#there are a few points in that poem that are extremely difficult for me to personally stomach

[cherubchoirs]

Hey, fun fact! The stone tablet in 7-3 that has words written in blood on it has actual greek underneath it! It's a translation of a quote from the King James version of Revelation 9:6 "And in those days shall men seek death, and shall not find it; and shall desire to die, and death shall flee from them."

Lotta interesting implications!

YES it's very interesting!! putting the answer under a read more because of direct discussion of suicide in the inferno

it could be taken literally enough in the violence layer, especially in relation to enemies like the mannequin, given how their terminal entry claims death is a rare gift in hell - they want so much for it in their agonized forms, but they will never have it. additionally, it could be referring to the trees as their command is written over it and they are likely meant to correspond to the forest of the suicides in the inferno. the trees they have been trapped into are now fed by the blood of others, inert and unable to do anything but thrive in the horrors all around them. however, looking at where the quote is in the biblical narrative is interesting in itself - revelation 9 begins the three woes of the apocalypse, with this verse in particular ending the first paragraph describing the woe of the fifth trumpet. this is important imo because these woes are the final three trumpets of the apocalypse and are grouped together with a specific warning ("then i looked, and i heard an eagle crying with a loud voice, as it flew in midheaven, 'woe, woe, woe to those who dwell on the earth, at the blasts of the other trumpets which the three angels are about to blow!' revelation 8:13), they occur when the gates of hell are opened, and v1 is now in the three final layers. this game is reaching its climax, v1 is nearing the terminus of hell, and we have a scriptural quote that heralds the end of the apocalypse....we really are very near the end now.

[yuri-is-online]

You Simple Vile Monstrosity: Rook and the Flowers of Evil

My other two dumb history posts have at least a semblance of fun fact to them, but this is mostly going to be literary analysis and some theory. There's some interesting stuff here sure, but I don't really think it adds much to the overall landscape of twst theories. But it does make Rook make more sense to me so I am making this post anyway.

So without further ado, if you are like me and enjoy reading twst theories, you might know that the beginning lines of Twisted Wonderland are something we have been debating the meaning of since the game came out really. While I think we have been closing in on their true meaning as Chapter 7 progresses along, the phrase "Flowers of Evil" can actually refer to something specific: a french poetry collection of the same name (Les Fleurs du mal in french) by a poet name Charles Baudelaire originally published in 1857. The collection was extremely controversial, but today it is highly lauded and has inspired several other literary works, including a manga series by Shūzō Oshimi of the same name. I found out about the poetry collection while working on this request and finally finished reading it... and another essay by Baudelaire for reasons we can talk about later on in the post. For now let's talk poetry.

Beauté! 100 Points!

I don't speak french, so I read an English translation done by Aaron Poochigian that does contain the original french text in the back half of the book. The Flowers of Evil is split into seven-ish parts: The Flowers of Evil (just containing "To the Reader"), Spleen and the Ideal, Parisian Scenes, Wine, Flowers of Evil (again but with 12 poems this time), Revolt, and then Death. The sections are more or less organized by the subject of the poems, Spleen and the Ideal is the largest with Baudelaire musing over what the ideal concept of beauty is while Wine deals with getting drunk (on wine mostly if you can believe it.) One of the things that jumps out very quickly about Baudelaire's work is that his concept of beauty is almost synonymous with his concept of evil. He writes a lot about maggots eating corpses, about decay, he has a few poems that talk about vampires appearing to be the highest form of beauty but really being husks of rotted flesh; it's all very much about this acceptance that evil is a part of life and human nature, so therefore there must be beauty in it. The concept of "ideal beauty" must by it's nature be divorced from the concept of "morality." When Rook talks about the potential for Leona or Malleus to kill him and how beautiful that would be, I think he means the act of destruction itself would be beautiful. The circumstances surrounding it and the consequences of it are irrelevant to the concept; this is also why while he initially says he cannot find the crimson lotuses in GloMas beautiful Deuce accuses him of doing just that after everything is said and done. He cannot find beauty in Rollo's actions, but the visual and the fight are beautiful because of the effort he and the other students put in to stop them. And perhaps most importantly, it's why he is willing to drink Vil's poison and look upon what is supposedly ultimate ugliness and say "In this moment you are the fairest of them all." Because how could an act born out of such raw and genuine emotion be anything but?

Le Chasseur D'Armour, The Hunter of Love

Baudelaire wasn't just a poet, he fancied himself a critic and wrote multiple essays, the one I read for this post is The Painter of Modern Life. Which is actually a collection of several but they are all related, and I was directed to them by this wordpress post. In it, Baudelaire muses over how things can be both beautiful and ugly, and why:

"Beauty is made up of an eternal, invariable element, whose quantity it is excessively difficult to determine, and of a relative, circumstantial element... which severally or all at once, the age, its fashions, its morals, its emotions."

He was talking about fashion plates that depicted outdated costumes, but his point was more or less that if you strictly look at the design of the costume they look ridiculous: ugly. But when you take into account their historical value (these particular plates were all from the around the time of the French revolution) they become exceedingly important: beautiful. He also mentions in this same essay the importance of not just taking into account the opinions of so called "masters" and sneers at people who think they understand what is beautiful just because they have seen a painting done by a professional:

"... to declare that Raphael, or Racine, does not contain the whole secret, and that minor poets too have something good, solid and delightful to offer... that we might love general beauty, as it is expressed by classical poets and artists, we are no less wrong to neglect particular beauty, the beauty of circumstance and the sketch of manners."

In chapter 5, while helping Vil judge the auditions for VDC, Rook gives every audition 100 points because, well, in his mind they are all an example of perfect beauty specifically because they are the work of amateurs, and that is no less valuable to him or less worthy of praise that the work of the master. Now granted he clearly does value professional quality (he did have reasons for voting for Neige other than being a massive simp. Valid ones even if loosing does sting) but that's only in the context of strict rules and guidelines. When Rook is asked for his opinion, while he certainly does believe there is an absolute, academic definition beauty, he doesn't place any value on where that beauty comes from. Baudelaire muses over how human life "accidentally" puts mysterious beauty into the world, and the true appreciator of beauty must make himself not strictly a poet but:

"...an observer of life, and only later set himself the task of acquiring the means of expressing it... For most of us... the fantastic reality of life has become singularly diluted. [But he] never ceases to drink it in; his eyes and memories are full of it."

I strongly dislike suggesting in these posts that xyz is "the definitive reason" for why a character acts the way that he does, but I do think it is very interesting how well this describes Rook's ethos. He thinks of himself as a hunter, but in order to do that he needs to observe. Sure he takes it to exceptionally extreme lengths, but it makes him one of the most lively members of the NRC cast. Baudelaire is right, there are a million things about life we miss on a day to day basis wherein true beauty lies, but Rook sees all of it. His eyes, memories, camera, and secret photo albums are fit to burst with it.

My Noble and Beautiful Flower of Evil

I mentioned the opening text at the beginning of this post, and I stand by my interpretation that the phrase "flower of evil" it uses likely is not a specific reference to any of the poems themselves... beyond the obvious note that it is a collection of poems about finding beauty in, well, evil and most of the characters are based off of villains.

But there was something that started gnawing at me when I read the introduction to my translation, which was written by a poet named Dana Gioia. It was a very well written summary of Baudelaire's life and the significance of his work, but it mentioned a connection that I have seen brought up in twst theorizing before: Edgar Allen Poe.

You see, Baudelaire was obsessed with Poe. To the point that (according to the introduction) "He considered Poe a sacred martyr for art and referred to him as 'Saint Edgar.' In his morning devotions, Baudelaire prayed first to God and then to Poe."

I have nothing to say on that (because really what could you) but the point that Gioia wanted to make in that introduction was that Poe had a massive influence on Baudelaire's writing style. He wrote multiple essays on his work and translated them into French because he felt like Poe deserved the recognition, so while Gioia used this to argue that Poe's influence on Baudelaire shouldn't be underestimated...

I can't find the post, but someone was talking about how Malleus's mother's name Meleanor is very similar to "Lenore" and I recall people sort of brushing that connection off. I don't that name is a coincidence. I think the poem "Lenore" might very well have been something thought about when constructing her character, and that the themes in Poe's work might be very relevant to the overall story of Twisted Wonderland.

Something about ravens and telltale hearts just feels like they fit; maybe we have got it all wrong and Yuu's visions aren't coming from the mirror in Ramshackle, but the floorboards.

Semi- Unrelated Fun Facts:

If you read the name Baudelaire and thought to yourself it sounded familiar, you might have be thinking of the Baudelaire children from A Series of Unfortunate Events. This isn't exactly a coincidence as the author of the series admits to his writing being heavily influenced by Charles Baudelaire to the point he actually wrote the afterword to the translation I own.

Dana Gioia is the former Poet Laureate of the state of California, something that deeply confused me. Apparently the Governor of California appoints someone to a 2 year term and they travel around the state to promote poetry and literacy which is apparently something that 46/50 U.S. states and D.C. does to????

My glorious motherland of Pennsylvania is not one of these states, apparently we only ever appointed one, then eliminated the position entirely after he retired, and then started just. Handing out ones to people in individual cities and counties. Which is so par for the course here I don't know why I am surprised.

One of the first things any college level literature course will try to drill into you is that you don't examine the life of an author when examining their work. It might sound silly, but I think Baudelaire is a great example of why that's important. The man was addicted to drugs and sex, refused to get a "real job", lived off his inheritance from his wealthy father and eventually whatever money he could convince his mother to send him his entire adult life, and had her use her political connections to bail him out of legal trouble multiple times.

If I thought too hard about that it would make his lines in "Skeleton Laborers" (Nothingness is treacherous.//Even Death is a deceiver.//Alas, forever and ever,//work may be awaiting us) fall terribly flat, which I think does them a disservice. The man was very talented and I am glad he wrote them because I felt very seen when I read them.

Baudelaire opened his publication with a note to the reader, but he made it a full poem entitled "To the Reader." I liked the ending stanza so much I used a version of it to title my blog, and eventually my current masterlist: (Boredom! Moist-eyed, he dreams, while pulling on//a hookah pipe, of guillotine-cleft necks.//You, reader, know this tender freak of freaks-//hypocrite reader-mirror-man-mytwin!)

Likewise the title of this post is also taken from part of a poem, "Hymn to Beauty" (Beauty, you simple, vile monstrosity,//I cannot care about your origin,//provided that your gaze, smile, feet show me//a sweet infinity I have never known.) I think that fits Rook's ideals rather well, don't you?

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

Puts out a new nice poem and then releases music video with assault scene in it during thia not so good for him times... Till really is something else.

what follows is my personal opinion, so feel free to disagree entirely:

With regards to the video i'm withholding judgment until i've seen the entire thing in context. Ofcourse the one scene they put in the teaser is there to provoke, and i'd say he succeeded. But remember Rammstein's Deutschland video when the one bit that was used as teaser was of the WWII prisoners and loads of people were ready to critique them of being insensitive (at best) (and i'm sure some still do), but in the context of the complete video i would say it was actually a real honest depiction of German history and showed a vital part of that (and even more interesting, it showed that people were inprisoned or killed for various reasons, which is the raw truth, although a truth that Germany has had a difficult time to come to terms with, and Rammstein hit the sore spot).

We know the dreadlock hairdo from photos Till's friend accidently (?) leaked at the time, and that was before the allegations stuff, but in theory it is possible that a video was shot at the time, but that it was reshot more recently to change the narrative (maybe as a reaction to the allegations), and unless we see the whole thing, we don't know the message it wants to convey.

The poem is interesting to me, because, apart from art being open to interpretation, and we don't have (and probably won't get) Till's own comment on what he intended with it. But at some points during the last months i may have had the feeling that Till wasn't bothered or had a 'FU' attitude to what happened. At the very least during the few bits i had seen from his tour (but as you may know, Till's imagery in his solowork is not my thing) he seemed to continue in the same vein as before and possibly provocatively announcing holding after-parties etc; again, it could be interpreted as a FU...

Well the poem, to me, shows that it does bother him, and that it gets to him. Maybe the fact that people again painted slogans somewhere in his neighbourhood recently, still not letting go of the allegations and now he got back to Berlin after the tour and saw it with his own eyes, was the proverbial 'final straw' that prompted him to write the poem... maybe he already made the poem months ago...don't know.

What is interesting to me too, is that the allegations stuff is often attributed to politically speaking 'left-wing' inclined people; and slogans that are used are usually targetted at 'right-wing' others. But we know for a fact that Rammstein as a whole and Till too are, well, officially political, but if we would *have* to 'label' them, it would be decidedly 'left-wing'. I've felt more than once, that actually the phrases used and actions done by the accusers (and their hangers-on) are going to extremes that actually tend to loop back towards the other end of the political spectrum. The accusations without proof, the cancel culture...isn't it really the same as silencing people because of their beliefs or way of life that happens in Right-wing society? If everything in life is a circle, if you go to the extreme left, don't you run the risk of unintentionally becoming extreme right yourself?

The phrase in the poem"Rot wird braun" (Red becomes brown) reminds me a lot of Left-wing (often represented with color red) turning into Right-wing (especially in 1930/1940's Germany the color of Right wing politics)...and although it is just my interpretation, i wouldn't be surprised if Till made that connection too.

Of all of Till's solowork, i appreciate his poetry the most, and this is no exception.

And the poem sparked my interest in the video more than before i read it, so it will be interesting to see the whole 🌺

[serial-serializednovelreader]

Nova's Notes - North and South Weekly - Chapter 5

In which Margaret has to make yet more decisions...

"'I ask Thee for a thoughtful love, Through constant watching wise, To meet the glad with joyful smiles, And to wipe the weeping eyes; And a heart at leisure from itself To soothe and sympathise.' Anon."

