#you turned a street name into a verb though

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

...

Yeah I like your feet.

[exceptional-z]

zed necrodopolis x reader

this is an au where zombies were never allowed to go to human high school. so zed is aged up (though age is never mentioned so you can imagine whatever) but has never been on the other side of the barrier. i attempted not to use gendered language but i tend to write with fem!reader in mind.

also please ignore any inconsistent verb tenses. english is not my first language and verb tenses are literally the bane of my existence. + i wrote this in like an hour

your family didn’t have much money growing up, hence why you lived so close to the gate. real estate was cheap since no one wanted to live near the zombies. but it also meant you learnt how to save money in as many ways as you could.

seabrook was all about perfection. if a mattress was two years old, it was time to throw it out and buy a new one. if a bike had a single scratch, it was thrown into the dumpster. all of the old items deemed as ‘garbage’ were brought to a warehouse that was emptied around every two weeks. and this was your favourite place to be.

you sneak into the warehouse. it’s late at night and there’s never any security around. you’re immediately greeted with piles of furniture and clothing and trinkets that are too unique to fit into the seabrook aesthetic.

you start to rummage through with the plastic gloves you always wear just in case any bugs or mice decide that this is a perfect place to burrow. lost in thought, you don’t hear the creaky door open, but you do hear the sudden shout that erupted from behind you.

your heart nearly stops beating at the sudden noise and your head swivels around. the lighting isn’t great, and you can only make out the vague shape of the person blocking your only exit. he looks fairly lanky, and if you squint you could make out some of his features. he doesn’t look much older than you and he certainly doesn’t scream “imposing”. he’s taller than you, but maybe if you caught him off guard you could knock him out with one of the many heavy objects splayed around you.

“i was told no one ever came in here,” the boy says. fuck, his voice is attractive.

“they don’t. in the three years i’ve been doing this i’ve never run into anyone else.” you answer, obviously suspicious.

“i’m uh- i’m just looking for a gift for my little sister,” he explains, “it’s her birthday soon and she said she wanted a new bike but we can’t really afford it.”

you relax a little at his explanation, sharing that you’d gotten into the habit of coming here to rummage for things since your family also doesn’t have much money. “i could help you look if you’d like? and even if we can’t find a bike, there’s a ton of cool stuff you can find if you’re willing to dig.” you offer.

you can’t be sure, but you think he smiles as he answers. “i’ll take any help i can get. my friend eliza told me to try coming here to look, but honestly, i’m a bit overwhelmed.”

you talk and laugh together for what must be at least two hours. you don’t end up finding a bike, but you find an old cheerleader outfit that looks to be in perfect condition. you can’t imagine why anyone would throw it out unless it just didn’t fit anymore. the boy -who still doesn’t have a name- literally jumped up in joy when he saw you holding the skirt from the set, doing a little celebratory dance that should have been embarrassing but was somehow endearing. (that’s how you figured out his little sister was obsessed with cheer).

eventually you have to part ways; it’s getting into the early hours of the morning and you both need to be getting home. he’s halfway down the street when you realise you never shared names and you yell out, “wait!”

he stops and turns around, and you jog to catch up to him.

“what’s your name, stranger?” you ask, “just in case we run into each other again.”

he tells you his name is zed, and you tell him your name in return. for a few seconds the both of you just stand in the street, memorising each other’s faces until you look away, shaking off the thoughts of how attractive he is under the starlight.

(bonus: when zed gets home, all he can think about is you. he wonders if eliza would recognise your name, or if he would possibly run into you if he chose to go to school for once instead of always skipping. he wonders where you live in zombietown, since he doesn’t recognise you and is sure he would remember seeing someone as gorgeous are you. he spends the next few days wondering, and then is in for the shock of his life when he sees you through the fence that blocks off zombietown from seabrook and learns that you’re human.)

[somethingclevermahogony]

Happy WBW! What are some common superstitions in your setting?

Happy WBW! (Also a bit delayed, oops)

There are too many cultures in the world of Kobani to go over all of the various superstitions, as such I will stick to just Kishetal and only a couple of the more prevelant superstitions within Kishite Culture.

Superstition #1: Placing food back onto the serving dish or plate is not only bad manners, its bad luck. And don't forget to spit on the dead.

If one attends a Kishite banquet they will find no steaks, no whole roasts, nothing on the bone, nor unsliced fruit like apples or peaches, rather they will find that every food item has been cut or sliced into bite-sized portions with the exception of bread (and soups of course).

This is because it is considered not only bad manners but also bad luck to allow a food item which has touched the mouth to be set back down onto the serving platter or even onto a plate, “double-dipping” is viewed with similar hostility. It is believed that doing so may spread disease or illness. As a direct consequence of this belief, knives are a relatively rare piece of cutlery, as it is expected that the food will either by soft enough to be torn apart with the fingers (like bread or fish), naturally bite-sized (like olives, grapes, or shellfish), eaten with a spoon (like a soup), or cut into appropriately sized pieces. The only equipment a dinner is expected to bring to a meal is a cloth to wipe the fingers between bites and a spoon.

Of course the Kishites have no concept of germ theory, rather the explanation for this particular superstition is the belief that spirits are attracted to saliva, which is in itself viewed as a source of vitality and energy, secondary to blood in importance. 

This particular belief in the power of saliva also comes into play for other parts of Kishite life. Spitting in a domicile is considered a grave insult as doing so may attract unwanted spirits. On the other hand, spitting on the stones used for the creation of Kishite burial rounds is believed to attract spirits which can in turn act as guides for the deceased. In parts of north-eastern Kishetal starting around the city-state of Naloch, it is tradition for the family to spit on the clothes of the deceased. This practice is so entrenched that in northern dialects of the Kishite language the most commonly used word for grief or grieving is pisuki/pisukiwash (Literally from the verb biski meaning to drool or spit), as opposed to the more common term(s) nahulpati/nahulpatiwash (nahul- death, pati- love/affection).

On a similar note, spitting on a living person is equivalent to wishing death upon that person.

There is very little truth to this particular belief as any sage could attest, though this has not stopped this particular superstition from proliferating.

Superstition #2: Curses: The Real and the Fiction

When one walks through the narrow and filth ridden streets of Labisa’s less savory neighborhoods, they may be approached by men and women holding scraps of hide, sherds of broken pottery, and swishing jugs of unknown contents. These so-called “magic weavers” offer a range of services, from curing baldness to making another person fall in love with you, and most infamously, bestowing curses. Most often curses take the form of pottery sherds (the more expensive examples may also be the bones of various animals) carved with the name of the intended victim and the intended outcome of the curse (impotency, leprosy, infidelity, etc). These curse tokens will then be hidden somewhere in the proximity of the intended victim, often buried near houses, or even crushed and poured into wells or sprinkled over a person’s threshold.

Of course these “curses” are pure fiction and have no real effect, save for parting a gullible and angry person from their wealth (though on very very rare occasions a wandering spirit may decide to act upon the “curse” to pass the time.)

However this does not mean that there are no real ways to curse an individual or even an entire family. Curses are the domain of sages and seers and are exceptionally rare as their continuous nature results in a considerable toll from the caster, or even when they are not continuous( magic/the sage’s energies do not need to be supplied for the continuation of the effects) they instead have a level of complexity which prevents all but the most powerful and competent sages from producing them. 

