#saw a post about medieval meals. this is why it’s so good

[onewhoturns]

bread tastes best when ripped and dipped, not cut and slathered

[strikethematch18]

Dadzawa x F! Reader - Over Worked & Tired Part 1

It was now reaching the hour of at least 3 in the morning in Japan and you still hadn’t finished your paper proposal that you have been working on for hours on end. It certainly didn’t help that it was weeks overdue with only a few days until the end of the semester for your college courses back in America. 

You’re an American based student attending U.A. High, but also completing your bachelor’s degree at a college back in the states. Highly intelligent, as you were a member of Class 3-A and still in high school but only have one more semester until you finish your B.A. in English, about the same time you would graduate high school. Unfortunately, the time difference between the US and Japan has screwed with you reaching deadlines and a symptom of overusing your quirk is a lack of focus, something that you didn’t even tell your homeroom teacher, Mr. Aizawa. You were determined this was something you could do on your own.

Lately, you’ve been feeling like you have something to prove, almost like you’re somehow less than your peers as if your quirk wasn’t as useful or not powerful enough. As if your instant ability to feel empathy and affect emotions as well as being trained in formal combat in a similar fashion to Aizawa and his scarf. In fact, he was the one who worked with you and trained you with it. 

None the less you still felt like you were on your own with this and felt like you had to overdo yourself in training exercising. Quite frankly, you were on the serious verge of burn out, you wanted nothing more than to just curl up in your bed and watch a little TV after a nice hot shower. But non the less you had to push those desires aside to finish your college semester out strong.

You take another drink of your contraband energy drink, as a student at esteemed high school U.A. things like those were highly frowned upon as they were enhancing your energy to perform due to their abnormal amount of caffeine. Right now, you didn’t give a damn, you were going to be up all night and had early morning training with Aizawa and you are exhausted either way. Just trying to pull these long nights to finish on time. The dark circles were aware to you and your sluggish movements during the day meant a lot more effort on your quirk.

The door to your dorm room was still open allowing light from the outside room to shine into your room as well as your small little desk lamp providing you with a little bit of light for you to write and research on your laptop. You had a light but warm blanket wrapped around you as you were cold and it was around you very similarly to Aizawa’s sleeping bag come to think about it. You were generally cold a greater portion of the time but this felt a little different than normal, you were starting to become congested, never a good sign.

You sighed as you dropped your pencil on your papers and took your hands and rubbed your face and sat there for a moment just resting them there. You could hear footsteps down the hall and took it as someone getting up to go to the kitchens for something, it was an often occurrence. It did slip your mind that teachers would take shifts to do monitoring at different times in the night just taking a stroll down the hallways making sure everything was alright. Honestly, most teachers just slacked on it most of the time so it wasn’t a regular thing. It didn’t really dawn on you that the footsteps were getting closer to your room and the kitchen was the opposite direction. 

Usually, hallway patrols took around 10 minutes for teachers to complete which is why they were skipped so often, but Aizawa actually decided to do his tonight. And to his surprise, he saw one door open compared to the rest closed. His first thought was thinking about what was wrong and quickened his pace. But when he reached your door he couldn’t help but examine your hunched over posture wrapped in your blanket and head in hands, surrounded by loose papers, post its, pens, books, and laptop.

He knew you had a little extra course load normally but he didn’t realize it was something you would be doing well into the night, he just figured you were about to balance everything extremely well as you never complained and usually performed well in classes. However, thinking back to the last week you have seemed a little more tired and in a daze resulting in more quirk effort. The overuse of quirks segment of your student file was blank and he never made the effort to find out. 

He continued to stand at your door for another minute and saw the can of energy drink beside you knowing you were a good kid and wouldn’t resort to something as foolish as that without it being a last resort. Aizawa briefly knocked on your door to alert you of his presence. He did have a soft spot for you compared to Midoria or Bakoguo so he was a little more gentle with you.

“Hey kid, what are you still doing up?”

Startled out your state you did a small jump in your desk chair, “Just trying to write this essay. It’s a few weeks overdue and the end of the semester is soon so I need to get this in.”

He took a few steps into your room and stood behind you, “12th-century convents and monasteries in Italy. Hmm, that doesn’t sound very interesting. What kind of class is this for?”

“It’s for my Origins of western though class, medieval through the renaissance. And trust me, it really isn’t, especially when you can’t focus on it at all,” you replied.

“You’re having trouble focusing?” he asked genuinely concerned, he had never heard those words come from you before.

You put your face back in your hands and simply said, “Quirk overuse.”

Aizawa was taken aback for a short moment, you were never one to complain or let someone know when there was something going on, “God kid how long has this been going on?”

“This time? At least since last week.”

“This time? So this isn’t something new?” he was a little shocked since this was the first time he heard of any of your overuse symptoms. 

“God no, there’s also an extra degree of fatigue and the occasional headache. Night terrors are kinda common too.”

“Shit Y\N why have you never mentioned this before?”

“It just never seemed to be all that important really, I’ve handled it by myself for years why start before now?”

“When was the last time you got a decent nights sleep, you’re starting to look like me. You’ve even got the whole blanket thing going for you,” he asked looking at your form sitting at your desk as you shifted in your seat to look at him.

“Uh, you know, that’s a really good question and it’s been long enough that I can’t fully remember. To be truthful, I just want to finish this so I can take a warm shower and go to sleep.”

When you looked at him he got a better look at you. To be truthful you looked horrible and he started to feel bad because it was evident you were working yourself to death, and keeping up with both school lives on top of his added one-on-one training sessions were taking a toll on you. He had also noticed the congestion in your voice, that was never a good sign.

He put his hand on your forehead and you leaned into even though it felt cold to you it still felt nice, “Kid you’re burning up, you have a fever, why don’t you stop for the night and get that shower you want and you can crash on my couch tonight so I can keep an eye on you.”

“With all due respect sir, I need to finish this, my professor has been on me for weeks on end on this. I have to finish it tonight. And I couldn’t possibly bother you with just congestion and small fever.”

Aizawa sighed and took a seat on the edge of your still made bed, “Listen, kid, I’ll let you finish. I'm going to sit here until you're done and you’re coming with me.”

You put your head down as you knew there was no way out of this one. He took a book off your nightstand and began reading it as you continue your work. It took you about 2 more hours and he had managed to doze off wait for you. You look back at him sleeping quietly and simply close your laptop for the night and lay your head down and close your eyes for just a second truthfully, you felt horrible. In the absence of your typing, Aizawa woke up and saw you with your head down and got up and put a hand on your shoulder feeling the elevated body heat from your fever radiating through you. 

He quietly sighed and in his general monotone voice said, “Come on kiddo let’s go, grab some comfy clothes and you can shower back at my room.”

You compiled and went to stand up but immediately the word was spinning and you had to grab onto the desk to steady yourself. He had immediately put a hand around your waist and only your shoulder not wanting you to fall in your sick weakened state.

“Okay, new plan, We’re going straight to my room, I’ll just give you some clothes and you can take a sitting down shower. I don’t want you to exert any more energy and risk you falling and hurting yourself, so I’m going to carry you, is that okay?”

You gave a small nod and he put one arm under your knees and one on your mid-back and you put your arms around his neck and snuggled into his chest feeling small. And quite truthfully, Aizawa did notice you were a little nighter and a little bonier than he expected before, almost as if you had been skipping meals.

Walking with you down the hallway still wrapped in your blanket ha=e quietly asked, “Kid I need you to be honest with me, are you eating?”

You give a small groan in response, “I accidentally forgot for a few days I’ve just been too busy and didn’t realize.”

Aizawa sighed and realized how work-oriented you are, stopping for nothing and not accomplishing things for your health, “I’ll make you some soup while you’re in the shower okay, then will you please eat a little bit of it?”

You simply nodded your head in his chest resulting in a lack of verbal response.

Once making it back to his living quarters he opened the door and was greeted by a cat waiting for him to get back. He closed the door behind both of you and took you to the bathroom and sat you down on the toilet and told you to undress and take a shower, and he would leave clothes and some towels for you in a bit. 

As you did that and carefully sat down at the bottom of the shower and turned the water on you immediately felt the warm water hitting your skin rinsing some of the sick away and you let out a small cough, which didn’t go unnoticed by your teacher leaving a pair of black sweatpants and a charcoal grey sweater that will be much too large for you but are clean clothes you should find comfortable.

[charlesboyfriendwasright]

MY DEBT TO YOU

Chapter ONE

Me: "I'm going to write this and have it posted by Tuesday"

Also me: *does not do that*

I'm so sorry for the long wait and the fact that this chapter is shit 💔 the other ones will probably be better because they'll be straight porn

CW: DOM FEM Reader, reader uses she/her pronouns and is a literal monarch, Maxim is a subby medieval bitch boy, no actual smut in this chapter but the rest of the series is so just Minors DNI, poorly researched, historical accuracy? We don't know her, ik I said no smut but dildos, lots of dildos, also Maxim almost slips into subspace at the end if that counts as smut

Under the cut because of smut (not really but it rhymed so whatever)

Sir Maxim Walter was tired.

Not just physically, though exhaustion did seep through his bones, but mentally as well. This was the fourth time this week some old shopkeeper had been covering for a younger fellow selling contraband through the back of his shop. Six barrels of unregistered ale in the back room, and Maxim and his team had been called in to investigate and arrest the smugglers. Now, as Dresten and Quincy pulled the offending parties through cuffs and into the back of the cart headed to the prisons, Maxim was tasked with doing another run through the shop to make sure there were no hidden rooms with more ale.

He stepped through another archway, one hand rested gently on the hilt of his sword, the other running across the wall. A hard expression was settled on his face, eyebrows knitted together in suspicion. He had a twitch in his jaw telling him that the old man was lying when he said that there weren't any hidden rooms.

He stopped when he got to the biggest room of the shop, which had a large square display in the center with nothing around it all the way up to the edges of the room. Things hung on the wall of course, but it seemed off to Maxim that every other room in this place was stocked full but this one was so barren. He took one more step forward.

The floor creaked loudly.

It wasn't out if character, creaky floors. The whole building creaked. But that was different. Louder. More hollow. He stepped again. Same sound.

Kneeling at the ground, he placed a hand on the floor, feeling for some sort of handle to grasp. His leather-clad fingers found the loose board and he pulled, moving aside so the panel could lift, revealing a steep, narrow staircase down to a cellar.

Maxim unsheathed his sword and put one foot on the first step. Sturdy. Another step. Then the next, all the way until he wasn't the bottom. His face knocked into a cord hanging from the ceiling, and he pulled it, letting the light fill the room.

He stopped dead in his tracks. His sword fell to the ground.

Where Maxim expected to see a stack of barrels, or maybe even a person, he instead saw a huge display of-

His brain stopped on the word.

On the wall, laid out unmistakable and clear as day, were about a hundred toys. Polished metal plugs of every size imaginable, and then bigger than Maxim though possible. Gently blown glass phalluses were laid out, some skillfully attached to off rope contraptions, some not.

Maxim stirred in his leather chaps, forgetting for a moment that he wasn't supposed to like this. He was supposed to be the man of the relationship. Dominant. He closed his eyes and imagined a woman who's like to use those upon him. It was when the pleasure emitting from his crotch bordered on pain when his father's voice stirred in his mind.

Deviant.

Maxim's eyes shot open. He pushed aside all his thoughts, reached down to pick up his sword and resheathe it, and marched out of the room, yanking the cord for the light on the way. He closed the door to the cellar gently however, not wanting one of his fellow knights to find it.

He could only imagine what his face looked like to Quincy as he approached. Flushed in arousal and twisted in frustration because of his findings.

"Nothing sir?"

Maxim shook his head. Quincy nodded once and then bowed, then they both got onto their horses and went off, following the prison cart back to the palace grounds.

-~•~-

The House of Walter was not the largest of the noble homes, nor were the Walters part of the Dowster twelve, the elite nobility of Dowster. They weren't very well off either, with only a small fortune. But their two sons were both high ranking military officers, and while the other noblemen and women make faces at them as they passed in the street, they weren't out of favor with the Queen.

Arthur greeted him at the door, giving Maxim pause. His father wasn't usually one to show overt politeness towards his family.

"Hello to you too father." The words were stiff.

His father gestured to the table, set for a meal. Maxim's mother died when he was young, promoting his father to remarry. Elizabeth, who had the same name as his mother, was nothing like his mother, in looks and personality. She was nice enough, and though her and Maxim got along fine, she was Elizabeth to him, not mother. She didn't push their relationship though, and Maxim enjoyed that. And he could tell they really loved one another.

"Hello Maxim!" Elizabeth said brightly. That wasn't out of the ordinary. Elizabeth was perpetually smiling. "Dinner tonight is a pot roast." She placed the dish in the center of the table.

Maxim took a seat.

"Where's Castian?" Maxim pointed to the empty seat across from him where his brother usually sat.

Elizabeth and Arthur shared a glance.

"Arthur let the boy eat for ten minutes before telling him," Elizabeth chided, serving herself and Maxim each portions of food. Her tone wasn't off, she usually kept Arthur in check, but the concerned, almost sad expression was out of the ordinary.

"He deserves to know Elizabeth," his dad spat. Maxim forced himself not to flinch. That was where him and his dad differed. Arthur had a temper. He was quick to anger and always assumed the worst. Castian was the same. Maxim preferred to sit on the sides until he knew what was needed. Until he was perfectly posed to get in and out as quickly and quietly as possible. He'd be a good stealth guard if not for the heavy clanking of his armor.

Before Maxim could ask what, he got his answer in the form of a knock on the door. Whoever it was didn't wait for an answer though, before bursting through the door, swords drawn. Maxim reached for his own, only so see that he had left it across the room. There was no way he could been able to get it. Upon closer look, Maxim recognized their uniforms. Something about their faces was also familiar, but Maxim couldn't quite place them.

"On behalf of the Queen of Dowster by the Queen's Guard, you Maxim Walter are under arrest for your treasonous actions against the throne and the Queen. You will stand trial for these crimes in three days time at the palace-"

"WHAT?" Arthur roared, cutting off the lead Guard.

The lead Guard glared at Maxim's father for a moment, then began his speech once more, addressing Maxim only, instead of the house as a whole.

This time it was Maxim who cut him off, "I know the speech," he informed them. The lead Guard nodded to another guard and they placed Maxim in cuffs. Arthur was silent now, and Maxim glanced over to see a Guard had his sword drawn right near Elizabeth.

Maxim went in silence as the guards led him to a cage. For the sake of his family's reputation, he lowered his head so no one would recognize him. People stared. He ignored them.

He couldn't say it didn't get to him though. He had always tried so much through his life to be loved by his family, to be accepted. But Castian had always stolen the spotlight. As he thought of his brother, it suddenly clicked why the Guards looked familiar. This was Castian's group. But Castian wasn't with them?

"Where is my brother? Where is Castian?' he asked. The guards stayed silent. They wouldn't talk to Maxim. He was a prisoner.

A lucky one though, if you could really even say that, because the Palace was only a half days trip from his house so it went by quick. He spent a single, sleepless night in a cell in the dungeon, and by the next morning, he was being marched to the throne room to stand before the Queen.

Maxim had never met the queen before, had only heard her words regurgitated by her Guards. But as soon as he stepped into the room he was immediately aware of her presence.

It was hard not to be, she took up most of the room with her presence, even is she was only physically taking up a single person's space. She was sitting in her throne, dressed in the most beautiful garment of clothing Maxim had ever seen his life, draped with rich purple silk. She looked regal. Royal. Beautiful.

Maxim had to pick up his jaw from the floor.

His mind idly drifted back to the room at the Shoppe he found yesterday wondering what it would feel like to have one of those used on him, by her.

He pushed those thoughts away as she began to speak.

"Maxim Walter, you have committed a heinous act of treason against me and my country. Do you have anything to say for yourself?" There was a hint of something in her voice, something familiar to Maxim but so far removed from him he couldn't place it at first. Was she amused?

Maxim gave a cursory bow, taking a knee before speaking.

"Your Majesty, I do not know of what you speak of. I have not committed any crime."

"You presume to know more than I?"

"Of course not, Your Majesty!"

The Queen studied him for a long moment. Maxim felt like squirming under her gaze. He barely held himself still.

"Leave us," she gestured to her Guards. They all shuffled out, leaving Maxim and the Queen alone in the large room.

"Stand and approach me," the queen instructed, standing up in front of her chair. Maxim stepped forward, slowly at first, but at her impatient stare, sped up his pace. He stumbled slightly on his way up to her, but managed to make it so he was on the step right in front of her, the step making up for his height and bringing him to her eye level.

"Did you do it?" She asked. Her voice was soft, quieter, but still just as strong and commanding as before.

"No Your Majesty. I don't even know what crime I'm being accused of." The Queen nodded once before stepping back so her heels were against her throne. She placed her hands on Maxim's shoulders before sitting down, pressing gently so Maxim got the message. He knelt in front of her, head practically in her lap. She removed her hands.

"I see you aren't lying to me." Maxim nodded. "But I don't believe that the rest of the country, nor your family, will see it that way." She stared off as she spoke. "So I'd like to make you a deal." Her eyes snapped back to Maxim's, holding his gaze. Maxim didn't dare to look away. "You will come to me. Live at the palace. You can be my personal guard. You would be free to leave at any time, though I cannot guarantee your safety if you do."

The Queen continued talking, but Maxim's ears were ringing to loud for him to hear her properly. His brain became foggy, vision blurring around the edges. Something about her dominance, the way she spoke as if she'd already made up her mind gave Maxim a twisted high, one he clung to. He felt a hand on his shoulder and snapped back to the Queen, realizing she was speaking to him still.

"Maxim?" she asked. He was barley conscious enough to refrain from begging her to say his name again. The word fell from her lips beautifully, wrapping around Maxim and holding him tight.

"I'm sorry I-" she held up her hand.

"I know." Her tone was soft, kind. Understanding. Maxim was brought back to reality by her touch, allowing himself to focus on her skin against his.

She seemed to know when he was back to himself. "Do you want me to repeat myself?" She asked.

"No Your Majesty." Now that his head was clear, her words came back to him.

The Queen only nodded in response.

"Well then, what do you say?"

Maxim didn't have to think about it, really. He knew his answer.

"I accept."

TAGLIST: @whiiiiplaaaaash

[bangstanfics]

Ode to Safe Travels || JJK

☆ Pairing: Knight!Jungkook x Princess!Reader

☆ Word Count: 4.8k

☆ Rating: 17+

☆ Genre: Medieval au, royalty au, star crossed lovers, romance, angst, and more angst

☆ Warnings: Major character death, implications of smut

☆ Summary: It was a forbidden romance that was bound to end up in tragedy. You both knew that, and yet that didn’t stop you from falling hopelessly in love with your metaphorical and literal knight in shining armor, Jeon Jungkook. 

☆ A/N: My first ever fic, oh gawd I wasn’t sure when (or if) I was going to post this, but Valentines Day seemed like a good day. This short story is part of my “A Second Chance at Love” series (a series about lovers whose circumstances caused them to not end up together during their first life, but are given a second chance when they are reincarnated) and is the prequel to my main story “Chasing Stars.” Also, all the italicized writing is the present, and the regular text are flashbacks of the past. Yes! That was done with a purpose and no I won't directly say why (unless you figure it out owo). Enough of my blabbing, I hope you all enjoy!! :)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ 

I’ll be with you, forever.

It was his promise to you as he sat in his barren cell, deprived of the basic necessities of life - food, water, human contact. The shackles around his arms denying him access to one last touch of your skin, to caress your cheek and brush away the tears that you couldn’t stop from falling. His big doe eyes that reflected stars now reflected your contorted expression, overtaken with grief. Despite his circumstances, he managed to smile and attempted to ease your fears with his words.

God, how you hated yourself in that moment. There he was, waiting for his moment to come on death’s vendetta, yet he was comforting you. You, the princess who spent her sheltered life behind the castle walls, ignorant to famen, war, and poverty. You, the princess who was always draped in the finest silks and gold and carried herself with too much pride. You, the princess who was always pampered by servants and knights alike, adored by the entire kingdom.

Finding solace in his words was a privilege you would not allow yourself to have in that moment.

“Would you like to have a different meal prepared, your Highness?” the voice of the servant cut through your heavy thoughts, pulling you back to the present. You glanced down at your untouched food before turning your attention back to the girl. She was new, you noted, and unaware of the fact that your lack of appetite had nothing to do with the food, and everything to do with the memories of him that constantly flooded your mind.

“No,” you answered after a moment of silence, “This will suffice.”

She waited, as if expecting more, but when you offered nothing of the sort she bowed her head respectfully and left the dining hall, leaving you alone to replay that fateful day over and over again.

He was right, though. Even after his passing, you saw and heard him everywhere you went. His hushed voice in the wind, calling your name. His shadow trailing your footsteps of abandoned corridors. His lingering scent in the sheets of your chambers. Even now, in this massive hall with the long table stretched out before you, you could feel the weight of his presence sitting in the empty chair across from you. The ghost of his smile barely visible to your eye and yet you can remember it so distinctly. However, rather than comfort, it only served as a bitter reminder of the future that was abruptly taken away from you.

You closed your eyes once again and allowed your consciousness to drift back to that day, resuming from the point where you hopelessly reached your hand through the bars in an attempt to seek refuge in the warmth of his arms. He did the same, extended his hand out towards you, but the chains that restrained him to the wall only allowed him to move a few feet. Your desperate attempts to reach each other proving futile against the cell bars.

