had hit him with a knockout dart.

     Guess I’ll take the floor, he thought to himself. He grabbed one of the blankets off of Ned and snagged a dirty hoodie hanging off the end of his bed and dragged them to the floor. He shook out the blanket and balled up the hoodie before laying his head down on it. He pulled the blanket up to his shoulders and rolled onto his back, settling in.

     Just as he got comfortable, his eyes fell on something he had tucked up underneath his bed in the frame. He stuck his arm under it and tried pulling it out but it wouldn’t budge. He grabbed the frame of the bed with both hands and pulled himself toward it, sticking his head and shoulders under it. Using both hands, he managed to work the object out. He pulled himself out and sat up, holding a red, hardcover notebook in his hands. He gently brushed his fingers across the cover, clearing off the dust that had gathered, to reveal what had been engraved on the front of it in gold-foiled lettering. ‘Stark Internship Notebook’.

     He swallowed hard as he opened the book and flipped through the pages. He read through his old notes. Tony had given him the book to record anything he noticed about his suit and its upgrades so he could improve it. It ended up being half journal and half diary. Peter had used it to write down the description of criminals and villains he had encountered, as well as where he ran into them and what they were doing. Eventually, he started writing about the other people he had met too and the adventures he had. He hadn’t written in it since he came back from the Snap. He actually had forgotten about it until he had stumbled across it one day. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to open it, let alone write in it again, since then.

     Peter had closed the book out of guilt when he noticed the corner of something sticking out of it toward the front. He opened it to that page and found a photo of him and Mr. Stark that Aunt May had taken the day he met him. He remembered what Mr. Stark had asked him after he made it clear he knew he was Spider-Man.

     “Why do you do this?” Tony had asked him.

     After a moment, Peter looked Tony in the eye and answered. “When you can do the things that I can, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you.”

     Peter blinked his eyes, fighting back tears as he looked at Stark Tower. “I’m doing it, Mr. Stark,” his voice cracked. “I’m doing what I can, but there isn’t much I can do. I just... I hope it’s enough.”

     Peter lowered his head and cried, his body wracked with sobs. He desperately wished he could talk to Tony, but he couldn’t. Quentin and Fury had warned him about interfering with the universes he visited. Changing even the slightest thing could doom the universe he was in. The way Quentin talked, that would be a best-case scenario. Because of that, Quentin and Fury wouldn’t tell him anything about the universes he visited beyond whether or not Spider-Man was there. It didn’t matter much anyway, Peter was never in one universe for more than a week or so. In spite of himself though, Peter was confused.

     “No interfering,” he scrunched his face, turning to Quentin. Something didn’t add up. “Isn’t that literally what you guys are planning on me doing?”

     Quentin had told him that he was only to observe and report anything that the monitors had picked up on. That was one of the other things that made this job really difficult- if he saw something bad happening, he couldn’t do a thing to stop it because he couldn’t be seen. He managed to find some ways around it, in spite of the risks. He witnessed a scrawny, drugged-out lowlife try and steal an elderly woman’s purse. He called out from the shadows, startling the guy into running off without the purse. Unable to step forward, he asked the woman if she was ok. Trembling, she just managed to nod before she turned and ran out of the alleyway herself, as scared as the would-be purse snatcher had been. It was a miracle Peter hadn’t given her a heart attack. He followed her from above, keeping to the darkened rooftops, making sure she made it to her destination safely. When he witnessed a mugging he anonymously alerted the police, hoping they would get there in time. It pained him, not being able to do more. He nearly slipped up a time or two but had managed to catch himself just in time.

     Another thing Peter didn’t like was the schedule. He was going out strictly at night and sleeping during the day to reduce his chances of being seen. Peter stayed and watched the tower until the sky started to lighten. He glanced at the bridge below and saw very few cars. He would need to go soon before the morning traffic picked up, but he couldn’t bear to leave just yet. He waited until it was light enough to see the outline of the tower before he flew down to the bridge below and made his way home. ‘Home’ in this case was a little motel in Brooklyn. Fury insisted he stay away from Manhattan and Queens as much as possible, to better avoid anyone from this universe who might know Peter Parker or Spider-Man. It was weird, feeling homesick for a place he was already in. As Peter settled into his bed for the day, he closed his eyes and did his best to tune out the noise of the city below and the police sirens in the distance.

