#spring cleaning time! *in november*

[the-ninja-legacy-whip]

OC Masterpost (for my own sanity)

'Main' OCs:

Olivia Omar: Shark Army General #1, also general nuisance

Jesse Marvell: Elemental Master of Surprise, Part-Time Magician, Adorer of Cole

Miranda Marvell: Jesse's Sister, resident software nerd and Elemental Compass expert

Bridget Rondinelli: Shark Army General #32 (yet somehow second in command?)

Sunni Dayes: Average High School Student Who Made Not-So Average Friends (eventually)

Harleigh Kognito: Ronin's Daughter, part-time ghost pirate

Side/Supporting/Other OCs:

Aurora Alice-Julien: Zane's deceased Mom

Caroline Marvell: Jesse's Mom

Amelia Marvell: Jesse's Grandma

Frank Marvell: Jesse's Dad (he sucks)

Savannah Kognito: Harleigh's Mom (she sucks too)

Mr. Menloi: Ninjago City High's principal

Meghan Marshall: Member of the Cheer Squad, Kai's Ex

Samantha Fitzpatrick: Sunni's best friend, Student Council Member

With Surely More to Come Augh

Next-Gen (and only for fun) OCs:

Camellia Brooke Marvell: Aftershock's daughter, manifested by magic

Lucina Lloyd: Lloyd's daughter from an alt timeline

Quinn Smith-Walker: Jaya's daughter, older lightning twin

Finn Smith-Walker: Jaya's son, younger water twin

Blythe Smith: Kailor eldest son, inherited Amber

Blaire Smith: Kailor middle child, inherited Fire

Briar Smith: Kailor youngest daughter, inherited bad self-esteem

Seven Borg: Pixane child (aka MiniPix 7 with a full body)

Adrien Cole: Theoretical Aftershock son who doesn’t exist yet

[dirtbra1n]

there’s a word for it. a name. for the people who take care of corpses before a funeral. hanzawa masato doesn’t remember it right now, though, because right now he’s up in the midnight hours, lying flat on the couch in the living room. too warm. he doesn’t care to remember it, the name.

it’s way, way too warm.

dying used to be simpler than this. there was no pavement, there were no buildings, there were no faceless people.

cold, though. there was cold.

the water wasn’t really flowing, too shallow, he was slowing it down, but his blood was. staining the ice.

it was gross.

he couldn’t stretch out his legs, couldn’t reach his arms out over his head. his fingers were cold and useless and deadened, and slow. the air he was struggling to breathe was pushing in and flowing out of his lungs through the puncture wound in his chest. so slow.

he’s been there before. he’s here now.

sitting stiff in the water, soaked to the bone, dying in isolation. bleeding out, masato thinks he’s alive. suffocating, he’s convinced he won’t be for much longer.

he’s not sure he’s anywhere.

dying used to be so easy.

instead of waiting until he couldn’t stand to look at himself anymore, kneeling until his head went under and waiting it out, probably getting swept away by the current until he crashed downstream—he wouldn’t know, he never lived to see that part—instead of that—

he’s wading around a little lost. he’s bleeding. the ghosts only look at him when they know it’ll sting worst, long shadows cast over the water, malformed specters dancing in mockery of him. he thinks his feet are getting a little worse than sliced up by jagged hateful rocks out of sight. that’s depressingly the least of his worries. it’s being impaled by the moon in a loop of time that fucking hates him. but he’s already bleeding. he’s a little surprised that he’s still got blood to bleed.

instead of releasing what could have become a burden, it’s him standing, helplessly, in the river, night after night after night. because it’s nighttime now. it keeps being nighttime.

it’s the kind of thing you’d almost expect to be a relief.

“hanzawa senpai.”

masato turns his head, creaky like a wooden doll. “…tashiro-kun.”

kimono-clad, he offers a hand. “you’re not face first in muck this time.”

masato doesn’t take it. a sharp smile curves his cheeks, not insincere. “thank you. ‘this time?”

tashiro smiles sheepishly down at him. squints. “did you die?”

“do I look dead?”

it’s hard to see from the water, but masato knows that tashiro’s shifted his eyes. saw it in the back of his mind, recorded on crackly film. he says, instead of answering, “I’ve got bandages.”

masato wishes he had something to rest his elbows on, to brace himself on. it doesn’t feel right playing his games standing upright, his hands in his sleeves instead of holding his head on his shoulders. “ta-shi-ro-kuuun, what do you think I need those for?” masato knows what.

tashiro replies anyway, drily from up on uneven paving, “hanzawa senpai, you’re bleeding. you need blood. to survive.”

“tashiro-kun, did I die?”

things are splintering a little. crackly film.

a web of cracks splitting tashiro’s composure, his voice shaking, “why did you?”

that wasn’t what masato asked.

—

“hanzawa senpai.”

“…”

“senpai.”

“…tashiro-kun.”

“you’re not face first in muck this time.”

the smile’s carving itself in, muscle memory. masato’s not going to ask what he meant by this time. “thank you.”

“did you die?”

“do I look dead?”

in the old school projector film behind his eyelids, the flickering doesn’t feel out of place. “I’ve got bandages.”

“ta-shi-ro-kuuun, what do you think I need those for?” masato’s always known what.

“hanzawa senpai, you’re bleeding. you need blood. to survive.”

“tashiro-kun, did I die?”

the shadows cast by a lantern hidden just behind tashiro make his shoulders look broad. masato swallows down a laugh, but he’s not sure what’s funny. “don’t be shallow, senpai, looks aren’t everything.”

the laugh comes out anyway. he manages, “I feel dead, forget the looks.”

“I can’t. I won’t.”

masato takes his turn to squint. they weren’t taking turns. it doesn’t matter. he doesn’t know if he still feels like laughing. he knows for sure that he can’t think of anything to say.

it’s just as well. tashiro isn’t having the same problem. “I think you should just, I don’t know. care about yourself more.”

masato swallows. his lips press into a chagrined line. “I don’t not care,” he says.

tashiro looks right through him. his eyes are like headlights.

he doesn’t actually need to say it, and masato can tell that he almost doesn’t, but maybe tashiro thought he needed to hear it out loud, feel it taking up space. maybe he was right.

“your caring sucks, senpai. it killed you.”

masato doesn’t want to follow that thread. “how many times have you been here, tashiro-kun?”

tashiro doesn’t buy into it. his demeanor is at once solemn and jarringly pleading, “senpai, won’t you live for once?”

masato means to say it like a joke, because it is one, but by accident the words, “how could I begin to deny you,” are dropping off his tongue, he doesn’t even know why, he doesn’t know why he said that, and no amount of exaggerated irreverence can hide from tashiro—eyes like cleavers, more like—the characters slipping into the water.

the ripples aren’t all that big, but they’re big enough.

like when your head aches, or the gash in your chest is losing you too much blood, or the water is tugging itself a little too close to that gash to be comfortable. something like that. something like that. it’s enough.

he doesn’t think he’s making any sense. it’s just too warm.

“maa-kun,” his older brother’s crooning, pushing his damp bangs off his forehead with cold fingers, “I think you’re sick.”

masato blinks away what he hopes is sweat. “gross.”

“not gross, worrying. sit up please.”

“I’ll throw up.”

“you won’t.”

“you’re right, I won’t.”

he’s getting fussed over in the middle of the night, on the couch that he’s sweating all over, and he’s watching a fan across the room spin and it’s nauseating and he stops looking at it. he’s getting fussed over in the middle of the night, by his older brother, because his mom’s out of town visiting her sister. he’s getting fussed over in the middle of the night, feeling a little out of his body. feeling a little—not at all—a lot like a little kid again. feeling sick, and pathetic.

he goes into the bathroom, wobbly and upset and over-warm, and he throws up.

—

reality’s tearing itself up, his dreams are eating it up, he’s falling apart and melting at the seams, he sits in almost-too-cold water until he thinks he’s gonna throw up again.

put him on ice, already, the sooner the funeral the sooner he can get some fucking rest.

his older brother’s sitting against the door frame, slipping in and out of consciousness. he murmurs, reaching forward to pet his hair, “‘s it too cold?”

masato doesn’t think it’s sweat. “it’s okay.”

—

it wouldn’t have been a very good joke, even if it’d come out right.

masato thinks he just choked around, “I want to. I want to.”

[estrellami-1]

Steddie Microfic

Let Down Your Guard

November prompt: guard

532 words

Rating: G

No warnings apply

@steddiemicrofic

“So, brave traveler.” Eddie sends Steve a shit-eating grin. “What do you do?”

Steve narrows his eyes at Eddie, then glances down at the table. He looks back at Eddie to say, “I flirt with the guard.”

Eddie blinks. “You- alright. Roll for initiative, I guess.”

Steve peers down at his dice, then grins up at Eddie. “Twenty.”

“Jesus fuck,” Eddie mutters to himself, then louder, “Before you say a word, the guard notices you. In a deep, gravely voice, he says, ‘I’ve seen many come around in search of the treasure. I’ve never seen anyone who outshone the treasure all on their own.’”

Steve blushes, but perseveres. “Then maybe you’d like to come with me for a bit? Find out what it’s like to have your own treasure.”

Eddie checks his papers, rolls a dice. Sighs. “‘Perhaps I will,’ the guard says, and allows you to lead him away. Henderson!” Dustin jumps. “Your turn.”

“Uh.” Dustin blinks. “Okay, what the hell was that?”

“Language,” Steve and Eddie chorus.

Dustin rolls his eyes. “Oh, lay off it, I hear you say worse than hell. Perception check?”

Eddie nods. “Roll.”

So the game goes. It finishes with the party finding the treasure and defeating the orc protecting it. The Party cleans up their bit of the mess and bikes home, while Eddie stays behind, cleaning up his part of the game and helping Steve in the kitchen. “I’ve gotta say, I didn’t expect that move from you.” He smirks at Steve.

Steve smirks back. “What can I say? I’m a man of surprises.”

Eddie snorts. “A dork of surprises, maybe.”

“Hey!” Steve says, affronted, and splashes him with water. Eddie immediately splashes him back, then jumps out of the danger zone. Steve laughs and continues washing dishes.

A few minutes later, he quietly continues. “I’ve been… talking some things through. With Robin.”

“Oh?” Eddie takes a plate from Steve and starts drying. 

“Mhm. About…” he sighs, nibbles his lip.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“But I want to. I want to say it.” He squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them again. Turns to Eddie. “I think- no. I like guys and girls.”

Eddie smiles encouragingly. “That’s cool, man. Thanks for telling me.” They’re silent for a second before, “What made you think about all of this?”

Steve glances at Eddie. Murmurs, “You.”

Eddie blinks. “What?”

Steve shrugs, won’t look at Eddie. “Yeah. It started with Spring Break, I think, and it just… continued. I couldn’t get you out of my mind. Didn’t want to, half the time. And I know that just because we both like guys doesn’t mean anything, and I know you don’t feel the same, and this doesn’t have to change anything-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Eddie covers Steve’s mouth with his hand, eyes wide. “Slow down on the catastrophizing there, Steve-o. Let’s take this one thing at a time. First,” Eddie chuckles, “dude, I’ve had a massive crush on you since high school. I do feel the same. And it doesn’t have to change anything, you’re right, we can take it slow if you want-”

“Hell no,” Steve says, grinning, and kisses him.

Eddie gladly kisses him back.

[balkanradfem]

So, you might remember I started fixing my abandoned garden, and I said I was going to do it in small increments, and then I never said anything about it again. This is because, after I started doing it, suddenly the temperatures dropped below zero, and we had frost! This is appropriate in November, but it was so sudden I didn't expect it. I hadn't even planted garlic yet! And now it was too cold to work the soil. Oopsie.

However this morning I woke up, opened the window, and realized the southern wind was blowing, which means it got super warm! I immediately dressed up, grabbed my garlic, and went to the garden. I couldn't plant my garlic in the area I had already cleaned, because it's the outer area of the garden, and garlic is the #1 crop that gets stolen, so I have to plant it sneakily behind other things, invisible to prying eyes. That means I'd have to clear off another area. Here's what I'm dealing with today!

I know this looks like such a flop but honestly, this is so good for nature. All of the plants have lived their life cycle, housed little bugs and insects, produced flowers for the bees, and then got obliterated by the frost, as it should be. If I just left them be, they would slowly decompose into the soil and make it more fertile. It looks chaotic but nothing bad is going on here! I am going to make space now because there are some regulations for how community gardens should look like, and if one looks abandoned for too long, it gets taken away. I'm off to work :)

I've been working on this for 20 minutes and I found some produce in here!

I'm shocked there's a whole zucchini in there, even after the frost, I've never seen that. She's a bit of a weird texture, because she's gotten frozen, but otherwise looks good! Certainly the slugs love it. I also found a little potato plant, there could be potatoes underneath her. And in the third picture, I'm holding young garlic! I usually find this in the spring, it's interesting it's already so big, I love that.

Another little task I had planned was to find basil seeds; basil will usually grow flowers when it's allowed to grow naturally, and then the flowers create little seed packets inside of them, and after those get nice and dried up, they're ready to harvest. Here's how it looks like:

If I rubbed all those little pods together, I would be able to find tiny black-brown seeds in there! I used to do that before, extract all of the tiny seeds and store them, but later I got lazy and figured I can just save this entire mess and plant it and basil still germinates just the same.

An hour of work later, I have dug out a giant lemon balm plant out of the soil, because it was taking up too much space (no worries about her, she'll grow back in no time, they're immortal), and took out most of the grass, dead plants, and weeds. Here is the cleared garden!

I've freed two small kale plants that could still thrive during the winter, and there's a few brassicas that look willing to go to seed, which would be great for me to have more seeds from them. Now I can finally focus on the task I've come here for; to plant my garlic.

I made little holes with my spoon, and grabbed two biggest heads of garlic to plant the cloves. I'm not too fussed about it, as long as the bulbs are underground, you can't stop them from growing. If they're not in too deep, then it's easier to pull them out later! And my soil is more fertile on the surface as well. Usually during the winter, little rodends will dig a few of these out, to see if they're delicious, but when they realize it's not yummy, they just leave the bulbs on the top of soil. So I have to check on them a few times to make sure I plant them back! And they're so forgiving and strong, they just go right back to growing, bulbs are incredible.

I counted the garlic here, and there's 22 cloves, which should give me 22 heads of garlic in the late spring/early summer. I couldn't take any more pictures, because my hands were too muddy, but I planted additional two rows in a different location (in case thiefs find one location), and then I also had some of the 'spring garlic', which is a late variety, meaning it grows later, but lasts longer. Usually normal garlic will start sprouting in december, after which point it starts getting inedible, but late-variety garlic will stay fresh until spring. Planting garlic is so easy! The entire venture took me 15 minutes, and you could do this anywhere, and would be guaranteed some heads of garlic.