“Please don’t leave me,” you pleaded through your sobs, “Please don’t leave me all alone. I can’t do this without you.”

His smile was weak, but reassuring, “My love,” his voice barely above a whisper, all the might and confidence you were so accustomed to hearing had disappeared, “Don’t say that. You are the strongest person I know. Hell, the strongest person in this nation. Do what you always do when you fall, jump back up and keep moving forward.” You shake your head, unable to speak through your broken sobs. You wanted to tell him he was wrong. The truth behind your unwavering nature was not an iron will, but the knowledge that if you fell, Jungkook would be right there to catch you and help you back up.

“Jungkook please,” you tried again, “Let me fix this.”

“But there is nothing to fix,” he tried to reason, “Our destiny had already been mapped out in the stars long ago. I know you do not believe in these myths and folklore, but sometimes there are moments in this lifetime that are meant to happen to allow others destinies to fully take course.”

This destiny he was so fixated on, meant nothing to you if he wasn’t there to take part in the journey with you. You wanted to tell him that, but the words stayed as a lump in your throat as you stared into his brown orbs. The unwavering determination was set ablaze in his eyes, as he sent you a silent message - he was doing this for you. In that moment, you were faced with a burden so great that the mere thought of it left the impression of the universe’s vast loneliness coursing through you.

You had to leave him.

Turn around and allow him to take part in fate’s cruel plans.

“I love you,” were the final words you had to offer, “I love you so damn much,” your cries growing louder with each passing declaration, knowing it will be your last.

“And I love you,” he projected what little strength he had into this confession, so they would never leave you, “Even after my time in this world has come to an end, my love for you will not end with it.”

You felt your hands tremble at your sides as the desire to embrace him one last time overwhelmed you. To brush your lips over his and murmur sweet nothings into his ears to reassure him that your heart was forever his and nothing, not even death, could break that bond. Your lover, your best friend, your world. He was it all and so much more.

With a heavy heart, you rose from your spot on the ground and left without a second glance. Too afraid that if you did, your resolution would break and you would run back to Jungkook’s cell. Instead, as you traveled down the dimly lit hall, you broke into uncontrollable sobs. The force of your whimpers reverberating through your chest, causing the halls to echo back your sorrows. Your hands found their way to your hair as you began rummaging through your locks, searching your head for an answer. A swarm of profanities whirled your mind as they attempted to escape through your mouth. You physically had to bite your tongue to prevent yourself from revealing your location to the castle guards. But the insanity of the situation was getting too much and with each passing second your hope continued to dwindle close to nothing. You frantically shook your head, forcing the negative thoughts away. Jungkook already had given up, so you knew you couldn’t do the same.

You were at a loss for breathe as you found yourself hyperventilating, knees succumbing to the reality of the situation. Was there really nothing you could do to save him? You clawed at your chest, desperate for air as your head sunk lower and lower, eyes meeting the concrete floors. Your vision was filled with nothing but the gray cracks and crevices, hoping to find a silver lining in any one of its imperfections. But there was nothing and when you realized this, you screamed. An ear curdling scream meant for the heavens, hoping they would hear your plea and allow Jungkook to live.

“Your Highness, are you alright?” a heavy breathe brought you down from the memory you were reliving and you realized you were no longer seated at the dining table. To your side, the familiar face of the Head maid with a look of concern etched onto her features. Of all people you had to encounter, you just had to encounter her - Mrs. Kim. The same woman who helped raise you and feed you when your parents were busy managing their kingdom. The same woman who kissed your wounds and was your shoulder to cry on. The same woman who gave birth to one of your closest friends, Kim Namjoon. The same woman who betrayed you.

“Don’t touch me!” you immediately recoiled from her touch, the momentum of your movements, bringing you down to the floor as a result.

“But Your Highness--” Mrs. Kim reached out to help you up, but you responded by scurrying further back, until your back hit the end of a wall.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t look at me! Don’t help me! Just get away!”

Mrs. Kim was visibly hurt by your words, you could tell by the way her eyes clouded with tears, but you couldn’t stop the words from spilling from your mouth. Afterall, she was the one who revealed your relationship with Jungkook to your parents.

“What if… we ran away together?” you whispered to Jungkook one night after love making. Your naked bodies intertwined between the silk sheets of your bed, as the soft rays of the moonlight peeking through your windows enhanced Jungkook’s features. His doe eyes seemed to sparkle more, his smile was bigger and brighter than you’ve ever seen it. Then again, you could attribute that to the fact he had an orgasm not even ten minutes ago, but still - he seemed different. A radiating glow. You wondered if you had one too.

“Where would we even go?” he decided to entertain the idea, although deep down he knew it was impossible. Your parents would spend whatever resources necessary to bring you back here to Reeva. Afterall, you were, not only the eldest, but the most qualified of your siblings to inherit the throne. Your younger sister, a carefree spirit who would rather spend her time exploring the city than learning how to write eloquent letters to convince an enemy kingdom to decrease their tariffs, did not have the knowledge or skill to be a bridge between the people and the law. Your younger brother, a fool most people would describe him, but you saw him as a man with no ambition. He was indifferent to the world and would rather spend his time exploring the beds of the young maidens in the castle. That left Reeva in your hands.

“Anywhere. Everywhere.” You finally decided as your answer, “The world has so much to offer us, Jungkook. Why stay in a place that forbids us to love each other just because I’m seen as heir to the throne and you’re seen as my protector.” Jungkook loved hearing you talk about your immense love for him. The way you would sacrifice everything for him. He had never known a love so deep and pure. Growing up as an orphan, he thought love was a concept that didn’t exist. People would abandon each other eventually, it was only a matter of time. Yet, with you, no matter how many times he failed or made himself look like a fool, you remained by his side and encouraged him to get back up. He reached out his hand and gently stroked your cheek, admiring the way you released a content sigh at the physical contact.

“A place where we could love each other freely…” he tested the idea with his tongue, saying it out loud for the first time. He had to admit, a swarm of butterflies invaded his chest at the mere thought of being able to hold your hand freely in public. Without any spectators giving him dirty looks, or covering their mouths to point out how you carried an air of grace, while he carried himself with the mannerism of a commoner.

“Mmhm… Doesn’t that sound nice?” you smiled sleepily, your previous activities with Jungkook draining you of most of your energy, but you still had enough power to lean forward and press your lips against his in a soft, sweet kiss. You could feel him smile against your lips before releasing a low hum of agreement.

The moment, like every beautiful moment in life, did not last.

The door to your chambers was forced open with a great kick. Startled, you and Jungkook pulled away from each other, as your first instinct was to cover yourself up with your linen. Guards came swarming into your space and surrounded the bed you shared with Jungkook. You couldn’t even process everything that was happening. The motion of the clustered bodies moving like a blur, until two distinct presence made themselves known. Your blood ran cold as you noticed the fire that ignited in your father’s eyes as he took in the scene before him - you and Jungkook in your bed together, naked and covered in love bites. He didn’t even give you time to explain yourself before he was marching over to Jungkook’s side and drawing the tip of his sword to your lover’s neck.

“Father wait--” you tried to reason with him, thinking he was about to drag the blade against Jungkook’s throat, but he proceeded with words rather than action, much to your surprise.

“You will be tried for high treason against the royal family. You will be stripped of your title as a member of the Battle Triumph Soldiers. And you will no longer be known as a knight of Reeva. Should you be found guilty of your crime, there is only one punishment fitting of such betrayal - death. Do you have any objections?”

You sucked in a deep breathe at the word “death” knowing well that the council (comprised of your father, mother, your father’s advisor Sir Lee and Commander Bang) would unanimously find Jungkook guilty. The hard stare your father sent Jungkook was meant to be intimidating, you could tell, but all you could see in his eyes was pity and despair. He was, after all, the one who took Jungkook under his wing and trained him to be the man he is today. Despite the tough front your father always portrayed, you always knew he had a soft spot for Jungkook. He was every inch of what the king wanted your brother to be, but could never achieve. But at that moment, he was casting all emotions aside and using his head to make every decision. The King couldn’t risk a scandal like this being exposed to the other kingdoms. They would seize it as an opportunity to cast doubt over his authority and possibly overthrow him. Jungkook was no longer a boy orphaned by war, he was a man who had to take responsibility for his actions.

“No, I have no objections.”

Wide eyed, you whipped your head to the man next to you and looked at him in disbelief. Was the post-orgasm high interfering with his brain? You sat up straighter, carrying an air of dignity that had been instilled into you since birth - you weren’t about to let these men make you feel ashamed for making love to the man you love -  and started to protest on his behalf, “On the contrary, he objects to every statement you just made!”

“You will hold your tongue until--” your mother began, but your father raised a hand to silence her.

You decided to use the opportunity to continue talking, “Father, I beg of you, hear me out. None of this was Jungkook’s fault. It was I who initiated this- this- this whole thing. He refused all of my advances, saying he knows his place, but I convinced him that his rightful place should be with me because I--” you paused, unsure if your words was making the situation better or worse for Jungkook, but you were desperate to cling onto anything that would resolve this mess, even if it meant revealing the truth, “Because I lo--”

“I’d hate to reveal my intentions in front of everyone like this, Princess, but I thought I should save you the embarrassment of your next words by speaking my truth.” All you could do was blink inquisitively at Jungkook, whose demeanor and attitude had suddenly transformed into one you had never seen before, “And that truth is… I used you. Well, used your body more specifically.” It was like choking on air as you listened to Jungkook’s confession. Nothing was holding your throat hostage, yet you were finding it difficult to breathe. Why are you doing this? You wanted to scream at him. Why are you lying so effortlessly in front of everyone? Why are you trying to take all the blame? “You made it so easy for me too. With the way you practically flung yourself at me every time we were alone. I almost felt bad stringing you along... Almost. Then again, sleeping with you did also pose some benefits seeing how I got to sleep in these luxurious chambers rather than my worn out closet space.”

Jungkook’s “confession” landed him a swift blow to his face, courtesy of your father who either believed his story or wanted to believe his story just so he could portray Jungkook to be the villain in this entire mess, “Father, stop!” Your first instinct was to jump in front of the dark haired boy and use your own body as a shield, but the guard closest to you captured your arm, preventing you from doing so. Your father took another swing at the knight and the momentum of his hit threw Jungkook to the floor with a loud thud. You watched in horror as the King pulled his leg back and swiftly landed a kick to what you presumed, judging from the suffocated groan, was Jungkook’s abdomen. “Enough!” you finally yell with a force so great, that even the guard gripping your arm was startled. With a ragged breath, and tears on the brink of escape, you yanked your arm from the guard and crawled to the other edge of the bed to where your father was standing, “Please, have mercy on him,” you begged, head hung low and hands clasped together as if you were praying to a saint. From the corner of your eye, you focused on Jungkook’s remorse expression and apologized mentally that you couldn’t do more for him. You couldn’t gauge your father’s reaction, but you knew he must have been furious seeing his heir to the throne on her knees, for a man who didn’t possess an ounce of royal blood. 

Your father cleared his throat, a sign for you to raise your head. His eyes lacked emotion so you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, “Guards, dress him and lock him up in the dungeons. I don’t want him in my sights for another second,” he finally commanded. Two men quickly found Jungkook’s discarded articles of clothing and dressed him before dragging him out of your room. Your eyes followed his body’s movement, even when he was out of sight, all you could do was stare helplessly at the door, “Leave us,” your father commanded the remaining guards, who quickly scurried away from his tone.

“How did you know?” you finally decided to ask after a moment of silence. Your eyes were still transfixed on the empty doorway, waiting for his answer, until a new figure came into view. She hung her head low in shame and her shoulders slouched forward to make herself seem as small as she felt at that moment.

“I have eyes all over the castle, my dear. As loyal as they are to you, they will always prioritize their loyalty to me, their King.” You couldn’t even process his words as an overwhelming sense of denial rushed through your system. Not her. Of all the people to betray you, please not her.

“Mrs. Kim?” you called out weakly, afraid that speaking her name out loud would confirm your fears. However, as soon as her name was called, she took the remaining steps to enter your room and make her presence known, “How- How could you?”

She bit her lip back in guilt, seemingly a loss for words to justify her actions. However, what came out next only made your hatred for the woman grow, “I’m so sorry. I have nothing else to say except that I’m so terribly sorry and that I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

A harsh tug on your shoulder brought you back to reality as you realized that Mrs. Kim pulled you back to your feet and began shaking you frantically.

“I know you can never trust me again after what I did to you, but all I ask is that you listen to my reason for doing so.”

“I refuse! No explanation can take back the consequences of your actions. You have betrayed not just me or Jungkook, but Namjoon and the rest of the Battle Triumph Soldiers. Do you not see the pain in their eyes during war tactic conferences as they stare at the empty seat that once belonged to Jungkook? Or how Namjoon still expects Jungkook to pull one of his antics right before training? Maybe you’ve seen how Seokjin still sharpens and polishes Jungkook’s sword every morning? Or noticed how Yoongi still eats half his meal because he thinks Jungkook would ask for the rest of it? Can you tell Hoseok is still the first to take off his gear because he expects Jungkook to jump on his back? Do you see Jimin linger at Jungkook’s door? Longing for a friend to confide his struggles to? Have you watched Taehyung visit Jungkook’s grave with flowers and just cry uncontrollably? Because I’ve seen it Mrs. Kim. I’ve seen it all. And seeing them go through that reopens every wound Jungkook’s death has caused and refreshes every ounce of hatred I have towards you.” Mrs. Kim can’t even think of a response to your confession. Her grip on her shoulder fell as she stood motionless in the middle of the hall. A quick observation of your surroundings helped you determined that you were in the middle of the West hall, the hall that leads to the battle arena. 

Your blood ran cold as the gates of the arena stared you down, taunting you with the knowledge of what that place represented.  As you expected, Jungkook was found guilty of treason sentenced to death. How you wish your father showed mercy by making it a quick execution. Rather, he chose to spark a flame of hope within you by sentencing him to a duel - a battle to save his life. Jungkook was a talented knight, that was an undeniable fact that the entire kingdom knew, but his opponent, Sir Hyun, was exemplary. As the Head Knight, nations quaked in fear when they crossed his path and would rather be met with a death by a blade than at the hands of Sir Hyun. He was relentless when given a task and always made sure to leave no victim behind. A madman is what most would call him, and they would be completely justified in their beliefs. The bottom of your lip began to quiver as flashes of that day played out.

Jungkook dragging his practically lifeless body to the center of the arena.

His opponent’s merciless attacks on his weakened body.

Jungkook’s poor attempts at defending himself.

The battle ending with a fatal blow to your lover’s chest.

“Princess?” Mrs. Kim tried capturing your attention when she noticed your rigid state, but it was no use, you couldn’t escape the image painted inside your head. The only man you ever loved lying in a crimson pool, choking on his own blood. The way you ran to him and held his head in your lap as your tears decorated his pale face. The quiet hush that fell over the crowd as they watched you cradle your lover back and forth. The heartbroken wails that escaped your lips as you desperately yelled for anyone to help him. The audience only offered silent murmurs of what they speculated was going on. Your parents, the King and Queen of the kingdom, astonished by the events unfolding in front of him.

“Mother! Father! Please, I love him!” Their silent judgment only brought fresh tears to your face as you realized they would offer no aid to the dying man. His voice called out what sounded like your name, so you focused your attention back to him, leaning closer so he wouldn’t strain himself trying to speak up.

“D- Dont be afraid of go-goodbye.”

You frantically shook your head, refusing to believe this is where it ends for the both of you, “No, no, no. This isn’t goodbye, it can’t be. I refuse to accept it.”

His weak smile caused you to grimace, knowing how much effort it must take for the small action, “It’s okay…” he muttered, his voice notably getting fainter, “Because I promise you… I’ll find you again.” Your brows knitted together in confusion at his words.

“Wha-What do you mean you’ll find me again?”

He broke into a smile at your inquisitive stare. How is it that even as death lay waiting at his door he could still see every detail etched into your face. From the small crease in your brow, to the small crinkles around your glassy eyes as you tried to decipher his words. Knowing that it would be Jungkook’s last time seeing your face he made sure to take in every detail and appreciate the beauty that you are, “One day…” he began, the throbbing pain in his chest was slowly subsiding. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one, but he welcomed the peace, “We’ll be together again.”

Still confused by his words, thinking his wound was making him confused, you shook your head once again, “I don’t want to wait until one day. I want to be with you right now. Now. I wanted to live the rest of our lives together. Have children together along the way and start a family. To grow old and watch our generations prosper. Doesn’t that sound nice, Jungkook?”

His smile turned into a painful one. Not because of his injury, but because he could perfectly see the future you described. Two children, one boy and one girl, running around a small cottage as you sat in his lap with eyes full of love at the children you two had created. At night when the children were in bed, you and him would be awake, confessing your heart’s desires through touches and kisses. He could see it so vividly in front of him that he almost convinced himself that he wasn’t currently dying, but Jungkook knew. He knew it was unattainable.

“It sounds wonderful.” he confessed, voice growing weaker,  “And we don’t have to say goodbye to that dream, just… until next time.”

At the mention of ‘until next time’, you understood what he meant. Reeva had a tradition when seeing their knights off to battle in foregin territory. From a young age, every inhabitant of the kingdom was required to memorize a stanza entitled an Ode to Safe Travels. You always found it ridiculous because you thought it was nothing but a poetic way of saying goodbye. As you grew older and wiser, you realized it was not a poetic goodbye, but a promise to be reunited once again, whether it be in this life or the next one. And so with a tear stained face, you inched your face closer to Jungkook and whispered your farewells.

“For honor, you part from this kingdom,” your voice was broken from tears as you recite the lines you have spoken countless times to Jungkook before he was sent off to battle, but this time it was different because you knew he would not return from the place he going to, “In glory, you find victory in the next.” He raised a hand to brush away a few of your tears and hold your cheek in the palm of his hand. You welcomed his touch by leaning into it and holding it firm against your face, “Safe travels wherever the wind carries you.” You watched as tranquility took over his features and his eyes began to flutter close. Your heart clenched painfully at the sight and you squeezed his hand that was resting against your cheek in hopes of transferring some of your life force into him. However, dragging on the seconds into minutes would not extend Jungkook’s life so you forced yourself to finish the rest of the poem, “And may the stars guide you back to me,” He used his remaining strength to force a smile, sealing his promise to be reunited with you once again, whenever that may be.

“For honor, you part from this kingdom. In glory, you find victory in the next. Safe travels wherever the wind carries you. And may the stars guide you back home.”

-Reeva’s parting ode to their knights

[zaph1337]

Monster Hunter Rating 14: Basarios, the Bellowing Boulder

I said at the end of the Vespoid post that I truly believe this has to be a more interesting monster. Why? Because it’s a Main Monster! If you don’t remember, “Main Monster” was my designation for the big monsters that have entire missions revolving around killing just one of them. They’re the monsters the games are built around, so if this one isn’t more interesting than small fries like the Vespoids, then it’s probably not doing its job very well. Let’s give a big welcome to Basarios!

(How it appears in Monster Hunter 1)

(How it appears in Monster Hunter Rise)

Appearance: It’s very easy to see that Basarios is a dragon made from stone. It looks like something a mountain would form on top of, and it even has a small mass of rock on its back that resembles a mountain! Its head is...kinda creepy, if I’m being honest. It looks like a stone skull with beady yellow eyes, and for some reason it has human teeth. They could have given it stalactites and stalagmites for teeth and make it look like its mouth is a cave, but nope! That might not give kids nightmares, so obviously it’s an inferior design.

Okay, I make it sound like I hate Basarios’ face, but I think it’s fine. I just don’t get why they thought that a rock dragon needed to have such a scary face. Anyways, Basarios’ wings look like they’re made from cracked rocks, and the membranes look like sand. This kinda gives me the impression that the sand came from those cracked rocks, like the wind started sweeping over them and wearing them down before time stopped around them, freezing the sand in place as a membrane. Of course, that’s not what actually happened, but it still looks cool. It’s hard to see on the Rise render, but I like how Basarios’ underside looks more like a typical dragon’s would despite still appearing to be made of stone. It shows us that this thing may look like it was carved from rock, but it’s still a living creature. All in all, Basarios’ design accomplishes exactly what it was intended to, and it looks pretty good doing it. 7/10.

Behavior: Despite being close to 40 feet from head to tail at their smallest, Basarios are actually only juveniles; their adult forms are called Gravios, and I’ll talk about them soon enough. A Basarios only spends a short time after birth with its mother before setting out on its own...and by that, I mean that their mothers straight up abandon them and leave them to fend for themselves. Coincidentally, Basarios do not have a concept of “Mother’s Day” (or any other holiday, really). They use the claws on their wings to burrow partially underground to use their rocky backs as camouflage while they sleep, but they still tend to stand out because their backs are often a different color from the rocks around them, or because they sometimes hide right in the middle of the area they’re in. Hey, you work with what you’ve got.

Basarios mainly feed on minerals and ores, so they often live in volcanic regions and deserts, though they’ve also been seen in forests and swamps. But everybody needs protein in their diet, so they’re also ambush predators that snack on Herbivores, Neopterons, and sometimes even miners, if they aren’t paying attention to how out-of-place the Basarios’ carapace is. Honestly, I feel kinda bad for these guys; they’re ditched by their parents when they’re babies and their camouflage is subpar. I guess they have to stand out in the games for players to avoid being caught off guard, and the idea of finding a camouflaged monster to fight is pretty cool, so 6/10.