I feel like this poem embodies Margaret's hopes and prayers during this chapter: to not just be happy at the good times, but to also wash away the bad times and soothe others when needed. Unfortunately, we can't say the same for her parents.

"Margaret made a good listener to all her mother’s little plans for adding some small comforts to the lot of the poorest parishioners. She could not help listening, though each new project was a stab to her heart."

Speaking of, even though she's just had a very difficult conversation with her father, she still does her best to be a sympathizing ear for her mother...yet again. Though this time it's even more painful because her mother is talking of a future they can't have anymore. What's also interesting about this passage is that we get to see Mrs. Hale taking an active interest in the parishioners! I know before I said she didn't seem to care about the parishioners, but I'm so glad this proves me wrong!!! It's sad that Margaret has to hear this though :(

“'Oh, mamma, let us do all we can,' said Margaret eagerly, not seeing the prudential side of the question, only grasping at the idea that they were rendering such help for the last time; 'we may not be here long.' 'Do you feel ill, my darling?' asks Mrs. Hale, anxiously, misunderstanding Margaret’s hint of the uncertainty of their stay at Helstone. 'You look pale and tired. It is this soft, damp, unhealthy air.'”

Nooooo Mrs. Hale that's not what she means 😭😭😭😭 I can understand why she jumped to such an extreme conclusion, though. Especially because Mrs. Hale is an anxious person and there's not much room for outside interpretation (unless Mr. Hale was getting a promotion, but he would've told her that, right? Haha, about that...).

"To soothe her mother’s anxiety she submitted to a basin of gruel. She was lying languidly in bed when Mrs. Hale came up to make some last inquiries and kiss her before going to her own room for the night."

Her mom giving her a kiss goodnight :((( I love that we're getting to see a tender side to Mrs. Hale and how she cares for Margaret for once!! It's just sad we won't see this dynamic for long...

"That morning when she had looked out, her heart had danced at seeing the bright clear lights on the church tower, which foretold a fine and sunny day. This evening—sixteen hours at most had past by—she sat down, too full of sorrow to cry, but with a cold dull pain, which seemed to have pressed the youth and buoyancy out of her heart, never to return. Mr. Henry Lennox’s visit—his offer—was like a dream, a thing beside her actual life."

How much of a lifetime has passed between this morning and evening! And wow, you know it's bad when Lennox's offer seems like a dream -- a good one? -- at this point when she was feeling horribly sad and guilty about that just a few hours ago! It makes sense, though. I can understand why even something she associated with uncomfortable thoughts could seem like such a dream now -- because, beyond her own feelings, it didn't affect her livelihood. She was still able to be herself, albeit a little shaken. Now, though? Her entire worldview has been shaken. She feels like the very youth has been sucked out of her.

"She looked out upon the dark-grey lines of the church towers, square and straight in the centre of the view, cutting against the deep blue transparent depths beyond, into which she gazed, and felt that she might gaze for ever, seeing at every moment some farther distance, and yet no sign of God! It seemed to her at the moment, as if the earth was more utterly desolate than if girt in by an iron dome, behind which there might be the ineffaceable peace and glory of the Almighty: those never-ending depths of space, in their still serenity, were more mocking to her than any material bounds could be—shutting in the cries of earth’s sufferers, which now might ascend into that infinite splendour of vastness and be lost—lost for ever, before they reached His throne."

And now, like her father, she too is having doubts of faith. While we haven't seen her religious side, I believe this shows how much her father's doubts have caused her own. After all, I imagine much of Margaret's foundational knowledge of faith would've come from her father: if he "falters", what is she to do? I think this is also her version of coming to terms with her own grief. Looking out her window and seeing the same view is almost mocking to her now. I think it's much the same feeling as when you go through the loss of a loved one and are surprised/annoyed to find the world is spinning just fine and others around you are enjoying their day, as if they don't care about your own woes. As if your world wasn't shattered.

Her father, somehow sensing her mood, joins her and offers to say the Lord's Prayer. She does and thinks:

"God was there, close around them, hearing her father’s whispered words. Her father might be a heretic; but had not she, in her despairing doubts not five minutes before, shown herself a far more utter sceptic? She spoke not a word, but stole to bed after her father had left her, like a child ashamed of its fault. If the world was full of perplexing problems she would trust, and only ask to see the one step needful for the hour."

Again, we see Margaret using self-reflection to put her father's perspective in a light she can understand and, in turn, empathize with. While her wordage was harsh (unless he would be actually considered a heretic, which I couldn't find evidence for -- if he's in good standing with the church, I don't believe it's heresy, though I could be wrong). While I wish her father had given her more words of comfort and empathy, I guess it's good she's able to take a little comfort in this -- though she seems more guilty and ashamed than anything.

"Mr. Lennox—his visit, his proposal—the remembrance of which had been so rudely pushed aside by the subsequent events of the day—haunted her dreams that night. He was climbing up some tree of fabulous height to reach the branch whereon was slung her bonnet: he was falling and she was struggling to save him, but held back by some invisible powerful hand. He was dead. And yet, with a shifting of the scene, she was once more in the Harley Street drawing-room, talking to him as of old, and still with a consciousness all the time that she had seen him killed by that terrible fall."

Oh no!!! A product of her anxious mind, this dream indicates to me that she feels that things are unresolved with Henry (which they obviously are, they did not depart on great terms). I got a lot of symbolism from this one! Henry being in a tall tree trying to reach her bonnet represents his feelings and the lengths he will go to in order to show her how much he cares. Perhaps this is something he did for her before, but now she remembers it in a new light -- and in this dream, it's more exaggerated -- because she knows there was a motive she didn't know of behind the action. But then, something new happens: he falls. This could represent the proposal itself or -- more likely -- just her anxiety of something happening to him before they can resolve their conflict. She wants to help, but an invisible force keeps her back: her own doubts/inability to accept the proposal, or just the usual paralysis in a dream. And then...he's dead. She couldn't save him. I can see this representing the death of the "old" Henry -- the one she was friends with, without the pressure or stress of knowing his feelings. Or, again, it could simply represent her inner worry something will happen to him before they can go back to their friendship.

Suddenly, she's with him again in Harley Street (a familiar setting, before she knew the anxieties of her family) and they're chatting like old times again. However, in the back of her mind, she's still thinking about his death that she just witnessed. If we take my proposal interpretation of the dream, I think this could symbolize her thinking ahead to the future, where she'll have to talk with Henry again (if she's able to visit London/Harley Street), but always thinking of the fact she refused his proposal while being unable to acknowledge it. This is made more likely by Henry doing just that (acting as if he didn't propose to her and all was normal) that same day, right after she rejected him!

Needless to say, she is not refreshed the next morning and she is not encouraged at breakfast. Mr. Hale announces his plans for the day. She knows what this means:

"By seven the announcement must be made to her mother. Mr. Hale would have delayed making it, but Margaret was of different stuff. She could not bear the impending weight on her mind all day long: better get the worst over; the day would be too short to comfort her mother."

I love to see this contrast between her and her father!!! I also love Gaskell for creating a character who doesn't delay bad news in a sea of procrastinator characters (I say, making this post almost a week late. No hate to procrastinators, but I still stand by this!). :D

"Her eye caught on a bee entering a deep-belled flower: when that bee flew forth with his spoil she would begin—that should be the sign. Out he came."

I love that she does this to make herself tell her mother. It gives us a taste of how hard this is for her -- and is also relatable. I've done something similar before to start a difficult conversation.

Sh breaks the news in the most blunt way possible. Mrs. Hale denies it at first, asking where she's gotten this impression:

“'Papa himself,' said Margaret, longing to say something gentle and consoling, but literally not knowing how."

Oh, Margaret 😭😭😭😭 I can't help but see this in a neurodivergent lens. She wants to be the comforting presence her mother needs, but in this, she can't: she's too blunt. NDs often come across as "blunt" and have difficulty expressing their emotions in a way that is expected of them. This especially comes into play when trying to comfort someone...it can often come across as "unsympathetic" or "rude" when it's usually a matter of being unable to express the emotion or not feeling it in the moment, not an intentional act of malice (as some may think). I appreciate that Gaskell notes this as Margaret not knowing how to express comfort to her mother rather than just noting she was blunt in her expression!

“'I don’t think it can be true,' said Mrs. Hale, at length. 'He would surely have told me before it came to this.' It came strongly upon Margaret’s mind that her mother ought to have been told: that whatever her faults of discontent and repining might have been, it was an error in her father to have left her to learn his change of opinion, and his approaching change of life, from her better-informed child. Margaret sat down by her mother, and took her unresisting head on her breast, bending her own soft cheeks down caressingly to touch her face."

Ouch. Yes, he should have told you about it, Mrs. Hale, and the fact that she thinks that tells me she wanted her husband to come to her about these concerns. She believed in the foundation of their marriage. I imagine that foundation is a little shaken now.

Margaret is thinking exactly what I've been saying!!! Couldn't have said it better myself (though I suppose I tried lol). I also love that since Margaret can't offer verbal comfort to her mother -- at first -- she offers her comfort through physical touch.

Throughout the rest of this difficult conversation, I notice that Margaret does whatever she can to both ease her mother’s worries and attempt to put her father in the best light: neither task is easy, but I think she is able to guide the conversation in the way she wants fairly successfully. However, her mother is steadfast that Milton will be worse for them than Helstone ever was — not a promising start. Margaret is glad her mother is focusing on anxieties of the future rather than her father’s coverup. Especially ones Margaret can help on.

To me, this whole conversation shows that Margaret is very in-tune with her mother. She knows how to navigate the pitfalls of her worries and what to say to mitigate them into other worries. We know that her mother always needs something to worry about, so Margaret is good at steering her towards thoughts of what their future will look like. While this doesn’t quite cover up what her father did, it’s better — for now — for Mrs. Hale to be more worried about furniture removal plans (which Margaret can step in on) rather than fixating on why her husband wouldn’t have told her about his doubts sooner (which she said she would’ve “nipped in the bud” — both Margaret and I don’t find this encouraging, and I doubt Margaret can give much clarity as to why Mr. Hale covered this up without added distress). The fact that Margaret feels so much relief afterwards tells me that her mother can be unpredictable, so she wasn’t quite sure if she would be able to soothe her anxieties in the way she had hoped for.

“Throughout the day Margaret never left her mother; bending her whole soul to sympathise in all the various turns her feelings took; towards evening especially, as she became more and more anxious that her father should find a soothing welcome home awaiting him, after his return from his day of fatigue and distress. She dwelt upon what he must have borne in secret for long; her mother only replied coldly that he ought to have told her, and that then at any rate he would have had an adviser to give him counsel; and Margaret turned faint at heart when she heard her father’s step in the hall. She dared not go to meet him, and tell him what she had done all day, for fear of her mother’s jealous annoyance.”

Yikes! This sounds like a very emotionally draining day for Margaret and a very stressful wait for her father. Again, her being the mediator between these two is not a healthy dynamic and I feel for her being caught in the middle.

“Presently he opened the room-door, and stood there uncertain whether to come in. His face was gray and pale; he had a timid fearful look in his eyes; something almost pitiful to see in a man’s face; but that look of despondent uncertainty, of mental and bodily languor, touched his wife’s heart. She went to him, and threw herself on his breast, crying out:—

“‘Oh! Richard, Richard, you should have told me sooner!’

“And then, in tears, Margaret left her, as she rushed up stairs to throw herself on her bed, and hide her face in the pillows to stifle the hysteric sobs that would force their way out at last, after the rigid self-control of the whole day.”

A happy (or, at least, an emotional) resolution for the married couple, after all! It is actually good to see Mrs. Hale moved by her husband’s expression. We’ve heard she married for love, but now we get to see it.

However, it’s not so easy for Margaret. She’s had to keep in her emotions all day and be a caregiver. She knows now that she needs to leave her parents to their own devices (finally, they’re communicating!!!) and in turn, she can be alone to let her emotions out. I can only imagine what it’s like to have held in tears for that long, and it’s no wonder Gaskell uses the word “hysteric” to describe the sobs she releases after all that time kept in. I don’t know how many times I’m going to keep saying it this chapter, but poor Margaret!!! Playing the role of caregiver is hard, especially when you’re not accustomed to it and you’re not supposed to be in that role in the first place. :(

A housemaid alerts Dixon to Margaret’s crying, which….I have mixed feelings about. The maid is worried about her catching an illness, which I’m fairly sure was an actual concern at the time, but like — let her cry??? She’s had a bad day :/

So Dixon comes in and Margaret has to act as if she’s been asleep rather than crying…

“‘I’m sure I don’t know what is to become of us all. When Charlotte told me just now you were sobbing, Miss Hale, I thought, no wonder, poor thing! And master thinking of turning Dissenter at his time of life, when, if it is not to be said he’s done well in the Church, he’s not done badly after all. I had a cousin, miss, who turned Methodist preacher after he was fifty years of age, and a tailor all his life; but then he had never been able to make a pair of trousers to fit, for as long as he had been in the trade, so it was no wonder; but for master! as I said to missus, ‘What would poor Sir John have said? he never liked your marrying Mr. Hale, but if he could have known it would have come to this, he would have sworn worse oaths than ever, if that was possible!’’”