So watching these pictures you might think 'there's still so much weeds in here, you did not clear this off' and you're correct, I don't clear everything off! This is because I employ a different tactics in stopping weeds from growing; usually during the winter, I will cover the ground in a thick layer of dry leaves, so that light won't reach any of those weeds, and they stop growing just due to lack of sunlight. I'm not doing it this year because of one particular reason, and this reason is slugs. If I cover the ground in leaves now, they won't only protect it from the light, but also protect it from the cold. They'll prevent the ground from freezing as badly as it would usually freeze. And usually I love doing that, but this time, there are so many slugs in the ground that I want cold to eliminate. I'm going to leave my garden like this, and hope that we have an exceptionally cold winter and that slugs get deleted.

I planned to make a lentil soup today for lunch, so I'm grabbing some chives, and some kale to add to it! Kale is still thriving, and I'll be able to harvest it all winter. At this point I've been working for two hours and my pain started acting up, so I figured it was enough for today, and headed home. Here's all the stuff I brought home for lunch!

Zucchini, kale, potatoes, chives, young garlic. All great additions for my lentil soup! I love being able to get fresh food in November. The soup turned out amazing, I love lentils with potatoes and kale and garlic.

[drarryspecificrecs]

2023.08 ~ Top 10 longest fics posted on AO3

1. Good Intentions by Gloworm13 [E, 382k]

►Harry never expected a conversation over returning Draco's wand. [...] Harry can't cope, especially when his group of peers is sent back to Hogwarts to finish their interrupted Seventh Year. And Draco Malfoy is wholly unprepared for facing the love of his life every fucking day now that he knows.

2. About Everything We Fucked Up and Tried to Fix by @zoooooey0610 [E, 246k]

►The time is the Dark Middle Ages, even with Voldemort defeated, the Wizarding world is still a place where Omegas are seen as properties. Couldn’t sleep, Harry came across ‘The Slytherin Wall of Sluts’ that changed the rest of his life, but the cog wheel of destiny may have started to move long before that. Twelve years later, he was confronted with the presents of destiny, and struggled to deal with the mess. However, every step he took seemed to be another mistake.

3. Cut From the Sky by @mallstars [E, 150k]

►"I'm stuck in a time loop, reliving November 2nd. This is the 111th time I've lived through today." Draco stilled. His moody eyes, the tension in his hands where he gripped onto his umbrella, the careful mask of blankness flickering over his face — everything about him was so difficult and so very dear to Harry. "Ah," said Draco, "and?"

4. After the Rain Falls by @shinigami714 [E, 95k]

►After the events of the war, all Harry wants to do is forget. For everything to return to normal. But things never were normal for him, and the war left many marks on him not so easily forgotten. When he receives a surprising offer to return to Hogwarts in a continuing education program, Harry jumps at the chance, and despite his best efforts to deal with his problems alone, discovers along the way that quite often, two minds are greater than one.

5. guard dog by chrismare [?, 63k]

►The first thing Draco ever loved was the Manor. Not the house- it was too big, too quiet, too cold- but the grounds that surrounded it. He grew up on stinging soles, running barefoot through his own little world. One of the house elves had cleaned the tiny cuts on his feet once and told him that he'd get used to it, that he'd grow calluses and it would stop hurting. It never really did.

6. Dating Draco Malfoy by @queenofthyme [M, 60k]

►Draco Malfoy is dating his way through Harry Potter’s endless pool of ex-boyfriends. With the help of Harry’s expert dating advice, he just might find exactly who he’s looking for...

7. Snogging Lessons by Revolocard [T, 58k]

►Harry Potter thought the hardest part about being the Chosen One would be preparing to fight Voldemort. He didn't expect it might actually be missing out on all the normal teenaged stuff. Now in sixth year, Harry feels like an outsider, too worried about being the subject of another Witch Weekly article to try to take part. When he and Draco Malfoy land in a semester's worth of detention, Draco is delighted and horrified to discover the Boy Who Lived is not only a virgin, he doesn't even know how to snog. Secret snogging lessons. It's not like it's anything more than just catching Harry up a bit. What could go wrong?

8. That Marriage Contract by Umeko [E, 54k]

►What happens when the forced marriage and male pregnancy trope combine to spring a surprise on the Boy Who Lived and his arch-rival turned unwitting fiancé? And they all have two dearly departed grandfathers to thank for the mess.

9. Terrible People by @wolfpants [E, 52k] --- ART by @getawayfox

►What happens when Harry and Draco end up on the same Muggle gay cruise? They certainly didn't plan for it to happen (but their friends might have). They're stuck with each other for a week, they might as well make the most of it, right? Featuring a holiday-long game of Truth or Dare, a very ill-judged FWB proposition, decades-long pining, lots of gin, and a small pair of green swimming trunks.

10. and i ignite by @pixiedunhoff [M, 51k]

►Draco Malfoy loves attention - and the Muggle world has given it to him in spades. Through a surprising and humbling series of events, Draco has achieved tremendous success in the music industry. He has recouped his fortune, earned legions of adoring fans, and gets loads of attention. Over the years, it has still never been quite enough… Until the subject of his more sizzling songs abruptly barges back into his life, demanding answers.

—

※ Word count: 1k ~ 10k

※ Word count: 10k ~ 40k

The Best and Worst of Times after the War (aka A Tale of Two Soldiers) by WriterwithaWindow [M, 11k]

chasing embers by ryyss [M, 29k]

Firestarter by Justlikewriting [M, 22k]

For each time I see you, things change a little bit by Writelikethat [M, 10k]

i think i might be gay by @stvrlvghtwrites [T, 10k]

Just Nice Things by wodnica [E, 31k]

No One Likes a Mad Woman by @thomasbrodiesandwich [T, 17k]

only the brave by slytheringoddess945 [T, 10k]

Possibly, perhaps be my boyfriend? by @23ster [G, 16k]

Seek, And Ye Shall Find by @nami-writes [T, 14k]

The Switch by @ashiiblack [M, 11k]

Take Me Back (To The Night We Met) by @onelatenight-longago [T, 12k]

What’s Mine is Yours by @fluxweeed [E, 17k]

—

Ongoing Fest/Exchange

※ Fics would be listed elsewhere.

HD Wireless 2023 | @hd-wireless

HP Bodice Ripper Fest 2023 | @hp-bodiceripper

HP Law of Attraction Fest | @hp-lawofattraction-fest

[2treez]

“With no supermarkets and almost no money back in the day, it was "root hog or die" if we liked to eat. Food? We grew most everything we ate. For instance, sausage, ham, tenderloin and fatback? (bacon to us moderns) Yep! Along with all the other foods we grew, we grew those too and never ever did we go hungry, come winter time.

Come spring of the year, Pa bought a small pig; we fed it well all summer and by fall of the year, it had grown quite big. On a frosty November morning, Pa built a fire under the scalding vat, shot the hog, (right between the eyes with a .22,) we hauled it to the scalding vat on the sled and rolled it into the hot water to loosen the hair so we could scrape it off. We then hung it upside down from a tree limb, Pa cleaned it out, cleaned it up and lowered it to some planks he had laid on the ground.

What did he do then? With a butcher knife and axe, he made magic right there on the spot: ham, shoulders, side meat, tenderloin and other good things. (He was mighty good at doing that.) Meanwhile inside the house, we ground up meat in the meat grinder, Mama mixed in red-hot pepper and other stuff, we rolled it into balls, she canned it in fruit jars and stored it in the cellar. (Come breakfast time on cold winter mornings, home canned sausage was the best stuff on God’s Green Earth, bar none.)

Meanwhile, the whole house smelled of raw meat and by the end of hog-killing day, fresh meat was the last thing I wanted to eat. BUT, come next morning, Mama fried a stack of buckwheat pancakes that reached the sky, made white-sop gravy, (sauce, you all) home-made biscuits, perked coffee on top of the wood stove, and best of all, fried up a whole bowl of fresh tenderloin. Was it good? Best stuff I ever seen; bar none.

After hog-killing day was done, it was comforting to know, that (with firewood piled high, the cellar and meat box full to the brim) no matter how rough the coming winter, we would be warm and fed.”

🌳🫶🏼🌳

By Wayne Easter resident of the Appalachian mountains

[blingblong55]

Ghost of the past -Alex Keller

Based on a request:

Alex Keller angst with f reader? 👀 Do your worst, break my heart --- F!Reader, angst, death of character, cheating, established!relationship ---

It's perfect, a relationship between a soldier and his civilian girlfriend, nothing more than happiness and great talks. That is what the plan was meant to be like. The day he met her, something you wish to know how it went. Platonic, is all he explained, but she was not meant for that and neither were you. Farah, the girl he worked with, was so sweet you too swore she was just a friend, clung to that. Just a friend. His gaze, was not on yours but on her as she wore a gown to the military ball. Oh sweet sight he held dear to him. He never called your relationship love, something you did behind his back. The chilly autumn wind, the scarf that he kept in his home even to this day. Last reminder of what once was. 

Singing in cars, dancing in bars and kissing at American football games when his favourite team won. Getting lost in the woods so he can have just five more minutes of you. Family album his mum swore you and he would create the minute he married you. "Come on sweet pea," something he always said to you, now said to his oh-so-sweet love. The love he had for you is long gone, something he wished to hold for just five more minutes, get lost in the woods with you for that time. Just him and you. 

Dancing in the kitchen's dim light, the fireplace keeping you warm as the winter winds came by. Your scarf on the sofa as he made love to you that night. His clothes and boots were under your bed as he claimed your body over and over again. 

"Alex Keller will be your teammate for this, Farah," what a way to meet the jewel of his glimmery eyes. The family home you swore he'd grown old in with you, now left abandoned at that mossy end of the road. No more drives to the airport for him, no more keeping up with American football teams for when he came back home to ask who would be going to the Superbowl. He lost the one cheerleader that kept her chant even at the worst of times. Hand in hand, hospital rooms, sick days and now...tombstone he cleans. 

"Alex!" you giggle as he carries you through the field. His brothers chasing you both. Flag football, trying to win the heart of his dear sweet pea and the carrot cake his lovely mother made. Did she know you were the first girl he took home? Did she know you were the one who held his hand when she failed to cover for him on the battlefield? Maybe not but could she care he lost it all after you? 

Now, he walks through that empty football stadium alone, the January wind making his nose red. The same one you kissed with his rosy cheeks. "And this was him at 5, Halloween at the old house," his mum shared the picture of the young Alex. 

"One day, you and I will walk that same street, trick or treating with our children," he kisses your temple on that November night. 

"Wait, what does that mean?" you ask him, he chuckles and cups your face. "They are going to the Super Bowl, sweet pea," the Eagles t-shirt hung from his shoulder. 

"WE WON!" He raises his arms and then turns to you, a smile on your face. Eagles shirt, worn by you. 

Springtime came by last spring morning with you. The night time came quickly and so did the end. You drove to the local shop for some medicine and then you saw it. Her hand, greeting his mothers. Your heart ached. Was this the reason why for Christmas, Thanksgiving and New Year's he told you, he would be away and not contact his family? Was he creating those memories with her? Deception, betrayal and solitude. All given in the blink of an eye by the man who fathered your unborn child. 

Flashbacks swarm you. August, when he kissed your forehead and drove you to the first of many lectures you gave as a professor. September, the way he made love to you, how by morning he made breakfast, how in that night of love, you made the child that would hold his last name. October, the sweet nothing he whispered before he went on deployment. November, December and January of that time, how you didn't hear from him or anyone of his family. Betrayal began on the second of October. March only brought blues and grey skies. 

April brought black gowns. 

"R/N, please let me explain. I got carried away, I forgot-"

"You forgot me, Alex! You forgot me!" you cry, the resentment felt by the child growing in you. "It's not that, I swear it's just-"

"Was it not enough? To give you all of me? I never asked for much. Respect and honesty? Was it so hard for you to even give me the decency to not run around town with her?"

"It's not good for the baby-"

"Don't you pretend to know between right and wrong!"

That night, it is said that a soldier so fierce and strong like him became the weakest of them all. He lost the battle between you and life. He became a man...no...he became the ghost of a man. A ghost that haunts the home he made with you. The empty cradle, the empty side of the bed that belonged to you. The two tombstones he visits every day. The picnics and conversations he has with two souls who wanted him home, all as he created another home with a woman who fell in love with someone else. 

Wise men say, don't chase two lovers, not when the right one is there, playing the fool as you chase the one who can't give you more than a glance or a word. Stay with the one who made you feel safe in a danger zone. Stay with the one who even after all, made you soup, tucked you in bed and reminded you of how strong you are, all whilst she carried your child. A child he never met, a child that went with you to the great big sky. 

"I'm sorry, sweet pea," the drunken man cried to the tombstone of what was his beloved. Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, all watched him beg to the skies for a second chance at this. To press replay on that time of his life, when he had it all. The girl of his dreams, the woman set to carry his blood, the woman who cheered him on during war. Now, all that is left of you, is all you left at home. The way you set the portraits, the furniture and the nursery, to only be watched by the ghost of him. Fool, the man he became. 

A/N: I love Farah, okay, so this is no hate for my baby Farah, I just needed to make this interesting

Tags: @liyanahelena @sadisticfiremelon @aquavenus58 @iamashadows-blog

[hannahssimblr]

Once, years ago now, Aunt Maureen took me to visit her eldest daughter, Karina. In the midday heat, beneath the shade of a fig tree we sat in a Venice restaurant, where bougainvillaea draped over the front of flat roofed houses and fragrant blooms edged the terrace. 

I loved Los Angeles. The food was always better, the people happier, the streets more colourful and picturesque than in Albuquerque, where everything was brown and beige, blending with the dust land. Karina laughed when I said this, sitting back in her chair in her oval sunglasses, a cigarette balanced between long slender fingers. 

“You should see where I live downtown, then I’ll ask you again how much you love it here.”

I didn’t know what she meant. I was thinking about those cool guys I’d seen on a basketball court earlier with their hats on backwards, the loud, bass heavy music they played from a speaker, and the skaters who dropped lazily into concrete basins on their boards. I wanted to be one of them, though I knew Maureen would never buy me something dangerous like a skateboard. I played things a bit fast and loose at the best of times and once almost rollerbladed clean off a pier, so she’d developed a fear that I might one day die of pure stupidity. Maybe when I was older and she wasn’t watching me from the kitchen window anymore I would move to LA, get myself a board and skate around on it without wearing a shirt, and get muscles and a deep tan like everyone else here. 