The most infamous curse currently active in Kishetal is the disease called Asherdul’s Bane, which affects the male members of the Royal Line of Asher (This includes Hutbari, Akard, and Kurush aka Ninma’s family). This particular curse stems from a western Makurian Tribe, placed in retaliation to the destruction of a Makurian temple by the Labisian King, Asher. This particular curse took the form of genetic manipulation, imprinting the genes for the disease within Asher, thus passing the illness down his male line. The disease first presents around the age of 25 as a gradual degradation of first the skin and then the muscles and vital organs, leading to the eventual death of the afflicted.

Superstition #3: The Hoopoe is a portent of love

The hoopoe bird of Kishetal is viewed as a symbol of the Goddess Uniki, patron of marriage and romantic love. This has resulted in a number of superstitions arising around the colorful crested birds.

#1 Killing a hoopoe is incredibly bad luck: Killing a hoopoe or crushing a nest is almost guaranteed to either ruin any current relationships or prevent the formation of new ones. This perceived blanket of bad luck can only be lifted via a heavy donation to the nearest temple to Uniki or else by some other act of atonement.

#2 A lasting wedding must include the presence of hoopoe feathers of some sort:  The preferred method of doing this is through the creation of a hoopoe feather crown, these are often passed down from mother to daughter. However if one does not inherit a crown they must go and make one. This particular practice is complicated by the previous superstition, the feathers must be gathered without killing or harming the bird, as such only shed feathers are collected, and are often mixed with other kinds of bird feather as well as flowers and other plant material.

#3 Being pooped on by a hoopoe is a sign of divine favor: To be pooped on by a passing hoopoe is a sign that a person is favored by fate, particularly when it comes to love and romance. A man who is pooped on by a hoopoe is certain to find a good wife, make a good home, and have strong children. As a result it is not unusual for lovestruck Kishite boys to gather under a tree where hoopoes are known to nest with the hopes of gaining their “favor”. And after receiving said favor they may run to the home of the girl they fancy, to plead to their prospective father-in-laws, with the mark of the hoopoe as proof of their qualifications.

[cryptidsurveys]

Thursday, December 12th, 2024.

1]; What is the nearest traffic sign to your house? There's a stop sign right across the street.

2]; What year did you move into your current home? We moved here from Louisiana in 1993.

3]; What year was it built? I think it was built in the 1970s.

4]; What year was your vehicle manufactured? In 2008. It's a red Nissan Versa.

5]; What are your pets doing right now? Karenna is sleeping on my bean bag, Lacy is sleeping on a pile of my dad's clothes in his room, and I'm not sure what Esther is up to at the moment.

6]; What is plugged into the nearest outlet? My computer, a salt lamp, a mushroom nightlight, and the string of lights above my desk.

7]; How many rolls of toilet paper, paper towel, and boxes of Kleenex do you have right now? We just bought a big ol' package of paper towels yesterday, so probably something like 10+. I'm not sure how many toilet paper rolls we have, but we have zero boxes of Kleenex. If I need to wipe my nose, then I just use toilet paper / paper towels.

8]; When did you last see your mother? The day before Thanksgiving when we went to see Wicked in theater. I just spoke to her on the phone last night, though.

9]; And your father? A few minutes ago.

1o]; What are your 5 “oldest” recent emojis? Galaxy, star, rat, witch, and :P.

11]; What song plays in your head the most? These days, probably Christmas songs.

12]; Are your pets’ names actual classic pet names, human names, places, things, verbs, or what? Human names.

13]; Have you ever received a card signed individually by a large group of people? I'm pretty sure I have at some point, but I can't recall the occasion.

14]; Who do you know that’s pregnant right now? I don't know anyone who's pregnant.

15]; What did you do last weekend? Animal shelter 8:00am-12:00pm.

16]; Last night? Ate dinner, chatted with my dad, then fell asleep to an episode of Red Web.

17]; What did you last use scissors for? To open a bag of microwavable southwest style rice mix for dinner last night.

18]; Who have you helped move? Richard - a friend I had when I was in high school.

19]; At what age did you get your first period? (Sorry if this one question doesn’t apply to you) I was 11.

2o]; And what age was your first kiss? Idk what counts as a "first kiss." Meaningless childhood kisses? Or my first "legitimate" romantic partner?

21]; With whom are you planning trips currently? I'm not planning any trips with anyone.

22]; When is the last time you got laid? Years ago.

23]; What all is in your pockets? Nothing.

24]; What is the last strain of weed you smoked/consumed however? Lol I still have the cannister in one of my drawers even though it's been at least a couple of years since I last smoked. The strain is Lavender Jones.

25]; What size is your bed? King.

26]; What size are the spare beds? We don't have any spare beds. Pretty sure the two beds in my dad's room are twins, though.

27]; What is the last load of laundry you did? Colours, darks, towels..? I don't bother to separate colors. It was just a load of clothes.

28]; What is the last YouTube channel you watched? Marfoogle TV.

29]; What is the last thing you used water for? To wash my hands. If we're talking about food / drinks, though, then oatmeal and hot chocolate.

3o]; How old are you turning next year? I'll be 36 in March.

31]; What is the last thing you wrote down? My next therapy appointment. It would ordinarily be on the 25th, but that's Christmas. They had an opening on the 26th at 11:30am, so I took that instead.

32]; Who is the last friend you spent time with? Can't really spend time with Oliver because they live in California.

33]; What calendar year did you last turn a multiple of 11? I turned 33 in 2022.

34]; What is the range of year answers in this survey (2, 3, 4, 33)? 1970s-2022.

35]; How many people have texted/messaged you today? Zero. Oliver sent me a text yesterday that I need to read and respond to, though.

36]; Last person to comment on your anything? I'm not sure.

37]; What are you doing after this survey? Making something to eat.

38]; How many steps did you walk yesterday? No idea.

39]; How many hours of sleep did you get last night? Close to eight.

4o]; How many tattoos do you have? Several.

[stummysnort]

WHO WE ARE BY HOZIER IS THE MOST NUREYEV SONG OF ALL TIME

these thoughts have consumed my every waking thought for days on end and I must excise them the only way I know how (writing about it on the internet)

This post includes heavy spoilers for Juno Steel and the Thief’s Honor. Keep reading only if you are done with the series!

You only feel it when it's lost Getting through still has a cost Quietly, it slips through your fingers, love Falling from you, drop by drop

The final loss of Slip forces Nureyev to acknowledge his overflowing mental filing cabinet. This section is pretty on the nose with where Nureyev is emotionally at the end of Thief's Honor P2/beginning of Case Closed P2. The image of liquid "falling...drop by drop" (perhaps also "hold me like water" in the next section) functions to 1. create the opportunity to use slip as a verb (insane) but also 2. to evoke blood running. Slip's "life upgrade" requires Juno's blood to literally drain out of him, drop by drop.

PERSONALLY (I'm not sure how y'all will feel about this, walk with me here,) I found the imagery of Slip in his final moments to mirror a martyr bleeding out on a cross. Juno specifically describes how Slip "writhed there on the wall"— Slip wasn't in a regular hospital bed, he was suspended up. (RIP Christians you’d love Slip Jackson)(just kidding I think Christianity is probably still around somewhat in the show’s period since characters say variations of “jeez”)(right? idk. anyway back to the song)

What I had left here I just held it tight So someone with your eyes Might come in time To hold me like water Or Christ, hold me like a knife

"Someone with your eyes" can be literal (more on that in a second), but could also more broadly mean "someone with your [loving] perspective/vision". Nureyev has very rarely been Seen and Understood in his life, really only ever being vulnerable with Juno and Slip (he can't even understand himself with how much he compartmentalizes and represses). I think the first four lines of this verse could also be applied to Juno's loss of Ben, if you indulge in the headcanon that Juno's THEIA eye matched Ben's eye color and/or that Ben had heterochromia. Let the record reflect that I do indulge! Nureyev and Slip holding each other like knives is tender (holding a knife requires care and intention), but this also speaks to their defensiveness and desperation in survival. For example, in Rangian street poker, the player's relationships become their tools/weapons. This line about knives comes up again later, so we'll discuss more when we get there. (Though, I gotta add, the mention of knives reminds me of the detail in Angel of Brahma where Juno, upon watching Nureyev kill Mag, says he wasn't sure where the knife ended and Nureyev began. Ouch!)