Abilities: As you’d expect from a Main Monster. Basarios have quite a few tricks up their sleeves. Ramming attacks are standard fare, and they can fly for a short time, but they can also spit out fireballs and “lava beams,” according to the wiki. Don’t know how that works or what it looks like, but sure. The thing that you might not have expected from Basarios is the fact that they can expel gases from the pores on their undersides. These gases can be poisonous, sleep-inducing, or on rare occasions a fiery plume. And here’s the gross part: the gases are what’s left of the Basarios’ past meals, so you’re basically getting hit by a fart. Not what I expected from a rock dragon, but sure. There’s also a “Hard Core” variation of Basarios in Monster Hunter Frontier Online that has stronger flame and poison sacks than normal, allowing them to use more powerful moves, but it’s not something I’m gonna talk about in its own rating. As for the regular Basarios, the only thing in the abilities department that really separates them from a normal dragon is the gas attack and maybe the lava beam, depending on what that actually is. Still, you probably wouldn’t expect those things, or the ability to fly, from a dragon made of rock. 7/10.

Equipment: As you’d expect, the Basarios weapons all look rocky, but some of them also have blue highlights breaking up the grey. An example is the Gigant Makra, a Long Sword you can make in Rise:

It’s weird that blue is the color they went for for these weapons, but I only think that because there are blue eye-like specks on several weapons, such as this Hammer known in several games as the Basarios Blow, when Basarios have yellow eyes. It’s especially weird here, ‘cause, uh...

Okay, so obviously, having a Basarios’ head as the hammerhead is morbid, but what I wanna know is, why are the bindings spiked, and why is one covering the head’s mouth? There’s a joke there I don’t want to make. To close off the weapons and move to the armor, here’s a picture of the Basarios Rock, the Hunting Horn you use in the demo of Monster Hunter Rise, and the Basarios Armor set which you wear when using the Basarios Rock in the demo:

Y’know, when I first saw this, I thought it was the standard model of Hunting Horn because of how plain it looked from afar, but it actually looks pretty cool. I like the blue “eyes” and how the neck of the Horn is blue, though I question why there’s a barrel coming out the body (not that other Horns don’t have one, it’s just the most obvious here). And here’s the armor set itself (it’s from Generations Ultimate, though; I couldn’t find a good picture of the Basarios Armor from Rise):

The Basarios Armor is clearly meant to emulate a medieval knight, and I’ll give the designers credit for not giving the female armor the stereotypical and dangerous breast plate that far too many people think women who are knights should wear. I also like how the armor has blue specks here and there, which are especially visible on the shoulder...pads? I don’t think anything made of rock can qualify as a “pad,” but I don’t know what else to call them. This design is cooler than a standard suit of armor, but it’s still pretty close to looking like one (mostly because of the helmet). The equipment as a whole gets a 7/10.

Final Thoughts and Tally: Basarios is a good monster to start us off on the Main Monsters, ‘cause it’s plain enough to be almost average while also showing us the kind of crazy things we can expect from here on. It’s also surprisingly memorable thanks to its creepy face and weird attacks, and its equipment is also pretty cool. If I wasn’t rounding all of these final scores down it’d be a 7, but because I am, it’s a 6/10.

[ryqoshay]

How to Handle a Nico - Even Under a Love Curse, There’s No Way I Would Be Like This

Primary Pairing: NicoMaki Words: ~1.5k Rating: T Time Frame: Maki is in med school. Nico is working as an idol producer. They are living together as a couple, but not married yet. Story Arc: Stand Alone

Author’s Note: I must thank VNVdarkangel for help in giving a title to this chapter; I was honestly stumped. But this title gives it un certain anime’esque je ne sais quoi, if you will.

“Manga?” Maki asked, glancing over at the tablet her girlfriend was holding. “Haven’t seen you read that kind of stuff in a while.”

“Doujin.” Nico corrected, swiping to advance the page.

“Same difference?”

“In art style, sure, but not in publication.”

“Hrm… Hey, that girl looks like… me?”

Nico giggled.

“And why is she… What the heck?”

Nico laughed heartily.

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s my doujin, Maki-chan.”

“You drew a doujin?”

“Well, no, I actually commissioned it.” Nico amended. “And this is really just a proof of concept, not her finished product.”

“Her?”

“The artist I commissioned. She’s a former school idol, which is how I came across her work.” Nico explained. “One of her friends from that group works with Egao now.”

“Hrm…”

“She’s been drawing her own doujin for a little while now but hit a snag and decided to take a small hiatus. During that time, she opened commissions and I liked her work, so I got one. Uhm…” She scrolled through a folder. “Here it is.”

“You had her draw us from one of our old photoshoots?”

“Uh huh. Cute, isn’t it?” Nico grinned. “Brings back memories.”

“Yeah…” Maki studied the drawing on display. “I remember liking that set.”

“Anyway, the picture gave me some ideas, so I reached out to her again and asked if she’d be willing to work a bigger project.” Nico switched back to the doujin. “And this is what we came up with. Wanna read it?”

“Sure.” Maki accepted the tablet. It felt odd reading a story about a fanciful version of herself, but the artwork immediately pulled her in. “What the heck? ‘How to Handle a Maki’? I don’t get it. What kind of title is that?”

“A fitting one. Nico is left trying to figure out how to deal with Maki’s curse, after all.”

“Curse?”

“Sorry, spoilers…” Nico held up her hands apologetically.

Maki pursed her lips. For some reason, the name bugged her more than it probably should. Perhaps it was because it sounded familiar? But why would it be familiar? Odd…

“And Nozomi is in this too?” She asked after a few pages.

“Yup.” Nico confirmed. “And Eli. And Kotori. Umi, Rin and Hanayo have only been mentioned in name thus far, but they’ll probably appear later. I forget what her girlfriend had planned for Honoka.”

“Girlfriend?”

“The artist’s girlfriend is really into fantasy games and whatnot. She’s been a big help in coming up with ideas for worldbuilding, character design and plot points. There are a couple Easter egg jokes and references to gaming that were her suggestions.”

“I see.” Maki continued to read. “Wait, do I still think you’re younger than me?”

“Maybe?” Nico shrugged. “Not really sure how to take care of that just yet. Maybe it can just happen off panel at some point.”

“And one meal is all it took for me to become obsessed with your cooking?”

“Are you gonna deny that’s what happened in real life?”

Maki deadpanned at her girlfriend, earning a laugh.

“Well, maybe not just one…” The redhead tried to save face.

“Then definitely by the second.” The raven-haired girl decided.

“… Maybe…” Maki conceded.

“Nico knows how much Maki-chan loves her cooking.”

Well, there really was no denying that fact.

“Did they have coffee in medieval times?” Maki inquired a moment later.

“No idea.” Nico admitted. “But I know Maki-chan can’t face the day without it, I figured just alluding to it without naming it might work.”

“I suppose…” Maki furrowed her brow. “Are you trying to scam or cheat me?”

Nico blinked in confusion until she saw the page. “Nico is a professional saleswoman!” She huffed. “She would never cheat a customer. She knows Maki-chan can afford better gear than your average novice adventurer and she knows what upgrades will be most beneficial.”

“Also, what’s a grue?”

“An excuse to force players to bring light sources, I guess.” Nico shrugged. “That’s one of those gamer jokes I mentioned.”

“And the gazebo?”

“Another joke.”

“I see. And why does Kotori have a lion?”

“She’s a Beastmaster.”

“Ok, but again, why a lion?”

“Because she had one in the original photoshoot.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right, she did.” Maki’s memory was jogged a bit. “She was part of the focus pair, with Eli, right?”

Nico nodded. “And you were paired with Rin as the secondary.”

“Is that why I’m friends with her here?”

“Rin? Not really, I don’t think.” Nico shook her head. “I mean, yeah, you two are friends, but through Hanayo. I think they’ll appear in the next chapter and we’ll get to explore how you know each other better.”

Maki nodded and continued to read. “Say, why don’t you call the harpy what it is?”

“Because you don’t know what it is.”

“Yes, I do.” Maki furrowed her brow.

“I mean your character doesn’t”

“Why wouldn’t my fantasy character know what a harpy is when she lives in a fantasy world where they actually exist?”

“Because she was raised in the city and is only now becoming an adventurer.” Nico explained. “She’s not ignorant, she just knows stuff better suited for an urban life as opposed to someone out in the rural areas. Not much different than real life, right?”

“I suppose…” Maki reached the part she had seen earlier and frowned. Her girlfriend noticed and giggled. But upon seeing the next page, she sighed. “Ok, the glomping was one thing, but climbing into bed with you? After having barely known you a day?”

“Two days, I believe.” Nico pointed out, ignoring the deadpan stare directed at her. “And it’s because of the curse.”

“Yeah, but even under a love curse, there’s no way I would be like this.”

Nico smirked.

“What?”

“I should really record you drunk sometime.”

“I still…”

“Oh, c’mon, Maki-chan, I’ve even told you about your drunken clinginess before.”

“Mmm…”

“And your half-asleep clinginess.”

“…”

“And your…”

“Alright, alright, I get it…” Maki didn’t want to admit the memories that were swirling around in her head.

“I’ve always found it cute, by the way.” Nico pointed out.

“You’re not finding it cute here.”

Nico chuckled. “That’s because it isn’t real, it’s because you’re under an idol curse.”

“You mean a love curse.”

“An idol curse.”

Maki rolled her eyes. “Are you intentionally baiting me into making a snarky comment about idols?”

“Maybe.” Nico stuck out her tongue.

Maki sighed. “And let me guess, you’re going to have me be all embarrassed about it later.”

“Well that’s how Maki-chan is in real life. And a flustered Maki-chan is an adorable Maki-chan.”

As if on cue, Maki could feel heat in her cheeks. She really should be used to Nico’s teasing by now, but the older girl rarely failed to get a reaction out of her. And though she wasn’t fond of how predictable her reactions were, she couldn’t really fault Nico for seeking them. After all, Maki also loved Nico’s own flustered expressions.

“So,” Nico asked as the last page was reached “what did you think?”

“It was entertaining.” Maki admitted. “Was this posted online?”

“Not yet.” Nico shook her head. “She just sent this to me for approval. She hasn’t even posted it on her own site yet.”

“Hrm…”

Nico chuckled. “Don’t worry, anyone at the hospital who reads this kind of stuff will like it and won’t think you’re weird or anything.”

It never ceased to amaze Maki how well her girlfriend could read her.

“But we can keep it private if we want.” Nico added.

“No, it’s fine, I guess…” Maki decided. “And you said there was going to be another chapter?”

“Or Two. Or more. Depends on how many ideas we have.” Nico grinned. “Because you know we can’t leave things like this. We can’t let Maki-chan only love Nico because of a curse! It needs to be natural! Just like in real life.” She leaned over to nuzzle into her girlfriend’s side. “Although even if we’re trying to keep things realistic, we also can’t keep the readers waiting for years…”

Maki furrowed her brow as she realized what Nico meant. “I didn’t mean…”

“I know. I know” Nico interrupted, making dismissive motions with her free hand. “Maki-chan’s just a little romantically dense is all. And we figured things out eventually and got together and we’re all good now.” She turned her head and pushed herself up so she could plant a kiss on the redhead’s cheek.

“Uhm… You know it’s getting kind of late…” Maki said softly.

“Hmm?”

“Well, I have class in the morning and…”

Nico grinned. “Is Maki-chan hinting that she wants to climb into bed with Nico?”

“Maybe…”

Nico laughed. “Maki-chan is being unusually shy tonight. She has no trouble seducing Nico but is embarrassed to request a snuggle session?”

Maki pouted, earning more laughter.

“So, to bed it is.” Nico said, pushing herself up and off the couch. “But how about a bath first?” She turned to offer a hand to her girlfriend.

“Alright.” Maki agreed, accepting the help up before following Nico down the hall.

Author’s Notes Continued in Followup Post

[vanillacup-cakes]

This is, by far, the latest I’ve ever written one of my year round-ups, and by far, the messiest post. 

2019 was a year guys, so have a really messily written year round up. If I try to tidy it up we’ll be here until December. 

TL;DR

2019.

2019 was a year of love; happy, sad, somewhere in between. 

My heart got broken. 

Hera got married. 

My friends are in love. 

At the end of the Barat, in Pakistani wedding traditions, the bride goes home with the groom. Any events before that the bride always came home with her family. But for this main event, after the actual marriage contract has been signed, after all the festivities, she goes home with the groom. We took it in turns to hug Hera goodbye, I pushed myself to the back of the queue being the crier of the group. 

When I was talking to Hera’s cousin she mentioned that some people have questioned why this little bit of the wedding celebrations causes such emotional responses from the bride’s family and friends, after all, we’ll see her again the next evening for the reception. And it’s not like she’s gone forever, she has just moved out of her parents house. She said that the reason for this was not because we will never see her again but because things will never be the same from that moment on. Not in a good, nor a bad way, it just is. 

Changed. 

Life changes and when one of your close friends get married it changes your relationship with them. Not that you or they love you/them less, not that you or they are less important, not that you or they care less. It just changes. 

it doesn’t even have to be marriage. 

In October, one morning in Peak District I was stood in the kitchen of our rented apartment and in front of me were two of my best friends with their other halves going on about their day eating their breakfast. It was a picturesque little scene I tried to capture as a photo, I was scared of ruining the moment though and my sly camera skills were terrible so I just have a blurry evidence of that moment. Throughout that holiday I caught little moments of the two couples, little moments I can’t really describe but you know it when you’re around it, little moments that made my heart swell and hurt at the same time. Because things are different. Things have changed. 

Change isn’t bad, it can be really, really good. In fact I hope it’s a really, really, really good change for all of them, I just need a moment to accept that we’re no longer in our early 20s and our lives are going to change a lot before more.

2019 was a year of love; the good, the bad, and the bittersweet. 

I started 2019 falling asleep as the fireworks went off. We had gone out for dinner earlier that evening with a friend from work and his missus, to a nice fancy restaurant where desserts are always perfect. I’m not one to go out on New Year’s so I worried that we’d be out long but, fortunately for me, the other couple we’re not up for a long one either so, after dinner, we tried to see if we could grab a couple of drinks in a bar before heading home but, as it was NYE, we had no luck. The other couple went home, we tried a couple more before we gave up and called it a night. 

We were falling asleep when the fireworks went off. In our 20s, supposed to be the prime of your life, and I was cuddled up and happily falling asleep before the new year rang in. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

January meant Hamilton and birthday boardgames and lots of ballroom classes. I think this may have been the year that we also started, or tried to, regularly schedule in time for face masks. 

Then it was suddenly February and I received the best Valentine’s day card in existence, I continued to dance, finally saw a Footlights performance and even caught a show put on by CUMTS. Cirque du Soleil was okay too… 

March was when Amy, Izzy and I decided to start our own tradition, every year, no matter what, we’d get together; us and the boys, with the dogs, or kids or goodness know what else life gives us, we’d meet up. We’d meet up somewhere in the UK for a long weekend, where we’d go for walks and cook dinner, and just overall relax and unwind and catch up with each other. Each year starting that October at the Peak District. 

March was when I forgot my water bottle at our last dance class and we had to turn the car around. March was when I got no sleep and still chose to go to work the next day. 

For the three months we had worked in the new building together we had never bumped into each other in such close proximity, and then, suddenly, there he was coming out of the showers as I tried to find an empty stall to check how I tired I looked. I smiled, I can’t remember if I said anything but my heart dropped. 

March was when I got my promotion and all I wanted to do was tell him. 

I gave him his stuff back and I gave him his birthday present; an embossed leather notebook, dotted not lined, perfect for both writing and drawing, he was a design engineer after all. 

In July he wished me a happy birthday. 

In my head, people judge how much it hurt me when we were only together for nine months. But no one has the right to dictate how you feel.  

Back in January, Hera started sending me dance videos, videos she wanted us to learn for her wedding.

By April, the Kate, Olive, Sam and I were in the full swing of Friday on a Monday: Dance Edition. We’d cook a spicy meals (the spice increased in level as we went along, yoghurt or cream became more for taste than for firefighting) then we’d dance. Every Monday, where possible. Sometimes we’d skype Charley, sometimes Charley would be with us in person. 

As per usual we celebrated birthdays not in the correct months; Kate’s November was in January in form of birthday boardgames, face masks and hand massages by Olive. Charley’s January was in May in Claydon house where we discussed medieval fayres and the Jane Austen festival, where we sat in a private chapel and spoke as we wished until a lady came into actually pray and we tried our best to exit quietly. Sam gave Olive a piggy back in the gardens and there were some happy screaming and laughter. Olive’s March preceded Charley’s as we went to Bath in May and had ourselves our own very luxurious baths. Preceded and proceeded by enough Sally Lunn buns to feed a small army. 

My mum randomly won tickets to Look East festival so Charley and I went on an impromptu trip to London and saw Mumford and Sons live. Next time we’ll be prepared with a picnic blanket and more sunscreen for Charley. Indeed we were more fully prepared a month later for West End Live, armed with a cool bag full of food and drinks. What we weren’t prepared for, though, was the vast amount of people queueing. We knew it was popular and we knew there would be a long queue but we didn’t quite anticipate just how big. Having said that, after we admitted defeat we found a little section to the side of Trafalgar square with deck chairs facing a huge screen live streaming the whole event. We didn’t get seats straightaway but sure enough a family with kids left slightly earlier. Instead of standing under the sun for hours on end, Charley and I sat on our deck chairs in the shade in a lovely June day eating our food and drinking to our heart’s content. We decided that in 2020, we’d just do the exact same. We also come out wanting to watch ever single musical there was. 

Speaking of getting the right picnic spot, we are starting to have this ‘Singing on the river’ thing down; picnic blankets a plenty, napkins, cutleries, takeaway for dinner by the river listening to the wonderful King’s men perform renditions of old and new songs. It’s a Cambridge tradition we just can’t miss. 

We did try to keep up monthly dinners in 2019; we went to Varsity, The Red Lion and Petersfield before we had to suspend the dinners as it was time to fly to Pakistan.

After the vaccinations were done, after the visas were sorted, after all the clothes were bought, after all the make-up and hair trials were done, after all suitcases were packed, after all the dances were mastered (somewhat), after the incredibly long wait to see Hera again it was time to get in the taxi and slowly but surely make our way to the train station. Slowly because we had a flat tyre. But it was going to be faster to get on a slow car than wait for another taxi. 

For months on end, as a group, we all had a phrase “After Pakistan”. The amount of things we said we’d do ‘after Pakistan’ and suddenly we were there. Suddenly it was all gone. 

I’m not sure life kept going after Pakistan, you know. 

And yet it did. I came back to work with my new manager fully into the swing of things, nothing had exploded and everything was still chugging along. Suddenly I was being invited to more meetings and prospects of going business trips became a thing. 

I also started sewing classes, along with Olive and Sarah. I stopped ballroom classes and continued with krav maga. 

In October, Amy and Tom picked me up in Cambridge and we all drove to Bakewell together to meet Izzy and Zack. The weather could have been nicer to us but it was the UK in October, we should have known better. So off we went, in the rain, walking down an old railroad track (we did consider cycling but that got confusing and expensive), climbing hills for loo breaks and risking ankles and necks for a hope of a nice warm lunch only to be disappointed because pubs in the middle of nowhere is far and few in between and only serve food at specified hours. Having walked for hours with a small amount of sustenance we took the taxi home and enjoyed a meal at the apartment instead. 

In November, we flew to Bulgaria and what an experience it was. Beautiful sceneries and definitely a hidden gem, but take it from me, don’t take the jeep up the mountain. Find a different mountain, there’s plenty. Explore the gorgeous towns preserved to their original glory and feel like you’ve been transported back in time. Try the local cuisine! Dress up in traditional Bulgarian outfits, it’ll make a wonderful family photo. 

That same month, Hera visited England again. For a mere few days she stayed in Cambridge and we tried to make the most of it as possible. Butch Annie’s was obviously a requirement. And at last, once again, Kate’s November birthday was celebrated in November. In a once in a lifetime opportunity where all six of us were finally back together again to tackle not one, not two but three escape rooms! We got out of every single one of them. No biggie! But just like that, we were all split up again. 

But no rest for the wicked because the very next day I was off to Austria on a business trip. My first ever business trip. It wasn’t all work and no play, in fact, at one point we were chucked out of the office so we can explore Vienna further so we did. We went to Christmas market after Christmas market and I stocked up on Christmas baubles and Christmas presents. My favourite bauble though? Came from the Bury St Edmunds Christmas Fayre. I’ll be on the look out for you again next year!

Before long it was December. With all the hubub of 2019 and the hubub that 2020 will bring (in form of a NYE party) I decided it was best if we had someone else cook for us for Friends Christmas. Secret Santas were exchanged and extra sticky toffee puddings were ordered, no dishes were cleaned by our hands that evening, 

And then it was time to party. 1920’s themed party to ring in the 2020’s…

When I really think about it 2019 was one helluva year. So much has changed, so much will change. There isn’t one month similar to the one before, it’s terrifying. Growing up is terrifying. Changes are terrifying. 

But we have to bury broken hearts and raise a glass to falling in love, we have to hug memories goodbye and smile at the new ones. We have to accept things won’t be the same but that’s not a bad thing. There are still songs to dance to and movies to cry at, rooms to escape and snacks to share. They’ll always be there no matter what… no matter what 2020 will bring. 