These were the kinds of thoughts I lost myself in as Maureen and Karina had conversations that either weren’t interesting or which I was unable to understand, but I was content sipping on my Fanta with ice, lurid orange, and so fizzy that it stung the back of my throat and thinking about being a grown up in LA while Maureen had her white wine and Karina her cigarettes. Soon they would order a plate of oysters that looked too much like boogers for me to sample and speak more about things happening, things that had already happened, and plans they’d made for the summer. 

“What’s your favourite time of year?” Karina said to me suddenly, snapping me out of my thoughts. I knew this is the sort of question you ask a seven year old when you don’t know how to speak to children, but I thought hard about it anyway to make sure I gave her the best answer I could. She was my cool, mature cousin, and I always wanted so badly to impress her. November and December, I told her, because I got presents on my birthday, then time off school on Thanksgiving and both these things on Christmas. I was still reeling from the PlayStation console that Maureen and her husband Mario had bought me last Christmas, slotted perfectly within its square, silver box, which I still had, stored carefully beneath my bed just in case I ever needed to pack it away and move it. 

“What about you, mom?” She said, and Maureen didn’t have to think. 

“The spring,” she said, “I just love to be out in my garden then, with all the flowers and that lovely sun, it’s not too hot. It feels like everything is just on the brink of bursting to life.”

I thought about that later as we passed the canal, all the beautiful spring flowers that erupted from the banks, and of home too, where by now, in the hazy days of mid May, the desert was blanketed with spring grasses, with violets and golden poppies and bluebonnets, burning a trail of vibrant indigo all the way to the mountains. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

Ty to @scrapplesims for suffering living in LA once upon a time and for answering my weirdly specific questions about what it was like

[forgottenroisin]

Malconaire Samain Traditions

AUTHOR'S NOTES

ok so!!! before i get into this too much, some author's notes, starting w fun facts abt irl samhain (which i wrote samain above bc that's the old irish spelling and we're mostly going w old irish spellings here -- caoimhe rather than keeva, etc) that im running w here are as follows: ancient celtic tradition holds w largely two types of major celebration on their quartered calendar: Beltaine and Samhain which occurred on opposite times of the year, and Imbolc and Lughnasa which also straddled the year. The latter set marked important crop rotations: sowing and harvesting the fields.

The former, however, are said to have been dedicated to the movements of cattle herds and their shephards. At Beltaine, the shephards and their flocks would wrap up their half year of having held their beasts at home amongst the village in the valleys where they were safe from winter snows. at samhain, the shephards would do the opposite: begin driving their herds home across the treacherous montain passes from where they had been grazing in upland pastures for six months, and heading home to the valleys. Both Samhain and Beltane were seen as liminal or threshold holidays. Yet, they were also seen as inverse of one another, with Beltane being a festival for the living and Samhain for the dead.

Many Irish and British Neolithic tombs are aligned such that they are illuminated by the light of the sun as it over Samhain and Imbolc.

In Celtic belief, all spirits appear to be interlinked, w ghosts alternately appearing as faries or gods and vice versa, so I've used guardians, gods, and ghosts here where I thought most appropriate as stand ins but yeah this is just my interpretation??? Anyway, fairy mounds are often literally burial mounds so make of that what you will! I did ultimately choose to include ghosts but I strongly considered restricting it to purely guardians and gods, but yeah! Lmk if you think I should go back and restrict it to just those two!

Samhain in Ireland and Scotland are pr similar, so there'll def bc riffs from both cultures but, bc Rosie's name means little rose, and the very related ancient Welsh tradition of Calan Gaeaf ties in both roses AND ivy v strongly, I'm gonna be pulling a lot from that, as well.

I'm also gonna steal some Venetian St. Mark's Day beliefs and practices and English St. Mark's Eve ones. I have zero excuse except that it dovetails really nicely, and that its frankly sooo fitting for our Miss Rosie.

all the 'tales' here are inspired and even drawn directly from ancient lore!

Cleansing fire and light, cleaning, divination, guising (dressing up and trick or treat-esque shenanigans), dancing, mummery, saining (blessings), feasting, belief that spirits (good and evil, human and fae and godly and demoic, etc) walk amongst us that night, and veneration of the dead are common themes, and it is believed that it is this time when the veil is thinnest between the various otherworlds and our own.

Samhain is a last deep breath before the plunge. It is a time of preparing for the death of winter to come. Interestingly, Samain, the Old Irish root word for Samhain, is thought to come from an ancient word for 'summer,' though it was celebrated in November. No one knows why, but imma lean into it as a rebirth kind of symbolism -- yknow that 'spring in winter' sort of concept. Another explanation is that Samain comes from yet another ancient word that means 'reuninion, assembly,' and imma lean into that, too.

There was initially a fortnight of celebrations for Samain, which overtime got cut down to our modern night of Halloween, so idk how long this celebration should last hahaha and i deliberately left the timeline vague bc of that

Conveniently, I'd already hc'ed that Rosie actually views autumn as more a time of rebirth than spring (weirdly enough, it was actually one of my v first hc's for her!), and all this will allow me to tie it in nicely with her character theme of wonder <3

(Also disclaimer that you might notice some similarities between this and my TFW not!halloween traditions in which case...no you didn't ;DDDDD its just that i was inspired by the same sources hahaha except here i pulled in welsh and venetian things as my secondary instead of ancient roman and greek things aklsjdflkjdfdf)

SAMAIN TRADITIONS

like her sisters, rosie was born around the time of an ancient astairan holiday, causing the celebrations to overlap in malconaire

hers falling near samhain, an autumnal festival celebrating the midpoint between the autumn equinox and the winter solstice, and is held to mark the beginning of winter

it is said that it is at this time that the veil between this world and the other is said to be at its thinnest and, thus, the guardians are feted in an effort to strengthen them during this most dangerous period, w seers and all the ppl of astaira gathering to do whatever they can to help

it is a time of unity and mutual faith, generosity and thanksgiving, of finding strength and hope and cheer in ourselves and in one another even as things grow their darkest

as twilight gleams its last, all the fires in the region are put out and a great bonfire lit by a seer at the local shrine. from this protective blaze, every fire in the region is relit so that cleansing, protective fire burns for the guardians against the gods in every home, every shrine, and every gathering place across all malconaire

it is said that on this night, sometimes even non-seers can hear the whisperings of the guardians -- and that, at times -- the howls of the gods echo across the world, but beware to any who hears ought, for gods can appear and speak as any being they wish and, it is said, one must never trust a stranger who arrives upon samhain who will not go into the light

according to ancient tradition, anyone who believes w a true heart may wield some of the powers of a true seer because the veil is so thin, and in addition to being able to hear the voices of gods and guardians, can also sometimes hear the voices of their deceased loved ones

sometimes this is said to be a trick of the evil gods, but many believe that deceased loved ones do in fact arise

in addition to the fires, many gifts of food and drink and harvest and flowers etc are offered to the guardians, in addition to gifts of delights and entertainments such as dances and plays

as it is said that ghosts rise from their graves at this time, whether crossing over from an otherworld or revived by the power of the wicked gods, welcoming feasts are held in every home and, during the feasts, in addition to offerings made to the guardians, places are set for dead members of the family who may be visiting their loved ones while they are able

hoping to thwart any wicked spirits or gods who might be walking the earth, many wear a guise each night when the protective power of the sun is snuffed out

bc it is said that everyone may have use of a seers powers, it is also tradition to go from house to house and give offerings and blessings back and forth there, and this is often when fires from the great shrine bonefire are brought to each home, as well

following feasting in homes, there is also a tradition of gathering around the great bonfire in the evening and sharing sweets

while there, dancing and plays go on with gift-giving continuing well into the night

traditionally, one carves their name into a stone and then tosses it into the fire. those stones that had had the name burned clean off of it will receive good fortune. those whose names are still writ upon the stones will do well to take care over the course of the winter, with death or misfortune said to hunt them

Myths, legends, and ghost stories are all frequently told around the bonfire, with some tales being considered specific to Samain, and others simply tall tales or simply invented stories, but whatever their origin, stories play a highly important role on Samain, both as offerings and as entertainment. i'll include one or two as a sample somewhere in here

traditionally, all across astaira, peace was delcared during samain and it was a great time of unification, of treaties, of mending fences great and small, neighbor to neighbor and nation to nation, alike, w any conflict or even grudge, save that against the gods, being seen as borderline blasphemous, and an insult to the guardians for all efforts must be communally poured into that conflict at this time

in this same vein, it is a time for housekeeping, both great and small -- houses are cleaned, spick and span, and great councils are called by the rulers to undergo yearly reforms

anyone who broke laws during this time would, therefore, be banished for the rest of the year for the grievous offence of having wounded the goodwill of the guardians

traditionally, astairans avoid crossroads during samain, said to be haunted by nefarious deadmen and gods

on the morning samain, young and unmarried people traditionally go out into the fields and collect ivy and autumn roses. traditionally, girls collect ivy while boys pick roses, after which they come together again, with the girls presenting the boys they admire with ivy and the boys presenting roses to the girls they fancy. if a couple's presentations are mutual, they then wind them together and create crowns of roses-and-ivy to wear. at the end of the day, each girls collects all the roses she has been given, and each boy all his ivy and mingle them till they do not know who gave which. then they toss one into the bonfire for the guardians are return home, placing the remaining plants under their pillow. it is said that they will then dream of their future and, if they remember any of the dream, some of it will come true in the coming year. it is also sometimes said that if they dream of a particular other person, they will likely wed that person.

unmarried women are instructed to darken their rooms in the evening, and then a married woman can look into the mirror to see the face of the future groom. If a skull appears in the mirror, the unmarried woman is meant to die within the year. If a future groom cannot be seen, unmarried women are instructed to peel an apple and throw the skin over their shoulders. The shape the apple skin makes is said to show the first initial of her future husband

just before midnight, any remaining children are bundled off to bed and, then, it is tradition for those who wish to see to gather on the holy ground of the shrine, for surrounded by the guardians is the only way one may safely witness what is to come. those who do not wish to see must return quickly home and close all their windows and close their eyes and try to sleep, for any not protected by the guarian who looks upon it shall die on the spot. those who stay at the shrine may see, but they must maintain absolute silence or it is said they shall never see again. at midnight, the dead walk. a whole squadron of them troop by, but if one should spot oneself or any known to one trooping with them, that person is doomed to die within the year. some say the cause of death may even be observed, drowned victims soaked to the bone or hanged men marching with nooses around their necks, and such the like.

games and friendly competitions around the bonfire are common, such as dares and apple bobbing

two hazelnuts roast near a fire; one named for the person roasting them and the other for the person the desire. If the nuts jump away from the heat, it is a bad sign, but if the nuts roast quietly, it foretells an excellent match. 

Items were hidden in food—usually a cakes and breads — and portions of it served out at random. A person's future is foretold by the item they happened to find; for example, a ring means marriage, and a coin means wealth

A salty oatmeal bannock was baked; the person ate it in three bites and then went to bed in silence without anything to drink. This was said to result in a dream in which their future spouse offers them a drink to quench their thirst

Egg whites are dropped in water, and the shapes foretell the number of future children

SAMPLE OF SAMAIN TALES

story of a seer who rushed up to the door to the otherworld in the repulsion of gods, but closed the door as the gods were sealed off on his thumb. he then sucked on his wounded thumb and, from that moment, was said to have gained otherworldly wisdom but the cost was that he was, too, a link that the gods had to this world so he ultimately sealed himself, too, away inside a tree using their own magic to bind himself so that he could harm no one, but it is said that the gods have no mercy and that they force his ghost to walk the world on the night of Samain and sow the seeds of their ill-will for the year to come.

the monstrous gods used to demand two-thirds of the ppl's crops and livestock and even children during samain before they were sealed away, causing many to starve

a certain god, it is said, would command three men to go to a certain goddess every Samain to seduce her. when they inevitably failed, he would take their lives and force them to walk the world as his undead vessels for the rest of the year, wreaking untold havoc upon the world till at least one did succeed and the goddess gave him her magical garter. before the god killed his two companions, the goddess' lover, said sometimes to be from the snail house and alternately from the frog house, warned the vile god that it would spell his own doom if he struck those men down. laughing, the evil god did so, and so the lover used the magic girdle to fight and defeat him and help the guardians seal him away ((fun fact, this is drawn from a story said to have been the origin of the bog men...hence the frog or snail house being involved!))

one samain night, before the veil was raised against the gods, the king offered a prize to any who could tie a band around a hanged man's ankle. each challenger after the other fled in terror to the king's hall but one. when the band was tied, the dead man asked for a drink so, feeling pity for the hanged man, the challenger carried him on his back, stopping at three houses. when they entered the third, the dead man drank and spat it on the householders, killing them. returning to the gallows to bind him again, the challenger spotted an army of the gods burning the king's hall and slaughtering those inside. the challenger pursued the host through a portal into an otherworld where he learned that what he had seen since touching the hanged man was only a vision of what would happen the next samain unless something was done. he returned to the hall and warned the king, and astaira began to arm themselves against the gods who plotted against them.

another tale tells of a man who fell deeply in love w a goddess before the veil was raised against them. so in love was he that he followed her to an otherworld, despite her warnings that if he followed her, he could never return home. they lived happily together for two years before he began to long for home. watching him pine away, the goddess agreed to allow him to visit the mortal realm on her own horse, but only if he solemnly swore never to dismount the horse which would take him there and then back to her. he hastily agreed and started on his way. yet, when he arrived, he found that in the mortal realm two hundred years, and not two, had passed and that everyone he loved had died. distressed to see their graves, he fell from the horse to kiss them, but as soon as he stepped upon the ground, mortality found him and he grew old and died on the spot, collapsing as no more than bones and dust upon the earth of the graves of those he loved.

according to legend, the tradition of presenting roses and ivy to a lover originated when a man of low social standing is said to have fallen in love with a lady of house malconaire known for wearing ivy in her hair. in order to win her father's approval -- who said he might only wed his daughter if he could prove his love for her was true -- he became involved in a distant war. he was mortally wounded in battle, but managed to pluck a rose from a nearby rosebush for his loved one. a companion was entrusted with returning the blood-stained rose to his lover, who cast the ivy from her hair and wore the rose until the day she died. from their graves, buried beside each other, ivy and roses still grow.