Ooooh, ok, that’s not good. Dixon, learn to know your audience! She even said such things to Mrs. Hale?? Is this the best time to pull “I told you so”s about the marriage?? I also noticed that Mrs. Hale sometimes just…straight up tunes Dixon out if she’s not in the humor to listen to her rants about Mr. Hale:

“Dixon had been so much accustomed to comment upon Mr. Hale’s proceedings to her mistress (who listened to her, or not, as she was in the humour)”

This tells me that she doesn’t always listen to Dixon either — which is good! She shouldn’t! Unless a partner is straight up doing terrible things or is horrible to you, listening to people like Dixon can poison a marriage -- even though she comes from a place of love and compassion for Mrs. Hale. That’s the funny thing — I may not agree with these characters' methods, but as to their motivations — I think they all have had good intentions so far. That's what makes this book so compelling However, in this instance, there’s a time and place to voice your concerns and Dixon is not picking the right time and place.

“‘Dixon,’ she said, in the low tone she always used when much excited, which had a sound in it as of some distant turmoil, or threatening storm breaking far away. ‘Dixon! you forget to whom you are speaking.’ She stood upright and firm on her feet now, confronting the waiting-maid, and fixing her with her steady discerning eye. ‘I am Mr. Hale’s daughter. Go! You have made a strange mistake, and one that I am sure your own good feeling will make you sorry for when you think about it.’”

And here we see Margaret pushed to her limit and…it’s really cool to see! She may not do this for herself, but for her family? Yep, that’s her at her haughtiest and most authoritative. I honestly can’t even blame her! If someone was talking crap about my dad, even if it had some truth to it, I would also do a set down like this, though I hate conflict. Thinking about it, I wonder if she would do the same to all of us if she knew we were also saying things about her dad’s actions that were perhaps not putting him in the best light….hm.

My honest reaction if Margaret set me down:

For real, though, there is something to be said about the dynamic between Margaret and Dixon. Dixon is a servant in Margaret’s home and this creates an obvious power imbalance, as there is a class gap between the two. On the other side of it, Dixon is paid a wage and is an employee of the Hale household. It’s a pretty clear unspoken rule that you don’t take smack about your boss, especially to said boss’s daughter while you’re on duty and if that person is close to them. It’s made pretty clear that Dixon knows not to do this kind of thing in front of Margaret because she knows how close the two of them are: she was just still in “I’m talking to Mrs. Hale” mode.

So, who’s in the “right” here? I want to lean towards Margaret — as she’s the protagonist, she’s had a hard day, and I can’t blame her for defending her family — but her initial thought when Dixon spoke out is she couldn't believe the audacity of a “servant” speaking to her like that. I think if she were to set someone down a similar if there were of a higher rank, that would be fine, but only a servant? That’s when the waters start to become murky: in my opinion, at least. I believe part of her arc will be treating the working class better, so I hope to see this improve! In the meantime, Dixon also needs to improve her attitude towards Mr. Hale, because it is also something that is not helping anyone in the household, especially not in this situation. Plus, there’s also the fact that some of this anger against Mr. Hale isn’t just out of love for Mrs. Hale: it’s also just a grudge against Mr. Hale for being less wealthy than she wanted him to be. So, that kind of motivation isn’t entirely selfless either.

“From henceforth Dixon obeyed and admired Margaret. She said it was because she was so like poor Master Frederick; but the truth was, that Dixon, as do many others, liked to feel herself ruled by a powerful and decided nature.”

Does she like to be ruled, or has that just been her conditioning as a servant? It is interesting that standing up to Dixon caused her to admire Margaret rather than resent her, only because she did it so absolutely and with such authority. I do know there are some people who respect you more if you stand up to them and it might just be a case of that — so I guess it’s that!

“A fortnight was a very short time to make arrangements for so serious a removal; as Dixon said, ‘Anyone but a gentleman—indeed almost any other gentleman—‘ but catching a look at Margaret’s straight, stern brow just here, she coughed the remainder of the sentence away, and meekly took the horehound drop that Margaret offered her, to stop the ‘little tickling at my chest, miss.’ But almost any one but Mr. Hale would have had practical knowledge enough to see, that in so short a time it would be difficult to fix on any house in Milton-Northern, or indeed elsewhere, to which they could remove the furniture that had of necessity been taken out of Helstone Vicarage.”

It is a little funny to see the visual of Dixon trying to disparage Mr. Hale’s life choices, Margaret hitting her with a glare, and Dixon trying to “cough” it off. However, Dixon — while saying it the wrong way — is right. The narrative even confirms she’s right. Mr. Hale giving them a fortnight to move to a whole new town is an almost impossible task! If he had told everyone sooner….

Again the issue is raised: should Dixon be allowed to complain about Mr. Hale? In private, sure. After all, as an employee/servant, Dixon has to bear some of the responsibility and consequences of Mr. Hale’s choice (which is mainly taking care of Mrs. Hale, who is sick with stress). It’s fair to be a bit grumbly about having to pack up an entire household in two weeks!

The problem is, Dixon has to be around someone she can’t complain to, something she is unused to. So, she keeps her silence, almost using it as a tool of “affront” towards Margaret — though I doubt Margaret takes notice or minds much. If she’s willing to give Margaret a “cold shoulder” treatment, this tells me that Dixon is not worried about losing her place in the household. While Margaret is coming into her own and an authority of the household, I don’t think Dixon feels threatened to be fired by Margaret.

And on Margaret’s side, silencing uncomfortable truths you don’t want to hear (while, yes, said in a slanderous way), is not the most healthy thing for her here. She needs to acknowledge that her dad is making a choice that has consequences, and those who have to deal with those consequences should have the right to complain (at least, I think so). Just because someone is a servant doesn’t mean they don’t have valid complaints.

In her defense, though, that’s also her dad Dixon is insulting and she is insulting him here. Her reasoning for silencing the complaints could also be a) lowering the general dissent in the household (which is valid) b) avoiding further distress of her parents (who could be in the vicinity) c) wanting to relieve her own stress (listening to others complain is exhausting) and d) she knows complaining will solve nothing (and if she could stop her mother’s complaining, she probably would!).

If any of the above reasons were nailed down as to why she silences Dixon here, I would probably just go “girlboss!!! What a queen!!!”, but I still can’t get the whole “audacity of that servant!” thing out of my head and I think it needs to be acknowledged again. Still, I can’t blame her for wanting to set someone down for insulting her father. In other words, like everything in this book, it’s nuanced.

“So many arrangements depended on this precision that Margaret resolved to ask her father one evening, in spite of his evident fatigue and low spirits. He answered:

“‘My dear! I have really had too much to think about to settle this. What does your mother say? What does she wish? Poor Maria!’”

?????????????????? Mr. Hale….you can’t…you can’t just pull a “I’m too busy” here. Like??? Take some responsibility for your actions, man!!!

And then he gets upset when he learns that Mrs. Hale is sick from stress! Like, yeah, that’s bad…but what else did he expect springing this on her at the last possible minute, only giving her two weeks to leave their home of twenty(?) years? And now, his daughter — who is trying to plan this ENTIRE move because he’s currently just saying goodbye to everyone and seeming to not do much to help — asks him for help, and all he can say is, “I can’t think about that right now”? I’d be SO pissed!!!!!

Mr. Hale right now:

See, I have trouble feeling sympathy for him when he does things like this. He hasn’t even found a house for them to live in yet!!!!! What kind of fathe—*gets tackled by Margaret*

I regret nothing.

Anyway…

“Now, since that day when Mr. Lennox came, and startled her into a decision, every day brought some question, momentous to her, and to those whom she loved, to be settled.”

As the old adage goes, “when it rains, it pours.” Doesn’t it always seem like one life-changing event triggers off a series of others? If Margaret was allowed to pass this weight on to her parents, this wouldn’t be such an issue, but the fact of the matter is that she’s forced to bear the brunt of this responsibility all on her own — and that’s tough!!! I wonder if she imagines Mr. Lennox’s offer changing their circumstances any: it wouldn’t have, likely. As many of you have pointed out, he himself is struggling and was honestly relying on her to be the rich one in the relationship — so I highly doubt it. Honestly, this might have made this whole thing harder if she had accepted his offer, because then she would’ve had to explain them moving and the reason behind it…I don’t know if that would’ve gone well. Still, inwardly she may have wondered if she has doomed her family by refusing to marry him, though I hope not!

"'I have hit upon such a beautiful plan. Look here—in Darkshire, hardly the breadth of my finger from Milton, is Heston, which I have often heard of from people living in the north as such a pleasant little bathing-place. Now, don’t you think we could get mamma there with Dixon, while you and I go and look at houses, and get one all ready for her in Milton? She would get a breath of sea air to set her up for the winter, and be spared all the fatigue, and Dixon would enjoy taking care of her.'”

Another great idea from the problem-solving queen!!!! This is probably the only way this move can work, if we're honest. Heston has good air and allows for Mrs. Hale's comfort. Plus, it gives them the time they need to find a home. It's genuinely a good plan!

“'Is Dixon to go with us?' asked Mr. Hale, in a kind of helpless dismay. “'Oh, yes!” said Margaret. 'Dixon quite intends it, and I don’t know what mamma would do without her.' “'But we shall have to put up with a very different way of living, I am afraid. Everything is so much dearer in a town. I doubt if Dixon can make herself comfortable. To tell you the truth, Margaret, I sometimes feel as if that woman gave herself airs.' “'To be sure she does, papa,' replied Margaret; 'and if she has to put up with a different style of living, we shall have to put up with her airs, which will be worse. But she really loves us all, and would be miserable to leave us, I am sure—especially in this change; so, for mamma’s sake, and for the sake of her faithfulness, I do think she must go.' “'Very well, my dear. Go on. I am resigned.'"

LOLLLLLL, ok, I have to admit Mr. Hale pulling a whiny "do we haaaaaveee to" about bringing Dixon is pretty funny. I can't totally blame him -- would you want the servant that constantly bad mouths you to go on this trip AND be left alone with your wife to bad mouth you some more?

However, let's get serious here. Um, yes!!! Of course they're bringing Dixon and here's why (other than just what Margaret says):

Mrs. Hale doesn't need any more change in her life -- look at how stressed she already is. How much more stressed do you think she will be if Dixon -- her maid of so many years -- is forced to stay behind?

Someone needs to take care of Mrs. Hale. Dixon is the obvious choice. While Dixon disses Mr. Hale like there's no tomorrow, she is so loyal to Mrs. Hale it's not even funny! And, this is important to note, Margaret could stay behind with her mother -- in theory -- but considering the fact that Mr. Hale won't even decide something as simple as where to move furniture, I doubt he would be able to decide on a home. Margaret no longer trusts him to make big decisions in their lives -- she's determined now to be a part of the process. That's not a great look for Mr. Hale.

Experience. Who knows if the other maids know how to handle a move? We know Dixon does, because she did so once before: when Mrs. Hale was married. It might not be a super big difference, but it's good to have someone who can adjust to this kind of change fast.

Considering Mr. Hale hasn't been around to make decisions, should he even get a say on wether Dixon comes along or not? Technically, he does, as head of the household, but in my heart...NOPE. He lost his chance on decisions a while ago. Either step up, or step out of the way.

I also love that Margaret stands up for Dixon and confirms she loves the family! They may be at odds, but she is still a part of them.

Mr. Hale asks how far Heston is from Milton and she replies it's thirty miles -- not far! Mr. Hale starts to reply that it's not far in miles, but fair in....something (he cuts himself off). This indicates to me that he's going to miss his wife!! Which is super sweet! I won't even pull a "consequences of action" thing...this time. Count yourself lucky, Mr. Hale.

"And now Mrs. Hale could rouse herself from her languor, and forget her real suffering in thinking of the pleasure and the delight of going to the sea-side. Her only regret was that Mr. Hale could not be with her all the fortnight she was to be there, as he had been for a whole fortnight once, when they were engaged, and she was staying with Sir John and Lady Beresford at Torquay."

Awww, Mrs. Hale feels the same way!!! Also very sweet. It's sad they have to be separated, but that's the way it has to be for a while. I also think it's sweet that this makes her think of their engagement days: maybe that will help in the days to come.

That's all for this chapter: excited to see what happens tomorrow!

[kradogsrats]

OKAY so the meat of Neither Crows Nor Eagles is actually “Lissa and Kpp’Ar tag-team through the Titan Heart arc WAY better than Viren navigated it on his own” and yeah that’s gonna take approximately forever to write

but I still just wanted to post a little chunk that resembles “done” because a) idek man it makes me stupid happy, and b) I swear to god that three stanzas mimicking the Midnight Star poem structure might have been the single most difficult thing I’ve ever experienced writing, please look at it and feel the pain it caused my soul

—

Lissa spent days scouring the library—histories, sagas, ancient poetry. Even a few tomes on magic that looked somewhat comprehensible.

In the end, she stumbled upon what she was looking for almost by accident. An otherwise extremely dry analysis of settlement distribution across the area of what would eventually become Katolis made an unusual reference to a contemporary heroic lay, which sent her after several collections of pre-kingdoms era poetry, seeking to identify the original verse. As she paged through the fourth of the half-dozen volumes the librarian retrieved for her, a handful of stanzas from an unrelated, even earlier poem caught her eye. 

"It's about an early human queen, referred to only as 'Bone-crowned,'" she told Kpp'Ar, back at his house. "It's not clear whether or not she really existed—the whole story may be a metaphor for fallen Elarion, to express human suffering and grief after the expulsion."

"Spare me the senseless academic waffling," Kpp'Ar grumbled, flapping a hand at her. He bent over the text. "It doesn’t matter whether the individual existed, as long as the spellcraft is sound."

Lissa pointed out the stanzas in question. "Here. It’s not much, unfortunately."

Unbowed queen, with harden’d heart, no traitor’s rule left in her stead. Cast from her throne and crowned with bone, her people to the wilds she led.

Exiled queen, with pow'r undimmed, an ebon gaze swept o'er the waste. In barren ground no seed was found, both root and stalk by blight erased. 