[transboygenius]

SE4SON: Chapter 9

[*Following afternoon*]

Libby and Cindy had just finished school, but before they were ready to go back home, Cindy decided they should dine out for a bit. It was Friday, and Cindy wanted to celebrate the fourth day without Neutron. She didn't even bother to ask herself where he could be, and neither has she felt the same way about Nick, but it's not like she even cared about that loser anyways. A few days without Jimmy Neutron was all she needed to properly recover. She was even in such a good mood, she said hello to Betty Quinlan as she passed. That's right, Betty Quinlan, one of Cindy's least favorites. She has never felt this good since her parents threw her that really, really expensive party for her 8th birthday, one Jimmy wasn't invited to, obviously. She can still remember her father crying from how much money he spent.

Cindy and Libby then stopped at a pedestrian post, where Cindy pressed the button and both waited patiently for the walk signal. While waiting, Jenny passed by them on her skateboard, attempted to jump over a fire hydrant, and then broke her leg. The two girls just shrugged at each other. As the walk signal flashed, Cindy and Libby crossed the street to the restaurant on the other side. It was a Japanese noodle joint called The Ramen Bowl, built in the spot McSpanky's used to be. When they entered, they were greeted by a waitress dressed in a komodo, who bowed in respect. After taking them to their seats, the girls then ordered ahead. Tempura soba for Libby, and regular pork roast ramen for Cindy, with a coupon for a free whole fishcake. Cindy also ordered a few side dishes, such as karaage and onigiri.

"Eat as much as you want, Libby! It's my treat!"

Libby should be happy, if not grateful, having to eat all of this delicious Japanese cuisine without paying for it herself, but she felt in her gut that Cindy is maybe being a little insensitive. Jimmy is still missing without a trace, and his mother is put into a deep struggle trying to find her only son. Carl and Sheen are beginning to mourn over their friend's disappearance as well. Even though nobody else missed the Neutron boy, everything has gone dull without the big headed kid around. Libby couldn't help but also worry about Jimmy. And here is Cindy, smiling brighter than a supernova, celebrating with a big meal spent with her own allowance. A child is missing, and she's acting like she just won the Nobel Prize.

"Aren't you at least bothered by Jimmy's disappearance the slightest, Cindy? I mean, the boy has been gone for four days, with no clues to speculate his whereabouts. It's like he's never gone anywhere and just got erased from reality." "Knowing those cute little goobers he calls his inventions, it could've happened by accident." "What?" "I said it's not even your problem, Libs! So why should you worry? You're not responsible for why Neutron is gone." "Look, as much as I'm not too keen on Big Head myself, I can't help but worry for his friends and family's pain. If I were missing, I can't imagine what shock it'd bring to my folks, loosing their only child they've spent 11 years raising and loving. What if something drastic happened to him? Like, he could be--" "Dead? Ohhoho, c'mon, this is the boy genius we're talking about! If he can survive a daily pummeling brought up by Butch every school day, I'm pretty sure he can survive any wonders he encounters in the big wide world! It would take more effort than a giant chicken, or a league of villains, to kill him!" "I'll give you credit for showing some concern, but this is serious. On top of that, Nick has been gone the same number of days as Jimmy's absence. Don't you find that coincidentally stran-- Hold up, girl. Can you run that by me again?" "It takes more than corny, predictable villains to snuff him out." "NO, before that!" "That he could be out there in the big wide world? Like, lost in space, or maybe a different country. Somewhere."

That's it! Maybe Mrs. Neutron hasn't looked hard enough yet! Jimmy Neutron is no ordinary preteen kid. If he's not on Earth, we know where he would be. Possibly, in a galaxy far, far away.

"Thanks for dinner, Cindy, but I gotta go take a rain check! See ya then!"

Libby got out of her seat and stormed out of the restaurant. Wherever she's going, she seemed inspired. Just as soon as Libby was gone, the food had then been served.

"LIBBY! Oh sure, bail on your best friend. Looks like more noodles for me."

And so to speak, what Libby had said earlier really crossed Cindy's mind. Nick has been gone long as Jimmy has, and just like Jimmy, no clues could be found. According to Sheen's knowledge, they both vanished on the same day. He also mentioned they were handcuffed together the last time he saw them, but how long have they been jointed? A intellectual like Jimmy would have easily gotten those cuffs off his wrists by now, and if they're still handcuffed, finding them would be no needle in a hay stack. What if they're not really missing? As any young stupid boy would do, maybe they both ran away together, as friends or enemies. Cindy's not so certain it's appropriate enough to entitle them as friends, judging from what she's seen from their interactions so far. They never socialized that much, but they never looked like they hated each other either.

Could they be somewhere up on a hilltop, in another country, performing a macho ritual by beating each other to the death for Cindy's love? Nah. Compared to Jimmy's strength, Nick would've easily creamed him, and hell knows it wouldn't last for four days. Plus, she still doesn't know whether or not Nick returns her feelings. Even if he did, she'd date him just to rub it in Neutron's face. It would be out of a crush, but she lost interest in Nick after he became washed-up. Could they be in a faraway state, made a truce, and then started their own business corporation for men who want to get their women off their backs? Nope. Two of them are both still kids, so there's no way they have enough money to open a business. Plus, how would Jimmy even talk Nick into aligning with his sexist organization? Cindy has always seen Nick as a ladies man, despite ignoring his female company.

Could they be stranded on a deserted island together, living at peace, and being happy-- No, no NO! No way! Nuh-uh! Never! That's her and Jimmy's story! She refuses to picture Jimmy being happy with someone else on a deserted island that isn't her, even if it is another boy! Wait, why does she even care? Why should she care? She doesn't love that pompous, self-righteous, know-it-all anymore. She needs to remind herself that he broke up with her for his own "selfishness." Wherever he is, good riddance to him! His whippy dip hair better not turn up in Retroville anytime soon! He can go marry Nick, for all I care! She took her chopsticks and greedily slurped at her noodles, then stuffed some karaage and a rice ball into her mouth. She barely gave herself time to chew her food. With Jimmy reentering her head, the only thing she could do at that moment was eat the memories away.

..............................

[*Seven hours earlier, during medieval times*]

Jimmy and Nick spent the night in a small barn, sleeping on beds of hay, while each had their own blankets. In the barn, they were accompanied by one cow, five chickens, and Butterscotch the horse. Butterscotch had his own blanket as well, including a pillow and a teddy bear. One of the chickens, who happened to be a rooster, woke the entire barn by letting out a good ol' fashioned cock-a-doodle-doo! Annoyed but very tired, Nick slammed his fist down on a hen sleeping next to him, thinking it was an alarm clock. Then he realized alarm clocks weren't exactly invented yet. The angered hen pecked her beak on Nick's forehead as revenge, which really woke him up. Jimmy awakened while rubbing both of his shut eyes. They got up to their feet as they stretched and yawned.

"Morning, little dude. Had a good sleep last night?" Asked Nick. "Not exactly. The hay wasn't all that comfy." Replied Jimmy. "Tell me about it. Sleep was much more comfortable when we were still handcuffed."

The two boys faced forward, and saw Rodent Girl sitting on the window, with a mug in her hand. She was staring at them, and what's scarier was she didn't blink.

"Can we help you, Miss?" Asked Jimmy. "Oh-no-need-for-that-young-gents-me-was-just-watching-you-in-your-sleep!"

And the way she talked, she sounded more energetic than usual.

"Wwwwwhy?" "Mitzi-wanted-me-to-watch-over-you-two-like-a-hawk-and-to-make-sure-there-isn't-any-funny-business-going-on-around-here-do-you-think-of-me-as-some-sick-soul-who-watches-people-in-their-sleep-for-my-own-pleasure-cuz-me-don't-do-that-me-has-decency!" "Mitz- She made you stay up here all night?" Asked Nick. "She-didn't-made-me-she-asked-me-to-she-isn't-all-THAT-mean-and-she-provided-me-with-all-this-coffee! *Sips from mug* Mmmm-this-is-some-good-define-enrichment-too-bad-these-beans-are-very-pricey-but-it's-not-like-we're-paying-for-them!"

Despite the window being opened, she exited through the main door instead. Mitzi really doesn't trust them, Jimmy thought. Will she continue doing this? The boy genius will have to build a door lock, and some shut-in windows, because how will they ever have a goodnight's sleep when some weird lady, that looks like a runaway from the circus, is watching them through the whole night? Or maybe worse; They won't wake up the next morning. And what did Rodent Girl mean by not having to pay for very expensive coffee beans? Well, it's not like all of it will even matter, anyways. Jimmy just needs to gather up the needed supplies, build a new time machine, and get away from this freak show. Also, if Mitzi can't trust them, then the boys have every right not to trust her back.

Nick performed a couple of morning routine stretches to loosen up his joints, since his limbs are still a bit rigid from being handcuffed for three days. Jimmy was inspired by Nick's workout and gave it a try himself, but since he never worked out or exercised daily like Nick has, his entire body went stiff. As much as Nick had the urge to laugh right now, he resisted and helped loosen the small boy's limbs by stretching them out himself. And yes, it was quite painful, but yet Jimmy didn't scream nor cry. Science is the only major he's good enough for, while physical activities are his weakest point. Maybe he needs to put a little more effort in P.E. for a change. Or maybe have a tall, strapping, good-looking guy like Nick show him the ropes- UGHHH, what am I doing? What am I thinking? Jimmy almost found himself infatuated for his new friend. Nick is pretty darn handsome, but Jimmy can't see himself romantically involved with someone of the same gender. Boys were meant to have girls, and girls were meant to have boys. That's what they say and that's how it has always been. Right?

After restoring Jimmy's joints, the two wandered off to find the shed that held all the stuff they need to build a new time machine. It didn't take them that long, and it was actually easy to find. Diana was there, bench pressing a wheelbarrow, the same one they carried uphill yesterday, loaded with a bunch of random junk. Actually, through Jimmy's eyes, they looked pretty useful to make a new time machine with, but they're all probably Diana's, so they should just take whatever is in the shed that will work. When Diana noticed the boys, she held the wheelbarrow midway and greeted them with a warm good morning! Jimmy and Nick returned the good morning back. Jimmy grabbed hold of the door handle and opened the shed wide. His excitement soon died down when he found that the shed was cold empty.

"Uh, Miss Diana, ma'am? Wasn't there suppose to be a lot of things in there you said we could use to make a new ride back to our home?" Asked Nick. "Huh? Oh, sorry about that, boys. I didn't know what time you'd be up by, so I'm using all this stuff for my morning warrior aerobics! I dare not to miss out on one workout, otherwise my thews will become tender-loins!" Replied Diana. "That's nice and all, but may we have them now?" Asked Jimmy. "Not now, at least not until I reach 230,000!" "And how far do you have?" "109,485 more to go!" "What are we suppose to do by then?" "We could always talk some more." Nick suggested. "Well, thee can always head inside the hut for a big, hearty breakfast Benson hast did prepare himself! His cooking's not that good, but it is satisfying. Worry not about me! I'll has't a bite as soon as I'm done here! I never consume food before workouts, because then I'd receive stretch marks and nausea." "Thank you, Diana."

Even though neither Jimmy and Nick were hungry yet, it would be nice to fuel on some protein and nutrients for energy. Actually, back in the twenty first century, Jimmy's "protein and nutrients" were sugarcoated cereals and toaster pastries, which he yearned for right now. Whatever Benson has cooking up, the boys can rest assure the meal will be decent, and overall filling. When they reached the hut, they walked right into an argument between Rodent Girl and Benson. Rodent Girl was talking normal again. The caffeine must have worn off by now.

"PORRIDGE? Again?! We have four hens, why don't we have some eggs for once? Me need protein, not this tasteless gunge!" "Add honey or fruit, if you must. You know we are on a tight budget! And as for those eggs, they are meant to be kept incubated so we couldst breed more chickens. More chickens means more rations to feed this home, plus two new guests!" "What about those two eggs you kept stored in the bottom left cupboard? You don't plan to incubate those, do ya?" "Uh, um, those are saved... ...for an emergency!" "We have an emergency right here, you liar! Me young, me hungry, and me elevating in TEENAGE HORMONES!"

Nick coughed, which then ended the argument.

"My deary me, I apologize you two had to witness that! Please forgive Miss Oona. She's going through a stage of teenage hormones! Or whatever it is that rats develop.” Said Benson. "Don't make me bite you." Replied Rodent Girl.

Nick didn't say anything and just marched up to the cupboard Rodent Girl mentioned the two eggs were stored, which then upset her.

"HEY, what are you doing with MY breakfast?! Just because you're a guest, doesn't mean you have the right to abuse your hospitality!" "Just leave it up to me, gang. I'll be sure to fix you a breakfast that will leave you full until dinner." Nick replied, juggling those two eggs.

Everyone, including Jimmy, was confused as to what Nick could make with only two eggs. By now, he could only fix an omelette for one, and that wouldn't be enough for a house of six to share. But an egg dish wasn't really what Nick was aiming for. He set the eggs down on the counter, and fetched some other ingredients; Sacks full of flour and sugar, a bottle of milk, soften butter, a salt shaker, and a tin can labeled "baking soda." Before he was ready to start, he borrowed Benson's apron. First, he cracked the eggs into a separate bowl, then beated them until they became fluffy and stiff peaks formed. Next, he folded in the sugar and melted butter. After that, he sifted the dry ingredients into the egg mixture. The milk was mixed in last. Everyone in the room watched him like he was putting on a show. When the batter was completed, he ladled some onto a hot skillet greased with butter.

Right before their eyes, he was flipping hot fluffy cakes on the stove, and made just about enough to feed an army. The arousing aroma from Nick's creation whet their appetites. Nick commanded everyone in the room to hold their plates up, and so they did. Wielding his spatula, he tossed the edible disks into the air, and pretty soon everyone's plate was stacked with fresh, thick pancakes. Benson got out some maple syrup, and began pouring. Jimmy cut off a piece and put it in his mouth. The taste was more than delicious. It was sensational. He has never tasted pancakes like this. They were beyond compare to his mom's. Nick sure is amazing. He surprisingly knew how to cook, despite his young age.

"Oooohhh! Hotcakes! You see, Benson, this kid has proven to have much more manlier savvines than you, and he's like, thirteen years old?" Said Rodent Girl, intended to offend Benson. "I'm twelve, actually." Nick corrected. "Nick, I've never tasted anything like this before. I didn't know you could cook. Why didn't you tell me?" Said Jimmy. "Well I thought, since we're friends and all, I wanted to surprise you. You're the first person, in the twenty first century, besides my mom, I've ever cooked for." "Really? Well, surprised I am! You got a hidden depth! You know, if professional skateboarding doesn't work out for ya, you could always land a career in culinary arts! How long have you been at this gig, anyways?" "Since I was nine. My mom works from 9 AM to 11 PM, which means she doesn't have time to fix me a hot meal. She leaves me with all those microwavable TV dinners in the freezer. I wouldn't say they tasted bad, but they certainly didn't taste like dinner. Or food, for that matter. By then, enough was enough, and I was really craving for Mom's authentic Brazilian dishes. So, I took her handwritten cookbook from off the shelf and tried to duplicate some of the recipes in there. I may have burned a little, twice, but I was very young. Eventually, I took a few lessons from Mom, and pretty soon I got the hang of it. As I grew older, I started to improve, and even began experimenting my own original recipes." "Experimenting, huh? Heh, the way you put it out, cooking does seemingly sound just like science. ...in a cultural sort of way."

Nick chuckled. He wasn't laughing at Jimmy, he was laughing with him. His other friends (fake friends, as he would like to call them) would've made fun of and teased him for cooking, since it's not seen as a manly hobby. Nick was a little tense that Jimmy might've ridicule his art as well, but instead he impressed him. Even better, he compared it to the thing he loves the most; Science! If Jimmy can accept Sheen for being an Ultralord fanatic, or Carl for having a llama fetish plus a creepy one-sided crush on his mom to boot, guess he can accept his new best friend being a chef, especially if the food taste good. If Jimmy ever became his, he'd prove himself to be a worthy husband. When he wakes up, breakfast will be on the table, his lunch will be warm, and dinner will still be hot when he gets home. Everyday, he would shower him with his finest desserts, and feed them to his face. But since that will never likely happen, he could always just cook for him as his friend. And his slutty tram- wife could have some too.

Before Rodent Girl was ready to dig in, she tied a napkin around her neck, poured her syrup, and some melted cheese, then positioned her knife and fork. But right there, she fell face down on her pancakes, like she had dropped dead.

"OH MY GOSH, is she alright?!" Jimmy asked, feeling concerned. "She's fine, young man. Her caffeine rush just now blew a gasket." Benson replied. "Has anyone seen Mitzi anywhere? So far we haven't seen her around lately. Unless... (...she's spying on us. ...somewhere.)" Asked Nick, holding a tray loaded with pancakes, and looking around cautiously. "She's currently at work, and she won't return until afternoon." "Well, if she's not here, looks like she's out of luck! Here Jimmy, have some more pancakes!"

Nick stacked some more flapjacks on top of Jimmy's stack, which almost covered his huge head.

"I don't think I can eat that much, Nick." "Just-make-sure-you-don't-leave-any-for-her-if-you-catch-my-drift." "What?"

Outside...

"79,326! 79,327! 79,328!"

Diana was continuing with her bench pressing. Butterscotch was now on the wheelbarrow, with a cup of tea in his hoof, to help add a little more weight. Suddenly, the scent of hotcakes pierced through her nostrils. Smells like Benson whipped up something good for once. However, she refused to give up on her routine until she's finished. Thus far, the more she indulged the scent, it brought her abdomen into grumbles. Looks like she chose the wrong day to work on an empty stomach. Whatever he's serving, it might all be gone by the time she reaches 230,000, and it didn't help that the smell was tempting. Ahhhhh, but who cares anyways? The stuff is probably fatty, full of calories, and could clog up her arteries. If breakfast is gone, she could always settle for meat, vegetables, or raw fish.

"(THE HELL WITH IT!) 229,998! 229,999! 230,000!"

She tossed the wheelbarrow aside, while Butterscotch was still on it. Now's the time to get to breakfast before it's all eaten. Her horse was very disappointed.

"*Neigggghhhh!* (That's a penalty, Missy! A penalty!)"

[landofanimes]

I got tagged by @real-life-senshi​! RULES: Answer 21 questions and tag 21 blogs you’d like to get to know better.

Me? getting tagged? XD Cool! :) Ok, here we go!

—

Nickname: I use “Arukas“ online because that’s how you write “Sakura“ backwards XD Yes, Sakura as in CardCaptor Sakura - my childhood fave :) There was this anime magazine I used to read where one of the editors used a character's name backwards as an alias so I tried that and it spelled something readable, so here we are. I’m a girl, by the way, in case people haven’t guessed XD Currently on my 20s.

Star Sign: I’m an Aries. I feel like half of the description of Aries fits me well, half has nothing to do with me. I don’t believe in Astrology but I find it a fun concept! Go, rams! XD I love the Aries Saints in Saint Seiya by the way, I love its unique neat legacy ^^ If Ophiuchus counted, though, apparently I would be a Pisces!  

Height: 1.70m (5′7′‘)

Last film I saw: I’ve recently watched How to Train Your Dragon 3! If we’re talking live-action, I finally watched Kingsman 2. I honestly can’t remember the last anime film I saw though ^^’ I gotta get back to those. Oh, I did watch Digimon Tri 6 XD Though it’s been months ahaha

Favorite musician: Oh, that’s hard. I do like some musicians/bands (Brazilian and English-speaking) but I don’t really follow their stuff. Like, I don’t actively search for new music, but if I like what I listen somewhere (radio, a party, etc) I take those specific songs I heard XD I like pop. Some rock songs. Idk. Ballet is also cool. I do listen to a lot of soundtracks though, instrumental or not (that includes musicals, movies, tv series, anime...also lots of disney). I occasionally sing soundtracks to myself when no one’s around

Song Stuck In My Head: Recently, for some reason, Beauty School Dropout from Grease and Glad You Came - or at least Glee’s versions of that XD. 

Other Blogs: @lands-of-fantasy​. Basically where I post everything I like that is not anime?? XD About movies and tv series, I mean. And books. Mostly live action, but it also features some Disney/Dreamworks and a bit of animated/comics superhero stuff. In fact it has quite a lot of superhero stuff lol why does Marvel and DC produce so much content at once?? I’m only one person!

Do I Get Asks: Sadly, almost never! 

Blogs following: Currently 16. Yeah, I don’t follow many blogs... Partially because I don’t want to overwhelm my dash and partially because I try to avoid spoilers. Though I do occasionally check on some I don’t follow! There are 2 or 3 I actually check frequently and regularly, but don’t follow them officially cause they post A LOT, including things I’m not interested in. 

What I’m Wearing: ? Shorts and a t-shirt.

Dream job: Hell if I know! If only God would send me a sign 

Dream Trip: I would love to go to England! And Italy. And Japan! Maybe Egypt? Also several Disneylands, lol. I did go to Disney once though, which was a Dream Trip of mine, so yay!!!

Play any instruments: Nope

Languages: Portuguese and English

Favorite foods: If we’re talking about real food, I love Feijoada (it’s a black beans meal). Also Cuscuz (which is corn based). And meat in general! We eat a lot of beef in Brazil. If we’re talking those caloric wonders, I can’t resist cheeseburgers nor french fries! Also pizza, of course. Snack wise, I’m weak for chocolate cookies.

Random facts:

Fantasy is my favorite genre in media. Give me magic. Mythical creatures and races. Also far away lands. And good old sword-fighting! Medieval settings are cool. Supernatural beings are also welcome.