- -

     Across the city, Tony Stark awoke to the smell of coffee filling his room. He blinked his eyes and rolled over with a soft groan.

     “Good morning, boss,” FRIDAY’s soft Irish lit filled his room. “You have a busy day today, two meetings this morning and three this afternoon. Your first meeting is at 8:15.”

     “Move it to 8:30,” Tony replied groggily.

     “Sure thing boss,” FRIDAY replied.

     Tony rolled over and every muscle in his body protested. He slowly sat up, prolonging every little ache and pain as he inched his legs further over the side of his bed and his feet stretched to the floor. He got up and shuffled over to his closet and found the suit he got from Pepper years ago that he wore to most of his meetings.

     “Would you like to hear the morning news, boss?” FRIDAY asked as he pulled the suit from his closet.

     “No,” Tony answered shortly. Most mornings he would listen to the news as he got dressed, or at least he used to. He hadn’t had much interest in the news at all for quite some time actually, beyond the business reports, and even those he hadn’t listened to in a few months. FRIDAY didn’t ask any more questions after that, sensing his mood. Tony finished getting dressed and grabbed the mug waiting for him at the coffee pot on his way out. Heading toward the door, he passed a mirror and saw out of the corner of his eye that he had forgotten a tie. He stopped and sat his coffee down with a sigh before walking back to his closet.

     He opened the little cabinet that held all his ties and cufflinks and skimmed over them. He pushed the layers of silk aside as he looked through them before glancing to his left at the small mirror there. Immediately he thought of the perfect tie... and quickly closed the cabinet with a frustrated sigh.

     Leaving all his ties behind, he walked to the kitchen and found it empty with a note on the fridge.

Off to work. Don’t forget your meetings today. There’s a fruit bowl in the fridge and some granola bars above the stove. See you at 1:00.

                                                                  Love you.

     Tony ignored the note and walked over to the kitchen island where he picked up the morning newspaper. Without so much as looking at the front headline, he walked out of the kitchen and down the hall to the elevator, dropping the newspaper in a recycling can on the way.

     “Take me to the office, Fri,” he spoke after the elevator doors closed behind him. Without a word, the AI started the elevator toward the floor. Tony glanced at his watch and sighed again. 8:35. Oh well.

     The doors opened and he was greeted by the receptionist for the offices. “Good morning, Mr. Stark,” she smiled a little too cheerfully.

     Tony mumbled a reply and placed his empty coffee mug in her outstretched hand with a gruff thanks. He walked into the conference hall and sat own for a presentation from some new upstart looking for an investor. The kid had some great ideas but he was only half-listening. Part of him felt guilty for not paying more attention. She was really enthusiastic, her tight curls bounced a little as she moved around. She had obviously put a lot of effort into every aspect of her presentation; triple checking her sources herself, researching her one-and-only audience member and tailoring it specifically to him, she even had a working model of one of their projects. Try as he might though, Tony just couldn’t bring himself to care. Once the girl concluded her presentation and her assistant had handed him the brochure and business card, giving him a few extra of each, Tony thanked them and said someone would be in touch shortly. He excused himself and left the girl and her assistant looking lost.

     Tony’s stomach grumbled but he didn’t notice as he headed for his next meeting, this one with the director of a charity. He walked into his office and found the director already sitting there.

     “Mr. Stark, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” she rose with a warm smile and extended her hand. “Marissa Kanick, from the New York City Fire Safety Foundation.”

     Tony forced a smile as he took her hand and shook it. “Nice to see you.”

     “I just wanted to come by and thank you personally for your donation,” she started as she sat down across from Tony.

     My donation? Tony thought as he sat down behind his desk. I thought I made that anonymously.