Wand'ring queen, with children frail, faced winter's bite and hunger's sting. 'Til warmth of Earth drew bounty forth, growth like unto most tend'r spring.

Kpp'Ar frowned, thick brows knit together. "Actually, this is quite promising," he conceded. “Workable, even.”

"How? It doesn't look much like a spell.”

"Did you expect a shopping list? The reagent and incantation would have been closely-guarded secrets, particularly for a working of this scale. But there are signs." He tapped a stanza. "Here—a reagent of the Earth primal, that brings the warmth of a second spring to the land."

She thought back to what little she remembered of primal sources lore. It came up far less often as poetic imagery during the later eras she was more familiar with. "Wouldn't warmth come from the Sun primal?"

"Do you know of many plants that grow better when on fire? No," he answered himself testily, not waiting for her response, "the spell would require the vitality and fertility of Earth. Think of the heat of a beating heart, not a lit flame."

He went to one of the bookshelves and selected several thick tomes. Lissa peered curiously at the pages as he flipped through one of them—it appeared to be some manner of reference text, cataloging properties of Xadian flora and fauna. Some entries he dismissed without a second glance, including several forms of dragon, but others he reviewed more carefully before moving on.

She watched as he muttered over the pages, absorbed to the point of having forgotten her presence. His shaggy hair fell across his face as he bent his head to examine a diagram in detail, and he pushed it back impatiently, tousling the pale streaks that raked through it like skeletal fingers. 

Bone-crowned, she thought. She was less familiar with stories from the pre-Katolis region than those of her homeland, but she recalled the queen’s tale as being one primarily of betrayal and bloody retribution. The grisly crown was usually depicted as wrought from her enemies’ remains, growing more elaborate as she continued to exact her revenge. If the epithet instead described a natural coloration—it posed significant challenge to certain assumptions. Not even to mention the question of when the popular perception had changed, and how.

She wondered if anyone had published a monograph on the topic, yet. Maybe she’d write one. Assuming there was any interest in scholarship remaining after famine ravaged the kingdoms.

"Here," Kpp’Ar said abruptly, startling her out of her thoughts. He smoothed the open page with his hand. "This is a possibility."

The illustration showed a hulking creature of rock, man-like in its shape and stance, but without recognizable features. Deep fissures ran over its craggy surface, and its gaping maw hung open in a ferocious bellow.

“A magma titan,” Kpp’Ar explained. “Uncommon, but not unheard of, particularly in the volcanic wastelands near the border. Its heart, for lack of a better term, is a massive crystal of concentrated magic. Potentially enough to restore Duren’s fields to flourishing, and spur them to produce before winter.”

Hope—real hope—swelled in Lissa’s chest, lifting away some of the smothering dread that had weighed her down since Sarai admitted the dire situation. “You think it can be done?”

“Perhaps.” He drummed his fingers against the page, still frowning. "Unfortunately, magma titans are quite difficult to kill. It will take a dozen soldiers, at the least. Maybe two."

Lissa’s fragile bubble of hope crashed back to earth. "There's no way that many can march into Xadia. It would be seen as an act of war—that's the last thing we need."

"Indeed. Which is why they must not be seen."

"If magic could sneak an army over the border, it would have been done centuries ago." She hesitated. It seemed like common sense, but there was a lot she didn’t know about magic. “Right?”

“Conjuring illusions that deceive normal beings is trivial, but dark magic does little against the senses of an archdragon,” he confirmed. "Which is why I'm proposing speed, not spells. Cross, hunt the titan, and return in a single night. The most time-consuming part is locating a target—my presence will speed that step significantly."

It took Lissa a moment to register what he'd said. "You?" she exclaimed, a wave of mingled disbelief and dismay rising in her.

Kpp'Ar cast a look at her, brows raised. "You know someone else who can perform a tracking spell?"

"No, but—" She grimaced. Until now, the entire prospect had been, if not academic, then at least abstract. It was one thing to think about a dozen unnamed soldiers venturing into Xadia after a monstrous creature, but entirely another to imagine Kpp'Ar—who seemed to hold all the brittle frailty of ancient parchment, ready to crumble at a touch—doing the same. He had not, to the best of her knowledge, left his home in years, save for the morning Viren died. She remembered him blinking owlishly in the sunlight, stumbling after her through the streets.

She remembered how his hands shook when he’d touched Viren’s lifeless body. So, so gently.

“Couldn’t you do it from here? Or this side of the border, at least?” she finished weakly.

“Not accurately. To track a specific individual using a direct sample, maybe—but a broad specimen match requires proximity. There's also a chance the spell will need to be refreshed multiple times, depending on how far away the target is revealed to be.”

He closed the book, looking down at his hands resting on its cover. “This plan cannot be executed without a mage. Not quickly enough to make a difference.”

Lissa had nothing she could say to that. Neither Katolis nor Duren had a high mage to take responsibility. Seeking outside aid risked widespread panic—a single kingdom’s choice to hoard and isolate rather than stand together could bring the collapse of centuries of peace. 

“Contrary to what you may believe, there are things I care deeply for. People, both present snd gone,” Kpp’Ar said quietly. "We both know he would go without hesitation, if he were here.”

His hands curled into fists against the book. “He’s not, and I am. It is what it is.”

Lissa opened her mouth to somehow protest further, then closed it with a sigh. “I’ll inform the queen.”

[khaleesiofalicante]

hi daniiiii <3

how are you? i hope you're doing good.

first of all a 22k chapter?? you're really doing the gods work huh. it's very very appreciated. and also the single dads au had me giggling and kicking my feet IT WAS SO CUTE OMFG.

it's exam season again at my school. french and german this week, maths and english in the next. and believe me, i've never analyzed so many poems in the span of three days ew ew ew

(which is why i couldn't help noticing that 'french fucker' is a beautiful alliteration. true art.)

Nah but even with all these exams, I'm suprisingly chill. I've just recently distanced myself from a friend who has become extremely toxic over the years. She fetishizes queer men, has no regard for the rest of the community cause she's cishet, made shit comments about my therapy journey, said the n-word (she's not black) and constantly misgenders and deadnames a good friend of ours.

His name is Milo, they use he/they pronouns and they're a wonderful person. He came out a few weeks ago. And some slip-ups are acceptable and normal, as long as you learn and apologize. I mean, you can just practice pronouns if you're having problems. On paper. It takes no effort at all. But my friend even makes jokes about deadnaming them and doesn't respect him at all. I've known her for a very long time, so distancing myself was really difficult, but I just feel more free now. I met a lot of new people who are really good for me, so good riddance to her. We still talk, but I just can't be as close to her as I once was.

anyways my whole inner friend circle now consists of queer people. we really come in packs don't we 😬

so yeah that was me rambling hehe <3

SO MANY EXAMS! I hope you are keeping well 🥺

I'm glad to hear that you are handling it well. Life gets surprisingly chill after you cut off toxic people from it.

I had a very similar experience where one of my closest friends turned out to be transphobic (and racist?). I was so surprised to see that I didn't notice it before - or maybe I thought 'it was a joke'. But then it got to a point where it was absolutely unacceptable and I cut him out and honestly I have zero regrets.

I'm so proud of you for doing this. It's always harder to set boundaries and call out people we're close to and friends with. But those are the most important ones to call out. Because when we don't, we become complicit in their awful behavior.

I'm proud of you! Really!

PS - My inner circle is also a bunch of queer hoes. I wouldn't trade them for anything.

GOOD FOR US, ROSA!

Good luck with the rest of the exams 🤍

[thelittlemars]

Not stonks for Thorkelin

The Germanic Philology Diary, vol. 1

I decided that I would create a little format on this blog. Turns out that I know a shit ton of curiosities and fun facts about history and literature, in particular regarding Germanic Philology — the field that studies Germanic Medieval texts.

Today, while researching for my thesis, I discovered a little story that I thought some of you might like. It's about the first ever Latin translation of Beowulf, aka the Bible of philologists. It's a thrilling, funny but tragic story that involves an Icelandic scholar, bombings and fires.

So, my thesis is on Sir Walter Scott and Old Norse mythology (simplified). While reading some of his letters, I encountered one that he sent to a friend on August 9th, 1810.

These [volumes Scott bought] with some others & with what I had before make me strong in Northern antiquities which the Bombardment of Copenhagen in which Thorkelin's library perishd has renderd scarce.

Apart from the fact that Scott is totally bragging in this passage, my first thought when reading this was "Hold on, Walter...what do you mean with Bombardment of Copenhagen??"

Of course, being the little rat that I am, I had to find out more. Turns out that the British bombarded Copenhagen in 1807, during the Napoleonic Wars. Most of the city was destroyed in the fires that followed.

Grímur Jónsson Thorkelin, an Icelandic scholar, lived in Copenhagen. At this point, he had spent 20 years working on the first ever translation in Latin (and German) of the Old English poem Beowulf. He even lived in England for years in order to study the original manuscript, after the only copy existing of the poem was damaged in a fire a few years before. He was a living legend for scholars of the time.

In his personal library, which contained many Old Norse texts, including sagas, copies of the Eddas and scaldic poetry, he kept the final transcript and editorial notes of the translation. As he himself put it in the 1815's edition of the translation, he just had time to save the first drafts of the translation before his house collapsed in the fire.

Now imagine this. It's 1807, the books you so avidly collected in your library are extremely rare and difficult to find. You probably travelled a lot to find them, and spent a fortune to buy them. Moreover, the work of your life, the work that is literally paying your rent because it was commissioned by the Government is forever lost in the fire that followed a fucking bombardment. Not stonks for you, my friend. However, this idiot had the courage to look at his manuscript translations and thought "Mh, okay. Imma just do it again".

And he fucking did.

Yes, his translation is nowadays considered shit. Most of the translations of the time of literally anything are considered shit. They were trying to translate everything into Latin, and then used the Latin translation to do other translations, instead of consulting the original. So yeah, it was shit. But he still put the effort in that translation. And he was the first to do it.

So yeah, not stonks for Thorkelin. But still. Kudos for Thorkelin, I guess?

And, for the love of everything holy, please Walter...stop bragging.

[aishangotome]

Chapter 4-2 Reduced to Ashes (付之一炬)

Chapter 4-1

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.

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This morning, before the sky even brightened, Second Brother was urgently summoned into the palace. I initially thought I wouldn't see him all day.

Gu Zhao: Second Highness.

Gu Zhao, mounted on his horse, didn't move, offering a greeting neither hastily nor slowly. I recalled the tension between us during our first encounter, but the atmosphere now felt somewhat different.

Second Brother merely nodded, then looked away from him.

-

Once I boarded the carriage, the curtain was swiftly lowered again. I only managed to catch a glimpse of Gu Zhao casting a thoughtful glance into the carriage.

Princess: ......Brother, why are you in such a hurry? Did something happen?

The carriage resumed its journey, and I noticed the unusual expression on Second Brother's face. I spoke, puzzled.

Li Rui: Come with me to a place.

-

I followed Second Brother all the way into the imperial palace, arriving at a secluded courtyard in the northwest corner.

It was extremely quiet here, a place I had never been before. Several guards stood at the entrance of the courtyard. Second Brother stepped forward and whispered a few words, and the guards opened the gate.

Princess: What is this place?

I followed behind Second Brother, surprised to see the charred ruins and collapsed walls before me. The once beautiful garden was now in complete disarray.

The plants that had been cultivated there were all burned, and the air was still filled with a thick smoky smell.

Li Rui: Yaoguang Courtyard.

Princess: Yaoguang Courtyard.....?

Li Rui: At the beginning of the founding of the Dacheng Dynasty, there was a flower that spread throughout the country. Its blossoms were intense and beautiful, fragrant and lush, with incredibly strong vitality.

Li Rui: There was once a poem praising it---"From afar, a beauty's smile; Dew washes the jade plate in spring."

Princess: I know, it's the Yaoguang flower. Ancient books record it, saying it was transformed from phoenix feathers.

Princess: It's said that back then, when the High Ancestor first raised his army, the war wasn't going well. Once, he was surrounded by enemy forces in the mountains, with no ammunition or food left, and lost his way.

Princess: The High Ancestor looked north and swore an oath in blood: If I can escape this predicament, I will surely pacify the chaos in the world and bring everlasting peace to the people.

Princess: When the morning sun rose, the heavy rain stopped, and a phoenix appeared. Overnight, the mountain paths were filled with blooming flowers, as if guiding the army.

Li Rui: The High Ancestor followed the flowers all the way, finally emerging from the deep forest and escaping the pursuing soldiers. From then on, wherever the rebel army went, they were victorious, and Yaoguang flowers bloomed everywhere.

Li Rui: Because of this, the High Ancestor Emperor was extremely fond of this flower, believing it to be an auspicious sign of Dacheng's prosperity. He designated it as the national flower and named it Yaoguang.

Li Rui: But at some unknown point, the Yaoguang flowers gradually declined and became difficult to find. In the end, only a few survived in the imperial palace.

Li Rui: To protect these precious flowers, Emperor Mingzong ordered the construction of Yaoguang Courtyard.

Li Rui: But no matter how carefully they were cultivated, these flowers never bloomed again in the past hundred years.

Princess: Why is that?

Second Brother looked at the dead flower field, and a sadness I couldn't understand surfaced in his expression.

Li Rui: The rise and fall of a hundred generations, the heavens cannot be defied.....

His pale, slender fingers picked up a withered flower branch. With a gentle twist, the fragile branch turned into a wisp of fine ash.

Li Rui: This place has always been carefully guarded, but last night, at the Yin hour, a fire suddenly broke out.

Princess: How could that be....

Princess: Was it caused by someone?

Li Rui: It's not clear yet. But the Ministry of Justice is already investigating.