CHARACTER HC'S

it was during samain, many years ago, that domhnall and later his heir, eilionora, offered roderick a treaty but both efforts he rebuffed. to the first effort to achieve peace he did not reply. yet when eilia tried again, he did, sending her only a piece of paper that bore simply a list of the countries he'd already conquered, with astaira's name listed at the bottom. eilia did not try again.

on the samain before bran and sorcha began courting, he decided that he would woo her with the traditional roses. sadly, however, he wasn't able to get out into the fields until late and, when he finally did, all that were left were very, very small roses, indeed. fortunately, she had the same idea and presented him with ivy as well. when she saw the wee rosebuds, which he presented with some embarrassment, saying he ought to have given her something far greater, she laughed and declared that someday he would -- if they ever had a daughter born in autumn, her name should be roisin, for the first gift he had ever given to her.

last samain, rosie presented edmund with ivy, forgetting he problably knew nothing of the tradition (and would likely consider it heresy, if he did!) realizing too late that he probably didn't know what she was telling him, she laughed and made a joke of it, weaving him a ivy crown, anyway, saying that if he meant to rule over astaira, someday, he best pay attention as he would have to know how to make a flower crown. she never mentioned it again.

bran threw eggs into water with sorcha the year they were married. when her egg predicted four children and his six, he was terrified it might mean he would outlive her and she laughed and told him that was a ridiculous thing to suppose, for he'd come to their marriage with two children already: his raven, and malconaire.

the year of sorcha's death, she stayed out to watch the ghosts walk, hoping for a last glimpse of a loved one whom she had just lost, while bran took the children home to sleep. she was drawn and white when bran awoke the next morning and, though she made jokes of it when he mentioned it and proceeded about her day, she seemed distracted, but would say nothing of what she had seen. at the time, bran only assumed that she was distressed about her loss, but after she died, he always wondered if perhaps she had seen her own spirit on the march that night.

though usually done privately for their parents, rosie always enjoyed mumming with her sisters at samain, telling tall tales and dramatic ones alike amongst themselves

while she hasn't done any mummery since childhood, as she imagines its likely not dignified for a lady of her age and position, she does still enjoy guising and generally dresses as favorite heroines from fairy tales and other stories. she is convinced cassandra would enjoy this as well and wants to bring her to such an event one of these years. no o ne can seem to convince her this is terrible idea.

cillian stays out late every year to watch the souls pass and, every year, he informs saoirse that he has seen her go by, but she says she'll have her revenge one of these days, because someday he ~will see her, and then he'll be sorry when he has to tell her so and she laughs in his face.

[writtenonreceipts]

a/n: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays @howlingcaptaincommando!  It’s been a delight getting to know you these few weeks, thanks for putting up with my insanity and I hope you enjoy this messy, slightly chaotic thing…I'm sorry you got stuck with me. Considering all the bangers being released already and then there's this...

thank you to @acotargiftexchange for organizing this event again! <3<3<3

Warnings: none (except it’s me so you’ve gotta put up with that) ~10k words

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We’re All Waiting On A Dream

Elain Archeron had never done well with winter.

It was an unfortunate truth that no matter what she did—it never changed.

She could fill her house with plants and flowers, she could open all the blinds of the small coffee shop where she worked, she could bake her favorite bread and dessert every day of the week.  But nothing could replace the sunlight of a new spring day or the deep unyielding warmth of the summer sun.

It was only mid-November and she was already craving when the sun would return.  Already, she’d planned just how she would spend those first few warm days of the season and none of them involved being indoors, cold, or sitting around at home.  She was going to travel and make the best of summer.

She just had to wait six months.

The lingering light of afternoon spilled through the front windows of the shop, splashing across the worn hardwood floors.  It was barely four-thirty and already the sun was sneaking lower into the horizon.  In just a few more minutes, it would sink behind the nearest buildings and shadows would replace those gentle strips of light.

It was unavoidable, so Elain made the best of it as she swept around the shop and adjusted the lamps that would soon do a majority of the lighting for the night.  The dark oak flooring was nicked and scuffed from the wear and tear over the years.  If Elain wasn’t mistaken it was the same flooring from when the shop was first built.  One of these days she would try and restore the shabby wood, knowing that with a bit of sanding and new stain, the floors would gleam with new life.  The project, with as much work as it would be, sounded fun.  Another activity to wait to complete though.

For now, she continued her usual tasks as she straightened the small reading couch in one corner and collected a bit of trash that someone left behind.  There usually wasn’t much cleaning to do even as a coffee shop.  They were tucked down a small alleyway on main street, nestled beside the antiques boutique, only the locals ever really knew where to find them.  And on nights like this, things usually remained relaxed and slow.

Really, though—she didn’t mind.  These were the nights she enjoyed most.  The quiet ones.  The easy ones.  The shop had long been her solace, even back in school when she’d just been a patron.  Even when the winter months dragged on and on, she’d found that this place with its shelves of books and the homey atmosphere were welcoming and helped lighten her mind.  It was the kind of the shop where nothing chaotic ever—

The front door jangled open with a frenzy that nearly toppled the bell along the top rail.  A gust of winter air swept through the shop, nibbling at Elain’s exposed ankles.  She spun around just in time to see a tall man dressed in a pair of neat, black pants and deep green sweater enter the shop.  His long red hair hung loose down his shoulders; his warm tanned skin complimented by the colors of his sweater.  He was too handsome for his own good, looking far too confident and sure of himself.  None of which was helped by the smirk that curled his full lips. 

“Elain.” he greeted as soon as he saw her.

Lucien Vanserra.  

Even after all this time of knowing him, she never quite knew what to think of him.  He had a way of taking the peaceable moments and turning them right on their head.  No matter what happened, whenever or wherever Lucien was—there was certainly a bit of mischief to follow.

He was by himself tonight which wasn’t too much of an anomaly.  Often, he was with one of his old college friends, Jurian.  The two of them were well known for rambunctious energy and very little restraint.  Elain had shared several classes with the two of them all through university, ended up in the same study groups, and now was subject to them coming into the shop just about every day.

She supposed she shouldn’t complain too much.  Between college and the two of them were how she met one of her closest friends, Vassa, who was also currently dating Jurian.  Or they were just sleeping together.  Elain wasn’t too sure of the details but knew better than to ask else she face Vassa’s wrath and own probing questions.

Lucien himself was impossible to know, Elain had long ago decided.  He could be an arrogant smartass while all at the same time—an idiot.  The fact that he was the most attractive man Elain had ever seen didn’t help much either. 

“Lucien.”  Much to her chagrin she often was at a loss for words when they came face to face.  She’d always been flustered by him, not that she’d ever admit it.  It was that disarming smile of his she was sure.

Lucien glanced around the empty shop. “Slow night?”

“It was,” Elain said, arching a brow.  Just because he flustered her didn’t mean she had to like him.

Lucien only grinned as he approached the register.  He was too comfortable here, Elain decided.  Especially with that confidence he always seemed to walk with.  She shouldn’t judge him for that.  He was always here at the shop these days, mostly because it was the only quiet space on the downtown strip.  Though, Elain had no idea what he was doing, only that it kept him busy.  He almost always had a computer before him taking care of some sort of work.  If he wasn’t going over documents, he was on the phone in quiet but urgent conversations.  She hadn’t worked up the courage to ask him what it was he did for work, worried that it would open some unknown door that she couldn’t shut if she got in too deep.

She left off cleaning and went behind the counter already putting his usual order in.  He always got the same thing no matter the time of day, no matter the time of year.  She hadn’t meant to memorize it, but when she was always here working and he was always coming in—it was impossible not to do.

“Do you want your usual order?” The words slipped out before she could stop them.  She only realized her mistake upon looking up to find Lucien cocking an eyebrow.

“Keeping tabs on my habits, Elain?” He looked far too pleased at that fact, that smile of his rising just a tick.

“Hard not to when you’re always here,” she said, drily. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Nope.” he replied cheerfully.

Lucien really was a hard person to get to know, to understand, really.  Elain had decided that back at university.  His personality was so charming that he often received more attention than most.  His good looks certainly helped too.  Elain didn’t know if calling him a flirt was right or not, but his silver tongue often made her wonder if she’d ever experienced the real Lucien Vanserra.  Even worse was, she sometimes wanted to know the real him.

He only chuckled at her sardonic look. “The usual is great.  With an extra bagel, if you could?”

Elain took his payment and handed back the thick black credit card. “I’ll bring it out to you in a few.”

As she moved to get started on his drink—an iced vanilla latte with caramel—he remained at the counter, leaning against the solid granite.  He did this every so often, trying to strike up a conversation with her.  It was usually the stuff of nonsense that ranged from what she thought about pineapple on pizza to who keeps breaking into local zoos and releasing animals from their cages in the middle of the night.

He was immediately offended when she told him pineapple was acceptable as a pizza topping.  In fact, she didn’t see him for three days after that confession.  Though she didn’t think it really had anything to do with her and more on the lines of the mysterious work he was always up to.

“You’re always here, Elain,” Lucien said.  “Don’t you ever get a break?”

Elain scoffed at the question. “I can’t afford time off.  I’ve got bills to pay.”

School hadn’t been cheap and she still was not working in her major.  A fact she would rather not think about.

“Jurian and I are going to a basketball game next week,” he said, “you should come.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d endeavored to invite her out.  Just a few weeks ago there’d been a party thrown by Lucien’s older brother.  It was supposedly one of the best parties of the year, including New Years.  

Though, Elain wasn’t sure what counted as best party of the year considering all the times Lucien and Jurian had thrown dorm parties involving ranking Mario Cart avatars and how best to optimize playing the game to goldfish racing.

Elain didn’t bother to learn about the second activity.

“Can’t,” she said.  She pulled two toasted bagels from the toaster and wrapped them up with a tube of cream cheese. “Someone’s gotta run the shop.”

It was true.  Alis had stopped trying to hire anyone new because Elain always insisted on picking up shifts.  Sure there was Nuala or Ceridwen who also rotated on shifts, but Elain preferred to be working.

Lucien frowned, just barely, at her answer before he accepted the bagels and finished drink from her. “Alright, it’s an open invitation though.” 

He continued to eye her curiously for a minute longer before finally turning and heading to his usual table in the back corner of the shop.

Elain couldn't help but watch as he settled into his seat before turning back to her workstation to clean up after herself.  A small pang echoed in her chest but she didn’t quite know how to identify the emotion behind it.

It wasn’t as though she wanted to be a recluse.  Ever since leaving school, things hadn’t gone her way.  Jobs kept turning her down.  Her student loans were piling up.  Most of her friends had moved away.  Not to mention her relationship with her sisters was rocky at best.  Their mother’s death hadn’t helped matters either.  In all honesty, the distraction of always being at work was nice.  She was exhausted by the time she got home and almost always immediately fell asleep and didn’t have to think about anything else other than keeping herself (and plants) alive.

She used to be the going out type.  Used to love the social scene.  It got harder though when dad’s health was declining.  And then the Grayson matter.

Something needed to change.  She knew that.  Just a small little switch to flick and then maybe she’d feel a little bit better about where she was in life.  Every time she thought about what that change could be, however, her mind only let her consider all the disastrous and unfortunate outcomes that would inevitably occur.

Which was why Tinder had long since gone dormant on her phone.

It was with these thoughts in mind that Elain was startled to attention by the door of the shop thudding open again.

“Where on earth have you been!”

Elain froze at the voice.  She’d just settled in to run an inventory of supplies on the computer when her sister chose that moment to enter the shop.

Nesta Archeron entered the shop like a whirlwind.  A chaotic, well put together whirlwind that hardly, if ever, touched down.  She was constantly involved with one event or another, specifically to please her fiancé, or she was trying to keep her own career afloat (made nearly impossible because Thomas was an ass).  There was no easy way to describe Nesta.  Especially not when she hardly offered anything of herself in return.  Elain loved her sister, truly she did, but sometimes the woman could be rather intense.  

Her blonde hair was swept back in half-do, tendrils of hair framing her sharp features and emphasizing the startling silver of her eyes.  The neutral tones of her make-up only emphasized her striking beauty and highlighted the determined way she was looking at Elain.

“I’ve been here,” Elain said, slightly amused as she typed into the computer. “All day.  My job is rather annoying like that.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, unamused and stalked the rest of the way to the register, her high heeled shoes clicked lightly on the floor, her black dress and sleek jacket indicating it had been a please the fiancé sort of day and not one to have to herself.  She set her purse, some designer that Elain didn’t recognize, on the counter and leaned forward with a frown.

“You missed the dress fitting,” Nesta said.

Elain nodded. “Just like I told you I would.  There was no one to take my shift and I wasn’t about to close shop in the middle of the day.”

Elain had tried explaining this to her sister before, but since it was an inconvenience for her, Nesta had forgotten it.  Alright.  That was unfair.  Nesta did have quite a bit of stress as she was trying to plan a wedding with a useless fiancé.  And said useless fiancé was having Nesta take over quite a bit of his own business duties.

Anytime Elain tried talking to her sister about it, Nesta shut down and changed the topic entirely.

“I know,” Nesta sighed, brushing stray strands of hair out of her face.  A look of genuine apology flashed in her eyes.  “I know.  I’m sorry, but it was the only time that worked and you know how important this is for Thomas.  But I really needed you at the fitting, Elain.  Everything has to go perfectly.” 

Flinching inwardly, Elain held back a sigh.  On Saturday, her soon to be brother-in-law was to be honored as the new vice-president of his company…doing something of some import.  All because of the work Nesta herself had done.

In any case, Elain would be expected to attend because the more people there in support of Thomas the better he came off to his boss.  Though, if he were being promoted his boss must already think highly of him.  (It was all very convoluted to Elain.)

Then came the fact that Thomas did not like her.  And she didn’t like him, so really it all worked out that way.  But Elain liked her sister.  She wanted to support her sister.  And now she was roped into a hoity toity gala.  She’d have to shave.  Everywhere.

“Nesta,” Elain said patiently, “I am more than happy to support Thomas,” who knew she was an excellent liar? – “and I will be there.  Buy the dress as is and I can have Vassa alter it for me.  She’s good like that.”

Vassa would laugh her ass off is what she would do, but Elain wouldn’t tell Nesta that.

Nesta blinked, a mild look of panic seizing her face.  “Does Vassa know anything about sewing?”

“Sure,” Elain shrugged. “How hard could it be?”

“Elain.”

“Nesta.” Elain reached out and patted her sister’s hand. “The dress fit perfectly the first time I tried it on, three weeks isn’t going to make much of a difference.” 

“Alright.  You’re right.” Nesta sighed, slouching even further into the counter.  Elain had no doubt her sister was counting down the moment to when she could kick her heels off into a corner and not look at them for at least twenty-four hours.  “I won’t worry about the dress.  But, I do need to know who you’re bringing.”