     “Your generosity has helped us replace so many fire escapes all throughout the city and enabled us to update the fire alarm systems in every public school in Brooklyn and half the ones in Queens,” the woman continued with a smile. “As a way of saying thank you, we wanted to invite you to a banquet we are hosting for our donors. You should have already received the email with all the details for the event, but I wanted to come by and ask you in person if you would like to be the guest of honor.” She raised a hand quickly, raising her eyebrows. She had obviously done this before. “You don’t have to decide now, it’s not for another several weeks. Just something to think about.”

     “Uh, thanks. I- I will. Think about it.” Tony managed to say as his blood pressure rose and his jaw clenched slightly.

     “Wonderful! I look forward to seeing you there either way,” the woman rose to her feet with another dazzling smile and extended her hand again.

     Tony shook it and watched as the woman turned and left. As soon as the door closed behind her, he turned around in his chair. “FRIDAY, email the charity, tell them I won’t be coming to the banquet.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

     “Yes, boss,” the AI replied dutifully. Tony leaned back in his chair and sighed. After a moment he pulled out his phone and checked it. A text from Harley that simply said ‘call me.’ Harley never wanted to talk, he always preferred texting and, when he did talk, it was never just to chat. Tony ignored the text and saw a missed call from Pepper. He felt a little guilty again, but he just didn’t have the energy right now. He would make it up to her later. The office was quiet once again, and Tony had assumed FRIDAY had returned to sleep mode, but he was wrong.

     “Boss, if I may,” she spoke up and Tony let out a groan. She continued before he had a chance to object. “You don’t seem to be yourself today. Are you feeling ok?” The AI knew what Tony would say- and she knew the truth of the matter too.

     “I’m fine, Fri,” Tony growled.

     “Boss, I think you should get some rest, especially if you’re planning on going out tonight,” FRIDAY pressed.

     “Yeah, I’ll do that,” Tony snarked dryly.

     “Perfect. I’ve taken the liberty of clearing your schedule. The rest of your meetings for the day have been rescheduled for next Tuesday. Goodnight, boss,” the AI chimed.

     “Wait, what?” Tony started, bewildered. “Fri. FRIDAY!” Tony shouted. The AI had gone too far. She never did anything with his schedule unless she was told to.

     “What the hell d--” he stopped as his thoughts drifted to his missed call from Pepper. “Never mind,” he growled. He stalked to the elevator. “Take me home.”

     When the doors slid open he stormed out and went straight to his home office. He threw himself in the chair with a sigh as the anger dissipated. He checked his phone and tossed it on the desk with a scoff. Five missed calls. The one from Pepper, one from Rhodey, one from Harley, one from Natasha and one from May. He turned away from his desk and faced the wall behind him, covered in photos, newspaper articles, and awards. None of them meant a damn thing, not a single one. His eyes came to rest on a bottle of whiskey that had been sitting there since the day he took over the company and the crystal tumbler sitting next to it.

     He stared at it for a long time, lost in thought. It had tempted him time and time again over the years. When he almost died during the invasion, when the team split up, when he learned the truth about his parents’ deaths, when they finally won against Thanos... but today? Today he wanted it. He wanted it so badly he could practically taste it, feel the slow burn as he swallowed the smooth, amber liquid. He closed his eyes tight and turned away. No. Not again. Never again. He picked up the bottle and dropped it in the trash beside his desk as he headed for his room.

     The doors slid open automatically as he walked in. Tony walked over to his bed and sat down on it, kicking off his shoes. He had one hell of a headache and the light shining through the window was not helping one bit.

     “FRIDAY, do something about the light, would you?” he asked as he pulled his legs up onto the bed with a groan. “And tell Pepper not to wake me.”

     “Yes, boss,” FRIDAY answered, her lilt soothing to Tony’s ears as the windows tinted. Tony closed his eyes and settled into his bed, still dressed except for his shoes.

     “Goodnight, boss,” FRIDAY spoke softly as Tony drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

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