Princess: Did anything else happen?

Li Rui: Father, he fell ill.

Princess: ......So that's why Brother was summoned into the palace before dawn.

Second Brother nodded.

Princess: How is Father's condition? Is it serious? Why....

Why didn't anyone inform me?

Li Rui: Don't worry, Father is alright. The imperial physician has administered medicine, and he'll recover with some rest.

Li Rui: When Father feels better, I'll accompany you to pay your respects.

Second Brother comforted me, but... the fire at Yaoguang Courtyard, Father falling ill, all of this happened shortly after my return to the palace. They wouldn't even let me visit Father...

Li Rui: Y/N?

Princess: I'm fine, Brother.

But the heavy shadow in my heart became a reality. Rumors of Father's illness and the destruction of the Yaoguang flowers quickly spread throughout the palace. The prophecy from twelve years ago was once again brought up by people.

Everyone was saying it was because of my return.

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Chapter 4-3

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[a-mom-y-nous]

It took a long time to learn everything I know now, and I’n definitely not saying that I know everything there is to know, or perhaps even enough... Perhaps I don’t know what I don’t know, and I need to find out what it is, so I can learn, so if anyone would like to get in contact, or teach me something more advanced, you are more than welcome to. I’ve also spent some time on Social Media, putting myself out there; but it turns out I’m more confused now than I was before I ventured the Social Media Route. 

I know that there’s alot scammers (now more than ever), especially from Nigeria, but it seemed like I didn’t get much attention other than from those scammers. To me, now, it’s kinda sad (with a smile).

But it’s the way it is (I guess)

My husband gets daily hack attacks on his websites, each more than 200 per day. But that is how webnet Incorporated started.

In the meanwhile, inbetween all my attempts to generate additional income, my husband fully supported me, but I didn’t succeed. I managed to land extremely difficult client though - the LMS - it’s really not a walk in the park - even if I set it up from scratch myself (I think), because there were few times I just got stuck; linking the courses, setting up the payment gateway, linking the courses with the payment gateway, setting up correct categories (bearing in mind that I didn’t have a teacher (or tutor), but my husband just knew... I’m so grateful for him. We worked together on that and made it a success. So we decided together that merging our businesses is a good idea; and we got another business on board. It’s sad that there are so many website design companies out there, either asking exorbitant prices for services that’s not that difficult, or, designers that, just messes around. From the beginning, we decided that we would never extort anyone, but that honest, reliable, ethical work, is what we stand by; and I have to admit that working with my husband, is beneficial. There is so much I can learn from him, and so much he helps me with.

Men just have a technical knowledge (many) women doni’t have. I’m sure that there are many women out there that are better mechanics / technicians / or whatever... than lots of men, but I sure am not one of them. I enjoy art, design, poetry, flowers and beautiful things, and shopping, and sales and good food, but I would say that I am extremely good at coding, connecting data, etc.

It’s not my strong(est) points. You’ll read more of my poetry in the coming blogs...

I wrote a poem for my mother on her birthday (yesterday), but she’s passed away in 2013 already. It was extremely tough road that I had to walk to get where I am today... To me, personally... I just did what I had to, to survive, and not have my child taken away from me (which made me strong), but numerous people now, say I’m very strong. I sure wasn’t before my parents passed away. Also, bearing in mind that I have the tendancy to be very strong-willed and stubborn. It paid off, but I had alot to learn... In the mean while here’s my mom... Whom I will love forever... untill we meet again

[ggomos-maribat]

Aime Trent

Jon crashed on the space on the couch, letting out a dragged out groan. Marinette shifted her legs, stretching them out as she sat at the foot of the sofa. She poked the side of his head. "What's up?"

"I got terrorized." Jon shuddered. "They won't stop talking about it."

Damian uninterestedly looked up from his sketchbook.

"Who won't stop talking about what?" Marinette set down her chin on top of folded arms.

"Kon and Aunt Kara and Mom!" Jon lamented. "Do you know that anonymous singer who got popular recently? They keep playing her songs at home! I told them it's not my type of music but nooo they just had to force me to listen!"

"Is that why you flew all the way over here?" Marinette snorted out a chuckle. "Who's this singer anyway?"

"Dunno. Amy Whatshername or something."

"Aime Trent," said Damian firmly, stopping in the middle of his sketch. His gaze fell on Jon, shining with disapproval. "Her name is Aime Trent."

Jon's eyes went wide. "You know her?!"

"Obviously. It is evident that she pours her heart and dedication into the songs she composes and she delivers her own lyrics well with her heavenly voice," Damian said, "Not to mention, she's talented in playing instruments and the messages she puts into her songs are poetic and meaningful."

"You listen to her?!" Jon screeched. Even Marinette seemed taken aback.

"And what if I do?"

"I didn't know you like that genre."

"It's not my usual style, but her songs are too beautiful to be ignored." Damian crossed his arms indignantly. "In fact, more people should know about her."

"A lot of people already do." To prove his point, Jon took his phone out and showed them his Twitter feed filled with Aime Trent hashtags. "See? She's trending. They love her songs."

"That is not surprising. She deserves all the recognition she can get." Damian nodded.

Meanwhile, Jon eyed Marinette. "What about you? Don't tell me you're a crazy fan too."

She raised her arms defensively. "I haven't heard of her that much. I've only listened to a few songs."

Damian scoffed. "You both should learn to appreciate her masterpieces."

"Wait, but no one knows who she actually is, right?" Jon leaned towards Damian and the latter pushed his face away. "You didn't try looking for her? Oooh, maybe we can earn some money if we—"

"I am not breaching the anonymity she's worked hard to maintain," Damian cut him off. "Also, my brothers have tried and they have repeatedly complained that she's extremely difficult to track down."

Jon blew a raspberry. "No fun."

---

Marinette set the palette aside, careful not to spill any paint on the floor. She and Damian were working on their joint project for school: an oil painting with themes from their English literature class. They were taking a break, so she decided to get her notebook out to do some writing.

"What rhymes with 'all'?" She tapped her pencil against her lip.

"Tall? Small? Call?" Damian examined their paintbrushes for any bending. "Todd is better at flowery words than I am."

"I'll make a placeholder first," she scribbled on the page.

"What are you writing?"

"Hmm . . . a poem."

He granted her silence so she could focus while he washed their materials. She was bent over on her tiny notebook, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration. But she perked up when she heard him humming softly.

'Fireflower'. Third song of the first album. She recognized Aime Trent's song instantly.

"Marinette?" Damian called out suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"About Aime Trent . . . it is confirmed that she is from Paris, correct? Do you happen to know anything about her?"

She laughed. "There's still a lot of people in Paris. I don't know all of them. I can ask Luka later, though. Or Uncle Jagged. They probably know some insider stuff."

She looked up at Damian, who settled close beside her. "Do you actually want to know who she is? I heard she's making her official debut in a few months. Why not wait until then?"

He showed hesitance before answering: "I'm only curious for myself. I want to know more about her. If I do find out, I have no plans in divulging her identity to other people."

"Why, what do you like about her songs?"

"I've mentioned it before, but her voice is divine. It's unique, and she knows how to use her range in different dynamics," Damian listed off. "In Deep Wave, she uses breathy tones in the chorus but there is also her own background vocals towards the end. In contrast, she uses more powerful belts in Mythical City."

"I didn't know you knew so much about that." Marinette ducked her head, hiding her blush.

"I tend to research deeply about my interests. Get into the 'rabbit hole' as Drake called it," Damian said. "The instrumentations she uses in her songs are intriguing as well. According to one analysis I read, she used a traditional instrument in Blind, accompanied with modern samples. It is amazing to hear the sounds come together perfectly."

Marinette bit back a smile. His rambles were cute.

He wasn't finished. "And her lyricism. She weaves her words into a story to evoke vivid emotions. I believe that she references the former Paris situations in some of her songs."

"She—she does," Marinette stammered. "That's why she has a lot of Parisian fans."

"I will definitely come to her debut concert. Even if it's the last thing I do."

Her chest warmed at the thought.

---

Damian was not having a good day.

He had accidentally fallen asleep before the ticketing release for the debut concert. All her siblings had bought their own tickets without including him (Drake had even reserved an entire row for himself and his friends). Even Jon lucked out on a good seat and proceeded to resell his ticket for a fortune to someone who wasn't him.

He had tried to look for resales, but most had already been sold (not to mention, he had gotten scammed in one of his attempts to buy a ticket). He just had to hope he could A: get a ticket for the second show or B: sneak into the venue.

He dragged his groggy self into the classroom and slouched on his seat, exhausted. Marinette bounded up to him.

"Got your ticket?" she chirped.

"No, I may have to kill someone to get one," he grumbled.

"Here." Marinette pulled out slips of paper from her pocket and placed it on his desk. He stared at it.

Two tickets to the Aime Trent concert.

He rubbed his eyes. "What . . . how? Are you not going yourself?"

"I already have my own ticket?" She smiled sheepishly. "From . . . myself?"

He shot up from his seat and wrapped her in a tight hug. "Thank you. I owe you my life."

"Why don't you look at the back of your tickets and return your favor that way?" She pointed to the tickets before scrambling away to her seat.

Damian flipped one of the tickets. At the back, there was a note: Go out with me after my concert?

A lightbulb flickered in his messy mind. 'I already have my own ticket from myself'. A sharp intake of breath graced his lips as he looked at Marinette, who was smiling shyly at him.

He tucked the tickets safely in his pocket, smiling back. He had a date to plan. 

Permanent Taglist: @tinybrie

Cross posted on AO3

[yoshkeii]

Ushijima Wakatoshi hcs!

࿐ character: Ushijima Wakatoshi

࿐ genre: sfw, nsfw

࿐ requested by: a lovely supportive friend <3

⌦ sfw first, nsfw last

⌦ Nsfw includes, top-dom!ushijima, sub-bottom!reader. Continue at your own risk.

A/N: i simp for this man. i actually simp for a lot of characters its unbelievable. but this one. this man. yeah. again, kinda self-indulgent like my tsukii one- im sorry,,

══════ SFW ══════

★彡 Since we all know how Ushijima talks in the anime, he probably doesn't have the best social cues. When being in a relationship with him it might be difficult for him to break through that barrier of communication. He might say things along "will you teach me?", "was that good?", and stuff along those lines. So its your job to show him the ropes! It's a up and down hill path but Ushijima will do it to make the relationship last long and anything to see that little adorable smile on your face.

★彡 Honestly some nicknames he will have for you might derive from plants and nature. Such as "Honey(comb), Pumpkin, Sprout, Fern, Clover," but the classic nicknames that are normal to relationships would be "Babe/Baby, Prince, Love, Beautiful/Handsome," etc~ He likes to stick with the planty ones since he believes it fits someone smaller than him.

★彡 Will definitely take advantage of your size difference (depending on your height, yknow when yknow. i myself is like 5'3/5'4 so i feel the short pain.)

★彡 Like he will ruffle your hair which always ends up getting messed up, he will pick you so fucking easily like you weigh nothing to him, definite big spoon cause he always loves to wrap his arms arounds you since he noticed how safe it makes you feel, comparing and teasing about your hand sizes too is a common occurrence. Just his palm against yours. Sometimes you guys mess around with the flashlights on your phone to create hand-shadows and you always try to adjust your hand for your shadow to be Ushijima's size. He chuckles at the adorable attempt too.

★彡 Continuing on the size difference, he will let you sit on his lap as he watches you do whatever infront of him. No matter if its just scrolling through social media, watching videos, watching you play games, a movie, a video call? He's there. Sometimes will silently nuzzle his face into your hair, neck, shoulder or the crook between your shoulders. If he's feeling like it, he might also plant a surprise kiss on your neck or shoulder. It sends a quick jolt and shiver down your spine whenever he does because it's so unlikely-

★彡 OKAY BUT- the thought of jealous Ushijima would not be common thing knowing how calm and composed this man is, but he is also not good at describing nor showing emotions. But- Him catching you wearing someone else's jersey, hoodie, or jacket might flip that switch. He would just brush it off at first after awhile, before he slowly breaks. Giving you his own clothing in the end, which always ends up oversized based on how this dude is built. This would honestly be the only chance or time you will see this man be jealous its kinda scary- like- Ushijima are you okay honey?

★彡 Ushijima isn't the one to be into nicknames too much, but when you call him by the given nicknames you have for him... ohhhhhhh maaaaan its gives him butterflies. And generally he can't understand feelings too well so he wouldn't know how to deal with it and maybe overthink it- Please comfort him if it goes to far- He'll need it-

★彡 Like the Tendou chapter, you would most likely be closer to Tendou since Ushi and him are close anyways! You'll also have decent relationships with the team and maybe act like the motherly type to them to keep those boys in check. Goshiki may awkwardly talk to you to see if he needs to be in a relationship to be the new ace yada yada (lil baby looking up to your husbando though is cute-)

★彡 Ushijima may not be the best at social cues, but ohhh man this dude can be poetic as hell unintentionally. He has his ways of setting up words and his surprisingly sets of word choices astonish you at some point, and of course you get confuse sometimes- Understanding poems can be hard as hell okay??

★彡 When seeing you stressed or overwhelmed with any situation, he'll bring you into a hug for who knows how long. Just him seeing you like that devastates him, same goes for a single tear coming from your face will make this man go in his overprotective mode. He'll rub your back or head to calm you down, some specks of kisses along your face and maybe your arms too. He doesn't let his hand wander anywhere else when cuddling either so you are in safe hands with this man everytime he has his arms around you. They are just like safe warm walls bro.