“Bringing?” Elain repeated. An icy feeling started spreading through her.  Oh no.  Oh no.  She hadn’t prepared for this.

“Yes bringing, you can't come alone Elain,” Nesta said. She gave Elain a look as this was the most obvious thing.  “There will be cameras and Thomas’s boss will be there too.”

Why Elain should care about Thomas’s boss, she had no idea.  Why anyone would care about her being there, she had no idea.  And she said as much.

“Who cares if I have a date?” She demanded. “I am a grown woman. I don't have to bring anyone.  I don’t think anyone will want to stamp my picture on whatever new pamphlet the company puts out next year.”

Nesta’s own panic spread across her face. “Please, Elain.  I know it’s a little ridiculous, but it has to go perfectly. I know someone I can ask for you, Thomas has a friend—”

Elain blanched.

“No, no I have someone.  I have someone…a boy. A boyfriend. I have one.” Elain spoke before she even knew what she was saying. She was digging her own grave but her brain hadn't caught up to that fact.

“You have a boyfriend?” Nesta snapped to attention at the words.  Her blue eyes narrowed in on Elain. “Why haven't I heard about him? What's his name, where did he study? Family?”

She really had to think before she spoke.  This was not going to end well.  Elain gaped at her sister trying hard to think of an answer.  How much could she make up before Nesta caught on?  Could she fabricate the perfect gentleman only to have him break her heart on the night of the event?  Or would that be too dramatic and detract from Thomas?

Elain pulled herself together as best she could. “This is why I didn't say anything because I knew you would do this, Nesta.”

“Honestly Elain, if you’re just going to make up a story--” Nesta was already pulling out her phone and selecting a number in her contacts.

“Lucien.”  Elain blurted out the first name that came to mind. “Lucien Vanserra.  That’s who he is. And he's right here. Lucein!”

At the very direct sound of his name, Lucien looked up from his coffee and laptop with a bite of bagel making its way to his mouth.  It was the first time she had ever seen him caught off guard.  It was rather unfortunate that she didn't have time to appreciate it properly. 

Lucien recovered from whatever shock he was facing or he was just that good at reading a situation because he set down his bagel and in a few loping steps he was back out the counter, his grin back in place.

“Elain.” As always, he appeared perfectly agreeable, his casual business wear only emphasizing how put together he was.  Whether he’d overheard what Elain and her sister had been talking about, she couldn’t tell.  She just hoped he was as good an actor as he always seemed to be.

Especially given the fact that Nesta was scrutinizing him in overtime.

“This is the boyfriend?” Nesta asked, her words slow as if she herself needed to make sense of them too.

Lucien glanced at Elain with a rather bemused expression.  She gave him as pleading a look as she could while Nesta continued her assessment.

When Lucien nodded discreetly at her, Elain felt a small bit of relief.  She wouldn’t trust it for long though.

“Lucien Vanserra,” he said.  He extended a hand to Nesta who paused for a moment before accepting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.  Elain talks about you all the time.”

Nesta didn’t answer immediately.  As with everything, she took great care in analyzing everything about a situation.

“Vanserra,” Nesta repeated.  She had a thing about names and people and appearances.  Vanserra must have been a decent enough name because Nesta raised her chin slightly, a slow smile working at one corner of her mouth. “She hasn’t mentioned you before.”

Unperturbed, Lucien adopted his casual ease and laughed. “Considering how long it took for her to pay me any attention, I’m not surprised.”

His words sent an unbidden flush over Elain’s skin even as she glared at him.  She didn’t exactly know what to make of his words either.  Either he was very good at lying on the spot (concerning) or there was a pinch of truth to his words (also concerning).

“Well,” Nesta said. She turned back to Elain abruptly.  “Saturday.  The event starts at seven, I expect you to be there at six-thirty.  Six-thirty, Elain.”

“I will be there,” Elain said, Nesta gave her a look. “We will be there.”

The only thing that saved Elain from further humiliation by her own doing was Nesta’s phone buzzing with an incoming call.

Nesta only ignored it long enough to raise a single brow to Lucien. “Black tie.”

It wasn’t until the door of the shop clicked shut that Elain let out a rather unfeminine groan and nearly collapsed across the work counter.  What had she just gotten herself into? 

“So,” Lucien said, his voice growing closer as he filled the space Nesta vacated.  Elain looked up to him leaning across the space to get closer to her. “When did we start dating?”

Elain felt her cheeks flush deeper.  Oh hell, what had she done?

Huffing out a breath she straightened and ran her hands through her hair. She fixed Lucien with as menacing a look as she could while he kept grinning.

“What was I supposed to do?  She was going to set me up with someone from her fiancé’s work.  I’ve seen a majority of those men, no good options.”  Elain knew she was rambling in desperation, but she couldn’t help it.  Thankfully the embarrassment of the past ten minutes hadn’t set in yet.  That was one miracle she’d accept.

“Hm,” Lucien hummed, “I do see your dilemma.  This is a rather interesting choice of action though, all the same.”

Groaning, Elain started pacing behind the counter. “It’s fine.  I can make up a dramatic break-up story within the next three days.  That’ll fix this. Oh, no.  It won’t because she knows your name, she’ll find you.  I could fake an illness?  Except I used that the last time there was one of these events.”

This was turning out to be not very good.  

Elain stopped and looked at him. “I am so sorry. This is going to be a nightmare.”

“Ah, Elain, what you don’t know about me is that I was born for mischief and mayhem.  Just ask my mother, she has an entire photo album dedicated to the destruction I caused as a child.”

“I don’t think this is helping,” she said, slightly horrified.

He flashed her a smile. “Oh but it will help.  I can promise a night full of fun, you’ll hardly even realize you’re at a…where are we going?”

“A work party for her fiancé’s marketing company,” Elain explained, crinkling her nose as she remembered the rather mundane and boring job Thomas had. “He just landed an account for drills and is being promoted.”

“Why the hell would anyone—” Lucien cut himself off with a wave of his hand— “doesn’t matter.  The point still stands that I can guarantee a fun night.”

“Can you hold a conversation about drills?”

“No but I do know magic.”

“Absolutely not.”

The two stared at each other for a long moment.

Lucien spoke first. “It’d be hilarious.  Get you out of any more of these events.”

A startled laugh escaped her.  She couldn’t help it.  There was just something in the way he spoke and the sincerity that he held that just seemed funny.  At her first bubble of laughter, Lucien joined in.  

“C’mon, Elain, consider it a practice run,” he said.

“Practice run?” Elain repeated.

“Sure,” Lucien shrugged. “When you come to the basketball game with Jurian and I.  Vassa can come.”

His eyes sparked with a mix of humor and…hope?

Elain approached the counter again, still not believing that he was agreeing to this.  Even with a little bit of insistence to his own favor.  In all honesty, she wasn’t entirely sure why he was so interested in her.  In school she’d been a bit intense in her studies and hadn’t left much room from friendships or other relationships for that matter.  But he’d always been there on the edge of her sights.  A nuisance sure, but there all the same.  And there weren’t a lot of people she could say the same of.

“You have a suit and tie?” she asked.  He nodded. “You’re okay with pretending to be my boyfriend?” Another nod. “You won’t let this be a thing that you hold over my head?”

“Elain,” Lucien said.  A bit of the humor left his voice and he straightened. “Consider it a favor among friends.  You don’t even have to go watch basketball.  I want to help you out.”

She worried her lip, still not completely convinced.  But she knew what would happen if she showed up alone and knew that Nesta would laud it over her for the rest of their lives.

“Alright,” she agreed. “Lucien Vanserra, would you please be my fake boyfriend?”

His russet eyes sparked.  “Elain Archeron, it would be my pleasure.”

…

On Saturday evening, Elain found herself trying to control her sanity.  It was not going very well.

“Would you hold still?” Vassa muttered for yet another time.  She stabbed Elain’s shoulder with a bobby pin. “We’re almost done.”

Elain squirmed again.  Usually, she didn’t mind sitting still and being pampered.  Hell, she loved it.  Getting dressed up and looking her best was something she missed being able to do.  It had been the one thing she was looking forward to about the night.  After so long of being so shut in, having a night to just be and have fun?  If it weren’t for the mess of dealing with Thomas (and now a forced fake relationship) she wouldn’t have given her sister such a hard time.  

As it was, she was still nervous.  

Maybe it was being out among people again?  No, she’d always loved people and making new friends.  It had to be Lucien.  It had to be the idea of getting closer to him even for a night.  She had no idea why.  It was just Lucien.  

But the closer the clock ticked to six, the more her stomach flopped.

Vassa tugged hard on Elain’s hair.

“Ow!”

“Oops.”

Elain glared through the mirror at her friend who ignored her.  It hadn’t taken very much pleading to enlist her friends help in preparing for this stupid party.  Mostly just a promised girl’s night out. Though, after Elain had explained what had happened and who she would be going with and the entirety of the fake boyfriend situation—Vassa had found no issue in helping Elain out.

Once she’d stopped laughing of course.

“This is going to be a disaster,” Elain muttered.  She wrung her hands together as she stared at their reflections. “I should have just put my foot down and told Nesta no.”

“Since when has telling Nesta no ever worked out, Elain?” Vassa replied.  She shoved another bobby pin into place causing Elain to wince. “Besides, Lucien is fun.  Do you remember in school when he hired a mariachi band to follow the dean around?”

That, admittedly, had been hilarious.  There was also the time Lucien and Jurian had built a giant outdoor water slide on the hottest day of the year.  Complete with a water balloon fight afterwards.  If there was one thing to say about Lucien it was that he enjoyed having a good time.

“And he’s good looking,” Vassa added.

“Vassa,” Elain sighed.

“He comes into your shop a lot too,” Vassa said.  She cocked her head to one side through the mirror, a small smile on her lips.

Elain’s glare went ignored.  Again.

After another few minutes, Vassa hummed happily and patted Elain’s head.

“There,” she said. “I think that looks good.”

It really did.  

While Elain could often manage on her own to make herself look flawless and put together—she’d needed a bit more confidence for that night.  And who else could she ask for help than Vassa?  

Most of her hair still flowed down her back in loose curls, but the rest was pulled up in a twisting braid.  It all came together with the carefully applied make-up Elain had done.  

“Thanks,” Elain said.  She touched a few places in her hair out of habit.  Everything was perfect though.

“You’re gonna look great,” Vassa said.  Her smile was infectious as she leaned in for a quick hug.  “Let's get you in your dress.  He’ll be here any minute.”

Elain’s stomach flopped again.  She really wasn’t going to get out of this was she?  And yet there was a small part of her that asked if she really wanted to.  

It had been ages since she’d had a fun night out.  Even if it was to go to an event for Thomas of all people—Elain was just eager for fun.  And she was going with Lucien.  Lucien who actually made Elain smile.  And he’d never pressured her in all the little flirtations he’d thrown her way.  He’d remained respectful and even kept his distance when she’d silently begged for it.  Not that he’d known what was going in in her life, but her relationship with Grayson had been a joke.  It’s what had led to her slipping away from her usual outgoing self…

Elain banished the thoughts away.  She couldn’t be thinking about this.

She hurried after Vassa and down the hall to her room.

She hadn’t been able to get any help with making extra modifications to the gown, but she wasn’t worried.  She’d never had an issue with finding things that fit easily.  Both Nesta and Feyre hated her for it, but Elain had never been more grateful than she was that night.

Vassa was already pulling the dress from its coverings, revealing the floor length fabric.  If there was one thing Elain could trust Nesta in, it was her fashion sense.

The dress was a pale purple made of a light chiffon fabric.  There was a little bit of rouching at the sides with a draped neckline.  Elian’s favorite part about the dress though were the sheer flutter sleeves.  It might be a little impractical with the chill weather, but she didn’t care.

She couldn’t help the small smile as she examined the dress.  Yes.  She was more than a little excited to wear it.  She hurried and stripped from her leggings and tank top before shimming into the dress.  The other good thing was that she didn’t have to mess with a strapless bra and could get away with what she usually wore.

She waited as Vassa zipped her in and brushed out any wrinkles or funny lines in the fabric.

Vassa hummed in amusement as she circled Elain once. “Your breasts look amazing.”

Hell.

Elain smacked her friend on the arm and turned to the full-length mirror propped up in the corner of her room.  Indeed, her breasts looked amazing.  The dress was of a silky material that clung to Elain’s usually nonexistent curves.  The sweetheart neckline dipped a bit lower than she expected, showing off more of her neck and collarbones.  The soft purple color complimented her lighter complexion and the rich brown undertones of her hair.  She didn’t look washed out or haunted—she looked like herself.  Happy.

“Damn,” Elain sighed. “I was hoping I’d look terrible.  Nesta wouldn’t blame me for not showing up if I looked like a cow.”

Vassa snorted a laugh. “Please, Elain.  You’d look good in anything.”

Elain bit her lip and gave a half spin, watching the fabric twist with her movements. “I don’t know if I have a jacket that will match.  It’s too cold to go without something.”

“I’ve got just the thing,” Vassa said before disappearing to her own room.

As soon as she vanished, there was a knock at the front door and Elain froze.  Hell.  It was already time, wasn’t it?

She took a long breath, flattening her hands over her stomach.  She could do this.  It was going to be fun and easy.  Lucien after all had agreed to no pressure, they were simply friends.  She stared into her own eyes, gave a sharp nod and hurried down the hall to the small entry way of the apartment.  She took one more steadying breath as she pulled the door open.  

There, looking impeccable in a neat, black suit and perfectly knotted tie was Lucien.  His hair was unfortunately pulled back into a low hanging tail, Elain always liked seeing it loose.  The suit fit him well, emphasizing his muscular build well.  He looked good.  He’d always been handsome with his tall figure and strong jaw, but tonight felt different.

Elain knew she was staring, but she couldn’t help it.  The only solace she took in that was the way Lucien was taking her in.  His gaze flicked from her dress to her face and she swore his mouth parted just a bit.  Now he was just putting on a show.

“Lucien,” she said, trying desperately to untangle her tongue. “You clean up well.”

That had to be the stupidest thing she could have said.  Hell in handbasket, what was wrong with her?

Still, that familiar smile of his returned and a glint sparked in his rich russet eyes. “I could say the same about you, Elain.”

The way he said her name sent a shiver racing down her spine.  Another thing she didn’t know how to reconcile.  Because if she were being honest, she was surprised he’d shown up at all.  He easily could have text a brief can’t make it text and really, could she have blamed him?  She cleared her throat, hands wringing together nervously.  She had no idea what was wrong with her—she didn’t get nervous, especially not around Lucien Vanserra of all people.