If I’m watching something and it doesn’t feature anything fantastical or at least some sword-fighting at all, it’s probably a romance. Maybe a musical, though not as often. Then again musicals are kinda fantastic in their own way!

Since I was tagged by a fellow Moonie and I do post/reblog a lot of Sailor Moon here:

I grew up with the 90′s anime. In 2013 I read the manga and got into the old musicals. And then I watched PGSM! Then came the new musicals and crystal. I enjoy each and every iteration, though in varying degrees of course. I pick the things I like the most in each version and take those as canon XD

I usually watch the subbed versions of foreign live action movies/series. Animation wise, however, I always aim for the dubs XD As an anime fan, however, I obviously have to resort to subtitles cause sometimes there’s simply no dub version!

Favorite songs:

I don’t even know, dude

Some sera myu faves that come to mind, in no particular order:

La Soldier / FIRE / Can’t Be Soldiers of Love Forever / Chasing After You / See Me, It’s Our Era / Brand New World / Tuxedo Mission / Tuxedo Loyal /  Amazon Kara Circus Dan ga Yatte Kita / Choubi! Uranus to Neptune

Music of The Spheres / Line Up! 5 Ladies of the White Moon / Sky of Jewels / Also the last part of Light of Destruction (Decline and Rebirth) gives me chills!!

Some animes that have amazing soundtracks:

Inu-yasha

Tsubasa Chronicles

Saint Seiya

Lost Canvas

Fullmetal Alchemist (both of them)

Also Digimon’s openings and Brave Heart. CardCaptor Sakura, Sailor Moon and Dragon Ball Z music will always hold a place in my heart too (man, it’s been eons ever since I watched any DBZ...) 

***

Tagging: As if I knew who to tag XD I also don’t interact much, I’m shy :P Oh wait @teresartwork​ tags me, so there you go! if you want to, of course. If not that’s cool too :)

[reekierevelator]

A Visitor

A short story by Brian Bourner in times of covid

We had been in the grip of the covid-19 pandemic for well over a year but the new vaccines finally had it on the run. The country was opening up again. We were at last officially allowed to mingle freely. But the world had changed.

Radio and TV still talked endlessly of the problems faced by students who had missed out on education, of how domestic abuse cases had soared and mental health problems had multiplied. The light the pandemic had thrown on endemic problems of race and poverty constantly reverberated. People had reached a new appreciation of who were society’s real ‘key workers’ and knew they were undervalued and criminally underpaid. Floods, fires, and murders, still barely achieved a mention even in the local news.

Business practice had also changed radically. Companies like mine now saw no reason not to allow employees to continue to work from home. Like many other firms they were in the process of selling off their office building for conversion into much needed housing.  Visual contact with other people via computer technology had become the normal mode of interaction. Lack of interpersonal social contact no longer singled you out as unusual in any way. The exotic video meetings and video phone calls of a couple of years ago had long since become boringly routine.

I had always been asthmatic and a brush with tuberculosis a few years back had hardly helped. The constant pandemic fear of infection had marked my psyche indelibly. For people like me, at high risk from the virus, shielding and self-isolating for months on end had become second nature, the new normal, and was psychologically imprinted. I lived like a medieval hermit in a cave, dependent on local villagers to bring me food. At thirty-seven I was otherwise self-sufficient, happy to live alone in isolation. The last thing I wanted was to risk infection from physical meetings with other people.  

Occasionally new variations of the virus still cropped up here and there. Announcements of quarantine arrangements and local lockdowns had become mundane, barely newsworthy.  Likewise, there were still deaths and hospitalisations, but not the thousands experienced at the pandemic’s height. Health was no longer top of the government’s agenda. Despite innumerable ‘long covid’ cases, and people suffering long-lasting psychological after-effects, the government’s focus had shifted inexorably back to the economy.  

 When the doorbell rang on Monday morning I was slaving over my laptop, just as I had been all morning, trying to complete a company report. I was still in my pyjamas. I still needed to wash and dress ahead of a video business meeting scheduled for 12.00 noon.  But the doorbell was insistent. Angrily I threw open the front door expecting to find yet another box of groceries on the doorstep, or some hot food I’d forgotten I’d ordered, or even some parcel delivery man waiting for a signature.

Instead I found myself facing a woman dressed rather shabbily who was carrying a grubby old holdall.  Initially shocked at the lack of face mask I remembered that things had moved on. Her mud-spattered black coat was buttoned to the top and flapped around a slender body. Though hairdressers had been open for a few weeks now she had clearly been unable to secure an appointment. Her frizzy auburn hair sprouted from her head like weeds. A long narrow face attempted a smile but her skin was lined and weather-beaten. She looked exhausted. Her dark eyes, set far back in her ruddy crumpled skin, bored into mine, pleading and watery. When she opened her mouth and said “Hello Martin” recognition slowly began to dawn.

Over the course of the pandemic I had virtually forgotten what manners and social niceties were appropriate for visitors. “Gina,” I spluttered in surprise, “how nice to see you.”  I cautiously ushered her into my flat, squeezing myself against the wall in commemoration of the recently abolished two metre distancing rule.

“I’m sorry if I got you out of bed,” she said, entering the living room while I rushed to throw a dressing-gown over my pyjamas. And even before sitting down she launched into her tale of woe. “It really drove me crazy. I’ve never ever been stuck indoors for that long before.  Shops, restaurants, pubs, galleries - all shut down; nothing to do and nowhere to go. Work all disrupted too; jobs furloughed or disappearing. Just watching endless murder dramas on TV, or reading books about murders, or listening to radio presenters I’d like to murder.  Still, you look well. I knew I could rely on you.”

It was strange because in fact I had not seen Gina for three years, and it felt like far longer. I searched my brain for her surname and eventually came up with McLaughlan. We had met at Manifest Destiny, a large advertising and design practice. Though we were in different teams there our paths crossed occasionally. She never said much, only once or twice mentioning that she could only bear the work there because the building was almost entirely glass so that inside she almost felt she was outside.

From what I could remember she had mostly been attached to another colleague, Ruby Maguire. She seemed to trail around after Ruby a lot. And Ruby was someone else I had not seen for a three years, not since I’d left Manifest Destiny for an administrative post with Box Clever, the cardboard box manufacturer. It had proved a wise move. The firm had done great business during the pandemic. It had expanded and I had been promoted.

Gina told me she too had moved on from Manifest Destiny, not long after me. She had gone from billboard designs to helping organise and design outdoor film sets. It had entailed working freelance but sounded a lot more interesting than designing cardboard boxes. “But,” she went on quickly, “the pandemic killed it all off stone dead.” She turned towards me with an angry grimace. “And when the wok vanished the pandemic ate all my savings. No official help for the likes of me. I couldn’t even pay my rent. No more sleeping in my lovely sun room. I ended up in a cramped hostel. It was hellish.”  The resentment and hatred in her tone was palpable. “It drove me demented. And when the hostels closed to prevent the virus spreading I tried sleeping on the floor of anyone who would let me. It was unbearable, often like being stuck in a cupboard. Sometimes I couldn’t find anywhere at all suitable and just lived rough, outdoors in all weathers, but at least not suffering, lost in some little, dark, unknown room.”

“Good grief Gina, that’s awful, I’m so sorry.” And having commiserated I told her that of course she was welcome to take a bath and stay the night. I rustled up a quick meal for her which she ate looking longingly out of the window. And later I dug out some spare pyjamas. When I showed her my tiny windowless spare room her face froze and she stood rooted to the spot.  She looked about to turn, dismiss the offer and run away, but recovered herself in time to mutter vague words of thanks.

I showed her round the rest of the flat then raced to turn up just in time for my video conference. My hair was uncombed, I was still in my dressing gown. On screen my boss and our potential customer both wore worried frowns, obviously thinking I would have been as presentable wearing a large cardboard box.  

Gina slept through the rest of the day.

After finishing the meeting, writing up notes, dressing, and grabbing a sandwich I phoned the old unit at Manifest Destiny. I hoped someone here could give me a bit of background since I barely knew anything about Gina.

“Hello, Manifest Destiny, Terry Ryland speaking.”

“Hi, it’s Martin Hislop here. I used to work at Manifest Destiny.  I wonder if there’s anyone there who remembers Gina McLaughlan. She’s popped round to see me unexpectedly, obviously regards me as a friend, and might stay a day or two. I don’t want to seem a total socially inept  idiot but I’m afraid I can’t remember anything about her. I don’t want to put my foot in it. Is there someone who could spare a few minutes to fill me in?”

“Well there’s me I suppose,” Terry replied noncommittally. “All the staff work from home now. It’s my turn to be the telephone exchange today. It’s a rota system. I can’t shout a question out across the office floor any more. I’d have to contact staff individually.”

“Well, do you remember Gina yourself?”

“Yes, I think so. Worked on billboards. She always kept close to Ruby. Ruby Maguire sort of looked after her. She had some kind of problem, couldn’t stand being indoors, got wound up with it. So Ruby would take her for regular breaks outside.”

“You mean she was claustrophobic?”

“Yes, that’s it, good worker but a little bit off her trolley. They called Ruby her mentor but she was more of an unofficial carer.”

I thanked Terry for talking to me and understood why my spare room had not seemed as attractive to Gina as I’d imagined.  It would be much better if she stayed with someone who understood her condition, say Ruby.

 It was later in the evening, just as I’d pulled out my mobile to search for Ruby Ellison’s contact details,  that I heard Gina emerge from her room and rustle around in the kitchen. I was thinking that if she stayed a while I’d need to order more food and my expenses would increase when Gina slipped into the living room beside me.

“I was wondering,” I began brightly, “since my flat’s very small, why not ask Ruby Maguire if you can stay with her for a while?”

The suggestion generated no immediate response but her eyes narrowed and I caught a mean and suspicious glint.

She stared at me silently, her lips curling, and eventually muttered, “No, I’ll be happy enough here.” It came out as a sort of low growl as if she was daring me to argue.  

I looked back at the phone screen.  The search for Ruby Ellison had found dozens of references. But I was shocked to see they were all about Ruby’s death. Police were continuing to investigate the case of thirty-two year old office worker, Ruby Maguire, found dead in her flat. Apparently she had lain there for over a week until her manager had noticed she wasn’t bothering to log in for Zoom calls any more. The circumstances were suspicious. The police were requesting information on anyone seen entering or leaving Ruby’s flat in the week before her death. I looked up from the screen and blurted out “Heavens above, it seems Ruby has died!”

I was even more startled as Gina suddenly leaned over me, grabbed my phone and threw it at the wall. I was flabbergasted. I stared at her in shock.

“If you’re not happy about me staying on here, maybe you better leave yourself,” she said as if it was the most natural suggestion in the world, an entirely reasonable proposition.  As normal as smashing mobile phones against walls. There was a manic undertone to her voice.  Ignoring the question I jumped up and tried to brush past her. But she grabbed hold of the dressing gown I was still wearing and I saw the blade of my own kitchen knife flash in her hand.

 Fortunately, I managed to twist myself around, allowing my dressing-gown to fall to the floor, and rushed out the living-room door as she came after me.  I barely managed to reach my bedroom and slammed the door shut. The door had a lock and though I’d never used it before, I did then.

She was outside the door, fumbling with the handle and breathing quickly. ‘Ok, let’s get together,’ she panted. ‘Ruby always said you liked me. She said you only ignored me at work because relationships had to be kept on a professional footing.”

“Ruby was good to you,” I shouted. “Why did you do it?”

“Ruby tried to lock me up. All night in a tiny room.  I was only allowed outdoors for one hour a day. She tried to blame the government, said it was a lock-in, a government ruling.”

“A lockdown, it was a lockdown.”

“She made me live in a room the size of a cupboard.  Said it was all she had. Said I couldn’t go outside.  We argued more and more.  Struggled. Then she died.  And I left.”

“And came here.”

“She said you were a good man, knew your address.  I thought it would be different for us.  We’d be good together. We could live together, sleep in the living room with the curtains open. But you want to lock me up in little room too. You’re just as bad as Ruby.”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” I yelled, and then the carving knife was thrust in through the door jamb.

The woman was delusional. God knows what had got into her. I opened my bedroom window and yelled “Help!” over and over at the top of my voice.

Fortunately, neighbours called the police.  By the time they arrived Gina had escaped through the back door but the neighbours had spotted her leaving and the police soon picked her up.

I was still trembling, partly from the shock of the knife attack and partly from seeing several people occupy my flat for the first time in ages. I went over the details several times answering the police questions.

“It was unbelievable,” I kept repeating. “The woman seemed almost normal but she was clearly deranged. She came at me with a carving knife. You wouldn’t think a little thing like claustrophobia would be enough to tip you over the edge like that.”

One of the policemen commented matter-of-factly, “Oh yes, we’ve seen a lot of that kind of thing recently. Mental health problems. Old people’s dementia worsening till they’ve completely forgotten their relatives. A chap round the corner said life wasn’t worth living if he couldn’t meet his old cronies in the pub. Topped himself.  The coronavirus, eh?  It drives people mad.” Then to change the subject he asked “What’s your line of work?”

“Oh, at moment I’m designing cardboard boxes shaped like coffins. Natural burials. Environmentally sound. There’s been a big increase in demand recently.”

[keywestlou]

GREECE THE FIRST TIME

DAY 1…..Greece the First time

Posted on May 28, 2012 by Key West Lou

I made it! I am in Italy! Screwed up a bit, no, a lot, from jet lag.

I could not write a blog yesterday. My head was all over the place.

So many things to share with you. I am going to run through as many as I recall.

Lets begin at Key West airport. The family saw me off. Robert and Ally excited. Each pulled one of my pieces of luggage. A big deal for them!

I have not flown in a while. The following may be old hat to you who do. To me it was new.

TSA security now permits those over 75 to go through with shoes on. No more shoes off. I am 76. Three different guards attacked me with shoes off! I looked, smiled and said I am over 75. They looked back in disbelief.  The scenario made me feel good. Vanity involved. Meant I do not look my age.

New cell phone a disaster. I still do not have its use down. This one has Bluetooth. Decided to use it in the airport. A mistake. I screwed things up. Every time the phone rang, no one was there. I could not correct it. I needed to put the cell phone on airport mode. Took me 20 minutes.  It is still on airport mode.

Trip from Atlanta to Milan a pain. Nine hours. I did not sleep a wink. It seemed like the whole plane slept but me. I walked the aisles and everyone looked dead as they slept.

Because of blood pressure and heart problems, I have a fluid problem. My ankles swell occasionally. I feared they would be huge by the time I reached Milan. I visited with my heart doctor before the trip. He said wear compression socks and take a water pill as soon as you get on the plane in Atlanta. I did both. Peed a lot. It worked! Swelling very minimal when I got off the plane in Milan.

Arrived in Milan 8 in the morning Milan time. Two in the morning my time. Permit me to interject, I was up 34 straight hours before I went to bed. There was no time to rest once I arrived.

My driver took me to Navarro. I am staying in Navarro a few days till I am over jet lag. It was a 30 mile drive.

The scenery reminded me of two things. First, it was like driving route 5 from Utica to Frankfort in upstate New York. A smattering of houses and barns. Fields otherwise. Second, in many places there was heavy foliage. Like that I saw in Virginia near Mount Vernon.

The fields were rice paddies. As far as the eye could see. Pools of water with what appeared to be blades of grass growing above. I had never seen rice paddies before, except in movies about China. Turns out northern Italy is one of the largest suppliers of rice world wide. The reason is the area sits at the foot of Mount Blanc. Water flows down the mountain. Fills the many streams and rivers. Water abounds below the land surface also. Easily tapable well style.

After miles and miles of rice paddies, there appeared a castle. Sitting on a mountain nearby. The driver told me the man who lives in the castle owns all the rice paddies. Plus a golf course nearby.

We drove over many bridges. All old in appearance. Some stone. Others metal. Napoleon responsible for them all. The people refer to Napoleon as King Napoleon. He conquered northern Italy in the early 1800s. Many French persons came to live here under Napoleonic rule. Their descendants still speak French. France itself is a hop, skip and jump away. Switzerland is nearby and French is common there.

I found it strange that in our 30 mile drive I saw very little traffic. Whether on a major highway complex or on a back road. I was told it cost money to drive. The price of gasoline is $12 a gallon. Additionally most roads have a tolling system which is expensive. When contracts are let to build or repair a road, the contractor gets a long time deal. Beside the construction or repair, the contractor gets to maintain the road for 30 years. It is the law! The contractor charges tolls purportedly to pay the cost of repairs. Actually it is a big money maker. Called positive cash flow. The tolls are very expensive. Some of the persons I discussed this topic with blamed the Mafia. In fact, in the short time I have been here I have discovered Italians blame the Mafia for everything.

We entered Navarro. I was impressed!

There is an extensive downtown area. Most of the buildings were built 1100 to 1300. They still stand. Are referred to as medieval. The roads are narrow. Very narrow. Like downtown Boston. The streets are all closed off, except to pedestrian traffic. No cars.

The buildings are magnificent. Majestic. Most muted pastel colors. Yellow, gray, tan and pink. Some concrete colored. Nothing big. Three to four stories. Ground floor expensive stores. A restaurant with outdoor seating here and there. Apartments on the floors above. The buildings appear to be of poured concrete. No wood. Tile roofs. Where ever stucco or brick is apparent, it is a facade. Merely attached to the wall of the building.

I am staying a few nights in one of the apartments. The buildings are magnificent as well. The staircases! I am staying in an apartment on the second floor. It is actually two stories. Once inside the apartment, there is a staircase to an upper floor. The apartment I am in is at least 4,000 square feet. Many rooms. Many baths.

The ceilings are art. Each is painted with a story. My bedroom is a hunt involving stags and dogs.

The furniture is all antique. It is like walking into a museum.

Every room has one or more outside balconies. Overlooking the street or inner court.

The inner court is a beauty in itself. Entrance is gained through a heavy wood door. The courtyard reminds me of the Roman courtyard to be found in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. The exhibit on the first floor to the left of the staircase as you enter the left hallway. Resident cars are parked in the inner court.

I attended a dinner party last night. Great food!

There was a mixture of people. Navarro is obviously cosmopolitan. People from all countries. I spoke at length with a Muslim woman from Morocco. Actually, Casablanca. 35ish. Lovely. Dressed like every one else.

I said Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman. She did not know what I was talking about.

Her husband is Italian. He converted from Catholic to Muslim to marry her.

They have two grammar school age children. Both attend Catholic school. Neither has been baptized or confirmed. Their parents are leaving it to the children to decide when they are older. The Catholic Church is giving them no issue. The priest and nuns welcome the two into school with open arms. I doubt such would be permitted in the United States.

I was told that Morocco is very modern. None of the women cover their faces or wear long black robes. Mini skirts are very much in style. Although there are wars in the African countries all around Morocco, there is no conflict in Morocco. The people are of a different mind set.

We drank Italian champagne. By the case. Apparently it is the drink of choice here.

Everyone was dressed as if we were at a party in Key West. Casual. Women in jeans. Men in  jeans and khakis. Too cool yet for shorts.

Everyone wanted to talk with me. All were interested in our Presidential election. All like Obama. He is respected for his international endeavors. They knew we had financial problems also, but did not understand them. The euro is on their mind. They agreed however that if Greece goes down, so will the rest of Europe. With the United States being severely impacted.

I am sleeping in a suite complex. All for me. A bedroom, dressing room and bathroom. Bathrooms are big in size. Decorated. Different from ours.

Mine has a bidet. I was pleased. I have one in my Key West home and have become accustomed to its use. I found this one strange. A bidet requires a water spout near center from which the water can shoot up to cleanse the underside. No spout.

I inquired why. Turns out Mussolini was the driving force in bidets. He made sure every Italian home had one. Like a chicken in every pot and a car in every garage. At the end of World War II, Mussolini was not too popular. You will recall that he and his mistress were beaten to death and then hung by their heels. The post war government decided to do away with bidets since they were Mussolini inspired. A law was passed outlawing the spout on the theory it was bacteria/microbe infested. My bidet is nothing but another sink. Based on its height, for child use I assume.

I got to bed at 10:30 in the evening Navarro time. I had been up more than 30 hours straight. I fell asleep immediately. Woke at 2. Was awake till 4. Then slept to 8.

Writing this first blog has been an exercise. A frustration.

Electricity is rationed in Italy. The computer I was working on had rationed electricity. Fifteen minutes and it went off. And stayed off for an hour. All to conserve electricity. This blog has been written piece meal over the course of a day.

Enjoy your day! More to come tomorrow!

_____

I hope you enjoy Greece My First Time. The late spring and summer of 2012. I did this blog daily for the 80 some odd days I was away. I never published it in any but blog form at the time. Hope you enjoy.

The  Greece story opens today’s blog. Used it as such to introduce you to the writing. Not sure where it will appear from this point forward. I suspect as the closing topic.

We begin.

Schumer came out a winner. He called McCullough’s bluff. The Democrats will be the majority party for the next 2 years.

I am disappointed Schumer will be in a tough position in attempting to get rid of the filibuster. Two Democrats assured McCullough that they would never even have have an intention of getting rid of the filibuster.

A shame. More could be done if the Democrats were able to go for the nuclear option.

Each of the two Democratic Senators have their own reasons. Some to be respected. Some not.

Joe Manchin is a Democratic Senator from West Virginia. He has been a successful politician his whole life.

West Virginia is a Republican state. It is also a coal mining state. Manchin has always walked a fine line. In fact, he voted with Trump 50.4 percent of the time.