★彡 He's the type who will keep attention on the smallest of details about you. He'll buy you small things like stickers, utensil, items, etc that you thought were cute when browsing or something. Ushijima likes to hear about your interests and thoughts because he loves to see you nerd out over passionate topics, and sometimes he'll just doze off and just stare at your face as you talk. Admiring you so fucking much, he's just softly smiling at you till you ask "what Toshi-?"

══════ NSFW ══════

★彡 Most of your passionate moments always start with kisses. They are usually or might as well always be slow, soft and passionate. He'll try his best to ask for consent in the most intimate or romantic way possible, with just a soft reply or the brush of his thumb on your bottom lip. Or he might aswell just stare at you till you say sumn-

★彡 He's not the type for PDA, since he personally thinks it should be behind doors and walls. So if you do anything that will.. yknow... flip a switch in this man. He'll try to keep composure n calmness till both of you are in a private spot, this man will kabedon or pin you against the wall and smother you with love n affection. At this point, he can't keep his hands to himself and often wanders which is unusual for him. So do things wisely or are you just a lover for punishment.

★彡 Some kinks this man will have: definite daddy/captain kink, degrading/praising (depends on his mood or how you are acting in the.. act-), extreme dirty talk, overstimulation maybe?, honestly can be into BDSM or sumn along the line, little bit of foreplay too.

★彡 You definitely know this man can get hella rough and strong while doing it. Which he of course uses it as an advantage because he's a fucking huge ass dom. Try to take control at least once, he'll do an uno reverse card on you and have you begging moments later. Even if you're on top, he still has control. He'll use his strong grip to pull you down or to make you move how he wants you too, His grip is so strong, it leaves nail marks in your hips n thighs that make you complain to him about it. But Ushijima just will look at you with no regret.

★彡 Ushijima uses his voice to his biggest advantage aswell. He knows he can rile you up with just a deep husk of his voice, especially when he speaks in your ear. His hot breath brushing against as he speaks sweet nothings to demanding whispers only you can hear. It just makes you melt and submit to him like magic, and he adores that to the max. He'll also might bite your ear as a tease too-

★彡 He's very demanding in bed. Ordering you around. Him being a very serious person outside of the room follows him into the bed.

★彡 Favorite place to do it? Just in the private walls of eachother's home or dorms.

★彡 Favorite position? He has a few selected one, but him carrying you will messing your insides up against a wall... yeah that one.

★彡 He loves, loves seeing your face during the act. He'll just stares at you with a cocky smirk (no pun intended) as he continues.

★彡 Ushijima may be rough, but he's a king at aftercare. He loves to treat you so well after the act with cuddles, kisses, a possible bath or shower, massages. Anything to calm you down. Usually its just cuddles, seeing you ontop of his chest practically about to fall asleep. Knowing you are listening to his heartbeat and breathing, its a beautiful sight to him. If you are cuddling on your side, he'll softly pat your head and rub your back as you dose off to sleep before he falls asleep himself afterwards.

★彡 Motivation can vary, but he loves seeing you wear anything that shows your bare legs. Especially those thighs. Yes another thigh man. Just some high-thigh socks, tights, fitted sweatpants, anything that shows your curves n legs gets him rearing to go.

[iwaisa]

bnha boys crushing on someone with a cat quirk

pairings: bakugou, sero, midoriya, todoroki, and kaminari x gender neutral reader

warnings: swearing (thanks bakugou 😌👍👍)

a/n: i’d like to think that if i were in the bnha world, my character would have a quirk like the cheshire cat, so i brought it to life (๑>◡<๑) this is also supposed to be situations based off mannerisms of cats !

part 1 | part 2

► now shuffling...

head pats

when you first moved to U.A., the first thing everyone noticed were your ears and tail

everyone thought it was so cute, but they should’ve been more careful

behind that cute, adorable facade was a dangerous quirk that rivaled that of the class’ resident hot-head

speaking of hot-head, bakugou hated it

especially how your tail kept swaying back and forth while you sat in front of him during class

“oi shitty cat! move your fucking tail!”

…

you didn't move your tail.

you kept taunting him with it and teasing him which resulted in aizawa having to ask you to move to the back of the class

sure, bakugou laughed in your face, but he would never admit out loud that he would miss those days where he could see your smile and hear your laughter echo throughout the classroom

it had been a few months since you moved seats and bakugou still couldn’t come to terms with the fact that he just simply liked you.

he kept falling deeper and deeper, attempting to crawl out of the hole until one day he just decided that he was okay with it

he was okay with the fact that he liked you

that one day was on a weekend

bakugou had just woken up and was heading to the kitchen to make some tamagoyaki until he stopped dead in his tracks from the sound of your voice

more specifically, your laughter

he felt his heart rate begin to pick up, and the nitroglycerin sweat seemed to pour from his palm, resulting in loud crackling and popping

he stepped out from around the corner to see mina, kaminari, kirishima, and sero petting you

and you… liked it??

he watched with his brows furrowed and his mouth hanging open as you seemed to push your head into their hands

your eyes were closed and you looked so at peace that he couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy

why were you letting all of them touch you like that?

it pissed him off

he marched up to you and pushed kaminari and mina aside

“what the hell are you guys doing?”

mina kept squealing while explaining that since you were a cat, you really liked when people pet your head and ears

“that’s fucking weird.”

“c’mon bakubro! you gotta feel their ears man, they’re so soft!” kirishima exclaimed while going back to rub your ears

you giggled and leaned your head into his hand, making bakugou’s blood boil

“hell no! i want nothing to do with this!”

they kept teasing him until sero said something along the lines of “he just doesn’t want to pet them because it won't feel good to them. you gotta be nice and gentle, and bakugou probably wouldn’t be able to do that”

bakugou stopped in place and slowly turned around to glare at sero, “what the fuck did you say, plain face?? i can be fucking gentle!”

he stomps up to you and raises his hand

you flinch and close your eyes thinking he’s going to hit you until you feel his fingers just barely grazing the tips of your ears

you open your eyes to see bakugou using both of his hands to gently rub them

he didn’t even notice you were staring at him since he was watching as his hands played with your ears, a tint of red making its way onto his face

he watched in awe as you pushed your head into his hands, making his face even hotter - if that was possible

after a few minutes of bakugou not saying anything - and the rest of the squad staying quiet from shock that he was actually being soft - you poked his cheek with your finger

“surprisingly, you’re the softest out of all of them”

“sh-shut up shitty cat! i told you i can be gentle!”

you grinned as you watched him stomp away to the kitchen

when you turned around, the whole bakusquad was giving you these giant shit-eating grins

you just shook your head and brushed past them, making your way back to your room

stretching / poofing tail / kneading soft things

this boy literally felt his heart explode as soon as you walked into the classroom

you were literally so??? adorable????

however, after he saw you in action, he was lowkey terrified of you

your quirk was so unique and insanely powerful that he started to doubt himself and his abilities

during a training session you watched sero spar against iida, and noticed as his signature grin seemed to fade after he lost

he slowly trailed behind the rest of the class on the way back to the classroom, but you noticed instantly

you slowed down so that you were walking right next to him

“hey, i know i just moved a few weeks ago, but i think your quirk is really cool. a-and what present mic said was wrong, your elbows aren’t freaky at all.”

oh my, i think you killed him. you didn’t think his quirk was creepy? you didn’t hate the shape of his elbows? you didn’t mind his biggest insecurity???? why couldn’t he control his heart?

he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of you so he just ran into the classroom, leaving you behind

you stood outside the class for a few minutes, a little heartbroken

you couldn’t deny that you began developing feelings for the kind, supportive, adorable boy

sero felt awful for ignoring you the rest of the day

you sat right next to him in class which didn't make the situation any better

his heart rate never slowed down, and the red never left his cheekbones

you on the other hand, were confused and all you wanted to do was talk to him

as the last bell rang, you ran to the dorms so you could hide away in your room, but mina had another idea

she suggested a class sleepover in the common room, and you had agreed, not thinking that you would be nervous because of a certain tape-dispensing up-and-coming hero

upon entering the common room with a fluffy blanket that evening, sero’s eyes instantly found yours

fortunately, he looked away quickly

unfortunately, there was only one spot left

which was right next to sero :D

you slowly sank into the couch, accidentally brushing your knee against his

his heart rate picked up again, but he tried his hardest to focus on the horror movie playing on the screen

you started getting anxious about halfway through the first movie when sero shifted in his seat, letting his knee rest on top of yours

you began kneading at your blanket and you stretched, poofing the fur on your tail out

you didn’t even notice a part of onyx eyes watching your every movement

you turned to peek at sero, but instantly snapped your head to face the screen when you made eye contact

sero was having an internal crisis

you were so adorable and for what????

you stood up, your tail still poofed out and asked if anyone wanted more popcorn

everyone nodded, their eyes not leaving the screen

you smiled and made your way to the kitchen

“hey..” you jumped and turned around upon hearing sero’s soft voice

“h-hey.”

…

“i’m really sorry about ignoring you, i just didn't know how to respond. no one has ever told me that my quirk is cool and i kinda freaked out. i-i think you’re really cool.” he blurted out the last bit leaving you dumbfounded

“i think you’re cool too, sero!” you smiled at him

you turned around, waiting for the popcorn to finish when you felt a slight tap on your shoulder

you turned around and watched as sero tripped over his words

“i-i think you’re really cute too… like for example when you puff your tail out when you stretch, or when you knead at things, and just all of your mannerisms. i really like you, l/n.”

you beamed at him as you returned his feelings, making his heart implode

you jumped as the popcorn machine dinged, and felt your face heat up as sero just laughed at you

no one even noticed when you walked back into the room with your hands intertwined

wrapping your tail around his leg

it was only your first day at U.A. and a certain green-haired boy already wanted to know everything about you

said green-haired boy, named izuku midoriya, knew better than to assume anything about you

he had seen many people with surprising quirks, so he assumed yours was extremely powerful if you were accepted into U.A. near the middle of the year

he didn’t know anything about you other than you were extremely adorable

he found it intimidating

he also didn’t know what to expect when aizawa told the class they would be paired up to spar with one of their classmates

you were chosen to spar against ojiro, who was difficult to go against considering his quick attacks and strong tail

but you were strong too, countering ojiro’s attacks with your own

midoriya was even more amazed than he thought he would be

he began taking notes and started to watch your every move

how could someone go from being so innocent and kind to a terrifying fighter?

a few months later and midoriya’s notebook had at least 4 pages full of notes about you

not only were they notes about your quirk, but midoriya had began writing short poems about you

no matter what, he just couldn’t stop thinking about you and how amazing you looked during and out of training

you had walked down to the kitchen on a sunday morning in hopes of making yourself some food

you stopped when you saw midoriya cutting up some fruit to put into a smoothie

you greeted him as you walked to the fridge, and midoriya has never been so startled in his whole life

“h-h-hi l/n!”

you giggled and began making your breakfast, going to stand next to midoriya

you two were just quietly enjoying each other’s presence

until your tail had another idea

midoriya felt something soft caress the back of his calves, and stopped what he was doing, almost cutting himself with the knife

he felt your tail wrap and unwrap itself around his leg, and he turned to look at you

you, however, were very blissfully unaware of the predicament you were putting midoriya in

“u-uh, l/n?”

“mhm?”

“y-your tail…” he pointed to where your tail was wrapped around his leg

“oh shoot sorry! i guess i just do that so many times without thinking i didn’t even realize it would make people uncomfortable. i apologize!”

you unwrapped your tail from his leg

“t-that’s cute…” he muttered under his breath

you snapped your head to stare at him, and your breath hitched when you made eye contact with him

he frantically apologized for blurting it out while covering his face with his arms, his face a very bright red

you laughed as you watched him stumble over his words as you called him cute

winking / slow blinking

sitting next to class 1-a’s resident pretty boy was a difficult task

it was only your first day and you found yourself unable to take your eyes off the mysterious boy

however, todoroki believed the reason for your blatant staring was due to the scar sitting on his face

he turned to you during one of aizawa’s lectures and stared back, neither of you wanting to break eye contact

the bell rang, and before you could leave, todoroki had blurted out a question directed to you

“are you uncomfortable with my scar?”

you looked at him with a confused gaze

uncomfortable??? around such a beautiful man??? hell no. more like intimidated

“n-no! not at all! i just like your hair,” you refrained from telling him that the real reason was because you thought he was extremely beautiful

“oh. thank you.”

a few weeks passed since that encounter, and you had only grown closer to the half-and-half boy

you learned the real reason behind the scar, and assured him that you won’t think any different of him

he even felt a blush coat his cheeks when you called him amazing and strong

you, midoriya, uraraka, iida, and todoroki were studying in the common area, yet you weren’t focused on the textbook in front of you

you leaned your face on your cheek as you let your eyes wander over todoroki’s seemingly perfect features

todoroki looked up from his book just in time to see you wink at him

he was a bit taken aback, but shook it off as you getting some dust in your eye

he continued keeping eye contact with you and watched as you slowly blinked your eyes at him

todoroki brushed off the heat on his face and went back to writing in his notebook

he looked up again just in time to see you wink at him again

in all fairness, you didn’t even realize you were staring at him, you were a cat and it was a habit

“l/n, i appreciate the gesture, but why do you keep flirting with me?”

oh todoroki. you’re so beautiful yet so dumb.

you were a little confused since he just accused you of something you didn’t even do

“what?”

“you keep winking at me and slowly closing your eyes. is that your way of flirting?”

by now, the other three were watching you two with interest

“oh! no, that’s just a habit i have since i’m a cat. when i slowly blink at you it means that i trust you. and winking means that i really like you!”

you slapped your hand over your mouth

“o-oh. you like me?”