 “I almost thought you didn’t own a tie,” she added, falling back to what she knew--sarcasm. “You always say they’re too restricting.”

Lucien rolled his eyes.  “Until I started working for my brother.  Apparently, I have to be professional nowadays.” 

“Poor Lucien,” Elain sighed, “has to join the real world with the rest of us.”

“It’s terrible,” he agreed.

Before either of them could say anything else, Vassa gave a shout of triumph from down the hall.

“I found it!” With the rapid pattering of bare feet, Vassa careened from her room and down to the entryway of the apartment.  Her red hair pitched violently to one side from the confines of her bun.  She waved a stylish jacket at Elain as she approached. “It will match perfectly, Nesta won’t have to gouge your eyes out.”

Elain accepted the jacket. “Thanks, Vassa.”

“Of course,” Vassa said.  She then flashed Lucien an appraising look. “Hello Vanserra.”

Lucien accepted Vassa’s scrutiny with grace, only continuing to smile with that charming grin of his. “Vassa, nice to see you again.”

Despite her earlier words of approval of him--Vassa continued to eye him suspiciously.  

“I have a list of rules that should be adhered to,” she began.

“No you do not,” Elain said.  She brushed past Vassa and gave her a quick hug.  “We’re late.  Thank-you for your help.”

She grabbed Lucien’s arm and ushered him out the door as quickly as possible.   

“Don’t do anything illegal, I don’t have bail money!” Vassa shouted after them.  

Elain let the door click shut without calling back a response.  It was easier that way.  Especially when there was no guarantee what Vassa would say next.  Sometimes her filter was a hit and miss.  

“She’s always such a delight,” Lucien commented as they got on the elevator.

Elain snorted a laugh. “Oh, yeah.  She teeters on the edge of unsuspecting sweetheart to raging terror real quick.”

Once you got to know Vassa, to understand her nuances and her habits--she maintained the questionable reputation but with a bit more trust and care on your part.  Truly, Elain didn’t know where she would be without her friend.

“Didn’t she stage a revolution of frogs from the Biology Department on campus?” Lucien asked.

“It was very well organized,” Elain admitted.  She did not, however, remind Lucien that she had been right beside Vassa in running said revolution.

Despite Lucien’s protests, Elain insisted she drive.  Mostly for that semblance of control that she felt was slipping away from her.  She was far too nervous that she needed to be for the night.  Which was ridiculous considering this would turn out to be the most boring night imaginable.  No matter what Nesta insisted.

“Isn’t this the car you had back in school?” Lucien asked as Elain pulled out onto the highway.  “How is it still running?”

True, Elain’s small two-door car had quite a few years on her and the air conditioning didn’t work, but it was a good car.  She said as much.

“She’s reliable and all of her issues are easily fixed,” Elain said. She paused. “Well, that’s mostly because the stereo is really good and the speakers drown out any annoying sound.”

“Right, so what you’re telling me is that I could possibly die tonight?”

“You’re the one who insisted on helping me out,” Elain replied.  She smiled then, allowing the small levity of the moment to potentially ease her nerves.  When she glanced at Lucien, she found him watching her, a look of amusement in his eyes.

She turned back to the road and tried to ignore the way her heart fluttered at just having him here.  It was stupid really.  Just a response to being grateful he’d volunteered to this hairbrained idea.

“So,” Lucien began after a few minutes of silence, “how long have we been dating?”

“Is this really necessary?” she asked, the flutters picking up pace at his words.

“We’ve got to have a background Elain,” Lucien insisted, “can’t have anyone poking holes in this plot.  What would your sister say?”

Elain paused only a beat. “That I could have tried harder.”

“Exactly, now.  How long have we been dating?” he asked.

Elain wondered if she should be concerned by his enthusiasm about this. “Just a few months. Nothing elaborate.” 

“A few months and already willing to send me to the throes of your family?  You must really like me then.”

Elain glared while Lucien laughed.  It continued from there with them establishing details of how best they could pull this off.  Mostly, they leaned on their college days to fill in any details of how they met and things like that.  There wouldn’t be much lying involved since they’d shared so many classes right up until the division into their specific degrees. But Elain couldn’t help but laugh as he insisted it would work out fine.

“Please, Lucien,” she said as she pulled into the event center, where there was a line waiting for the valet. “You hated me back then, how’s anyone going to believe this?” 

“You think I hated you?” Lucien asked, genuine concern flashing in his eyes.

Elain’s lips parted, though she didn’t know how to reply.  She started to speak when a soft knock on her window indicated the valet was ready for them.

Glad for the interruption, she scrambled out of the car.  The young man dressed in a starched red vest was kind enough to help her out of the dinky little car.  And he didn’t even give her a side-eyed glance at the pathetic nature of her car.  That was nice.

She was still smoothing out her dress when Lucien came around the car and offered up his arm for her.

“Thanks,” she murmured, accepting the offer.  If she were being honest, she needed the support of someone beside her for this.  It had been a while since she’d come out to an event like this.  Ever since her messy break-up with Grayson, she just hadn’t been up to going out.  

And she loved parties.  Truly, before Grayson, this would have been the highlight of her night, her week.  But after everything the man had put her through, Elain felt more than a bit of unease run through her.  Insecurities she’s felt throughout her relationship resurfaced.  She needed this night to prove to herself, and Nesta, that she was fine.  She was more than fine.  She was back to her usual self.  She was moving on.  She was—

“Elain,” Lucien said from beside her, his finger squeezing her arm just enough to be reassuring, “I can hear you overthinking this.”

She made a non-committal noise and let Lucien lead them up to the entrance doors behind another couple.

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “Really it is, all Nesta needs is to see me, then we can go find the caterer and beg for free food while hiding in the kitchen.”

“We can do that?” he asked, sounding intrigued by the idea. “I thought you’d jump at the opportunity to be at an event like this.”

“Usually I would,” Elain admitted, she shrugged delicately.  “I just can’t help but think something will go wrong with the night.  Or the dress.  Nesta wanted me to get it professionally altered but I didn’t have time, or money.  But Nesta likes being in control of things like this, I guess.”  She paused.  “I have cash stuffed in my bra; I am not beneath offering bribes.  We could be out of here in five minutes if we wanted.”

“Elain,” Lucien said softly as a woman offered to take their coats, “you’re freaking out.”

“If I were freaking out, you’d know it,” Elain replied. “I am merely over explaining everything to give me less time to worry about everything else.”

They entered the main hall of the center that had been completely transformed from the last time Elain had been here for a coffee expo for work.  Instead of standard tables and plain rugs, there was open space intermixed with tall glass tables and softly glowing lights.  It actually looked like an important event and some hoax.   

“Here she comes,” Elain said, spotting her sister immediately.  

Nesta strode toward them with purposeful steps.  The dress clung to her curves from the chest to her waist before billowing out around her hips.  The dark blue fabric was inlaid with beads that caught in the light, offering a little softness to the otherwise intimidating dress.  Though, there was no one else who could have pulled it off then Nesta.  She’d twisted her hair into a coronet of braids with beaded pins to match the dress. 

Elain couldn’t help but fidget with her dress.  Nesta had always been strikingly beautiful not only with her looks, but she was tall and well portioned in all the right places she should have been.  Elain had never felt the same about herself.  Oh, she’d been called lovely and pretty on many occasions, but here and now she felt like nothing in comparison to her sister.

A hand rested at the small of her back and Lucien leaned in to her side. “You look beautiful, Elain.  And if your sister doesn’t think so, she’s insane.”

The simple words caused heat to rise in Elain’s cheeks and she found herself staring into Lucien’s eyes.  Bright, russet eyes that had flecks of gold spinning amid the darker shades.  The certainty with which he spoke surprised her more than anything.

“Elain!” Nesta called out in a cheery voice that belied how stressed out she actually was.  Nesta was never cheerful.  Elain could swear she could see the whites of her sister’s eyes even from ten feet away. “There you are.”

“Nesta,” Elain greeted as her sister approached. 

Nesta pulled Elain into a tight hug, shocking considering how touch averse the eldest Archeron could be.  Elain accepted it for the good will gesture it was.

When she pulled back, Nesta smiled softly.  “You do look lovely.  The dress turned out perfect.”

“Thank-you,” Elain murmured.

Nesta gave her arm another squeeze before turning to look Lucien over.  She nodded once tightly.  “Well.  I’m glad you’re both here.  It’s going to be a good night.  Thomas’ boss is over there with the red tie, don’t look!  Red tie, silver hair.  Do not talk to him unless you promise to behave.”

“I’m twenty-five, Nesta,” Elain said, “I know how to behave in social situations.”

Nesta fixed her with a signature unamused glare just as Lucien spoke up.

“Does that mean no magic tricks?” He leaned in into Elain. “I practiced and everything.”

“Absolutely not.” Nesta gaped at him.

Elain barely managed to hold back her grin. “Oh, but he’s actually really good, Nesta. Doesn’t even need an assistant or anything.”

That got a warning finger waggled in both of their faces.

“Absolutely no shenanigans,” she said, “do I made myself clear?”

A spare glance at Lucien told Elain he was trying, and failing to appear chastened.

“We’ll go occupy ourselves,” Elain said, “don’t worry so much.”

That was probably the last thing Nesta wanted to hear.  But Elain only smiled brightly and grabbed Lucien’s hand, pulling him with her.

“We’ll be over here!”

“Not doing magic.”

Elain smacked Lucien on the chest.  He didn’t even bother to hide his laugh.

“Behave!” Nesta hissed.  She spun on her heel to return to Thomas’ side where he was regaling his boss with what must have been a truly miserable story about the lint stuck to his tie.

“C’mon,” Elain said, one hand still gripping Lucien’s. “I think there’s an open bar.”

Together, they slipped through the throngs of people that continued to arrive.  Elain recognized a few from various parties she’d been forced to attend on other occasions.  How she’d gained such notoriety for herself was a bit concerning.  Both for her sake and Nesta’s, seeing as how Nesta would insist on determining a contingency plan to explain Elain’s antics to whoever may listen.

 The plan would have to explain away Lucien now too as Elain was forced to introduce her boyfriend over and over.  

After nearly fifteen minutes of socializing with people Elain barely even knew--they managed to break free to the tables standing at the ready for a casual setting of drinks and hor-d'oeuvres brought around by waitstaff in black and white uniforms.

“Why don’t you get a table,” Lucien suggested, “I’ll get us some drinks.”

“Sure,” Elain agreed.

She watched him as he disappeared into the small crowd near the bar.  It was strange being here with him.  Having him as her date and acting like this was the most normal thing to occur.  She didn’t really understand why he’d agreed to this plan—helping her.  Well, if only to swindle another date out of her.  But this certainly was an elaborate way to get what he wanted.

She managed to find a few open chairs at a back table, not that she minded.  To have a little bit of isolation away from the awkward small talk of Thomas’ company was preferable.

Though, just as she moved to go claim the seats, a hand grabbed her elbow.  Elain spun around to come face to face with the one person she’d been hoping to avoid.

“Grayson,” Elain said, trying her best not to appear utterly taken aback by his appearance.  She’d known he was going to be here.  Had planned for it really, she’d just hoped he wouldn’t have actually tried to talk to her.

They’d dated for a year, the relationship ending only a few months ago now.  Nesta had introduced them at an event just like this.  Grayson worked in just one department over from Thomas.  It was the perfect situation, Nesta had insisted, and Grayson had always been a respectable prospect.  

But everything promptly fell apart when Elain had suggested going back to get her master’s and maybe even doctorate.  The news hadn’t settled well with Grayson who only wanted a perfect nuclear family and a perfect wife to be waiting for him at home.

She drew away from him even as he tried stepping in closer.

“Elain, it’s good to see you.” Grayson had a standard profile, nothing truly remarkable in his looks, though he did have a good nose.  His brown hair was neatly styled back, cut in a perfect standard haircut. “I didn’t think you would be here.”

“I’m supporting my sister and her fiance,” Elain said.  

She’d spent the better part of the last few months not necessarily getting over him—rather the way he made her feel.  She hadn’t been happy with the thought of simply coming home and doing nothing with her life.  While she wanted a family and wanted kids, she knew there was more she wanted to do with her life first.  Grayson had tried to make her regret all those things.  He’d stifled her, guilted her, done all the things that made her question who she really was.

There had been enough time wasted over him that she wasn’t interested in wasting even more.

She tried slipping past him. “I should go, I have—”

Grayson was too quick for her.  He stepped in front of her again, hand already reaching for her.

“We should talk, get caught up,” he insisted.

Elain could only stare.  He’d been so insistent about a clean break that he hadn’t even bothered to return any of the things she’d left at his apartment.  Only to pop up in her DMs a few months later to “check-up.”  She didn’t need this.  Or want this.

“No,” she said.  “You don’t actually want that, Gray.  And I certainly don’t.”

The grip on her arm tightened as a dark look flashed in his pale eyes.  He’d never liked being told no.  Some would say that was what made him good at his job.  Elain would say that was the real reason why she was happy with their break-up.

“Everything alright, Elain?”

Never had that voice sent so much relief spiraling through her.  Behind Grayson, Lucien had returned, drinks in hand.  But he wasn’t looking at Elain.  His attention rested solely on Grayson who slowly turned to assess the new arrival.

To Grayson’s credit, he didn’t balk at the sight of Lucien.  Even though Lucien was several inches taller with a stronger build.  Grayson had always been on the leaner side.  But with the dark look in his eyes and the way he stood, nearly towering over the bother of them—Lucien was not someone to be easily ignored.

“She’s fine,” Grayson answered before Elain had the chance.

Lucien quirked a single eyebrow and finally looked at Elain.  He still had that hard look in his eyes, but Elain knew that razor thin line between anger and control had nothing to do with her.

“Is everything alright, Elain?” he asked again.

“Fine,” Elain replied, rather proud that she was able to keep her voice even. “I was just telling Grayson that you were waiting for me.”

This time as Elain pulled away, Grayson let her go.  She was able to skirt around him and to Lucien without any fanfare.  As it was, they’d drawn a few eyes of other attendees.

“Elain,” Grayson began.  But Elain had no desire to hear what else he had to say.

“My boyfriend and I were leaving,” she said promptly.

Then with a bit more force than she intended, she managed to drag Lucien away from the growing scene.  It was a shame, she really wanted to dance at least a little bit.

She didn’t stop until they were through a small side door that led out into an empty hallway.  It was blissfully quiet and several degrees cooler than in the event room.  

“That,’ she said, “was just what I wanted to avoid.”