We're born at night So much of our lives Is just carving through the dark To get so far And the hardest part Is who we are It's who we are

"Born at night" and "through the dark" further build on the desperation to survive that defined Nureyev and Slip's relationship. It also could describe the unnatural conditions of the Outer Rim and/or Nureyev's life hiding in the shadows. "The hardest part... it's who we are" speaks to Nureyev's journey running from both his own identity (the thief without a name!) as well as Slip's inevitable death. Nureyev's turning point as a character is when he faces who Slip really is (or rather, the reality of Slip's condition) and in turn is forced to face himself. (the Man in Glass finally looked in the glass!) You could also argue that an important step for Juno was discovering and accepting who Nureyev is. This brings to mind the monologue in What Lies Beyond P1 where Juno describes his desire for them both to remove pieces of each other's armor until him and Nureyev are "fully vulnerable and fully known".

You and I burned out our steam Chasing someone else's dream How can something be so much heavier But so much less than what it seems? Darling, we sacrificed We gave our time to something undefined This phantom life Sharpens like an image But it sharpens like a knife

The knife imagery is back! First, I think the "phantom life" references Slip and Nureyev's dream together. The dream "sharpens like an image" in the sense it was extremely vivid for them, but it "sharpens like a knife" because the executives weaponized that dream against Nureyev. The “phantom life” was the knife at Nureyev's throat that caused him to sacrifice twenty years of his life to the “undefined” hope of saving Slip. Of course, the truth is that he was "chasing someone else's dream", the executive's goal of turning a profit.

The third and fourth lines here remind me of a comment inside one of the production scripts— “If you can’t make the stakes big, make them personal”. The executives are horrifying, but they technically have less physical power than some of the other villains in the series. In other words, this arc is both “so much heavier” and “so much less than what it seems”.

We're born at night So much of our lives Is just carving through the dark To get so far And the hardest part Is who we are It's who we are

You only feel it when it's lost Getting through still has its cost Quietly, it slips through your fingers, love Falling from you, drop by drop

thanks for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts if you got this far :)

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE,BLOOD Vol.01 Sakamaki Ayato [TRACK 1+2]

Original title: 牢獄の中、囚われの身 & 獄れた身体

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, Blood Vol. 1: Sakamaki Ayato [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Midorikawa Hikaru

Translator’s note:

Track 1+2 ll Track 3+4 ll Track 5+6 ll Track 7+8 ll Track 9+10

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

TRACK 1: CAPTIVES INSIDE A PRISON

*Rustle rustle*

*Cling*

*Rustle*

“...Kuh! ...Ugh…”

*Cling cling*

“Ahー Fuck…”

*Cling*

“The fuck are these…? Chains…?”

You call his name.

“...Oh, Chichinashi? You’re here as well? ...Ugh...Ah...Hah…”

Ayato tries to move but to no avail.

[00:35] “...It hurts. My head’s spinnin’ too. ...What the fuck happened to me?”

*Cling*

“Ughーー!”

You show concern. 

“What’s wrong, Chichinashi? Are you worried ‘bout me? Hah! You really are an airhead through and through, aren’t you? Come on, this way…”

*Cling*

[01:11] “Ugh...The fuck? Are the two of us chained together…? Tsk…! I’m really bein’ turned into a big fool, aren’t I? They won’t get away with this! I swear! Ugh…”

*Rustle rustle*

*Cling*

“Anyway...Fuck...We’ve sure seen better days. Both of us are completely roughened up.”

Ayato looks around.

[01:45] “Aah? Where are we? ...A prison cell? ...Fuck! Why are we here!?”

*Cling cling*

“Che! These darn chains are gettin’ on my nerves…! They’re hella short too. ...Oi, Chichinashi! Scoot a lil’ closer! Otherwise I can’t lie down comfortably, see?”

You hesitate.

[02:19] “Hurry! ーー Damnit! I gotta do somethin’ ‘bout these chains or we’ll never get anywhere...Ahー Fuck it! Why do I have to deal with this shit!? ...Aahー This is bad...I can’t think straight...Um...Let’s see...If I recall correctly, the two of us were walking down the street on our way back home. ...Ah, right! I had just pinned you down, demandin’ your blood and thenーー Someone ambushed me. By the time I regained consciousness, I was imprisoned down here. Kuhー! Fuck!”

*Cling*

[03:20] “They really didn’t hold back, huh? I have to give them props for doin’ such a number on me…”

He looks around.

“Oi, Chichinashi. How much time has passed since then?”

You shrug.

“Che! You really are useless! You should at least know that!”

You ask a question.

“Haah? What was that? You want to know who would do this? ...Hah! Things would be much easier if I knew the answer to that question.”

Ayato tries to find a comfortable position.

[04:02] “Ugh...It hurts even just to lie down ‘cause every movement makes these wounds ache...Fuck! ...All I remember is that we’re dealin’ with more than one person here. I think there were ‘bout four of them. Also...I could tell they were focused on my...No, on both my lineage and on you as well.”

You wonder why.

“Hah…? Why, you ask? Chichinashi...You really are an idiot, aren’t you?”

You frown.

[04:40] “Haah...They’ve given us a good beatin’ and locked us up in here, but they haven’t killed us, have they? Those shitbags had the same smell as me. There’s not a doubt in my mind...They’re of the same species. ...In other words, they’re Vampires just like me.”

You flinch.

“...Well, I can think of more than one reason why someone would hold a grudge against me. Especially fellow Vampires, hahaha…”

You ask for an explanation. 

[05:23] “The Sakamaki family is rather prestigious in our world, you see. ...Personally it makes me gag though. ...Ah, fuck! My wounds have started achin’...Why is this happenin’...!? Ugh!”

*THUD*

“This has never happened before. I hate to admit it...But these guys might be pretty strong. Haah…”

*Rustle rustle*

*Cling*

“Those jerks...I bet they think they’re the shit…! Haah, haah...I’m gonna kill them and turn them into ashes!”

*THUD*

[06:11] “Oi, Chichinashi! You’ve been left unharmed, right?”

You raise a brow.

“Your clothes are kinda dirty, but you don’t have any injuries, do you?”

You hesitate.

“Kuh...Oi, what’s your answer?”

You avert your gaze.

“...!! That expression...Don’t tell me…!? Chichinashi. Answer me loud and clear!”

*THUD*

You flinch.

TRACK 2: VIOLATED (1) BODY

“...Oi, Chichinashi. Are you listenin’...? ...ANSWER ME!”

He hits the floor again.

*THUD*

You tell Ayato that he is being more aggressive than usual.

[00:13] “Ugh...Haah, haah...Haah? I’m not actin’ like myself? ...Shut up! I’m worked up right now...Can’t you tell that much, aah!? If you don’t want to receive the same treatment as this floor, you better answer me. ...Come on!”

*Rustle*

“Tell me what they did to you.”

You shake your head.