Krysten Sinems is a Democratic Senator from Arizona. Always a deep red state. The Democrats did well in November. Better than normal.

Arizona is definitely leaning Democratic. She should start throwing off her false Republican mantle. A conservative, she voted with Trump 25 percent of the time.

Twenty five percent does not seem like a lot in comparison to Manchin’s voting record. However 25 percent placed her in third place among Democrats supporting Trump policies. Ergo, the 25 percent is significant.

Schumer sounded confident last night that at some point the filibuster would go. I hope so.

A comment in Citizens’ Voice this morning spelling out the state of the COID-19 pandemic in the U.S.: “We were dying from COVID-19 and now we’re dying from state and federal incompetence.”

On this day in 1998, President Clinton lied re his engaging in sexual relations with Monica Lewensky: “I want to say one thing to the American people; I did not have sexual relations with that woman, Miss Lewinsky.”

When Clinton had to own up to the deed, his excuse somewhat difficult to understand. However showed the genius of the man that worked in many other ways for the betterment of the U.S.

Clinton’s position basically was that he did not have sex with Lewinsky, she had sex with him. It was limited to oral copulation and she did him. He did not do her.

I have wondered about Trump and his sexual life if any while President. The man had a terrific career of philandering. Having a wife never seemed to bother him when it came to cheating.

A  leopard does not change his spots.

Query: How went his 4 years in the White House?

One further observation since I am comparing Clinton and Trump. Clinton was a far superior President than Trump. Without question.

Tuesday again! My blog talk radio show tonight. Tuesday Talk with Key West Lou. Join me at 9 my time. I may have less to rant and rave about this week. However, I promise to do my best. You will not be disappointed. www.blogtalkradio.com/key-west-lou.

Enjoy your day!

    GREECE THE FIRST TIME was originally published on Key West Lou

[gehayi]

Fandom Snowflake Challenge--Day 3

Day 3 In your own space, post recs for at least three fanworks that you did not create. For this, I thought I would rec all the stories that I have bookmarked that I thought need more love. All of them are complete (no WIPs, though I do wish some would continue). I made notes on some when I bookmarked them, so where those occur, they're included.

Also, this is LONG. You have been warned.

14th CENTURY CE RPF Hallowmas, Or Shortest Of Day by skazka Isabella, future girl-queen of England, receives a visit from a predecessor. Commentary: Melancholy and sweet, with wee Isabella as an adorable seven-year-old who's very much at sea and Anne of Bohemia as the gentlest and kindest of ghosts. It's A Terrible Reign by angevin2 A dying John of Gaunt, with the aid of his long-dead brother, walks the road not taken. Commentary: Wickedly deflates the "It's a Wonderful Life" premise simply by having John of Gaunt be himself--confident, convinced that what he wants is surely for the best, and blunt enough to point out that most of the awful stuff that could have happened DID happen anyway. Also, Gaunt and the Black Prince are both believable and hysterical as brothers. Jesu dulcis memoria by angevin2 Master Ladislaus's only regret is that his greatest masterpiece--the Wilton Diptych--is one born of grief. Commentary: Brief, sorrowful and stunningly beautiful. I had a lump in my throat when I finished reading it. Remembrance of a Weeping Queen by angevin2 Anne of Bohemia contemplates her purpose in life. Commentary: It’s not easy dealing with public crises while coping with private grief. If you like royal ladies who make a difference in their world and who smile sweetly and gently despite heartbreak, this is for you. *** A STUDY IN EMERALD - NEIL GAIMAN: R'Iyeh Is Not An Empty House by Trobadora It all began because of the woman. *** ARTHURIAN MYTHOLOGY Wheels Within Wheels by Philipa_Moss “Have you heard?” Linet asked. “She’s back.” *** AUSTIN & MURRY-O'KEEFE FAMILIES - MADELEINE L'ENGLE Galois Theory by primeideal Five times everything fell into place. That Unexpected Fateful Hour, Once Again at Hand by ElegantPi Charles Wallace is assigned two new classmates and a task, just before his winter holiday. Wordless by CG (NYCScribbler) Three times Calvin O'Keefe hasn't known what to say. *** BENJAMIN JANUARY MYSTERIES - BARBARA HAMBLY Escargots by Nary Rose was not one to offer platitudes for a man she hadn't known, to a man who hadn't cared about him. "What killed him?" she asked instead, for she couldn't think of any reason why Shaw would be telling her about this if it had been a natural death. "Poison's our best guess." He paused, as if considering how to most gently say what was coming next. "He took his final meal at the Hotel Iberville last night. So as you might imagine, I got a pressin' need to speak with your nephew, Gabriel Corbier." Commentary: This story belongs to the women, and deservedly so. Rose January/Janvier is brilliant and shrewd and a fantastic scientific detective in 1830s New Orleans, while her sister-in-law Olympe Corbier solves half the mystery by deducing what posion was used. It's sharp, smoothly written and as thoroughly researched as any of the books. Honestly, you could drop this into Barbara Hambly's Good Man Friday (the book in which Benjamin January goes off to Washington DC, a trip which Rose mentions in passing) and it would fit in seamlessly. I'm honestly not sure that the person who wrote this for me isn't Barbara Hambly. If you love historical mysteries, stories featuring characters of color, or both, then read this story. Five moments in the life of Augustus Mayerling by sevenofspade Becoming Augustus Mayerling is a process. Commentary: The details of how Augustus Mayerling became Augustus Mayerling. Detailed, sharp and utterly right. Headcanon accepted. Magnificat in New Orleans by Taabe On the eve of Benjamin and Rose Vitrac January's first Christmas in their new home, at the end of a Reveillón, Ben and Hannibal have a run-in with a less peaceful holiday tradition, and they and Rose take a in young stranger in more need of help than even they realize. Commentary: Dazzlingly beautiful, brilliantly researched, and powerful enough to make your heart ache. A magnificent Magnificat. *** BISCLAVRET - MARIE DE FRANCE J'ai Vu le Loup by Gileonnen The hunt collapses the distance between man and beast. Commentary: A canonical medieval gay werewolf. I love it. *** CADFAEL CHRONICLES - ELLIS PETERS A Flourish of Gold by thelittlestbird When a murder disrupts the peace conference that might end the Anarchy, Brother Cadfael must solve one last mystery. Fortunately, he has some very competent people to help him. *** CANTERBURY TALES - GEOFFREY CHAUCER Mordre, She Wroot by sistermagpie At least one pilgrim will not make it to Canterbury. *** CHRONICLES OF NARNIA - C.S.LEWIS Clipsie the Mariner by Transposable_Element The episode of the Dufflepuds and the Magician's book, from the point of view of the Chief's daughter, Clipsie. Dark and Deep by the_rck Tumnus delivers Lucy to the White Witch, and Aslan never comes. All four children end up in Jadis's hands, and she decides to see what she can mold them into. *** CROSSOVERS Chronicles of Narnia/Harry Potter And Bide the Danger by MiraMira Susan Pevensie: former Unspeakable, legendary beauty, possible Dark witch. A young Amelia Bones, eager to make her mark on MLE, has just been assigned to track her down. But the further Amelia proceeds with her investigation, the more questions she uncovers - especially once she meets Susan herself. Dark Tower/The Stand On the Plains of the Crimson King by magistera Eight years after Randall Flagg was defeated, life goes on in the much-reduced circumstances of post-Trips America. But when Fran and Stu's son begins to have disturbing (and all-too-familiar) dreams, it's a sign of change to come. Commentary: This ties together the stories of The Stand and The Dark Tower, blending the worlds and explaining why Flagg saw Fran Goldsmith's baby as so much of a threat. The tone and the characterization are spot-on, and there's one action scene early on that chilled me. And despite all the supernatural occurrences, which are handled beautifully, this world is solidly grounded. It feels real. Honest to God, if I didn't know better, I'd think that Stephen King fanficced himself. Doctor Who/Mrs. Pollifax - Dorothy Gilman Mrs. Pollifax and the Christmas Party by Emiline “Since you mention it, there was something else,” she admitted. “I’d like you both to come to my Christmas party this year.” With gate-crashing by the unstoppable Jack Harkness. Doctor Who/Wicked Voice - Vernon Lee The Sapphire of Rassilon by zopyrus All Grace Holloway wanted was an ordinary night at the San Francisco Opera. But when the Doctor shows up unexpectedly (again), Grace finds herself travelling back to 18th-century Venice—with a stop along the way to pick up the forgotten Victorian author, Vernon Lee. Murdered composers, lesbian drama, opera singers, and more! Commentary: A gorgeous crossover with the Eighth Doctor and a canon called A Wicked Voice, set mostly in Venice of the 1700s and 1800s. It's a gorgeous story--vivid and colorful, and capable of making you see the Venice of both time periods. This is a story to get lost it. Read it. You'll be glad that you did. Dresden Files - Jim Butcher/Tale of the Five Series - Diane Duane Fire Working by melannen Herewiss goes through a Door that is probably not the Door into Starlight, and meets a man who uses the Fire. Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare/Midsummer Night's Dream - Shakespeare/Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps. by fresne Perhaps, the story went this way. Perhaps, it went that way. Perhaps. *** DRESDEN FILES - JIM BUTCHER Johnny's Little Secret by shiplizard A mafia errand boy worries about his junior partner. Slash implied, friendship explicit. Rated Teen for language. *** EAGLES ARE TURNING PEOPLE INTO HORSES: THE MOVIE (2009) Eagles are Turning People Into Horses: The Movie: II: The Horses That Used To Be People But Were Turned Into Horses By Eagles Strike Back: The Revengening by KiaraSayre "This is real life, Brian. There's no ignoring the fact that eagles are turning people into horses. We just have to learn to live with it." Commentary: Glorious crackfic. Every line made me smile, grin or laugh. Quintessentially Yuletide. *** ELIZABETHAN AND JACOBEAN THEATRE & LITERATURE RPF Sad Stories of the Death of Kings by angevin It's 1593, and Kit Marlowe is trying out a new genre. Commentary: If you're intimidated by the canon's title, don't be. Kit Marlowe and Will Shakespeare are playwrights and rivals, each criticizing each other's work while writing plays that are strongly influenced by the same. Marlowe is gloriously OTT, as he was in real life, and Shakespeare is the ultimate fanboy who can't quite tell if his idol is flirting or not. This made me smile. A lot. *** EVERY HEART A DOORWAY - SEANAN McGUIRE The Mirror Cracked From Side to Side by Amazing_E_Ko Nancy has left her old life behind, but when Jack comes tumbling through a portal bearing news of an apocalypse, her sister speaking prophecy from beyond death, Nancy is pulled back into the world of living, breathing things. With the help of Kade and Christopher they must unravel the mystery of the disappearing worlds, and uncover the truth behind all their journeys. Post-canon. Commentary: Absolute magic. I am not entirely certain that the writer isn't really Seanan McGuire. And I am so very grateful that I found this story. *** FAIRY TALES AND FOLKLORE Der Rattenfänger von Hameln | The Pied Piper of Hamelin (Fairy Tale) If I Miss You Call the Tune by lalalalalawhy It is 100 light years since our children left. Commentary: A fairy tale retelling in space. Heartwrenching and so, so good. Sneedronningen | The Snow Queen - Hans Christian Andersen The Enchanted Hawk by Alona In which the robber girl encounters a dysfunctional royal family and makes the most of it. Commentary: The robber girl--no longer so little--is beautifully sly, cunning and practical, defying conventions both in her world and in ours. She doesn't assume that enchanted animals are necessarily truthful, she takes the time to scout out a situation, and she knows what she wants and goes after it cheerfully and unashamedly. I'd love to read more about her and her adventures. *** FALLEN LONDON (FORMERLY ECHO BAZAAR) Fortune, Fate, Freedom by escritoireazul Are we the sum of our choices, or are we our fate? Commentary: A Choose Your Own Adventure tale about the Cheesemonger, the finest of all spies. Hard To Find by Kastaka As if the Comtessa would let a little thing like social ostracism stand in her way. Commentary: When this was first published, it was the first Echo Bazaar fic I'd ever seen, and it continues the story of the subject character--the Missing Comtessa--smashingly, not to mention capturing the atmosphere of the twisted world of Fallen London so well. If you know the game of Echo Bazaar, you'll love it. If you don't know the game, you'll STILL love it, plus the story may inspire interest in the game. Either way, you win! or leave it by anstaar A tough shares their story. *** FIREFLY Can’t Take The Sky by Glinda Serenity does not understand grief; Serenity understands grief all too well. Inundation by lilacsigil When knowledge is power, it's important to keep knowledge controlled. Shepherd Book is here to help. *** GREEK AND ROMAN MYTHOLOGY Medusa's Tale by Area51Fugitive Ah. You've come. I knew you would. Commentary: The very best retelling of the Medusa myth I've ever read, and the only one that ever made me cry. *** HARRY POTTER - J.K. ROWLING Poseidon's Prisoner by esteoflorien Young Cassiopeia Black sets off in search of her brother - and receives assistance from an unlikely person, making her reconsider the way she previously viewed her world. *** HIGHLANDER: THE SERIES Mnemosyne by Medie Wounds of the flesh heal easily for Immortals, the ones of the soul, less so. Commentary: A sympathetic and angry Cassandra, after the Horsemen Arc. *** HIS DARK MATERIALS - PHILIP PULLMAN Valleys of the Shadows by finch (afinch) This is not a happy story. This is the story of three girls who find themselves in the middle of a new African war. There are witches' revolts, daring escapes, the killing of the bears, echoes of freedom, the lack of mercy of the pirates, chains stronger than any steel, and three deaths, one by one by one. This is not a happy story, there are no happy endings, no miracles, no subtle knife, and no angels. This is the story of three girls, a slave, an unwilling pawn, and a refugee. This is story of three girls and three dæmons. *** INVISIBLE LIBRARY: FANWORKS BASED ON IMAGINARY WORKS MENTIONED IN FICTION Miserable Les, Les Misérables - All Media Types, Discworld - Terry Pratchett Truth! Justice! Freedom! Reasonably-priced love! And a black coffee! by greenet Wherein everybody is protesting, drinking a whole lot of coffee, and falling in and out of love. Nina Lightfingers learns to appreciate the elegance of a lady’s fan wielded with murderous intent, Petiterre is over-caffeinated, Evgeni is banned from reading self-help books, and Brusher is over-protective. Among other things. Commentary: If Terry Pratchett had written an in-universe musical about the events of Night Watch, it would have been this story. That is to say, it would have been perfect. P.S. Miserable Les is mentioned as a possible opera in Maskerade. *** JOHN LEWIS CHRISTMAS ADVERTS Please, please, please... by AdaptationDecay Lewis knows exactly what he wants for Christmas. Commentary: This is a stealth crossover, but I'm not going to mention what it's crossed with. That would spoil the impact of the reveal. *** MARY POPPINS (1964) Pictures in the Pavement and Magic in the Rain by El Staplador (elstaplador) Time moves on, and when the wind changes, things happen. Usually Mary Poppins is there, somewhere. *** NCIS No Such Thing by circ_bamboo There's no such thing as zombies. (Or: People should have realized that, sooner or later, pouring the liquefied remnants of corpses in the municipal water supply was going to lead to zombies.) Commentary: Absolutely the best and the funniest zombie story I've ever read! The NCIS team is spot-on as a bad situation snowballs gloriously. Also, I will never think of cedar shavings, sodium intake or tiki torches the same way again! P.S. Here are more sources about resomation: http://www.bbc.com/news/science-environment-14114555 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alkaline_hydrolysis_(body_disposal) https://funeralbooker.com/blog/everything-need-know-resomation/ *** ONCE UPON A TIME (TV) Staying Found by misscam “I will always find you,” they say. And they did. Now they just have to get used to having been found again, together again, a relationship again, all the little things again. [Snow/Charming + minor Emma, Henry, Belle] *** PETER PAN - J.M. BARRIE The Art of Becoming by LostWendy1 “Every child is affected thus the first time he is treated unfairly. All he thinks he has a right to when he comes to you to be yours is fairness. After you have been unfair to him he will love you again, but will never afterwards be the same boy. No one ever gets over the first unfairness; no one except Peter. He often met it, but he always forgot it. I suppose that was the real difference between him and all the rest.” (Peter Pan, Barrie) Commentary: The story of Mr. Darling--and the origins of Captain Hook. *** PRINCELESS There's No Such Thing As Elegators by psocoptera Sparky, Adrienne, and Bedelia have an encounter in the grasslands. Commentary: You don't often hear stories from the dragon's point of view. *** REBECCA - DAPHNE DU MAURIER A Thousand Words, Or Simply Three by Skogkatt Danny, faced with a new mistress of vastly inferior rank, ruminates on the past. *** RUBYQUEST Rubyquest II: The Island by AdaptationDecay In your inventory, you have two walkie-talkies and an empty champagne bottle. Time to save the world... *** SHAKESPEARE King Lear - Shakespeare 'Tis Strange by lorata Lear Enterprises' CEO prepares to divide his company's controlling shares between his daughters and their subsidiaries. Edmund, non-powered and disaffected son in a superhero family, plots to turn villain. Regan and Goneril abandon their father to the zombies after he endangers their safehouses one too many times. Gloucester scours open space for the former commander of the star system, set adrift in a malfunctioning lifepod. Cordelia and her dragon prepare to take on her sisters with the help of the French aerial dragon corps. Some stories aren't just universal, they're multiversal. The tale of King Lear, from eleven different worlds. When She Was Bad by lorata LEAR: Then let them anatomize Regan. See what breeds about her heart. Is there any cause in nature that makes these hard hearts? Act 3, Scene 6 SERVANT: If she live long, And in the end meet the old course of death, Women will all turn monsters. Act 3, Scene 7 Even the sweetest pup will bite if handled roughly, and Regan is no innocent. The making of a girl who embraced her demons and turned them to her purpose. Richard II - Shakespeare A Signet On Thine Arm by skazka Kisse he me with the cos of his mouth. For thi tetis ben betere than wyn, and yyuen odour with beste oynementis. Richard and Anne make out in the bath. Privilege by angevin2 Richard kissed a girl and he liked it. And then things got really complicated. Six Variations on Loyalty by angevin2 The King's party (for it is, in fact, still the King's party) has not even left Flint Castle for London before Henry of Hereford, now styling himself Henry of Lancaster, begins trying to seduce Edward of Aumerle. Thy Rebuke Hath Broken His Heart by Aris Merquoni (ArisTGD) Soulbonds between men and women are the most romantic form of marriage in the known world. Soulbonds between men and men make bards and poets salivate with the prospect of terrible, epic tragedy. Richard and Henry think that bards and poets are assholes. Romeo and Juliet - Shakespeare Starling by loathlylady Rosaline in the hot sun. *** STORIES BASED ON ARTWORKS La fiancée hésitante | The Hesitant Betrothed - Auguste Toulmouche Les Femmes Acharnées by Violsva Blanche has a plan, Céleste has a plan - really, everyone has a plan. Commentary: An excellent story of marriage, murder and female friendship. *** SWAN LAKE (BALLET) Juno's Swans by La Reine Noire (lareinenoire) And wheresoever we went, like Juno's swans, / Still we went coupled and inseparable. *** THE GOBLIN EMPEROR - KATHERINE ADDISON Passage by bigsunglasses Released from his role as Prince by the birth of a son to the Emperor and Empress, Idra is allowed to attend university. But he can't escape his past so easily, or perhaps at all, particularly not when he meets someone who walks under a similar shadow ... Three years post-canon. *** THE SANDMAN The First Conversation with Death by evilhippo What happens when someone is no longer an aspect of the Endless? (An imagined epilogue to The Wake.) *** THOMAS OF WOODSTOCK (PLAY) like brambles to the cedars by angevin2 Queen Anne isn't used to English customs. It doesn't help that her husband and his uncles can't agree on what they are. Commentary: This is the story of a gentle young woman adjusting to life far from home and adjusting to political currents she doesn’t quite understand. If you like sweet and feminine Sansa Stark singing songs or sewing expertly, you’ll love this. *** THURSDAY'S CHILDREN - RUMER GODDEN A Bitter God to Follow by Bakcheia In which everybody is in love with ballet dancer Yuri Koszorz, including Yuri. Commentary: A story of seductive charm and self-absorption. Yuri is a likable young man, even as he heedlessly captivates everyone around him, not caring whether anyone gets hurt. *** WATERSHIP DOWN - RICHARD ADAMS The Story of Hrayatha and the Rabbit Who Left No Tracks by Luzula Pipkin listens to a story. Post-canon. *** WENDY TRILOGY - S.J. TUCKER (SONG CYCLE) Always keep your head by LeaperSonata So Wendy'd got herself a crew of ruthless men and brave and they'd terrorize the Lost Boys each and every Saturday. One day Wendy says to Peter, "I'd like more girls on my crew." So Peter goes a-hunting Lost Girls and brings back Green-eyed Sue. Commentary: You don't have to know S.J. Tucker's songs--specifically, the Wendy Trilogy--to understand this story about the time when Wendy Darling became a pirate called Red-Handed Jill. This story is about Green-Eyed Sue, Jill's first mate, but more than that, it's about finding the place where you belong. Most of all, it's about identity and love and being honest with yourself. Highly recommended. Journey's End by eris_kyrall (kereia) The decision to go back home had not come easily to Wendy Darling, and the hardest part of it was saying goodbye. Commentary: This story deals with Wendy's departure from Neverland, but it treats her decision to leave as right and natural, as if Wendy were a potted plant that had outgrown its container. At the same time, it shows that those who didn't follow Wendy home were also right. Also, I love the female friendship in this story. Bittersweet.