“i-i mean as a friend of course! i trust you and i don’t feel intimidated by you, that’s all!”

todoroki failed to hide the disappointment in his voice when he hummed back

while the five of you packed your books into your backpack, todoroki waited for you to finish before he began to talk to you

“l/n,” he began

you turned to him with wide eyes, scared that he would tell you that he didn’t like you like that

“yeah, todoroki?”

the other three scurried away, leaving you and todoroki alone

“i know you meant that you just liked me as a friend, but is it weird for me to hope that you possibly meant a different way?”

you were completely blindsided by his question

“uhh, actually.. about that…”

after you explained what you truly meant and how you think he’s super interesting and cute, he smiled and returned your feelings

he walked you to your dorm and left after giving you a quick (very cold) peck on the lips

swaying hips

of course i had to do this for this mf

SUCH A FLIRT

as soon as you walked into the classroom he began flirting with you

you sat behind him, and whenever aizawa wasn’t looking, he would slip notes with pick-up lines on them to you

when you returned the note with another pick-up line, he just about short-circuited

unlike everyone else in the class, kaminari assumed that because you were adorable, your quirk was a soft type of quirk

boy was he so wrong

he watched with his jaw on the ground as you sprinted around, not holding back from fighting with kirishima

mineta made some dumb comment about you being sexy with those ears and that tail and that was the first time kaminari told mineta to stfu

as someone who is notorious for hitting on people, his flirting began to slow down once he realized that the reason he wanted to be around you all the time, having the sudden urge to hold you, wanting to call you his, was because he liked you

and he didn’t know what to do at all

he most DEFINITELY didn’t know what to do one particular hot summer day

the bakusquad was hanging out in the common room trying to cool yourselves down

you got up off the floor and walked past kaminari to go to the kitchen for some popsicles

you began to sway your hips as you walked, leaving a very flustered kaminari

“gross, dunce face. if you like that so damn much go chase after them. i’d like to see you try to ask them out.”

“that’s not very manly, bakubro. kaminari, if you really like them, why don’t you just tell them? i’m sure they’d understand,” kirishima gave him a thumbs up as kaminari quite literally sprinted after you

“are you aware of how much you sway your hips when you walk?”

kaminari whispered into your ear as he placed his hands on your hips

“i knew you would notice” you winked at him

his face exploded red in color and he watched you in confusion as you laughed loudly in his face

“i’m kidding. i sway my hips when i walk because i’m a cat. i’m not flirting with you dummy,” you stuck your tongue out at him

“darn, you got me”

…

“hey l/n?”

you turned to face him, and you yelped in surprise as he smashed his lips onto yours

very good kaminari consent is a very good thing 😀👍👍

he pulled away to study your face, only to see your wide eyes and your mouth hanging open

“uh… i’m really sorry i just-”

he was cut off when you locked lips with his again

your tail wrapped around his body, causing him to shock you

he pulled away, grinning, “sorry. you surprised me there-”

“WHAT THE HELL, DUNCE FACE?? I TOLD YOU TO ASK THEM OUT NOT MAKE OUT WITH THEM”

you both sheepishly apologized, watching bakugou storm away, yelling that you two were practically eating each others’ faces

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

Got any good novel recommendations for Kirk and Spock? (I have amassed a sizable collection of EU material, but not really settled down and read it)

Ohohoho I was WAITING for this one (literally. I have had this sitting in drafts for so long and I have thought about it, like, every day so I am very happy to finally get to answer!)

As you may or may not know, I am obsessed with doing reviews (shocker, right?) and keep detailed accounts of each Star Trek book I read/buy. At this point, I've got a decent number of books (just over 15) and let me tell you HONEY I have thoughts

You're looking specifically for Spock and Jim, so I'll give you the best books I've read for them, and then also some ones to avoid haha. There are snippets from my yet-to-be-posted reviews under each of them to give a little more insight! I haven't included any plot comments but I'll eventually post my complete reviews if you're curious :)

The Good Stuff

Strangers from the Sky

Absolutely remarkable. A lovely read. Everyone was completely in character the entire time, with COPIOUS amounts of triumvirate content and very good character analysis. Spock and Jim are main, but Bones is also substantial and doesn't leave you feeling like he's been forgotten about. Reallllly good Spirk moments but not in a raunchy way, it's just like Wow They Are Really T'hy'la's, Huh? Also some quality Old Married Spirk content as well!

New Voyages 1

The first of two fanfic-turned-EU-canon complications, and it is chock full of absolute gold in both quality writing and Spirk content. (The original cast members wrote intros/endorsements for the stories, so it's officially approved!) Some stories are not quite as good as the others, but the ones that are good are legendary. Ni Var is my favorite piece of Star Trek writing to date. It's an absolutely beautiful Spock-and-Jim-centric story (yet without leaving Bones behind! He is involved and excellent) that feels both completely believable and utterly heart-wrenching. I will never forget the ending. The Winged Dreamers is another really solid story, with another oft-screenshotted Spirk scene (well-deserved!) and further Spirk throughout, and a good deal of triumvirate content. A natural and poignant read. The Mind-Sifter can be a bit jarring at first, but the payoff (both in general development and with Jim and Spock) as the story progresses, and especially at the end, sets it all to rights. (Really, that ending scene!!!) And finally, The Face on the Barroom Floor is less Spirk (it has one moment but is definitely not a focus), but it's still a pretty decent story.

New Voyages 2

I haven't gotten through this one entirely yet, but the stories I've read are of a similar caliber to those from the first volume, and I would absolutely recommend it as well! It has the excellent Spirk poem Soliloquy along with a charming story from Nichelle Nichols herself that has many notable Spirk moments. I'm sure there are some more gold nuggets in the other stories, too!

Doctor's Orders

The dynamics are largely focused on Bones and Jim or Spock interacting, since Bones is the main character, but there are a few moments where everyone is together, and two VERY notable Spock and Jim moments (even though one of them is actually in a Spock and Bones interaction!! It really showed how deeply Bones understands the both of them, and the bond between them). I loved how the book handled all of their relationships, as each of the characters is undeniably close with both of the others.

Crisis on Centaurus

This one is more subtle from a Jim and Spock perspective, but still has many good moments worked in throughout the story. There's a particularly nice moment at the end that really made me smile. On the whole, the characters are authentic, and everyone gets development and insight; not too much focus is given to one character, and they felt pretty believable. A solid read!

The Not-So-Good Stuff

The Price of the Phoenix

If you're looking for Spirk, you will find it here. This one is so blatantly Spirk that you don't ever have to look for it. In many places, this is handled pretty darn well, but overall, the book felt like slash fanfic after the (excellent) opening section--and nothing against fanfic, but that's not what I was looking for. It distinctly stopped feeling canonical, because of how unbelievable some of the character decisions and situations were. (I then found out that it was in fact originally a slash fiction piece that was revised and then published officially. Its original title was "Never Mourn for Black Omne.") Many scenes made me deeply uncomfortable, and the book largely was just difficult to get through. Overall, I might reread it for the feels at points, but I'm not gonna heavily recommend it if you're looking for a quality Star Trek novel.

Black Fire

This one's a doozy, folks. The characterizations of literally every character are off-base (to say nothing of the utterly wack premise). The first half of the book has the worst-written Spock I have ever read, and the other characters are similarly mishandled (although not quite so extremely). The characterizations do get stronger as the book goes on, but it's not enough to balance out the mistakes of the first half. The Spirk content woven throughout, and more noticably present at the end, does its best, but is ultimately overshadowed by the largely unsatisfying story. (It's also quite easy to read Spock as aroace, and a few scenes specifically bolster that reading, but even that isn't enough for me to like it.) You might give it a try if you want to laugh at how ridiculous it is, but honestly, I found it more frustrating than anything, and I wouldn't recommend it.

I think this oughta give you a decent-enough place to start! Let me know what you think of them (and if there are any stories you think I should read--I am always eager for recommendations, and especially things to review!). And I will eventually publish my full collection of reviews...at some point!

[endlich-allein]

Promo "Rosenrot" (2005), Olivier Riedel and Till Lindemann — Interview by Phil Lageat and Olivier Rouhet, 05-09-2005 (Rock Hard #048)

Rock Hard : [...] At the time of interviewing Till Lindemann (vocals) and Oliver Riedel (bass) - Paul Landers and Christoph Schneider are also present, but answer other stores - several questions are bothering us... because we are worried. We start by taking news of the band, which recently canceled dates in Asia and South America.

Oliver Riedel : Till injured his knee during the concert in Gothenburg (Sweden) during a collision with Flake, hence the cancellation of the Asian dates. Then Flake caught a childhood illness. He is currently confined to a hospital bed with mumps. Not exactly dramatic, but he could only hear with one ear, which was rather annoying. So we had to postpone the South American dates. Nothing serious...

RH : The fact of recording in Berlin, and not abroad, as usual, in a short period of time, has put on the shoulders of the musicians an increased and useless pressure ?

Oliver : Yes, absolutely ! It's the first time we've recorded in Berlin, at home, and I'm not sure, looking back, that it was a good idea. Our families living nearby, we might tend to look at our watches whenever we had a break : What am I doing ? Do I take the opportunity to drop by home ? As a result, we were necessarily less focused and it was almost impossible for us to be there 100%.

Till Lindemann : More pressure ? Yes and no. Usually we like to work in a relaxed and mellow atmosphere, which we did when recording Reise Reise in Spain. In Berlin, it was quite different, because we worked 12 to 14 hours a day. And we did feel time pressures. It was a pretty intense creative process, which is why this album is quite special and out of the ordinary. I wouldn't say I'm proud of this record - it might be a bit too much - but I'm very happy with it nonetheless.

RH : [...] It seems that this extreme fatigue is not just physical. Admittedly, lately, they do a lot of albums and concerts, but we remember the tensions born during the gestation of Mutter. How can we not think, for a moment, that the Rammstein machine did not exhaust the friendship that bound the members of the group, to the point that they feel the occasional need to no longer see each other ? Have they learned to manage their friction in order to get off to a better restart ?

Oliver : It's true, I admit, we are washed out, burnt out. This is the reason why we are considering this prolonged hiatus... During the Mutter era, we did face some personal problems and we had to distance ourselves from each other. Then, we got closer and managed the conflicts that opposed us. Today, the atmosphere within the band is excellent, but we want to take this break to rest physically. In theory, we're looking at a hiatus of almost a year. But, who knows, maybe we'll meet beforehand to rehearse if the urge arises. And it is already planned that we meet to shoot two or three music videos which should illustrate the next singles of the album. To summarize, these three days of promotion, a few videos, and basta ! I love surfing and I am thinking of going around the beaches with my little van, just to see the country. Is it still possible that we go on vacation together ? (smile) No, I don't think so... Two or three of us, yes, but not the others.

RH : But let's stop complaining, and let's go back, along with Till, to his texts, often encrypted and regularly tackling “taboo” subjects (homosexuality in “Mann Gegen Mann”, our primary instincts in “Zerstören”, etc.)

Till : Journalists always want to know what is the deep meaning of my texts. Personally, I find it much more interesting that my words appeal to the imagination of listeners, that they interpret them in their own way. It is for this reason that I don't wish to submit my point of view : it would then be rehashed, no room would be left to the imagination. But back to "Rosenrot" : it is a very old word. "Reise, Reise", which dealt with the life of sailors, was also intended to be a reference to Herman Melville's novel, Moby Dick. Our choruses are always composed of simple words, but very strong, like "Sehnsucht" or "Du Hast". "Rosenrot" is color as a sign. With the Brothers Grimm, it is about a girl : in the song, the latter drops a rose from a cliff and asks her lover to go and get it back so that he can prove his love to her. But the unfortunate falls... and kills himself. Outside of Rammstein, I write collections of poems. It has nothing to do with writing song lyrics. It's not going to sound very serious, but I'm saying it anyway. Writing a poem is actually quite simple : you just have to drink a few good glasses of wine and let your imagination run wild (laughs). Writing the text of a song is much more difficult : your lyrics must stick with precise stanzas, a chorus, a metric that is imposed on you. And a guitarist just has to tell me "wait, I'm going to slip three more notes over here, so you need three more words!" And everything has to be redone... It may be that these three fucking words require me three months of work. Poetry is pure pleasure, the text of a song is real work.

RH : If there is one title that emerges from Rosenrot, it is the excellent "Te Quiro Puta", sung in Spanish. Does Till have a soft spot for South American music ? The answer may surprise :

Till : Not that I like a particular song, it's those popist salsa beats that go straight into the blood, that your body can't resist, that I like. What artists like Joachim Sabena and Manu Chao are doing is fantastic. The others like it less, but recently, in backstages, I was making them listen to Sonora Palacio, classical Chilean music, with trumpets and everything. And gradually, I ended up making them totally addicted... When will a song in French ??? Very soon, I hope ! (laughs)

© Felix Broede & Mat Hennek (2005)

[odos-bucket]

So I was reading @andillwriteyouatragedy​‘s incredible Brand New Day where Bruce and Clark adopt a young Dick Grayson together, and was thinking about a sort of companion story where they take in Jason together too. Using that story as a rough reference, I’m gonna say they’ve been together for a decade or so here. Dick is somewhere in his late teens. I’m figuring Clark probably offers to tag along on Bruce’s annual trip to crime alley every year. Bruce always politely declines. It’s basically become a part of the day’s bleak tradition. Clark is surprised when for once his offer is accepted. Later on, if pressed, neither of them would be able to pinpoint what was different about that night that made Bruce decide that it might be okay to have some company for once. Clark probably feels weird about it at first. Even though he’d asked Bruce if he wanted company, and Bruce had said yes, which he never would have unless he’d absolutely meant it (and Clark knows that). It still feels a little like he’s intruding on something private, even sacred. Then of course they get there, and there’s nothing going on. Superman’s senses don’t pick up the slightest hint of disruption anywhere in the neighborhood. Maybe they start patrolling around it anyways, maybe they just wander for a couple of blocks. Sooner or later they overhear someone talking about how it’s this night every year that Batman comes calling. Local criminals have picked up on the fact that if they just keep their heads down for this one specific night they can pretty much avoid him. Bruce is all grumbly about it, and immediately goes into ~strategy mode~ like, “Okay, I’ll have to start coming here on different days, on an irregular schedule.” He immediately opens up a dozen different tabs in his brain with calendars, and crime statistics, and is thinking a mile a minute, because that’s what he does. He’s kind of agitated about needing to change something that’s been a ritual for so long (because Batman has OCD, fight me) and he’s annoyed at himself for being bothered by it. Absolutely none of this sudden inner turmoil is detectable in his expression or body language. But Clark knows Bruce, knows how he reacts to things, and that there’s no way he’s not annoyed right now. He says, “Sounds like tonight will be a bust if we stay here,” then when Bruce grunts in response, continues, “We could go back to the manor. Watch a movie.” Then after a pause. “Or we could patrol somewhere else.” A moment passes. When Bruce says, “Okay,” Clark isn’t sure which suggestion he’s agreeing to, but they start back towards the car. It’s not a long walk, but they aren’t moving particularly quickly. By the time they get back to the batmobile it only has one wheel.