“Haah…? You can’t…? DON’T FUCK WITH ME!”

*THUD*

“Just tell me…’They had their way with me, sucking my blood all over’, just like that…!!”

*Cling cling*

*Rustle*

[01:02] “I bet you felt so satisfied afterwards, just like when I suck your blood…? To you, havin’ your blood sucked is pure bliss, isn’t it? Pleasure is a treat after all…”

You frown. 

“...Why are you lookin’ at me like that? Aah?”

You tear up.

[01:21] “Don’t cry...If that isn’t what happened, then fess up already. Everything. ...Tell me, hurry. If you can’t with words, that’s fine. No point in forcing it out of you...When I can just ask your body directly instead.”

*Cling cling*

*Rustle*

[01:50] “Ahー I see. That’s what you were after this whole time, no? Hahaha...You were waitin’ for this, weren’t you? You wanted to upset me so I would treat you badly, isn’t that right?”

*Rustle rustle*

“Ugh...Fuck…”

*Cling*

[02:16] “Geezー You really are one hell of a freaky chick, Chichinashi. Hahaha...Well, that’s nothin’ new to me, of course. So don’t be playin’ the lil’ princess now by gettin’ all flustered. You’ve already…”

*Cling*

[02:43] “...been dirtied all over by my fangs after all. You’re nothin’ but a dirty, corrupted woman, so don’t think too highly of yourself. I honestly don’t mind givin’ someone of your level to those guys, you see?”

Your eyes widen in shock. 

[03:02] “They wrongly assume that you’re special in my eyes. ...Hahaha! Oi, Chichinashi. Get off your high horse. You’re just some measly human chick!”

*Cling*

“Ugh...Haah, haah…”

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) I was unable to find 獄れる as a verb in any of my dictionaries, however, I did find related terms such as 獄道 which refers to ‘evil’ or ‘immoral’ or is also used for Yakuza movies which contain a lot of violence and sex.

[nirikeehan]

WIP Wednesday

Yes I know it's Thursday. That's just how I'm rolling right now.

Thank you so much to @musetta3 for tagging me!!

Honestly my only WIP with actual words written right now is... kinda spicy. 👀 The start of a horrible fic where I wreck both my favorite ships into a goddamn iceberg. Here is some Blackwall (having returned to calling himself Thom Rainier) and Thalia having a clandestine affair in the space between Inquisition and Trespasser.

Also I'm playing with verb tenses here and writing in present tense. IDK why I do this to myself because I usually end up hating it and reverting back to past tense eventually.

---

The room smells of lavender and chamomile; the soap scents linger from the bath. From the window, Kirkwall’s harbor shimmers in the morning sun, dotted with ships sliding two and fro across the water. From this window, the city looks picturesque, all white stone and warm breezes. Thalia leans forward to catch a glimpse of children at play on the street, but they run around a corner and disappear in a cloud of laughter.

“Would you sit still?” The admonishment comes as a growl. He sounds genuinely cross.

“Sorry, sorry,” Thalia says, stifling a giggle of her own.

She leans back, perched on the edge of the bed. He sits behind her, working a comb through the wet tangles of her hair. Her auburn hair, luxurious and long enough to reach her waist, is one of her best attributes. It brings her untold pleasure to feel his fingers in her hair, the careful tilting of her head, the gentle bite of the comb against her scalp.

“I’ve heard such frightful things about this city,” she murmurs. “But I think it’s beautiful.”

“Depends on your purpose for being here. And the company you choose to keep.”

She steals a glance over her bare shoulder, hugging the towel around herself. His still-damp black hair gleams in the light from the window, his grey eyes washed pale, almost colorless. “I have found the company very agreeable, I must say.”

“Have you?” A smirk finds its way to his lips. He smiles easier these days.

“Oh, yes. Imagine the luck: a girl meets a dashing stranger in a pub and gets swept off her feet.”

He snorts, a small noise of derision, although he’s clearly enjoying the game. “A stranger, eh?”

“Of course. Who else? It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Thom Rainier.”

She relishes feel of the name of her tongue, how it sounds in the sweet air between them. How he no longer flinches when she says it. She sees him transformed, although he has the same long beard and the same strong eyebrows and the same slightly askew nose, and soon he will don the same humble blacks. She knew he was different from the moment she spied him in the Hanged Man the night before, Varric at her side, eager to show her his old haunts. She’d spotted him at the end of the bar, halfway through a stein of ale, and her heart leapt into her throat.

He eyes her with the same old longing, but without the torment. She sees him as he must have been once: tall and proud, the envy of the native-born Orlesians in their army. He’s slowly making peace with himself — as he explained to her after she’d slipped onto the barstool beside him — one apology at a time.

She shivers under his gaze, remembering how she had put a hand over his on the bar, and he’d put a hand on her knee. The thing she’d wanted those long months at Skyhold, the thing he’d withheld, so wrapped up in his desire for self-flagellation.

“The pleasure’s been all mine, my lady,” he says, voice low.

Heat fills her, and she turns away, breathing fast. It was just this once, she thought, walking him back to his small rented room in Lowtown. Even though she told herself she’d say goodbye at the door and return to Varric and her chambers in the Viscount’s palace. Even though Thom told her the streets at night were unsafe for a woman alone. Come in, just for a moment, he said, eyes burning in the lamplight.

Now, in the glare of morning, she finds it difficult to consider leaving. The precious hours have passed, She will be missed soon among the official representatives of the Inquisition; Varric can only cover for her for so long. No one must know she’s been secreted away to the room of a known criminal.

She feels the brush of his lips on her shoulder, and his hand dips below the towel. She closes her eyes, leaning her head back, her nipple hardening under the stroke of his thumb. “Thom, I…”

“Shh.” His mouth now on her neck, the tickle of his beard from the nape to her jaw. “Let’s enjoy this a little longer.”

“I need to be back at the palace this afternoon.”

That was the whole point of the bath, to wash away any trace of indiscretion, but she feels that pretext slipping. He squeezes her breast, his touches straying from gentle to enticing. “There’s still time.”

Her breath catches. “Time for what?”

“Anything we want.”

She thinks of last night, their movements frenzied and frantic, as if they’d both been afraid the other might vanish. The morning light has dispelled this myth, burned it away like fog. And his hands are still roaming; his teeth nip her ear.

Thalia turns to face him, wraps her arms around the nape of his neck. “Just once more,” she says, dubiously, because a line once crossed can never be uncrossed, and they’ve been basking in the violation since their eyes first met in the tavern.

He tugs the towel free, and she falls backward onto the pillow, giggling.

---

Tagging:

@monocytogenes | @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul | @fandomn00blr | @wildercrow | @bogunicorn

If you would like to be added or subtracted from these tags just let me know!

[rensply]

1, 3, and 19 for the author ask!!!

FUN META ASKS FOR WRITERS

1.) Tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

*sobs* I have so many projects rip me--

The main ones though, are Golden Omen, Into the Valley of Death (which I'm ashamed to say I'm still not done with), All the King's Men (which got reworked and is slowly moving up the endless WIP list), and No Wind Can Touch.

Golden Omen: Urban fantasy that centers around a pair of soulmates and is based heavily in Celtic lore/mythology. I'm sorry I've been trying to coherently collect my thoughts for this for years and I haven't managed it yet

Into the Valley of Death: D.Gray-Man OC fanfic centered around my OC, Alice! It's separated into four sections and the last section is heavily canon divergent. I've been working on this thing for four years now... help

All the King's Men: A Vanitas no Carte AU where Vanitas is a Chasseur! (Because of the fact he would never have met Vanitas of the Blue Moon and inherited their name, Vanitas is referred to as Maugris in this fic.) Contains OCs, childhood friends to lovers (Maugris/Vanitas/OC), and a somewhat stable Misha.