Lucien said nothing, only handing her a glass of champagne.  Elain accepted it gratefully.  While she’d never much cared for the taste, she needed something that would maybe settle her nerves.  Because everything inside of her was feeling spun on its head.

After she drowned the first glass, Lucien held out the second which she took too.

“Are you sure you're alright?” he asked again.  He didn’t try to reach out to her or comfort her in any other way.  Which Elain was grateful for.  The adrenaline still snapping through her would likely have made her do something stupid.

“Yeah,” she said.  She took another sip of champagne before shaking her head. “He’s just an ass and I should have done a better job at avoiding him.”

“Ex?” he confirmed.

“I didn’t even like him that much,” Elain admitted.  

She took a step down the blackened hallway that had only one emergency light burning in the distance.  A sheer glass wall looked out into a small garden walkway between two different parts of the center.  Most of the foliage was beginning to bloom with bright green leaves dancing in a small breeze that rustled outside.

Elain turned back to Lucien and smiled softly. “Sorry.  I promised an easy night out, not stacked with drama.  Thank-you though, for showing up when you did.”

“What are fake boyfriends for?” Lucien joked, returning her smile. “Did you know he’d be here?”

“I figured,” Elain said, “Nesta had Thomas introduce us.  And It was fine for a while…until it wasn’t.  I think she was going to try and set me up with him again tonight, just so I wouldn’t show up alone.”

Elain smiled softly.  She didn’t blame her sister, not really.  She hadn’t told anyone except Vassa the real reason behind her and Gray’s break-up.  She just didn’t think Nesta would understand.  Her sister had always had so much control over her own life that Elain felt if she admitted to her own insecurities…it would almost be a failure in and of itself.

“And I didn’t want that,” Elain said.  She set the second champagne glass down on a side table that had been left out in the hall. And then because it seemed like the best thing to do, she apologized again. “I’m sorry.”

“Elain,” Lucien said, stepping towards her. “You have nothing to apologize for.  Hell, you got roped into this whole night against your will.”

“Sometimes it’s just easier to go along with Nesta,” Elain said with a wane smile.  “I know she just wants this to be a good night for Thomas and she’s doing her best but…”

Lucien didn’t let her finish her sentence.  He took her hand in one of his large ones, immediately engulfing her in warmth.

 “C’mon.”

He began pulling her down the hall, away from the party.

“What?  Where are we going?” Elain asked.

Lucien only flashed a mischievous smile, the overhead lights catching in the deep umber of his eyes.  He led them to an emergency exit that took them outside to the cool night air.  After the stress of running into Grayson, the fresh air felt wonderful to Elain.  Even if the overhead clouds threatened rain, she loved the feeling of being outside.

After a few yards they reached the valet stand once again.  The same workers as before eyed them with a mix of amusement and wariness.

“We’ll need our car back,” Lucien informed them, passing a tip over as he spoke.  He then turned to Elain. “Wait here, I’ll get your coat.  I’d rather not have Vassa plot my murder.”

He shucked off his own jacket in the meantime and draped it over her shoulders before dashing off back to the event center.  Elain could only stare after him.  Was he seriously suggesting they leave early?  Elain could already picture the face Nesta would be making once she realized they were gone.  And the texts she’d receive.

But she knew even if she’d tried to object to Lucien, he would ignore her and insist playing a little hooky never hurt anyone.  It wasn’t long at all when he returned with her coat.

“What are we doing?” Elain asked as they swapped coats back. 

“There’s an ice cream place just down the street,” Lucien said, “best pecan praline in the city.  None of the food in there was interesting anyways, no bacon and no shrimp.  I checked.”

Elain’s sad little car puttered into view, coming to a stop just before them.  The valet got out, holding the door open.

“Ah-ah,” Lucien said, blocking Elain before she could get in. “You had two glasses of champagne.”

“One and a half,” she argued.

“Close enough.” He had the gall to wink at her before escorting her around to the passenger side. “Relax, Elain.”

She scowled at him, but ultimately knew he was right.  She shouldn’t be driving even if she thought she was fine.  Instead, she glared at him the entire time that he got into the driver’s seat and made a big show of adjusting just about everything he could think of.

“Damn, Elain, you’re short.”

“Vassa’s not the only one who can plot a murder you know,” she grumbled.

Not at all concerned by the mild threat, Lucien drove them the short distance to the small ice cream shop he’d mentioned.  Two oversized cups later they were back sitting in the parking lot with the car heater running while they watched the traffic in the distance.

“Nesta’s going to kill me,” Elain mused as she tasted her helping of pecan praline.  Which admittedly was the best she’d ever had.

“Just tell her it’s part of my famous magic act,” Lucien said, “the Now you see me, Now you don’t addition.”

Elain snorted. “Hm, I do always love a good disappearing act.”

“See?  Magic’s not all bad.”

Elain shook her head, trying not to give him the satisfaction of a laugh.  He must have sensed her straining efforts because he nudged her with his elbow.

“It’s alright admitting you were wrong, natural even.” He took a spoonful of his own ice cream--rocky road—and nodded to her. “Though, perfectionist that you are, I know how hard that is for you.”

“I’m not a perfectionist!” 

“Several hours’ worth of arguing in study rooms suggest otherwise.”

“Saying you’re going to wing it on an assignment worth thirty percent or our grade is irresponsible and ridiculous,” she told him.  A few of their shared assignments had been rather difficult to get through considering both of their different study approaches.  

“I still scored as well as you did,” he reminded her.

Rolling her eyes, Elain ate more ice cream. “But you never hated me?”

The words from earlier still lingered in the back of her mind and with everything else that had happened that night, she hadn’t really been able to puzzle them out.

“No,” Lucien said, “you were never someone I could hate.”

Elain watched him for a moment, considering her words.  She’d never really imagined herself here, eating ice cream while dressed in formal wear with someone she’d once rivaled with.  Someone she hadn’t seen completely.

“I know nothing about basketball,” she informed him, “so that game you’re planning on taking me to could turn into a disaster.  You’ll have to keep me well stocked with garlic fries and lemonade.”

“Whatever you say, Elain.”

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Thanks for reading y’all I hope you enjoyed it!  I have the vaguest of vague ideas for a nessian spin off, but who knows… anyways, love y’all and Merry Christmas <3

Tumblr is still throwing fits about my tag lists and I can’t do an extended tag list of people.  So, if you’d reblog I would really appreciate it! 

[areyougonnabe]

could you explain marie nelson to me... i know that he's tragic and also a misogynist and that's kind of all

well you've got the basics but let's get into the details [cracks knuckles]

edward william nelson was the shore party's biologist, counterpart of lillie who stayed on the ship. like lillie he had been educated at cambridge, however unlike lillie who barely scraped a degree in the end, nelson dropped out lol. he went to work at the plymouth marine biological association, which is where he was when he was hired by wilson (presumably via cambridge connections) for the expedition.

he wasn't as rich as cherry or oates but he came from a landed gentry background, his maternal grandfather was a major landowner in the shetlands in scotland and was, if you believe this random page on the internet, descended directly from King James V of scotland... and his dad was a big deal microscope guy.

anyway by the time nelson was on the expedition his initial nickname was "The Immaculate One" because he was (at first) always wearing a clean collar, and then at some point he became almost universally known as "Marie," short for "Marie Ducas" or "du Car" which nobody ever bothers to explain.

sometimes he was also known as "Antonio" or "Brontë" (that last being a reference to Lord Nelson) and griff often called him "Marie du Car Bronte Antonio Nelson" or another combination of multiple names.

silas wrote in his diary that he "had a taste for gin and bridge" and lots of people remarked on how he wouldn't get out of bed in a timely fashion and was always late to breakfast.

he was kind of seen as dissolute in general or a bit of a slacker. kathleen scott remarked at one point that he "spends all his time on shore being a man about town, which makes him look exceedingly tired" but really i think that was just how his face naturally looked.....

his job at Cape Evans was overseeing his Biological Hole (that's what he's doing in the pic up top) and identifying new antarctic species, taking temperatures, and measuring currents. he had a telephone wire run out to the little igloo he built on the sea ice, and often had company in the form of griff or cherry or whoever wanted to help him keep the ice open and unfrozen at the hole.

he did plenty of science, but that kind of fades into the background in the diaries because most people if they're talking about him at all are mainly giving a running commentary on how much he liked to argue.

his main axe to grind was women's rights... griff seemed to take great joy in calling him a "miserable, cynical reactionary" and goading him into arguments which sometimes descended into pitched physical battle.

from griff's diary, may 30 1911:

Marie Deb & I had a frightful cag in our boudoir about Women’s Suffrage. He is engaged & declares if his wife wanted to exercise her vote (even if she gets one) he will lock her up!

november 3 1911:

We have great cags at meals now. Simpson Deb & I are progressives & Liberals. Nelson is a thorough Reactionary Conservative especially re women & vote & education. However as he said he wished he were a woman (with £500 a year income) we guessed he was abnormal!

nelson probably did the least sledging out of anyone during the first year, not going on a single long-haul trip (even simpson went out on a short spring journey). he mostly just hung out at his igloo i guess? and got really into calculating navigation for fun. also apparently he was the best at chess in the whole hut.

he stayed on for the second year, and did go out sledging on the Search Journey:

there is some great stuff about his midnight poetry and weird moon obsession during the second winter in @worstjourney's very good post here.

i'll also add that it was pretty harsh on everyone else to have Maximum Marie Exposure with no tempering force of griff to allay it.

nelson did contribute heavily to the much-reduced and mildly pathetic Volume IV of the South Polar Times, which featured griff's offcuts from the prior year, deb's illustrations, and poems from nelson including a parody of walt whitman about billiards:

This is the song of billiards:- The tight stretched cloth of green, the serried arches, The cue - faking the cue, the protests from the players, The pyramid, the British Pluck, the Chinese fluke, The click of striking balls, the rattle in the ditch, the grin of joy.

most of the expedition scientists went home on steamers from NZ, but both nelson and lillie stayed on the terra nova as she took the long way round cape horn, in order to do more trawls and marine science.

nelson also took a job as second mate—it was definitely unusual for a scientists with zero navy/sailing experience (except the voyage down) to suddenly become an officer of the watch, but pennell trusted him, and seemingly that trust was not misplaced, as pennell wrote in his diary about how well he took to the job, and to atkinson about how he was by "far & away the most brainy person in the ship."

he got married to the woman he had been engaged to, violet thomas, after returning from the expedition. their only child, a daughter, was born in 1915, but by then he was serving in the royal naval division at gallipoli and then france. his war story is straight up wild and i recommend reading from ice floes to battlefields by anne strathie if you want aaalll the deets. but basically he saw a lot of action, served alongside rupert brooke (among other notables) and came out the other side relatively unharmed... physically.........

after the war he went back to the plymouth marine lab, and was supposed to be working on expedition results, but didn't do much of that.

in 1921 he left his family in plymouth to take a job in scotland working in a lab for the fishing industry, and in 1923 his wife successfully sued for "restitution of conjugal rights" which basically means the court ordered him to return to her....

but that did not end the way she wanted 🙃

shit was sad... he was found with poison injected directly into his leg.

i think there must have been a specific legal reason why the death was declared an accident—maybe something to do with receipt of military pension for the widow? but it obviously was very much on purpose. for whatever reason the thought of having to live with his wife again was so intolerable to him that death was preferable.

so thus ends the Ballad Of Marie Nelson.... here is what deb had to say about him and lillie in 1927, writing to JJ Kinsey:

You heard of Marie Nelson's tragic end no doubt, but I'm inclined to think it was as well. Poor old Lillie is in less happy circumstances, the last I heard of him was that he was never likely to get out of Bedlam, a rather ghastly end up to poor old "Ooze's" brilliant promise.

but much like lillie, nelson's end can't be blamed on his experience in the antarctic as it seems he was relatively content there. occam's razor dictates that A) he clearly had Problems before and B) wartime trauma made those problems worse.

the tragic sequel to this tragic story is the fact that his daughter, barbara, was 93 when she went on a cruise to antarctica to visit Cape Evans and see her father's laboratory... but she died of a fall while on the ship during a storm before they had even gotten there :(

[scotianostra]

The Scottish astronomer James Ferguson died on November 17th 1776.

The Scottish astronomer James Ferguson died on November 17th 1776.

Although he is now not as well know, Ferguson's influence extended widely in his own time.

His father was a cottar and too poor to provide him with any formal education but nevertheless his aptitude for learning soon became apparent. At seven, he learned to read by listening to his father teach the catechism to his elder brother. While still a small child he acquired an interest in mechanics, and already working at the age of ten - tending sheep - he was able to study the stars at night and make models of spinning-wheels and mills during the day. As a young man he first earned a living by cleaning clocks and repairing domestic machinery. In his spare time he constructed a wooden clock and watch with wooden wheels and whalebone springs. This mechanical talent would later assist in his construction of astronomical models. Showing artistic talent too, he made his way as a portrait painter in Edinburgh in 1734 and in Inverness in 1736.

While in Inverness, Ferguson had returned to his earlier interest in the stars and prepared an astronomical table which was published in the 1740s, and in 1742 he constructed an orrery. In 1743 he was in London, again painting portraits but also continuing his astronomical research. Some papers were written, one of which - On the phenomena of Venus, represented in an orrery - was presented before the Royal Society in March 1746. In 1748, Ferguson began a career as a science teacher and lecturer, delivering courses on astronomy and a wide range of experimental science. In 1752-1753 he was lecturing on the reform of the calendar and the lunar eclipse of 1753.

Although he had become very well known through his popularisation of science, he was far from well off, but by 1760 he was able to stop portrait-painting for a living. In 1763 he presented to the Royal Society a projection of the partial solar eclipse of 1 April 1764 showing its times and phases at Greenwich. His publications include Astronomy explained on Sir Isaac Newton's principles, Lectures on select subjects in mechanics, hydrostatics, pneumatics, and optics, Introduction to electricity, Select mechanical exercises, and The art of drawing in perspective made easy to those who have no previous knowledge of the mathematics.

There's more on the lad here https://www.thenational.scot/news/18389519.james-ferguson-poor-lad-became-18th-century-phenomenon/

[moments-on-film]

I really enjoy watching and analyzing The Bear. On my rewatches, I have noticed and written about numerous themes, connections, lines, acting choices and plot points that weave and connect together in beautiful ways. Rewatching and analyzing often exposes other things as well. Some are a little odd to me, to the point where I made the list below:

Season 1

The Timeline. I’m not going to fully get into this, but the timeline on this show is confusing. I think it’s because they shot the pilot episode in the summer and the rest of S1 and all of S2 in the winter/early spring. I’ll just leave it at that, but for example, how we get from a few months after Michael’s death (February) to his birthday, (in November) over the span of the first 3 episodes doesn’t gel with the dialogue. The prop of the card that shows Michael’s birthday and day he passed is what I am basing the dates on. Was this a props error? The pilot is so clearly summer in Chicago and in the rest of the episodes in S1 it is clearly freezing.