Clark frowns as he walks closer, before being stopped in his tracks by a surprising sound. It’s a sound that he recognizes immediately, that he hears all too infrequently. Bruce is laughing. Clark’s mouth quirks into a half smile. He takes a few steps forward, thinking about just picking the whole thing up and flying it back home. Then from a few paces ahead he hears Bruce’s low, gravelly Batman voice say, “Hi there.” Once he’s tuned in to the idea of another presence nearby, it becomes obvious to his advanced senses that someone is lurking behind the car. “Shit,” a small voice says. Bruce takes a few steps closer. “Planning on finishing the job?” He gestures to their remaining wheel. Clark shifts until he can get the kid partially in his sight without the aid of x-ray vision. He’s small, and looks to be somewhere in his pre-teens. “I got no idea what you’re talking about,” he says quickly. “Oh really?” Bruce asks. The boy glares at him. “Nice tire iron,” Bruce continues. “Comes in handy.” “I bet it does.” No sooner than the words are out of Bruce’s mouth, the tool is colliding with his shin. The boy shoots out from behind the car, and down a nearby street. Clark starts toward Bruce, who quickly gestures for him to go after the kid instead. He catches up with him in less than a second. When his hand falls onto the kid’s shoulder he freezes, muscles tightening throughout his body, and heart rate speeding up rapidly. The fear response is so sudden and extreme that Clark finds himself pulling away as if he’s been burned. The anxiety around being feared is something he’s mostly left in his past, but there’s a deep rooted insecurity within him that it still prods at. The kid stumbles when he starts to run again, and by then Bruce has caught up. They hang back, but trail after the boy at a distance, until they reach a condemned building a few blocks away. “Should we go in?” Clark asks. “Probably where my tires are,” Bruce says, before climbing through an uncovered doorway. It isn’t hard to find him again. There aren’t too many heartbeats in the area to distinguish between. When Bruce opens the door to the dilapidated room, the boy’s pulse rate jumps through the roof. Nothing changes externally about him though, and Clark wonders whether or not Bruce can tell that he’s afraid of them. There’s the slightest vibration to his words when he speaks. “Okay, take your stupid tires already. I’m sorry, all right? Just leave me alone!” Bruce isn’t looking at his tires. He’s looking around the room, no doubt noticing the same things that Clark has, mold, water damage, a broken window. The place is freezing. Then in the corner there’s a cardboard box with some pasta and canned goods in it, a small stack of books, and a mattress on the floor. “Do you… live here?” Bruce asks. “Yeah. What of it?” Bruce takes a few more steps into the room. “Where are your parents, son?” Clark asks. “Mom’s dead. I dunno where Dad is; don’t really care, if I’m being honest. Now take your stuff and go already!” He’s holding the iron up again, wielding it in a manner that’s clearly meant to be threatening. Bruce plucks it out of his hands with relative ease, inspects it, then turns it around and hands it back. “Move your thumb up like this, and you’ll have a sturdier grip. And don’t stand with your legs so far apart, it’ll put you off balance.” He sighs. “What’s your name?” “… Jason.” He grabs the tire iron back, shuffling to adjust his grip and footing, keeping his stance defensive. Bruce looks around the place again. “You can’t stay here, Jason.” “Oh yeah? Says who? I can take care of myself! Been doing it for long enough.” Bruce glances up at Clark, who can see the wheels turning in his head, before looking back at Jason. “I’d really like the wheels of my car back,” he says carefully, then hurries to continue before Jason can interject. “Can I make you a deal? We’ll buy you dinner if you reattach the batmobile’s tires?”

There’s a fast food place a couple of blocks away that’s open 24 hours. Jason agrees to accompany them, but walks a few yards behind. The employees at the place aren’t at all phased by the appearance of the two vigilantes. Bruce inspects a suspicious stain on one of the walls, while Jason and Clark look at the menu posted above the counter. They order- Bruce gets two of what Jason asks for- then go outside to eat. Bruce is lost in thought as they exit the restaurant, wondering what it would take to bring free food trucks to the area. Jason’s halfway done with his meal by the time they sit down on the sidewalk. “Do you go to school around here?” Bruce asks, wanting to put together a fuller picture of the boy’s situation. Jason gets a distant look in his eyes in response to the question. He finishes chewing slowly, swallows, then shakes his head, clearing his throat before replying. “No. Not for a long time now.” He shrugs. “I got all I needed to out of it.” “You had some pretty advanced reading material back at your place for someone who didn’t finish middle school.” Bruce recalled seeing The Odyssey amongst his few possessions, as well as a couple of Shakespeare plays. Jason shrugs again. “Reading’s not that hard.” “Some people find it very difficult,” Clark says. “Some people are stupid.” Bruce cuts in before Clark can start on the gentle reprimand he can see him preparing. “Ever think that maybe you’re just smart?” Jason gives him a curious look, like that really wasn’t a possibility that he had considered before, then takes another bite, and stares off thoughtfully. “So, Homer,” Bruce prompts. Jason nods. “It’s a fun story. Odi-seuss is a dick though.” Bruce resists both the compulsion to correct his pronunciation of ‘Odysseus’, and Alfred’s voice in the back of his head urging him to tell the kid not to swear. “What makes you say that?” He asks instead. Jason looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Gee, I don’t know, maybe all the pillaging, and murdering he does throughout the entire book.” “Poem,” Bruce corrects. “What?” “The Odyssey is a poem.” “Wait, really?” Bruce hums an affirmative. “Huh… cool. But the point still stands.” “I’m inclined to agree with you. Have you ever read The Scarlet Pimpernel?” Jason shakes his head. “It’s been a personal favorite for a long time,” says Bruce. Clark shoots him an amused grin. “I’ll keep an eye out for anyone throwing out a copy,” Jason says. Bruce frowns. “You have a library around here.” The remark earns him an unamused snort. “It’s a Gotham library; people don’t go there to read books, they go there to buy, sell and/or ingest drugs, and they tend not to be too happy with anybody who’s lingering around while they’re doing it.” Bruce feels a pang, not for the first time that night. “Jason,” he starts, before realizing he isn’t sure what to say. Jason keeps angled to watch him expectantly as he rises to deposit his napkins and bag in a nearby trashcan. “We’d like to help you,” Clark says. “Yeah,” Jason scoffs. “Right. Just how do you plan on doing that? Because I’ve heard that before. I’ve done the whole foster care thing already, and I’m not about to go through it again.” “No,” Bruce is quick to agree. “But there are residential schools in the city. We could help you to get enrolled in one.” Jason seems taken aback by the offer. “…Why?” He asks slowly. “Well for one, because kids should be in school. You’d be provided with room and board for the duration of your time there, which would leave you with less to worry about.” He reaches out to pass Jason the second takeout bag. He’s still lingering at a distance from them. “At least think about it?” “No. I mean, like, why?” Bruce’s eyebrow raises, tugging at the material of his cowl. “What’s in this for you?” Jason continues. “Why do you even care?” “It’s our job,” Clark says. “You’re job is to beat up bad guys.” Clark smiles when Jason mimes punching someone, before saying, “Our job is to help people.” Jason purses his lips. “Don’t boarding schools cost money?” “Most of them offer scholarships,” Bruce says. “I have a few friends who are deans. I could make the necessary introductions to ensure you a place at one of their institutions.“ Jason’s arms are crossed high over his chest, and his expression is set like he’s deep in thought. “I don’t want to end up stuck somewhere where someone else is the boss of me.” “How about you at least come with us to check a couple of these places out,” Bruce suggests. “Just see how you feel about them. No commitment.” Jason’s nose scrunches up. “Where exactly are these places?” He asks. “It varies,” Bruce says. “All within the city.” They watch the boy chew on the inside of his lip for a moment. “Just to see,” he says eventually. Bruce nods. “I’m not getting into a car with you,” Jason adds. “We can take the bus,” Clark offers. Jason raises an eyebrow at that, and his mouth quirks almost into a smile. “Batman and Superman are gonna ride on Gotham’s shitty public transit?” “Why not?” Clark asks. “… Okay,” Jason says, still plainly unconvinced. “Let’s meet back here,” Bruce suggests. “Tomorrow?” Jason takes a minute, but eventually starts to nod. “Sure,” he says. “Why not.” They part ways after Clark disposes of his empty bag. The heroes return to their car.

While they’re driving back Clark says, “I know that look.” Bruce pauses to take stock of his own expression, and makes sure to neutralize anything on his face that might be out of the ordinary. Clark continues, unbothered by the lack of response. “It’s your ‘I’m already deeply emotionally invested in this kid’ look.” Bruce hums noncommittally. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep tonight,” Clark adds. Bruce doesn’t either, but that’s par for the course at this point.

Part Two

[revenant-dumpster-fire]

hey there! i absolutely love your content (especially your writing, it’s like one giant, intricate poem. AND THE WORLD BUILDING OMG) and i just had a question for you

i’ve recently rediscovered your fic ‘Just a Volunteer’ (started it a year ago before i lost it 😔) and sadly, i’ve almost reached the end of it. i was just wondering if there were other works you’d recommend similar to it?? (...in other words rev fics. *shakes my fist in the air* you completely outed me as the revenant lover that i am) 

side note: i’m aware of the sequel ‘Lost Files’ and can’t wait to read it next but i just know i’ll plow through it because of just how good your writing is ☹️ take care you stylistic genius, hope you’re doing well!!

Oh, thank you so much! That's so kind of you!

If you haven't seen (and I apologize if you already know this): the good news on my fanfic is that The Lost Files is one (difficult) chapter away from completion, and Book #2 is actually almost halfway done! It's only being held up by that aforementioned difficult chapter. I am doing my best, and I really genuinely appreciate the patience and kindness of everyone sticking around.

Anyways, onto your real question!

As for suggestions, it is so dependent on what you're looking for! I try not to read too much of other people's work just because I don't want to accidentally plagiarize any ideas, but I can point you in a few directions! Also, plenty of stories are incomplete. (All these link to Ao3, which is the premier site for this kind of content. I didn't want to make anyone uncomfy by pointing directly to a Tumblr, so I hope this is okay.)

Non-Terrae Plus Ultra: This fic is one of the longest I've seen, and has a number of Reader x Character interactions. This writer keeps Revenant extremely rough and mean, and it is explicit with no mature version, so read at your own risk! You can easily skip to the interactions you're more interested in, rather than reading the whole thing. The author is very dedicated to writing a lot and often, and I cannot help but be impressed by them for that.

If You Make a Robot Your B****: This is a fic writer here on Tumblr as well, but mind the rules of having your age in your bio before interacting (oops got myself blocked that way—but that's my own fault even though I'm old enough!). Either way, they made a lot and seem to have gathered a large fanbase doing so for good reason. You could easily carouse their backlog for anything you're interested in. Generally, their work is explicit (hence their rules) with no mature version.

I'm Not Supposed to Love You: As you can imagine, this one is also explicit (I really hope you weren't looking for a mature selection... goodness I messed up if so). This person also posted to Tumblr quite a bit, and honestly I just found their work super cool. I got to beta read a few chapters, and help a little wherever possible. I think they've been off the scene for a bit, and I hope the author is doing well and enjoying life, but this one may never be completed. Despite that, it'll always be nostalgic for me just because the author was always kind to me, even in a really dark time in my life.

Red Lines: Explicit. Haha... ah. Anyways! This is also a good writer form the Tumblrsphere as well, and this was—I believe—the first fanfiction I ever read? I think? So in a way, my entire writing career (as short and socially unacceptable as it has been) is owed to this one. Which is crazy to think! But honestly, my own work has a couple very loose references to this one, in part based on this piece teaching me a bit about the canon lore when I was still learning. Solid one.

So, uh, those are all explicit. I am so sorry if you were looking for ones with mature options. I don't think it's too often that a writer will make a mature version of their work, but I am very glad I did for those who were uncomfy with explicit works. I also think my narrative is a bit unique, and I'm not entirely sure who else "writes like me". All these share the same subject of affection, at least! So hopefully they'll suffice!

Thank you so much for your kind words though!! I really appreciate your kindness and encouragement. I've been able to write a lot more lately because of the support. It means a lot to me. I am glad others get so much out of something I put effort into, even if it's a bit disagreeable to more prudish individuals (whom I genuinely don't mean to offend, this is just how I cope!).