No Wind Can Touch: An Owari no Seraph OC fic that centers around my OC, Chiyoko Hakke. The newer chapters have thrown some nicely-sized wrenches into my plot/outline so I'm still ironing out a lot of kinks. Eventually, like most of my other fics/stories, it will become canon divergent

3.) What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

When I said that ATKM was quickly climbing the ranks of my WIPs, it's because of this one scene that wON'T GO AWAY [Spoilers for Vanitas's canon backstory/time with Moreau] (Scene in question under cut)

19.) Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?)

Every character I've ever written arches an eyebrow. I'm sorry, it's just such a specific yet versatile expression. I also write a lot of father/daughter bonding and rivals to lovers.

Every rational fiber in Maugris's body wanted to deny the fact that Irénée was sitting in the same room as him, that she was talking with him, laughing with him...that she was alive.

He had been regularly visiting her at her apartment for bordering on a month now. He tried to show up during normal, human hours, but Moreau never let him leave until the moon was high and the streets empty. He briefly wondered if her neighbors ever noticed him showing up in the middle of the night only to leave a few hours later. From what he'd gathered, though, Irénée didn't hardly venture into the outside world--a warning from Roland and Olivier, no doubt.

An embroidered throw pillow smacked Maugris in the face, and he cried out in surprise. Surprise quickly shifted to annoyance when his dark blue eyes focused on Irénée's poorly-hidden smirk.

"Shouldn't a Chasseur have better situational awareness?" she teased, smirk morphing into an obvious grin. Maugris scowled, tossing the pillow back at her.

"Shouldn't a recluse have better needlework?" he quipped back. Irénée released an indignant cry, whacking Maugris with the throw pillow.

"Ow! Hey!" Maugris snapped, flinching when it hit his upper arm. "What was that for?"

"'What was that--'? You're an ass!" Irénée exclaimed, whacking him again.

Maugris huffed, barely dodging the third hit. "And? You already knew that." Irénée scowled--though, it was closer in expression to a frustrated pout--and Maugris felt his stomach flip. When he offered no further reply, she turned away from him and back to the book she'd been half-reading.

The way her hair framed her face impeded her peripheral vision, and Maugris used this to his advantage as he carefully grabbed another embroidered pillow from the chair next to him. He playfully smacked her in the face with the pillow, mussing her hair in the process. Irénée huffed in annoyance and shot a half-hearted glare the currently grinning Chasseur.

He'd thrown down a metaphorical gauntlet, and with Irénée's next cushioned blow, she picked it up.

After a good twenty minutes of pillow fighting that involved hiding behind furniture, leaping over tables, and Irénée sweeping Maugris's legs out from under him, they collapsed on Irénée's bed laughing.

Maugris wasn't sure he had ever laughed this hard. Maugris wasn't sure he had even truly laughed before now. Irénée's laugh was slightly raspy, but there were tears collecting at the corners of her eyes from the intensity. Maugris glanced over at her, his heart skipping a beat at the sight.

Shit, when did I start thinking she's cute?

Maugris stopped, panic briefly replacing his growing attraction, at the sight of the blood collecting under Irénée's nose. "Iri, did I hit you too hard?" he asked, cupping her cheek to better look at her injury. Irénée flinched as Maugris's thumb wiped away the blood. Her face was warm, and when he met her gaze, he saw the panic in her eyes. She blinked, pale blue eyes averting from his.

Maugris felt dread knot in his stomach.

"No, no, I'm--I'm fine! This just happens sometimes!" she assured with a shaky, hardly reassuring laugh. "Really! I'm fine, Maugri!" She backed away from him and Maugris's hold on her face tightened.

Maugris swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as the horrifying realization dawned on him. "Iri," he whispered, voice trembling. Irénée tensed, refusing to meet his gaze, and Maugris felt true, bone-chilling fear for the first time in years.

"It caught up with me, Maugri," she murmured, finally looking at him again, "and I don't think I'll survive it this time."

Maugris's breath shuddered as he pulled her to him with shaking hands, holding her to his chest as the first of many silent tears rolled down his cheeks.

But I just got you back.

[rohad93]

Moonlit Masquerade: Turning Pages

Enjoy~

It was a warm, early summer day as Luz flew through the air back toward the owl house, grinning giddily to herself as the wind whipped through the long hair that laid over her undercut on the left side, her cloak flapping wildly behind her off her shoulders as the wind tugged at the short sleeves of her dark purple tunic.

She did a giddy spin and the leather pouches that held her glyphs and various other things flapped against the legs of her black pants.

The twenty-one-year-old zipped between the trees on her staff, she was so excited, she couldn't wait to show her mom and Lilith what she had bought today after packing up her stuff at the market.

"Luz, your home!" Hooty screeched the moment she burst through the tree line.

"Hey, Hooty." She smiled hopping off the staff with a flourish as he opened the door for her and she ran inside, dropping her satchel by the stairs.

"Mom, Lily!?" she called.

"In the kitchen!" Eda's voice called back.

She hurried into the kitchen where the two sisters were sitting at the table talking. It always surprised Luz at the wrinkles that had begun to line their faces over the last six years, though they both still looked great. Eda claimed hers were from Luz, and Lilith claimed hers were from Eda, which always made the young woman laugh, and Eda make a face.

Before she could think to say anything, Owlbrt was hooting at her from the counter.

"Hey buddy, you wanna play with Mochuelo?" She asked the small owl, who hooted wildly at her.

"Okay, okay, Owlbert, I know you missed your pal," she laughed.

She unscrewed the wooden tawny owl palisman from the top of her staff and set him on the counter next to a hooting Owlbert. Her palisman,  Mochuelo, gave himself a shake, fluffing his dark brown and white speckled feathers, golden-brown eyes blinking up at her.

She scratched both their heads and left the two to palisman play as she laid the empty staff against the counter.

"You're back early, already sell out all your potions in the market?" Eda cocked her head.

"Yup, not a thing left. I'll work on some more tomorrow, but forget about that, I have something to show you!" She stopped, looking around. "Is Amity here?"

"No, she hasn't come home yet, why?" Lilith cocked a brow at her and Luz grinned, digging something out of her pocket.

"This is why!" she exclaimed, pulling a small black box from her pocket.

"A box?" Eda asked. Luz rolled her eyes.

"No! Look!" She popped it open to reveal a bright gold ring inlaid with a deep, square-cut, magenta gemstone and two smaller, clear stones on either side of it.

The sisters both gasped.

"Luz is this…?" Lilith started.

"An engagement ring!?" Eda finished, looking up at Luz with wide eyes.

"Yup, I'm going to ask Amity to marry me," she declared proudly. "I mean, we've been living together for three years now and dating for six. I know there's no one else I want to be with."

"That's wonderful, Luz." Lilith stood and hugged her.

"Yeah, that's great!" Eda wrapped her up in a tight hug as soon as Lilith let go. Luz squeezed her back just as tight before finally pulling back. "Does this mean you two are finally moving out?" she asked with a grin as Luz blinked, wide-eyed.

"I mean… we can if you want us…" she started with a frown, but Eda just laughed.

"Naw, it'd be too quiet without you two. You two don't have to go anywhere unless you want to… and so long as you keep your bedroom door closed," she said seriously, making Luz chuckle.