[murfeelee]

Last Week’s Replies!

Last weekend was a hot mess so I forgot to do this, sorry y’all!

hibiskiss replied to your post “Weekend! Replies!”

good luck during your semester!!                    

Thanks so much! :) Here’s hoping!

declarations-of-drama replied to your photoset “What’s in YOUR Sims’ bag? Rules: Choose a Sim of yours, post a...”                                                

Boss lady Miss Feisty! Very cool!                    

Thanks! ^_^ Sakura’s a dark faery, so she likes her sugar with a little bit of spice.

lifeasasim replied to your photoset “What’s in YOUR Sims’ bag? Rules: Choose a Sim of yours, post a...”                                                

This is so cute 😁                    

It’s all fun and games until someone needs an exorcism.  XD

hypsteria-posts replied to your photoset “What’s in YOUR Sims’ bag? Rules: Choose a Sim of yours, post a...”                                                

wow so colorful! and it's not a bag it is the black hole! :D                    

I actually accidentally left some things out, like her kasa/parasol and enchanted katana and bottle of Pollen Punch and her black dragon Ryuu. (－‸ლ)

andantezen replied to your photoset “#InMySimsBag - Nagron  New Nagron Gameplay! MODERN! I couldn’t resist...”                                                

this is so great, and all the differences of the stuff each character carries... love it!                    

I’m glad you liked it! :D I tried to convey a bit of what they were each like (though I got a bit carried away -- I have no idea how the eff Duro fits all that crap in that tiny fanny pack of his.:P )

palimpa replied to your photoset “#InMySimsBag - Nagron  New Nagron Gameplay! MODERN! I couldn’t resist...”                                                

Fab! Could you pleeeease upload the Money Clip? Must have it! (ÖvÖ)

It’s really rough, but sure, I’ll upload them. :)

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lifeasasim: //MORTAL INSTRUMENTS// Thank you @murfeelee for letting...”

These look great!                    

Thanks! I’m thinking of doing Jace’s original runes from the movie; they’re prettier than the TV version. I’m violently against supporting Carrot Fries Clary Fray, but I admit I’d feel a bit bad if I didn’t make Clary’s runes, for the simmers that do like her and would want her in their gameplay. I just... urgh. >_> Making her runes means I’d actually have to look at the orange wench. U_U

lifeasasim replied to your post “Weekend! Replies!”

On the izzy part, idk. The addiction won't do any good LOL But she's fierce and badass. And that's why I admire her. And wouldn't give two shits about people but clary thou xD                    

I think they figured Izzy being a crack fiend was a good way of introducing Sebastian, since he helps her break her addiction and you end up rooting for him cuz he’s hot and helpful and British and hot.... literally.... O_O

lifeasasim replied to your post “Weekend! Replies!”

Yes- Magnus and Alec xD OMG, yes! I forgot about Luke. Helllllll Luke is sexy AF. 10/10 would have his babies too xD honestly all the actors on shadowhunters are hot except for clary #sorrynotsorry xD and also Harry Shum rocks eyeliner and glitter ;_; like HOW                  

As hot as Harry is in Season 2, and despite how badly I want his babies, IMO his S02 look was less Magnus Bane & more Adam Lambert (NOT a bad thing by any means, #BeStillMyOvaries!). It’s just that they all but abandoned the S01 glitter & colorful makeup Magnus is known for; tryna make everyone all Edgier™ and Darker™ or whatever. I hope in S03 they put the color back in.

jessabeans replied to your post “Weekend! Replies!”

Indeed, there is some serious man candy on that show!  I'm happy to see Harry Shum get to talk, they always wasted him (and those abs) on Glee.  Have you seen him in 'Fire City'?  I adore his theatrical character in Shadow Hunters but he does broody well too.      

I never saw a single episode of Glee, or Fire City, but listen I am on a rabid gif hunt for Harry Shum Jr images, okay, cuz the man is too dang fine.

declarations-of-drama replied to your photoset “Malec Chronicles - Pt8: Good Night, Sweetpea  CAPTIONS AS TEXT  - Max...”                                                

I have never watched this show but you do make it look fun! Also, I think the rug placement with that design makes the room look so magical! Like the Yellow-Brick-Road or something? Looking great!                    

That was EXACTLY what I was going for! XD Thanks so much, yes, I was like Aw~~! Looks like Oz! :3 As for Shadowhunters, it’s a pretty decent show. Season 1 was ok -- Magnus is literally the best part -- but Season 2 is when EVERYTHING gets better: the quality, storyline, special effects, acting (except for certain radioactive carrots who shall remain nameless.....). But real talk I’m only in it for Malec. The main character is an annoying orange vegetable.

And now a big THANKS! to everyone who liked/commented on my Beards! I hope they work alright in people’s games. *nervous fingernail biting*

ziva-sims reblogged your post and added:

BEEEEEAAAAAARDS THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU

lollipop-rainbows replied to your photoset “Hunter and Gatherer The man just wanted to eat his meal in peace, but...”

Amazing!! :D                    

lollipop-rainbows replied to your post “DAO Beards Set”

Thank you!!

dodccfinds reblogged your post and added:

More Murf Goodness!      

ts3ccofacquiresimoleons reblogged your post and added:

Omfreakinggod i love these you have filled a void in my medieval simming heart thank you! 

It had to be done, it simply had to. I was getting tired of the disrespect EA showed for not giving our dudes more facial hair. 

shambalafinds reblogged your post and added:

Such magnificent beards! 😍 Thank you so much

declarations-of-drama replied to your post “DAO Beards Set”

Thank You!! These look incredible!

lifeasasim replied to your post “DAO Beards Set”                                                

This is good for dwarfs of middle earth :D                    

Yup, the beards were actually all from the Dwarves in Dragon Age. I wish I could find some really epic beards like the ones from The Hobbit -- I didn’t know they had holding spray in the middle ages! XD

[nomorelonelydays]

Last night, I was lying down in my pile of garbage and I thought to myself, 'hey, self -- what about hockey players as various mythical creatures?" So if you're down to indulge the idea, I've got a couple thoughts? Like, for one, Nephilim Sidney, AKA: angelic strategic/militaristic leadership capabilities, devotion and loyalty, strong moral compass, and unbelievable beauty, BUT human goose honk laugh, sense of humor, occasional lack of gracefulness, and fully functioning sex drive, all (1/11)

More under cut. Like a lot more. But it’s an epic so highly recommend

rolled into one. Ever since he was just a kid, people have debated whether being a Nephilim means he gets some kind of unfair advantage, or if it just means he's got a huge, self-righteous stick up his ass -- disregarding the fact that, even if he does have angel blood, Sidney is still partially human, with fully human feelings. Then, because I am the Angst Gremlin, Gremlin of the Angst, Geno, with his relaxing charm, easy confidence, clever hands, even cleverer tongue, and, quite frankly,(2/11)

really big dick, is an incubus. While technically still a demon, he's not really into filleting the souls of the innocent or any medieval shit like that, he just gets laid a lot and needs sex energy to stay alive. Regardless, everyone is on edge for Sid and Geno to meet, hoping beyond hope that the two young men the future of the Pens Organization is riding on don't want to kill each other on sight. So, people take it as a pretty big surprise when they get along fine. Sid keeps his cross (3/11)

necklace on under the collars of his shirts (just in case they'd bump into each other), their hotel rooms are always on opposite ends of the hall (because Geno would like to be respectful and he knows that his post-game feedings can occasionally be a little loud), Sidney keeps a special lid on his water bottle so it doesn't get confused with anyone else's -- especially Geno's (we'll say that holy water is basically the electrolyte-infused gatorade version of water for Sidney, so that's (4/11)

what he drinks), and, Geno does all pre-game snacking in locked, empty training rooms (because "pre-game snacking" usually means calling one of his routine hookups and making them orgasm via phone sex, and even if he sometimes does it in Russian, it'd be rude to do it in front of everyone, and extra rude to do it in front of Sid). The first time they're so hyped from a victory that they spontaneously hug each other while undressing in the locker room, they both worry that they hurt each (5/11)other somehow, before realizing that they're fine, and Sid's just like, "It felt really good, actually. A lot of the time, people hold me at a distance to be respectful -- and I appreciate it -- but it's nice to just feel normal." However, Sid didn't realize that Geno was holding back with physical contact as much as he was, that saying what he said would mean G would start touching him as much as he touches everyone else, or that, when allowed, G wound up touching people /a lot/. Or, how (6/11)

all of the little casual touches would drag the whole "being in love with Geno" thing to the forefront of Sid's mind. Eventually, when they're squeezed next to each other in a booth at a club, and G clasps his hand around Sid's thigh while laughing at a joke he'd made, Sid cracks. In a voice more nervous and less seductive than he was intending, he asks Geno if he likes touching him, and when Geno responds with, "Why you ask, Sid?" he powers on to say that if he doesn't mind touching him, (7/11)he's in his mid-twenties and has never been able to go through with losing his virginity because he just gets so worked up about it and freaks, but he trusts Geno more than anyone else, and, "if you'd be okay with it... you could make it easier for me to, well... you know... and you'd get a meal out of it?" But then G just looks at him sadly and shakes his head, and Sid feels more and more broken and nauseous by the second -- only, the hurt fades into confusion when Geno amends, "Not (8/11)because I don't want, Sid. Just... afterwards, for me, trying to feed... it would be like swallow sewer water after drinking champagne from Stanley Cup." Geno pauses, giving a wry smirk, before adding, "You're like 'Holy Grail.'" And Sid's in shock, but musters every last ounce of angelic bravery to say, "I've been in love with you for a really long time, so maybe, if you feel the same, it wouldn't be just once." And cue amazing sex. Sidenotes: Flower is most certainly a lovable, trouble- (9/11)

making imp, Tanger's the vampire who's low key really grumpy over the fact that he'll never get to see how hot he is, Olli owes all of his height to the human side of his family, because the other side are all haltijas (a type of helpful finnish gnome that needs to be treated with love and regularly fed), Conor gets pouty about having a mix of pixie and leprechaun blood, because he's just short and with how often he's accidentally walked in on Sid and Geno boning/nearly boning, no way in (10/11)hell is luck on his side, and Jake's usually cool about being an elf until the holidays come around and every chirp he gets is a quote from the 2003 Will Ferrell movie. (11/11)

Also, I have been acting in the manner of an anon-ask spiders georg, and have already harassed you with enough content for an eternity, but... a Nicky/Ovi Footnote: Ovi is a Russian species of yeti, and he sites his lineage whenever an annoying interviewer asks him about the streaks of grey and white in his hair, "You know Russia -- there is much snow, so yetis are grey. Is fine," (only, while grey is normal, white coloring for Siberian yetis is a sign of stress and premature aging, (1/7)y'know, like what happens when someone is repeatedly blamed for their franchise's inability to win things, but that's none of my business *insert the meme of kermit drinking tea*). Nicklas Backstrom is not publicly known to be a non-humanoid, however, from the second Ovi saw the lively, mesmerizing green of his eyes, and heard the musical lilt to his voice, he knew, there was just something about Nicky. Even after multiple incidences of Nicky scoring a goal in a game, Ovi definitely (2/7)

seeing Nicky present in the locker room, Nicky conveniently disappearing right as the media comes to talk with him, and Ovi running into a decorative ficus, thinking, 'when the fuck did this tree get here?' he doesn't register what's going on, but whatever, because after convincing Nicky to go out to dinner with him once a week, they work up to eating together five nights a week, then to gentle, nervous kisses, followed by not-so-gentle-or-nervous making out, and by the time his first (3/7)

sight upon waking up every morning is the bare expanse of Nicky's back or his head of golden hair resting easily against a pillow, there's so much love in his heart that there really isn't any space left to wonder what Nicky is or isn't. However, it takes one incident of Nicky practically jumping his bones while they stumble into the hotel elevator, both of them not realizing their teammate TJ is in said elevator, and TJ commenting, "Nicky the nympho, way to get it," for Alex's brain to (4/7)

put the pieces together and start screaming, "holy!!! fucking!!! shit!!! nicky's a nymph!!! of course he's a nymph!!! the world makes sense again and this doesn't do a single fucking thing to change how intensely i love him, but it was an astounding epiphany!!!" (or something like that) while he just gets this look of amazement on his face and silently mouths, "Nymph?" to Nicky. When he stops wanting to die from embarrassment, in the privacy of their hotel room, Nicky confirms it, and (5/7)

begrudgingly agrees to stop turning into a tree to avoid media scrums, so long as Alex swoops in to guide the attention away from him if it goes over three minutes. After the “conclusion to a healthy relationship conversation” sex (there’s breakup sex and makeup sex and mid-fight sex… let me have this) Nicky settles his back against the warmth radiating from Alex’s chest, and as Alex tucks his chin against the crook of Nicky’s neck, fondness blooms in his chest as he notices that Nicky (6/7)smells like a freshly cut bouquet of roses, and a forest after everything has been dampened by the rain. (7/7) I'M THE WORST FUCK THIS IS A TOTAL OF LIKE 20 FUCKING ASKS OH MY GOD I'M SORRY I NEED TO GET OUT OF MY GREMLIN CAVE AND STOP BEING A STATISTICAL OUTLIER AAAH GOD I'M SO SORRY DUDE

[francetaste]

Paris is such a treasure chest of marvels that one could spend a lifetime unpacking them and still not get to half of them. It’s why so many people who visit France never get out of the City of Light. But those folks are missing out on a completely different view of French life. To me, one needs both to understand and appreciate France.

Le Palais de Justice, on Île de la Cité, a few doors from the entrance to Sainte-Chapelle.

Since most people don’t have infinite vacation time, it’s necessary to prioritize and to be efficient, while still allowing for serendipity. A strict schedule is a bad idea! But so is running back and forth needlessly.

View from Sacre Coeur. Paris is vast.

What kind of traveler are you? Are you up for walking? How much walking? I am happy to walk for 10 hours straight but I’ve found that most of my travel companions over the years would prefer somewhat less than that. The more you walk, the more you need to know where you’re going so you don’t backtrack.

Notre Dame.

On the other hand, wandering aimlessly and enjoying the architecture, shop windows and passersby is a time-honored tradition in France, which invented a word just for that: flâner. Your schedule should include a bit of flânerie in each neighborhood; it’s how you’ll spy the perfect souvenir in a little boutique that will remind you for years of your trip: a scarf, a book, a bag, a dish, a picture. NOT an Eiffel Tower keychain or a Paris T-shirt (though, if you USE them, why not!). It’s when you’ll get the photos that capture the spirit of France—in the streets and not in a museum gallery.

Not judging. You do you.

Which images do you conjure up when you think of Paris? Which things do you absolutely have to see? Notre Dame? The Eiffel Tower? Sacre Coeur? Pont Neuf? The Louvre? Les Champs-Élysées? Are you interested in history? Architecture? Art? Fashion? Food? All of the above?

Jeanne d’Arc. The sort of thing one runs into in Paris, just there in the middle of a street.

Break it down again. History: which periods? Roman? Medieval? Renaissance? Art: what kind? Impressionist paintings? Modern? Sculpture? Street art? Decorative arts? As wonderful as the Louvre is, it’s a pain to get through security and deal with crowds (I saw the Mona Lisa once, kind of, in a terrifying mob of people, almost all of whom held cameras over their heads to snap photos. WHY? They can see photos, without strangers’ hands and cameras, on the Internet! Why do people take photos of art anyway? Go to the gift shop and buy the post card!). Either head for less-frequented galleries or go instead to one of the smaller museums specializing in whatever’s your jam. Le Musée de Cluny is all about the Middle Ages; Arénes de Lutèce are Roman ruins. Le Musée d’Orsay has Impressionists; le Musée Marmottan has Monet; the Picasso museum has Pablo; the Rodin museum has sculpture, including the Thinker; le Centre Pompidou has modern art. Paris has no shortage of museums. Some of the smaller ones are likely to be the most memorable, because you won’t be in a crush of people. Museums like Musée Nissim de Camondo (full of fine art and furniture), Musée Jacquemart-André (15th to 18th century art) and Musée Cernuschi (Asian art) are all in former mansions around Parc Monceau in the 8th arrondissement; the park also is a delight for people-watching.

Only you can say what interests you. Don’t feel pressured to see the Mona Lisa when what really trips your switch is Louis XVI furniture—instead head to the Louvre’s Richlieu wing, first floor, rooms 500-632 (the 600-rooms are in the Sully wing, but you will flow through to them), which disply European decorative arts—fabulous palace rooms full of antiques. Or go to the Musée Nissim de Camondo or take a day trip to Versailles.

If you really want to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower or to the Louvre, buy your tickets in advance! This will save you a huge amount of time. In fact, in both cases, you have to select a time and date; otherwise you have to stand in line and hope there is still room. (The Louvre is closed on Tuesdays, as well as Jan. 1, May 1 and Dec. 25. In addition, some of the rooms are closed on different days, so look at the schedule to be sure that you can get into the collections you want.) Louvre tickets here; Eiffel Tower tickets here.

Plan your day by starting with the musts, because you might run out of time for everything on your list. Also, keep in mind the habits of other tourists: they sleep in a little, because they’re on vacation, after all. They have a leisurely breakfast at their hotel or in their rental. Then they mosey out to start sightseeing around 11. Some say, “oh, heck, it’s almost noon, no time for seeing big Sight X,” and they do some little thing before having lunch, hitting the tourist trail in force around 2 p.m. In other words, the worst time to do anything touristy is in the afternoon.

I would aim for seeing the Eiffel Tower at 9 p.m. It’s open until 11:45 p.m. Make sure to get there early because even with pre-purchased tickets you have to stand in line for airport-style security. The site says it takes 2.5 hours for a visit to the top because you have to change elevators and there are lines. But you are unlikely to be in line with a lot of families with small children; even most adults are going to be at dinner then—in fact, plan your meals accordingly. (If you have kids, I would skip going up and instead go to the top of the Tour Montparnasse or the top of the Arc de Triomphe, both of which give you views of the Eiffel Tower and of the city from up high, without the long waits.)

The Arc de Triomphe.

The view from the Arc de Triomphe. See what I mean?

And with zoom.

Similarly, at the Louvre, consider getting there first thing (it opens at 9 a.m.) or go on Wednesday or Friday night, when it’s open until 9:45 p.m. In fact, the museum’s own Web site advises this. They even have an app that shows how busy the museum is. This is key if what you’re dying to see are the Egyptian mummies, whose galleries typically are a miasma of sweating humanity and no matter how much your kid is into the topic it will be a disaster that is difficult to escape from—you just have to follow the flow. Another tip: unless the weather is great, enter via the Métro station to avoid standing in the long line to the Pyramid in the courtyard.

It’s hard to say which neighborhood you’ll be in at mealtime, so the best thing to do is to pick a restaurant as you would a bottle of wine. There are telltale signs of very good or very bad, which I elaborated on here.

The courtyard of Hotel des Grandes Ecoles.

I’ve stayed in many places in Paris, but my favorite hotel is Hotel des Grandes Ecoles in the 5th arrondissement. It is one of the few places in Paris where you are likely to wake up to the sound of birds singing, thanks to its lush interior courtyard (in fact, you might want to ask for a courtyard room when you reserve, although it’s on a very quiet street).

View from the hotel courtyard toward the street. Charming.

Place de la Contrescarpe, steps from the hotel and at the top of rue Mouffetard.

According to the Earful Tower podcast (go subscribe now if you’re a francophile!), the 5th is the best district for flâner, because you can wander from the Arènes de Lutece to the Pantheon to rue Mouffetard (that market street in the Amélie movie) to the Latin Quarter around the Sorbonne. It also has the Jardin des Plantes, the Grande Mosquée (excellent tea room; I used to frequent the hammam but hear it isn’t so great any more), the Institut du Monde Arabe (beautiful architecture, interesting exhibits on art, history and culture, and great views from the rooftop café) and, my favorite thing in Paris: open air (summer only) Argentine tango dancing on Friday and Saturday nights at the Jardin Tino Rossi, right next to the Seine.

The Pantheon. More than just the burial place of France’s most eminent personalities, the Pantheon’s central hall has Foucault’s pendulum, which demonstrated the Earth’s rotation. Science! Another theme to seek out in Paris!

The 1st is the place for fashion, with rue Saint-Honoré lined with boutiques. Hotel Costes is a hangout for the fashion crowd and has such wonderful service. I once had a six-hour lunch with a friend there—the waiter discreetly refilled the water carafe but never were we pressured in the least to wrap it up and leave. Coco Chanel’s original boutique, at 31 rue Cambon, is just off rue Saint-Honoré. The Palais Royal courtyard is rather hidden, but you’ll recognize the iconic striped columns. The Louvre also is in the first. So is the Hotel de Ville (city hall). And nearby is Pont Neuf, leading to île Saint-Louis, a charming place to explore and also home to the stained-glass wonder that is Sainte-Chapelle.

But then you aren’t far from Notre-Dame, on the adjacent island, Île de la Cité. It’s in the 4th, the Marais, packed with interesting shops and cafés. It’s also home to the Picasso museum, among many others. My other favorite secret place in Paris is the Marais Dance Center, hidden in one of the oldest courtyards of Paris at 41 rue du Temple and dating to around 1580. You can sit at the cafe in the courtyard and look up, “Rear Window” style, at ballet in one window, salsa in another, waltz in another…Walk down the boutique-lined rue des Francs Bourgeois to Place des Vosges, where you can sit (not on the grass) and watch very chic parents with their very chic children at the small playground, while a busker sings exquisite opera aided by the acoustics of the surrounding arcades.