Cigarettes. Throughout S1 snd S2, the cigarettes Carmy smokes vacillate between light cigarettes with white filters, and regular ones with dark beige filters. No one just switches between lights and regulars who seriously smokes, as Carmy does, making it feel like a props mistake.

Chain. Carmen is wearing a complexly different chain necklace in the pilot episode vs the rest of S1 and S2.

Hand washing/double spoon use. The scene where Carmy “washes” his hands at the end of 1x2 is bizarre. He puts soap on them and then dries them off immediately with paper towels without using water again or looking down. It’s the only time we ever see him wash his hands so it really sticks out as abnormal and totally out of character. He’s a smoker and coming from fine dining and there has been/still is a pandemic. He would have washed his hands throughly here to show how much attention to detail his character puts into his work. Michael, by contrast, is seen washing his hands fully in 1x6. Was this an editing error? It might have been. It really took me out of the scene the first time I saw it. After he does this, he uses a spoon to taste something, puts it into his mouth, and then uses that same spoon to move chicken in a pan. I think this was an editing mistake, like maybe they cut out the part where he uses a new spoon, but as is, it makes it look like Carmy doesn’t care about cleanliness, which, after watching him obsessively scrub the kitchen on his hands and knees earlier in the episode, makes no sense.

Possible contamination. Carmy touches his face while making hotdogs in 1x4. Uncle Jimmy is telling a story and he’s laughing and it’s clearly very cold outside, but he wipes at his nose and face and then shakes his hands off over the food he’s prepping. This was one of the very, very few moments to me that felt out of character. Carmy would have reflexes to not contaminate food from his years of service, especially the years under microscope scrutiny from the chef in New York.

Camera is visible. You can see the camera person in 1x8 in the reflection of the glass door when Carmy goes to open the door and get the order from the delivery guy.

Carmy’s fingernails. Throughout S1, and in S2, Carmy’s fingernails are trimmed, buffed, neat and clean. I looked for this in every scene, as it helps us understand his character and how seriously he takes his himself and his craft. It also provides a sharp contrast to Richie (in S1), whose nails are visibly dirty, causing us to distrust him and not take him seriously as someone who should be handling food. However, in arguably the most important moment of S1, when Carmy texts Sydney, and then opens the envelope from Mikey, his thumbnail on his left hand is too long and looks unclean. Actor’s nails fall under the jurisdiction of the makeup department so I’m confused why they didn’t realize there was going to be a major closeup on his hands in this scene and fix them if they were not camera ready. It’s the only time in S1 or S2 his nail looks off and it’s an extreme closeup. I noticed it the first time I watched this scene and it really took me out of the moment. I cringe every time I see that nail. In the next scene when he’s making the spaghetti, this nail is neat and clean again, so to me, the prior scene was a mistake.

Season 2

Lockers. Carmy has switched his locker to the other side of the wall. In S1, his is on the left. In S2, it’s on the right. Usually your locker is YOUR locker. This was odd, but it set up the Sydney/Carmy scene well and maybe Carmy moved to be closer to Mikey’s locker.

Tattoos. You can see the actor Jeremy Allen White’s personal E.Z. tattoo on his arm when he’s in his apartment before he sits in the chair in 2x1. There’s no makeup on it at all. It’s completely visible. This tattoo is not Carmy’s, it’s the actor’s, and I think he has said before that it’s his mother’s initials. This tattoo has always been covered with makeup. I don’t understand how this oversight from the makeup department made the final cut.

Different vs differently. In 1x5, Sydney tells Carmy about her catering company, Sheridan Road. “Not a night goes by that I don’t think about what I could have done different.” In 2x3, Natalie tells Carmy, “I don’t want to be treated any different.” In both instances the word differently should have been used. It’s not proper English otherwise. The characters don’t need to speak perfect English, that’s not the point, but these episodes were written by the same person, so that might be why both characters use the same word.

Area codes. I am so baffled by this, I’m still thinking about it. In the beginning of 2x6, there’s a sign on the wall in Donna’s house with everyone’s name and phone number written on it. On this prop, the name Michael is actually spelled wrong, as “Micheal”. Carmen and Michael’s area codes are both listed as (913). Carmen’s area code is well established as 773, which he literally has tattooed on his arm, and it’s in the script, as he verbally says his phone number to the fridge guy and then Claire in 2x2. Michael’s area code was (847), per the script, via Richie to Uncle Jimmy in 1x4. The (913) area code is for Kansas. I don’t understand why the area codes would be for Kansas and not the ones that we already established were theirs, for Chicago, and the suburbs of Chicago, 5 years before present day in the timeline of The Bear.

Eleven Madison PARK. Richie insults Carmy in 1x1, calling him “Eleven Madison Park dic@&ead.” In the coda to this line in 2x8, Carmy calls Richie “Eleven Madison dic@&ead.” Park should have been part of that line for it to fully connect, as it’s the name of the NYC restaurant where Carmy worked, and he’s saying the line, so it should have been the same here for consistency.

The card from Michael to Carmen “I love you dude. Let it rip” is written differently in S1 and S2. The handwriting doesn’t match. It looks like a different prop.

Left handed staff/actors. In 2x9, Carmy freaks out about the pan station. “These should be on the right side because we are all right handed.” This line of dialogue is not true of the actors on this show. If you watch closely in season 1 and 2, BOTH actors portraying Tina and Ebrahim are actually left handed. The actor playing Manny is left handed, and the actor playing Richie favors his left hand as well. This line should have been cross checked with the various Actor’s actual physicality because it doesn’t really make sense.

Food runners. Why are the food runners not running food in 2x10? They stand in the background most of the time and don’t move, even when Carmy and Sydney are yelling for hands. No one moves when Carmy says he needs hands please for PX table 31, Claire’s table, but three food runners are standing directly behind him and completely ignore him. It’s their first night on the job and Carmy is the Executive Chef and owner. They should have helped run food or not been in the shot because it’s confusing.

I really enjoy analyzing this show, and see and greatly appreciate all of the creativity, energy, effort, talent and passion that has clearly been poured into it by the entire creative team. This post is not meant to do anything other than point out the few moments I noticed that made me pause and say, wait, what?

Are there any others that you noticed?

[cobainqueer]

Nirvana’s Music in Chronological Order

This is a list of released Nirvana songs in chronological order by the time they were written or recorded.

There’s a lot of Nirvana songs that are known but never been released, they aren’t included here.

Some of these are covers so the date listed is the date they were recorded.

1985

Spank Thru - Mid 1985?

Downer - Mid 1985?

Anorexorcist - Mid 1985?

1986/1987

Help Me, I’m Hungry - Late 1986, Early 1987?

Mrs. Buttersworth - Late 1986, Early 1987?

Mexican Seafood - Late 1986, Early 1987?

Floyd the Barber - Late 1986, Early 1987?

Pen Cap Chew - Late 1986, Early 1987?

If You Must - Late 1986, Early 1987?

Hairspray Queen - Late 1986, Early 1987?

1987

Aero Zeppelin - Mid 1987

Beeswax - Mid 1987

Paper Cuts - Late 1987

Raunchola - Late 1987

1988

Beans - Late 1987, Early 1988?

Polly - Late 1987, Early 1988

Sappy - Late 1987, Early 1988?

Don’t Want It All - Late 1987, Early 1988?

Clean Up Before She Comes - Early 1988 (Estimated guess for sure)

Blandest - Early 1988

Mr. Moustache - Early 1988

Blew - Early 1988

Big Cheese - Early 1988

About a Girl - Mid 1988

School - Mid 1988?

Swap Meet - Mid 1988?

Scoff - Mid 1988?

Sifting - Mid 1988?

Love Buzz - Recorded on June 30th, 1988

Big Long Now - Late 1988

Negative Creep - Late 1988

1989

Dive - Late 1988, Early 1989?

(New Wave) Polly - Late 1988, Early 1989

Do You Love Me - Recorded on the spring of 1989

Been a Son - Mid 1989?

Stain - Mid 1989?

Even In His Youth - Mid 1989?

Token Eastern Song - Mid 1989?

They Hung Him on a Cross - Recorded on August 20th, 28th of 1989

Grey Goose - Recorded on August 20th, 28th of 1989

Ain’t It a Shame - Recorded on August 20th, 28th of 1989

Breed - Late 1989?

Lithium - Late 1989?

In Bloom - Late 1989?

1990

Sliver - Late 1989, Early 1990?

Pay to Play (Early version of Stay Away) - Early 1990?

Verse Chorus Verse - Early 1990?

Here She Comes Now - Recorded April 2nd, 6th of 1990

Opinion - Mid 1990?

Dumb - Mid 1990

Aneurysm - Mid 1990, Late 1990?

Radio Friendly Unit Shifter - Mid 1990, Late 1990

Marigold - Mid 1990, Late 1990

On a Plain - Mid 1990, Late 1990?

Oh, the Guilt - Mid 1990, Late 1990

Something in the Way - Mid 1990, Late 1990

Endless, Nameless - Late 1990

Pennyroyal Tea - Late 1990

All Apologies - Late 1990

D-7 - Recorded on October 11th, 1990

Turnaround - Recorded on October 21st, 1990

Molly’s Lips - Recorded on October 21st, 1990

Son Of A Gun - Recorded on October 21st, 1990

1991

Territorial Pissings - Late 1990, Early 1991?

Lounge Act - Late 1990, Early 1991?

Old Age - Late 1990, Early 1991?

Come As You Are - Early 1991

Drain You - Early 1991

Smells Like Teen Spirit - Early 1991

Rape Me - Early 1991

Curmudgeon - Early 1991, Mid 1991

Talk to Me - Early 1991, Mid 1991

Been a Son - Recorded on November 9th, 1991

1992

Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle - Late 1991, Early 1992

Return of the Rat - Recorded on April 7th, 1992

Very Ape - Early 1992, Mid 1992

Tourette’s - Early 1992, Mid 1992

Serve the Servants - Mid 1992

Scentless Apprentice - Mid 1992

Heart-Shaped Box - Mid 1992, Late 1992

The Other Improv - Mid 1992, Late 1992

I Hate Myself and Want to Die - Mid 1992, Late 1992

Milk It - Mid 1992, Late 1992

Moist Vagina - Mid 1992, Late 1992

Gallons of Rubbing Alcohol Flow Through the Strip - Mid 1992, Late 1992

1993

Seasons in the Sun - Recorded on January 22, 1993

You Know You’re Right - Mid 1993, Late 1993

1994

Do Re Mi - Late 1993, Early 1994

Jesus Doesn’t Want Me For A Sunbeam - Recorded on February 5th, 1994

If you like this in a playlist format:

[furmity]

Summereve

Spending St Catherine's day working on my wheel. Protractor, pencil, many colours of pens, stack of books.

The solar quarter days have been my predominant focus for years, with a sort of wishy- washy Celtic cross- quarter acknowledgement that the seasons shift between them. For solar festivals I use the Swedish name, for the agricultural I use the Scottish Gaelic. The dates need to be turned around because I am in the southern hemisphere.

Not that it exactly works cleanly.

I moved out of the city and abruptly tripped over the actual harvest year, so if you've been following there's been a strange roll through Valborg- Bealltainn- Lúnastal this month. Things must be straightened out.

But this is why it's called practice, not perfect. The mysteries continue to be revealed, I am the priestess of my own bioregional religion and I make the rules.

Valborg- Bealltainn works with a six month switch. Total fire bans are coming into force by the first of November, so why not have a bonfire and protect the house from the pesky witches? Valborg used to end the administrative year in Sweden, and for me the academic year is winding down. In my mother's alma mater of Uppsala the students have a champagne and strawberry breakfast- lovely, strawberries come into season.

Bealltainn, well. As May Day follows Walpurgis Night and the spring is turning into summer, that much works. Can't rightly say what's going on with the cattle but we'll sling em a blessing.

Lúnastal is not a clean switch. It is barely summer and the grain harvest has begun. Doing my reading in preparation, I came upon the name Summereve. It's connected with St Máel Ruba who possibly absorbed a bit of Lugh in Scotland, the way St Patrick did in Ireland. His feast day is 21 April, 27 August in Scotland, so almost N. H. May Day, conflated with St Rufus for the "Summereve fair"... fairs at Lúnastal... clasping at straws here but the name speaks to this time, the harvest at the beginning of summer, before the Sun reaches full strength.

I hereafter name this moveable festival in early summer Summereve. Combining Valborg/ Bealltainn/ Lúnastal to mark the change of season and the reaping of the year's efforts. Celebrated with fire, bread, strawberries, champagne, and many thanks.

[kcalsforhim]

sunday 3 november 2024 - 𐙚 ˚🍰 ⋆｡˚⊹❀˖°

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calories : 665 steps : 5.1 k

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lunch : 3 edamame bean springrolls, sweet and sour sauce, tuna, cucumber dinner : beef, 2 edamame bean springrolls, sweet and sour sauce, cucumbers. 1 piece of low calorie banana brownies.

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this day was amazing even if i did eat alot because just in general i feel like i ate so clean and i drank so much water ? i pissed so much but its fine it helped me feel full. the edamame spring roll things are something my mom got for me and they were so yummy ! i really enjoyed them and i had them twice today because she made 6, and i ate 3 at first and 2 later since they themselves had one.

today i tried tuna out of a can for the first time, i dont like sushi tuna so this was worth a shot and i actually really liked it ! i had a little bit and im finishing the rest of the tuna tommorow... for dinner the way i had the exact same meal set up is crazy but i also had one of the low calorie brownies... slowly im finishing them cause i actually love them so fucking bad.

movement was meh, i had no work today thank the lord above for that and i went outside for bandaids because my hello kitty bandaids fell off and i have now 4 babybean cuts on my arm and im sorry but that does not need to be exposed to open air sigh... i barely got my steps in but atleast i did and tommorow im finally going to be walking more again.

tommorow ill be following a diet planner haku made for me, i also made him one. we both made altered diet plans for eachother, i gave him about 200 more than what i give myself (500-700 range instead of 500-600 or lower), and he just told me i should try to get above 600 for the whole week. im excited ! gym bro angel ???

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genuinely this song is so cute but it lowkey reminds me of spiraling into mental hell so far that i start freaking out and i just dont care and the mania takes over :3 hah

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