How far they had come, from Eda being adamant that the bedroom door stay open when they were kids, to now demanding that it stay closed, lest she hear or see something she really didn't want to… again.

"Right, I'll talk to Amity about it later. I'm going to take her out to dinner tonight and pop the question." She grinned.

As if summoned by magic, the front door opened.

"I'm home!" A voice called from the living room.

Amity!

Luz shoved the box back into her pocket as her girlfriend of six years walked into the kitchen with a few bags in one hand and her staff in the other.

Her long auburn hair fell down against her back in a smooth curtain, except the longer sides she still kept pulled back, no longer in a ponytail, but in a neat braid that also fell against her neck.

Her white cloak was hanging from her neck and one shoulder to partially expose the sleeveless black shirt she wore beneath, tucked into her pants and the arm warmers that covered from her fingers to elbow in the customary dark pink of someone of the abominations track, and even after all this time, her nails were still painted black.

"Oh, Luz, you're home from the market already." She looked at her, surprised.

"Yup, sold out of everything pretty quick today, so I figured I'd come home. How was your day, mi amor?" She asked, leaning forward to give her a quick kiss.

"Busy, there's no shortage of problems that need straightening out since they finally put the new coven system in place," she sighed. "I'm exhausted…"

"You probably don't feel like going out tonight then, eh? She frowned.

"I don't think so..." She shook her head as she twisted the wooden dragon off her staff and let the long, golden lizard crawl up her shoulder to wrap his long, scaled body around her neck, beneath the curtain of auburn hair.

"Hey, Calliban." Luz smiled as Amity scratched under his chin. The dragon's long whiskers twitched happily, a puff of smoke coming from his nostrils, his long tufted tail twitched.

"Was there something you wanted to do tonight?" Amity looked down at her as she scratched the palisman.

"Uh… no. We can go out another night." Luz shook her head, she could see how tired Amity was, and it wasn't like she couldn't propose at any time.

Amity nodded and set her bags on the counter.

"If you're sure, I just want to lay down and never get back up," she mumbled.

"I'm sure that can be arranged, mi amor" Luz smiled, wrapping her arms around her waist and setting her chin on her shoulder, though only barely, the witch stood a good five inches taller than her. Amity smiled, leaning back into her.

"Just close the damn door…," Eda mumbled. Luz stuck her tongue out at her and Amity rolled her eyes.

Luz pulled her close, letting the taller woman relax against her for a few moments before she pulled free with a sigh.

"I need to go shower," she mumbled and carefully set Calliban on Luz's shoulders before kissing her cheek and walking out of the kitchen.

Luz hummed, petting his smooth scaly body, his tiny claws pricked at her skin as he settled himself around her neck. His horns poking her under the chin.

"Guess it's not gonna happen tonight?" Eda looked at her.

"No, but it's okay, there's no rush," Luz said and dug the box out of her pocket.

"Will you hang onto this for me? I'd hate for her to find it in our room and ruin the surprise," she asked, holding the box out to Lilith.

"Of course, Luz." She nodded, taking the ring and slipping it into the pocket of her dress.

"Hey, why not me?" Eda sat up, frowning.

"You lost King just yesterday…" Luz frowned.

"He found his way home eventually," she mumbled.

"I think I'd feel better if Lily held onto it. That's three weeks of potions sales I'd really rather not have to replace…"

Eda crossed her arms, pouting while Lilith gave her a smug look.

"I guess I'll just get started on brewing some stuff before dinner." She pulled off her cloak and laid it over a chair as she walked over to the counter, crowded with her and Eda's brewing stuff.

~

"So, you've been trying to propose for a week now?" Willow asked as she sat across from Luz in the Redstone bakery sipping on her tea.

Luz sighed, nodding.

"I just want it to be perfect but we've both been so busy, if I'm not out helping with the reconstruction or selling potions in the market, Amity is attending council meetings and helping sort out the kinks in the new coven system. We're exhausted half the time…I'm not even sure when the last time we had s-.."

"Stop! You're both very busy. I know what you mean..."

"TMI, sorry," Luz chuckled sheepishly.

But Willow just nodded.

"There's still a lot to do and a vacuum to fill since we did away with Belos, but you know, maybe you're trying too hard for the perfect moment?"

"Hmm?" Luz hummed, blinking at her oldest friend.

"We both know Amity doesn't really want the big over the top gestures, so long as you're you, she'd never said no."

"I know… I just wanted to make it special, ya know?

"I'm sure it will be, you'll find that 'Luz' way of doing it." She smiled and Luz snorted, the fact that her name had become some kind of verb her friends liked to use amused her.

"Yeah, I'll think of something… ya ready to head into town?" she asked. Willow nodded and they stood, leaving some snails on the table as they left.

They spent the rest of the day checking on things in Bonesburough.

It had been a year since Belos had been defeated and the old coven system and regime had been dismantled, and things were still being reconstructed in town where some of the heaviest fighting had taken place between the rebels and the loyalists.

Luz hummed as she walked along the streets with Willow, in some ways the town had changed a lot in the last year, but in others had remained just the same

Without the coven system that bonded people to only one type of magic, the covens looked totally different. They still existed, only now rather than only being able to perform one type of magic, people could do it all no matter what coven they were in, but many still choose to join the covens so they could work with other like-minded witches in the types of magic they specialized in. They were more brotherhood's than forced chains pulled by the Emperor, some people often belonging to more than one coven at a time. Luz herself, for her part in the rebellion, was welcome in all nine of the major coven houses, though she didn't actively participate in any of their politics or meetings.

She usually visited to get advice about certain spells from the more experienced witches of the discipline's. They were always glad to see her in their midsts.

The downside to it no longer being against the law to not join a coven was that crime had gone up some, with the less unsavory members of society now having access to all types of magic. The night market was still quite robust, especially during the rebellion when a host of unsavory things have been going on. Luz tried not to think about those days too much.

The new governing system, a council of the new nine coven leaders, was still getting to its feet in controlling stuff, so a lot of things flew under the radar as they dealt with the bigger, more pressing issues, like any remaining pockets of loyalists. It was a work in progress, one Luz was happy to help with when she could. She'd actually gotten pretty good at playing bounty hunter, though Amity didn't like it at all. She didn't go out of her way hunting down criminal witches, they just showed up a lot in the market when she happened to be there, and Luz had never been one to stand idly by.

Things seemed pretty quiet today.

As they walked past the library Luz took notice of a poster pasted to its wall and suddenly she had a brilliant idea.

"Hey, I think I know what I wanna do." She turned to Willow with a bright grin. “I’m gonna need your help.”

"Sure, that was quick…," she laughed and Luz shrugged.

"I just remembered something. I think Amity would appreciate it…" She smiled and Willow nodded. "You think Gus would be my best man?" she asked.

"He'd beg you… not that I won't pretend I'm not a little insulted that you don't want to ask me." She pouted, crossing her arms and making Luz laugh.

"Like Amity would want anyone but you to be her maid of honor." Luz grinned, making the plant witch smile. "Though you might have to fight Em for it," she warned.

"She can bring it on." Willow grinned, making Luz laugh.

~

"Hey, tonight's the night," Luz announced to the living room as she walked down the stairs.

"You're proposing tonight?" Eda looked up at her daughter's grinning face.

"Yup, I know exactly what I want to do and it has to be tonight. I gotta get some stuff ready, you've got the ring right?" she asked Lilith, who nodded.

"Of course."

"Great, I'm going to come back and get it from you in a little bit!" Luz said as she hurried out the front door, staff in one hand, and a dark green book in the other.