Sacre-Coeur.

Montmartre is in the 18th, a bit farther from the center. From Sacre-Coeur you get great views, and the surrounding streets—except for Place du Tertre, which is unpleasantly touristy—are charming. At the tiny Square Suzanne Buisson, you might find locals in a game of pétanque; one day when I did, I watched a while, amused, and when I left they stopped playing and tipped their hats!

The Abbesses Métro entrance.

Montmartre is kind of off the path, and you’re likely to take the Métro (Line 12 to Abbesses or Line 2 to Anvers) and then possibly the funicular, which offers great views. You can combine it with some of the little museums near Parc Monceau, which is on Line 2 of the Métro. In fact, you could start at the Arch du Triomphe for day views, take the Métro to Monceau, then the Métro again to Anvers/Montmartre. That is, if you like views, museums and parks. But it also includes plenty of gawking in little streets around Montmartre.

The Eiffel Tower is in the 7th, along with some great museums—Rodin, d’Orsay, Maillol (one of those charming little ones). It’s also home to le Bon Marché, the oldest of the grands magasins, or department stores. However, they aren’t really close together. I would wander from Musée d’Orsay to the Musée Rodin and then over to the Bon Marché and maybe on to the Jardin du Luxembourg and its little pond where kids (some of them with gray hair) sail little boats, though it’s technically in the 6th. Then I’d go back separately to the Eiffel Tower after dark.

The Pantheon entrance. More is more.

This post has devolved into a lot of rambling. The point is to encourage you to pick your top destinations—YOURS, not some blogger’s! Or your friends’!—and to look at what else interests you nearby or on a convenient Métro line and to consider opening times and lines so you can make a plan for each day that’s both enjoyable and efficient.

Métro map here.

Questions? Your tips?

Place de la Concorde.

Paris Tips: Timing Is Everything Paris is such a treasure chest of marvels that one could spend a lifetime unpacking them and still not get to half of them.

[ncfn]

Nothing Comes from Nothing Part 5: Excerpt

“David, I’m pulling up to Regina’s now. I’ll talk to you later. Love you,” Mary Margaret said with a smile before ending the call and tossing her cellphone into her purse. Slowly, she pulled her Jeep Grand Wagoneer into the relatively snow-free driveway. Hopping out of her car, she quickly retrieved a pot of chili from the backseat floorboard and briskly walked toward the house. She smiled friendly enough at the two men loitering under the breezeway between the house and the garage, sharing what looked like a cigarette. Without a fuss, she entered the house. Stomping her booted feet on throw rug in the mudroom, she quickly traversed the short hall and slipped into the kitchen. Upon seeing her daughter, her smile became genuine, again. “Hey, Emma, I didn’t think you’d still be up after your doctor’s appointment this morning.”

Startled by her mother’s sudden appearance, the blonde closed the pantry door. “Hey,” she greeted, wandering toward the large pot being placed on the stove. “I just got a new cast,” she explained, lifting her right arm slightly. It hurt but was bearable.

“That’s a good thing, right?” the brunette inquired as she turned on the stove. “I made chili for everyone,” she stated proudly as she adjusted the gas to the desired temperature for reheating.

Emma deflated slightly at the mention of chili, remembering her mother’s last attempt at making it. Maybe she could pawn it off on the guys Monty posted around the house. “Well,” she said, feigning interest in the chili by lifting the pot lid, “I don’t have to wear a trash bag when I shower, anymore.” She flashed a goofy smile while putting down the lid. “I’ve been downsized to a store bag!” She pointed at her right arm. The fresh cast was only half the size of the old one. No more sling pinching her neck was also a very good thing.

“Oh, Emma,” the school teacher sighed, shaking her head. She tentatively reached out and touched the sheriff’s right hand. “Do the pins hurt?” The idea of little pieces of metal purposely put inside her baby was nightmarish. Of course, her daughter’s flippant attitude about the whole procedure didn’t help.

“Not too much, right now,” the blonde replied nonchalantly with a shrug. She didn’t want to give her mother a cause to linger. It always set Regina in a snit.

“Good, good.” Mary Margaret looked around the kitchen. Finding a large spoon stored with several other utensils in crockery on the counter, she went about stirring the chili. She casually asked, “Where’s Regina?”

Cocking an eyebrow, Emma resumed her search for a snack, this time in the refrigerator. “She’s in the living room, torturing Henry by playing a video game.”

“Regina plays games?” the brunette asked with a funny look on her face. She put the spoon down and replaced the lid on the chili. She frowned with keen remembrance of begging her stepmother to play with her when she was still a child. Regina had usually given in to her pleas, but Mary Margaret had trouble believing it of the woman she currently was.

“Yup,” the blonde answered, closing the fridge and grabbing an apple out of the fruit bowl on the counter. After a satisfying bite, she chewed until she could talk. “We played Mexican Train for several hours last night.” She took another bite. “They wanted to play Skip-Bo, but I told them no.” She wiggled her right hand’s fingers. Any card game was a pain for the time being.

“Don’t you think you’re getting a little too…,” Mary Margaret started, then paused to collect her thoughts. She took off her gloves. “I don’t know, comfortable with this situation.” She couldn’t deny how content her daughter had seemed since things had settled down after the accident.

Taking another bite of apple, Emma regarded her mother very carefully. They’d been getting along fairly well during her convalescence. After she swallowed, she asked in an even tone, “What do you mean?” If she could get comfortable, shouldn’t she? They were stuck like this, after all—till death, right?

“I’m probably just overreacting, but there’s been talk amongst certain circles about the true nature of your partnership with Regina,” the school teacher hedged gently, not wanting to unduly upset her daughter. She took off her heavy coat and draped it over a stool back. “Not everyone believes you’re bound by a magical tether and that perhaps your relationship revolves more around the . . . romantic.” Holding her hands up, she immediately cut off any impending outrage by her daughter. “It doesn’t have anything to do with Regina being the evil queen, not really, anyway, just more with her being a queen and you being a princess.”

“What the hell, Mary Margaret?” Emma exclaimed incredulously around her bite of apple. “So, are you telling me that the Enchanted Forest is homophobic?” Of course, that would explain the chip on Mulan’s shoulder, but the warrior wasn’t from the forest. Or was she?

“No, that’s not it at all,” the brunette smiled warmly, glad her daughter seemed willing to hear her out. “A majority of people accept that love comes in many guises—True Love, especially—but Royals are sometimes required to make sacrifices for the greater good of the kingdom.” She watched Emma warily. “Marriage has always been a means of maintaining peace throughout the kingdoms. The joining of two houses by blood has solved many problems over the centuries.”

Narrowing her eyes, the blonde stared at her mother for a long moment before saying, “Well, this isn’t the Enchanted Forest, or medieval Europe, or whatever.” She shook her head and took another bite. “Not that I’m surprised,” she muttered, vaguely remembering snippets from a long ago college history class, from the History Channel or maybe from some movie…. Swallowing, she didn’t hold back her ire. “So, is that how the royals justify being assholes? Is there some sort of socioeconomic guide to bigotry?”

“Emma!” Mary Margaret chided with a hiss. Hiding her honest surprise, she turned to check on the chili, again. It smelled like it was starting to burn. “Every world is plagued with intolerance on some level, but the people of our world take great comfort in the hope of finding True Love.” She paused and smiled wistfully before adding, “The hope of finding happiness is a powerful thing.”

The blonde wasn’t having any of that destiny nonsense. “Don’t tell me you agree with those assholes over at the school.” She still couldn’t believe that the principal had caved and permitted the development of a nobility curriculum. It effectively segregated the children.

Mary Margaret shook her head in denial. “It doesn’t matter what I believe—.”

“Bullshit,” Emma almost snarled, tossing her apple core in the trash. “Those people are just pissed off that they’re not getting their way with the mayoral election.” Royals were for the greater good, yeah right. She pointed angrily at her mother. “You’re a royal,” she accused.

It was no secret that David was tied in second place with Albert Spencer in the paper’s election polls. And the sheriff wasn’t dumb. She saw the disappointed and yearning looks on her father’s face that silently asked her why she hadn’t endorsed him. A part of her believed they would blame her for his loss.

“As are you and Mitchell Herman,” the school teacher snapped back, slamming down the pot lid. She turned and faced her daughter with hands on her hips. “You endorsed him, and he wouldn’t let Sean see Ashley.” Her nostrils flared as she continued, “For all intents and purposes, he sold Alexandria to Gold.”

“It wasn’t like I had a lot of options,” the blonde sneered, rolling her eyes. She crossed her arms and immediately regretted it. The pain was sharp and slightly nauseating, but she didn’t show it. “At least he’s being reasonable and trying to embrace this world’s mentality. He even made Sean get a job at the cannery. It’s not like they can live off taxing the peasants, and he knows it.” With enough experience of being a meal ticket, she wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone and sure as hell wasn’t going to treat another person like one. Unable to keep her arms crossed, she let them drop to her sides and tried to ignore the deep ache in her right wrist.

Shaking her head, the brunette pleaded, “Don’t you see, Sweetheart? That’s part of the reason why we can’t stay here. That’s why we have to go back to the Enchanted Forest. It’s where we belong.” All of this strife was unnecessary and hurtful for everyone. Reaching out, she took a step toward her daughter. “It’s who we are.”

“I can’t live like that,” Emma said, shaking her head and retreating a step back. Her right wrist bumped into the edge of the countertop. She yelped and cradled the cast to her chest, tears welling in her eyes at the sharp pain.

“Oh, Honey,” Mary Margaret cooed. Instantly, she tried to pull her daughter into a hug, but the blonde pulled away, shaking her head.

“I think you should leave now,” a baritone voice instructed from behind them.

Whipping her head around to face the interloper, the school teacher wasn’t expecting to see the intimidating form of Montague Elmwood. She swallowed, noting how his broad, muscular frame filled the doorway. “Monty,” she greeted softly. Hearing running water, she turned to see Emma at the kitchen sink.

The blonde splashed cold water on her face, valiantly refusing to get sick. “Just go,” she rasped. “I’ll text you later.”

Monty lifted his chin and turned sideways. His message was clear.

“Alright,” the brunette sighed, grabbing her discarded apparel. Quickly, she fastened her jacket and slipped on her gloves. She was acutely aware of Monty following her down the short hall into the mudroom and, finally, outside. Fuming all the while, she now allowed herself to get mad. Almost to her Jeep, she spun around and stomped back toward him. How dare he force her away from her own daughter!

Clearly indifferent to her approach, he merely crossed his arms and watched with piercing grey eyes. His cropped, light brown hair moved in the breeze. He stood an imposing figure in the frigid cold in only a flannel, button-down shirt and faded jeans.

Scowling, Mary Margaret demanded, “What happened to you? You were one of my father’s bravest and noblest soldiers. How could you serve her?” She pointed angrily at the house, no longer concerned with keeping her voice down.

“You should leave, Princess,” Monty repeated the order, turning back toward the house. Using her childhood title was all the respect he would afford Snow White, anymore.

“Don’t walk away from me!” she barked with regal authority, seizing her opportunity for answers. “I am your queen.”

Anger flared as he spun around to face the woman he had come to loathe. “You are not my liege,” he gritted out of clenched jaws, unfolding his arms. However, his fists remained tightly curled. Luckily for her, he made no move to close the distance between them.

Seeing the passion of undying loyalty in his eyes, the school teacher was confused, if not conflicted, by it. “Has she taken your heart?” she whispered in pity.

“I am of free will and clear mind,” Monty intoned, lifting his chin defiantly.

Mary Margaret frowned at the pride she heard in his voice. “This doesn’t make any sense.” She shook her head. “That woman is responsible for killing hundreds of people. Entire villages were murdered, and yet, you choose to blindly follow her.”

“Don’t mistake my devotion to Her Highness for blind obedience,” he quietly corrected. Facing her fully, he decided to entertain this conversation, but he remained mindful not to betray his queen’s confidences. “Death was unavoidable, but some were offered a choice.”

“A choice,” Mary Margaret scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Death by either sword or axe isn’t much of a choice. She killed people for being kind to me.” There was no coming back from murder, and now, Regina was magically tethered to her daughter, tainting her.

Tilting his head slightly, Monty regarded her curiously for a moment. “And you believe yourself above the mantle of a killer?” he questioned. “You sought refuge amongst those people. You allowed them to welcome you into their homes.” He almost felt sorry for her sheltered naivety. He thought the years living as a wanted criminal amongst the common folk beyond the Dark Forest would’ve shattered her privileged worldview. But clearly, he had anticipated far too much. Probing further, he asked, “What did you expect to happen after she sent a huntsman to kill you? Those people didn’t die for their kindness. They died because they disobeyed a royal decree and for harboring a known and wanted fugitive.”

With a furrowed brow, she answered, “I didn’t think she’d aimlessly kill people.” Mary Margaret continued in a condescending tone, “Of course, she did kill my father.” Pausing briefly, her anger flared again. “He was a good man. He didn’t deserve to die.” The pain over the loss of her parents bubbled up from deep inside her. Tears welled up in her eyes as she unflinchingly met Monty’s scrutinizing gaze. “My parents were good people, and they ruled their kingdom fairly and justly.”

“Then, Princess, you truly had no idea of what happened within your own home,” he replied. His voice took on a cold, hard edge. Turning away, he walked toward the side door and placed a foot on the steps. Opening the door leading into the mudroom, he paused and looked over his shoulder at the school teacher, saying, “You shall not enter this house unannounced again.”

Taken aback, Mary Margaret balled her fists at her sides. Her anger flashed as she immediately replied with, “You won’t keep me from my daughter!” Watching as the door closed, she roughly wiped at the hot tears streaming down her cheeks with the backs of her gloves and ignored the ever present guards with their accusing stares. She quickly got in her Jeep and drove away, all the while praying something could be done to free Emma and save her from that monster posing as a woman.

Monty, who was far less emotional after the short and heated discussion, pursed his lips and gritted his teeth as he returned to the kitchen. His first opportunity to put that privileged, coddled princess in her place had been squandered because his queen, who had teetered on the brink of madness for years, had requested Snow White be left alone for Emma’s sake. He sighed and realized he shouldn’t have even engaged her in conversation. He vowed not to do so again.

Upon seeing the distraught sheriff, his eyes shifted between her and the kitchen windows behind her. “Damn it,” he whispered. It was exactly the type of situation about which his queen had expressly warned him.

Suddenly, Henry bounded into the kitchen, sliding in his socked feet across the tile in front of the fridge. “Just grabbing a soda,” he chirped. Yanking the door open, he quickly spotted the red can of Coke and snatched it. “Mom’s getting ready to kill a dragon!” He slammed the door shut. The contents on the shelves rattled as he bolted back out to the living room.

Cradling her casted wrist to her chest with a small Ziploc of ice, Emma whispered, “Is it true?” She swallowed then cleared her throat. “What you and Mary Margaret were talking about?”

“Partly,” Monty answered uneasily, finding it hard to read the blonde. Twisting to look down the hall and, not seeing the boy, he took a hesitant step further inside the kitchen, keeping the island between them. “You have to understand, she’s not the same person, anymore.” He glanced around the room. “This place,” he nodded toward the living room, “that boy, have been good for her.”

“Yeah, I get that,” she admitted, biting her lip. When she saw Elmwood visibly relax, she firmly asked again, “But is it true?”

“I shouldn’t even entertain this conversation,” he grudgingly said, noticing something indistinctive in the sheriff’s green eyes. His posture went rigid, again, debating whether or not to simply walk away.

“Look, I know how to read between the lines.” Emma jabbed her left thumb over her shoulder, pointing at the driveway. “And that outside just raised a bunch of red flags.”

“I cannot betray her trust,” Monty whispered, not wanting to be overheard. And if he was honest with himself, he was conflicted.

“And I’m not asking you to, but I need to know the story, the whole story.” She stopped and shook her head. “I’m working with only half a playbook here, Monty.” She needed to hear the things people didn’t think she needed to or the things they didn’t want her to know.

He seriously considered the sheriff’s request and he almost decided to throw caution to the wind. However, his sense of duty ultimately won out. Frowning, he quietly explained his decision, “As beneficial as it would be to help you understand her, it’s not something I can share in good conscience.” And then, he left to check on his men and to warn them against responding to any similar demands from the blonde.

Watching Monty leave the kitchen, Emma mentally cursed herself. She had thought they were developing a nice, working relationship. After all, he no longer looked at her in disdain, at least. Sighing, she walked around the island to the fridge and grabbed a Coke. She put the can on the counter, popped it open and drank a third of it. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered into the can’s mouth before taking another swallow.

Again, she was faced with a serious choice, one that had far-reaching consequences. The easiest and tried-and-true solution was simply to run. She had almost ran away from all of this before Henry ate that turnover. But she couldn’t run, not physically, at least. She huffed in annoyance. Things were far too complicated, and she hated it. She hated that it wasn’t simple. She hated that she couldn’t blindly follow her parents’ lead. She hated that she found herself really liking Regina in spite of everything.

Taking another swig, she frowned as she stared off into space. Her mind drifted back to that day in the hospital, the day that had changed the whole kit and caboodle. She thought about Henry dying and how she had kissed him, saving him with True Love’s kiss. She thought about how utterly distraught Regina had been in the hospital supply closest and in Henry’s hospital room. Then, she thought about the woman’s astonished relief when the boy had woken up. There was something more about the moment, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. One thing she knew for sure, though, was that everything wasn’t as it seemed, and no amount of wishing would make it simple.

“What on earth is that smell?” Regina asked, entering the kitchen from the hall. Without pause, she went to the stove and turned it off, removing the lid and warily stirring the pot of chili. She poked the bottom, feeling large clumps of it stuck to the bottom of the pot.

“Oh crap,” Emma said, snapping out of her daze. Her bag of ice fell onto the floor. Carefully, she stooped to pick it up. “Mary Margaret dropped off some chili a little while ago.”

“I didn’t realize she was here,” the brunette commented as she sniffed the contents and tentatively took a small bite from the spoon. She frowned, noting the beans were severely under cooked, and a burnt flavor had already permeated the dish. “I don’t know if we can salvage this.”

Shrugging, the blonde wandered over to the stove. “No big deal, I was just going to pawn it off on the guys, anyway.” She smirked, wondering if the guards would have feigned praise or fed it to the stray cats.

Looking over her shoulder at Emma, Regina quietly asked, “Is your mother still here?” She strained to listen for anyone else’s presence in the house. She despised the idea of an unescorted Mary Margaret wandering around her home.

“No,” the sheriff said, chuckling. “Monty chased her off a little while ago.”

Sighing, Regina returned the utensil to the spoon rest and the lid to the pot. She would have to discuss what happened as soon as possible with Monty. It was only a matter of time before the infuriating woman once again became a nuisance.

Clearing her throat, Emma shyly acknowledged, “Thanks for letting her come over here and visit.” She flashed a bashful smile. “It can’t be easy with all of these people invading your privacy.”

And, oh boy, were there a lot of people in and out of the house since the accident: Mary Margaret, David, Archie, Ruby, Alexander, Widow Granger, Anton, and Mrs. Potts. And then, there were all the Crows Guard members milling around outside, guarding and patrolling the property. Emma was honestly surprised how nervous they made Regina, especially considering they were all her former guards.

With a noncommittal sound, the brunette glanced forlornly at the pot of chili. It wasn’t suitable for a dog, at that point. She walked over to the refrigerator and searched through the various Tupperware containers. “Where’s the rest of Anton’s chicken and dumplings?” she asked, frowning. That had been quite enjoyable.

“I gave it to Jason when he came in for a break last night.” The blonde tried not to wince upon hearing the soft, sad sigh. She knew Regina was tired of eating takeout, but their last attempt at actually cooking something turned out to be an all-around disaster with her broken wrist, Regina’s impaired mobility, and Henry’s general unwillingness. “I can call Ruby or have one of the guys go grab something,” she suggested.

Rolling her eyes, Regina reminded her in a light but scolding tone, “They’re not your personal errand boys, Miss Swan.” She grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl and a paring knife from the block. “Besides, Ruby’s bringing sub sandwiches and Lord of the Rings tonight.” She absently sliced off a chuck of apple and put it in her mouth.

“Lord of the Rings, huh? Isn’t that like a home movie for you?” The sheriff smirked, clearly amused with her joke.

“I’m not talking to you,” Regina sassed before cutting another bite off the apple and walking out of the kitchen.

Emma snickered as she followed, her previous woes forgotten. Teasingly, she said, “Hey, you can’t eat that in the living room. Those are the rules.” She grinned when Regina glared at her, standing in the archway to the room in question, eating her apple.

“Mom, hurry up,” whined Henry from his place on the floor. He sighed as she took another slice of apple. “Can I play for you?” he asked brightly.

“No,” the brunette said around her bite. She swallowed and nodded toward the television. “I’ll be dead, on fire, chased by sabre cats, or some other manner of unpleasantness in five minutes.” She smirked at her son’s dramatic sigh and floor roll.

Laughing, Emma walked around Regina and stepped over Henry. She sat down in her chair, the smile never leaving her face. Picking up the video game box and reading the back cover, she half listened as mother and son chattered about the game. Eventually, Regina disappeared and returned back to the sofa, resuming the game—much to Henry’s relief and excitement.

This, Emma thought as she watched Henry try to point to something on the screen without blocking Regina’s view. This is the Regina Mills I choose to believe in.

FF.net / AO3