The door slammed and Eda shook her head, grinning.

"I can't believe she's really going to do it…," she chuckled. When there was no response she turned to her sister who was sitting on the other side of the couch, frowning, her fingers tapping nervously on her knees.

"What?" Eda cocked a brow at her.

"I...may have... misplaced Amity's ring…," she mumbled, biting her lip. There was a long moment of silence.

"Ha! Now, who's irresponsible?!" Eda laughed, jumping up with a grin.

"Are you serious right now?!" Lilith jumped up, scowling as Eda did that stupid 'moonwalk' dance Luz had taught them.

"I'm not the one who lost the kid’s engagement ring…," Eda sang smugly, dancing across the living room.

Lilith groaned.

"Yes, fine, I lost it, now help me find it before Luz comes back!" She stomped.

"And why would I do that?" Eda crossed her arms.

"Because she's your daughter, and she's going to be devastated that she can't propose because the ring was lost!" Lilith growled, and Eda frowned. Her sister had a point, as much as she liked getting one over on her older sister she wasn't going to do it at her kid's expense. She also knew what Luz sold her potions for, three weeks profit on one ring was nothing to sneeze at

"Alright, alright, where did you have it last?"

"It was sitting on my dresser last night, but when I woke up, it was gone." Lilith sighed, rubbing her temple.

"Well it can't have gotten too far then, let's check your room." The two hurried up the stairs.

They tear Lilith's room apart for over an hour searching for the ring and only find the box, sitting underneath the edge of her bed.

"It's not here!" Eda growls. Lilith sits on her bed, head in her hands.

"Luz and Amity are never going to speak to me again…," she moans.

"Yea…  not sure even Luz can forgive this one…," Eda mumbled and Lilith groaned louder.

"What's up witches?"

They look up at King, standing in the doorway.

"Lily lost Luz's engagement ring…," Eda sighed, hand on her hip.

"How irresponsible. She should have given it to me." He laid a clawed hand on his chest and there was a glint, drawing both sisters' eyes.

There, hanging on the tip of one of his claws was the ring.

Lilith and Eda tackled the small demon, who squealed as they jumped him, trying to wriggle out of their grasp.

"You took this from my room!" Lilith scowled, holding up the ring out of King's reach as he jumped up, trying to grab it.

"Oh, is that Luz's ring? I thought it was an offering." He crossed his arms.

Eda rolled her eyes and Lilith growled.

"Do you know how mad Luz will be if we tell her you stole her ring?" Eda looked down at him with a frown.

King hunched down at that, eyes turning fearful.

Then they heard the front door open downstairs.

"Guys?"

"Up here, kid," Eda called as Lilith quickly slipped the ring back into its box and closed it.

Luz poked her head in the room.

"Oh, what's everyone doing in here?"

They all glanced at each other.

"Nothing!"

"Uhuh… I don't believe that but I don't have time to question it. The ring?" she asked.

“Right here!” Lilith handed over the box.

"Great, thanks. Wish me luck!" She smiled before taking off back down the stairs. They all waited until they heard the door open and shut before sighing in relief.

~ ~

It was dark when Amity hopped off her staff outside the library. The tall building stood empty and dark, it was well after closing time after all.

She wasn't sure why Luz wanted her to meet her here, but she'd gotten pretty used to just rolling with her girlfriend's eccentric ways for the most part over the years. It was easier to not question it. She spun a finger and her staff vanished.

She walked up the steps heels clicking quietly on the stone as she looked around. The building had remained unchanged over the years, it had luckily been one of the few large buildings to be spared during the fighting, for which she was glad. She had many fond memories of the library, it was, for a long time, her only place of safety and solitude from her sometimes, over the top siblings, but more importantly, from her always overbearing and controlling mother, and then had been her and Luz’s secret place for the first some odd months of their relationship, until they had been allowed to be public about it.

The secret room in the romance section had all but been abandoned after her eighteenth birthday when she moved out of Blight Manor and into the owl house with Luz.

She stood at the top near the door, looking around. Now, where was her adorable doofus?

She felt the tingle of familiar magic pull at the back of her mind and turned in time to see Luz become visible, leaning against one of the library pillars as the glow of her palisman’s eyes faded, but her bright grin did not as she slipped the staff into the holster beneath her cloak.

“Buenas noches, mi amor. ¿Cómo estás esta noche?” She took a step forward to stand in front of her and Amity grinned back.

“Mejor, ahora que estás aquí, querida," She mumbled, taking hold of the collar of Luz’s cloak and pulling her in for a kiss, making Luz grin. “Now, are you going to tell me why we’re here?”  she asked, stepping back.

“I just felt like a walk down memory lane,” she shrugged, smiling. “Also considering what tonight is...”

“Tonight?” Amity blinked. Luz jerked her thumb at a poster on the wall and Amity’s eyes widened.

“The wailing star…” How long had it been since she’d thought about that? At least six years, since the time the twins had tried to take her diary as a kid.

“Come on, it’s about to start!” Luz walked over to the door, she flipped open one of her pouches and leafed through the many different papers before pulling out the one she wanted and pressed it to the library door. It dissolved in a flash of pale blue and the door made a quiet click and she pushed it open.

Amity smiled and followed her. When you considered all the trouble Luz could and had gotten into over the years, walking around the library at night wasn’t even worth the breath to protest, not that she really wanted to.

She closed the door behind her and as they walked into the main entry room of the library just as the large stained glass window above them lit up with the light of the passing star, the green glow settled over the books and Luz quickly grabbed a book off the shelf and opened it. Snakes slithered out, making her grin.

“I didn’t really get to enjoy this last time we were here during the wailing star... being too busy trying not to get killed by my favorite childhood book character and all," she chuckled and Luz grinned.

“Same,” she laughed as they moved up and down the aisles, picking up books. Luz saw a familiar book and grinned, pulling it off the shelf and whipping around to Amity.

“Hey, babe!”

Amity looked up just in time to be blasted in the face with a deluge of snowballs.

“You are so dead!” She yelled at her girlfriend’s back as she took off down the aisles, half screaming, half laughing as Amity gave chase, snatching her own copy of ‘A History of Snowballs’ off the shelf.

They chased each other around the bookshelves for a while before finally calling a truce.

Luz giggled as she closed the book and the remnants of snow vanished from Amity’s hair.

“Come on, I know somewhere we haven’t been in a while…” she slid her book back on the shelf.

“I have a pretty good idea of where we’re going.” Amity smiled, walking beside her to the romance section of the library.

“Maybe…” She smiled.

Amity chuckled as they stopped in the romance section and she reached up to pull at a familiar book.

The bookcase slid aside to reveal what once had been such an important place to her, then to them, and now stood dusty and empty, with cobwebs hanging off the candlesticks and rafters. She’d long moved all her books and more important things out of the room and into her and Luz’s room at the owl house.

“It’s dusty…," Amity hummed, running her fingers over the empty shelves inside.

“A bit…, I don't think we've really been here in three years,” Luz agreed.

Amity glanced around before she saw a book sitting in the middle of her old desk, it wasn't dull or covered in dust like everything else in the room.

She walked forward and picked it up, Luz watching her with a knowing smile.

It’s dark green, leather-bound cover was soft in her hands. She blinked down at the title, written in her girlfriend’s familiar looping writing.

‘The Tale of Luz & Amity’

She looked over her shoulder at her girlfriend who was watching her with a grin.

“What is this?”

“Why don’t you open it and find out?” she retorted, still smiling. Amity cocked a brow but turned her attention back to the book and flipped open its cover.

The first page had a memory picture pasted to its pages, one she immediately recognized as the magic of the wailing star worked on it and a small, fourteen-year-old version of her and her girlfriend materialized on the pages.

Them in the cafeteria at Hexside, Amity on her knees on the table, and her hands wrapped around Luz’s collar.

“I know you’re in there! Who are you, what are you? I want answers!”

“Blughhh...

Amity chuckled to herself, watching a younger her shake an abomination goo covered Luz like a ragdoll.

She smiled over her shoulder at Luz, who was looking at her with both brows raised encouragingly.

The next page was their meeting at the covention.

'Oh, it's you, Willow's abomination… thing.'

'Heyyyy Amity…. so, funny story, Not, an abomination, sorry for the confusion last week. I'm Luz, the human, hi.'

'Ugh, put that away.'

Amity shook her head at her younger self. If only she knew then what she knew now.

She flipped the page and this time the little figures of the two of them were partially sewed into a book, running from Odabin in this very library..

‘Now what?’

‘I don’t know! I didn’t even think that would work, I was all like ‘arghh!’

She still smirked at the sheer dumbness of that plan.

The next page held another familiar scene.

'Azura book club? Azura book club!?' an excited Luz bounced.

'As long as it's a secret club, okay?' Amity whispered, cheeks pinking.

She turned the page and watched as the next memory photo popped up, the two of them in Willow’s memories, just after sliding the flaming inner Willow into the lake.

‘Whoo, teamwork, baby!’ The younger Luz wrapped her arms around younger Amity and squeezed her.

She smiled to herself as she turned the page to watch the next scene play out in its entirety.

‘Well, if that’s settled, may I have this dance?’ she held out her hand, and Luz’s filled it.

She grinned at the next one, Luz scooping up her and her broken foot after playing grudgby against Boscha.

Then, pasted to the next page was one of the letters Luz had written to her as her secret admirer. She smiled down at it, though in the back of her mind she wondered how Luz had found it, she kept them all in a special box in their closet.

A younger and bashful looking Luz rose up from the paper with a handful of Blood-Blossoms.

‘These flowers could never be as beautiful as you, but I hope you like them anyway...”

There were also a couple of memories from the Masquerade, their dancing, and after the party had ended in her bedroom. Luz stood behind her, quietly, watching, waiting.

She flipped through its many pages, trying not to get too teary-eyed at some, like the night under the grom tree on their one month anniversary, their first fall shower, or her fifteenth birthday. Of course, Luz also included their fight with the illusion track upperclassmen, their first fight, her first numberry tripout when they were camping and that first, awkward dinner with her parents, as well as another first time she quickly flipped past, cheeks red and Luz, snickered behind her as she rolled her eyes.

Of course, she would add that...

She grinned, eyes glazed over with unshed tears at their second grom, graduation when she'd moved into the owl house, and a host of all the other things in between them were brought to life by the wailing stars' magic.

She turned the page about halfway through the book to find the last page with nothing on it.

This one did not contain a memory photo, instead, stuck inside it was a sticky note with a simple single line of text, the magic of the wailing star made the small magic copy of her girlfriend appear on the page, looking up at her.  

‘Will you help make the next one by saying yes?’

Amity blinked.

“What? Say yes to wh-” she turned and dropped the book, hands shooting up to cover her mouth as she looked down at Luz on one knee, holding up a small box with a sparkling ring sitting in it.

Luz’s heart was beating in her chest so hard she thought for sure it was about to break some of her ribs. Her mouth was dry, but she somehow managed to speak.

“Amity Blight, will you continue our story with me and marry me?” she asked.

What was in reality only a few seconds felt like an eternity as Luz watched the tears well up in her eyes and drip down her cheeks, her mouth working soundlessly.

“Yes!” she finally managed to shout when she could speak again.

Luz broke out into a bright smile and jumped up, pulling the ring out of the box and taking hold of her girlfriend's shaking left hand, and slipping the ring on her finger.

As soon as it was in place Amity practically flung herself on her, kissing her, even as tears slid down her cheeks.

Luz couldn't stop grinning even as her own eyes welled with tears, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around while Amity squeezed her neck.

She finally set her down but Amity didn't let go.

"I love you," She choked, face buried in her neck.

"Yo también te amo, Amity" she mumbled, squeezing her.

After several long minutes, she finally pulled back and Luz grinned at her, wiping the tears from her pale cheeks before she reached down to pick up the book and handing it to Amity.

"Try not to set these on fire…" Luz grinned and Amity gave her a gentle shove.

"Never," she promised as she really looked at the ring now sitting on her finger and tears threatened to fall again.

"It's beautiful, Luz…" she sniffled, and looked up at her, smiling, and Luz smiled back at her.

It was late when they finally left the library and headed home on Luz's staff.

All the lights were still on in the owl house when they arrived.

Lilith and Eda were both sitting in the living room, along with Gus and Willow when they walked in.

They were looking at them, trying not to appear expectant in case Luz hadn't asked but she grinned at them and held up Amity's hand.

"She said yes!" she declares and the living room erupted with cheers and congratulations.

"I'm going to get the good apple blood!" Eda grinned, disappearing into the kitchen, Lilith following behind her to help.

"Dibs on best man!" Gus called, jumping up.

"You got it." Luz laughed.

"So, was it everything you dreamed it would be?" Willow asked, sliding up to Amity, who smiled at her before glancing at her new fiancée as she talked excitedly with Gus and held the precious leather book in her hands.

"It was perfect."

~~

Before anyone absolutely loses their minds, no, this isn't the end, but a secondary plotline that will take place between their adventures as teenagers in the past.

[survey--s]

269.

1]; What is the nearest traffic sign to your house? Uh, a give way sign at the junction at the bottom of the street.

2]; What year did you move into your current home? February 2018.

3]; What year was it built? I think around the 1930′s.

4]; What year was your vehicle manufactured? It’s a 2016 Hyundai i20.

5]; What are your pets doing right now? Layla, Purrlock and Archie are all asleep - Toby is chilling on his scratching post and staring at nothing, lol.

6]; What is plugged into the nearest outlet? Two strings of fairy lights, my laptop and a phone charger.

7]; How many rolls of toilet paper, paper towel, and boxes of Kleenex do you have right now? About seven toilet rolls and maybe one roll of kitchen roll. We don’t have any boxes of tissues.

8]; When did you last see your mother? About two weeks ago, though I have plans to see her on Friday.

9]; And your father? About two years ago. We barely have a relationship these days.

1o]; What are your 5 “oldest” recent emojis? I don’t use emojis on here.

11]; What song plays in your head the most? It really depends on the day. 

12]; Are your pets’ names actual classic pet names, human names, places, things, verbs, or what? Three of them are human names, one is a play on the word Sherlock.

13]; Have you ever received a card signed individually by a large group of people? Sure, at work for birthdays and stuff. I also got one for my engagement and my wedding, which was unexpected but very sweet.

14]; Who do you know that’s pregnant right now? Nobody off the top of my head, but that doesn’t mean they’re not pregnant.

15]; What did you do last weekend? I worked on Saturday and then had a day off on Sunday. I didn’t really do much on my day off, though.

16]; Last night? I watched a load of Two and a Half Men, ate dinner and messed around on reddit for most of the evening. I also completed a level on Gems of War.

17]; What did you last use scissors for? Cutting open a parcel.

18]; Who have you helped move? Uh, an old roommate of mine and an old colleague who needed help.

19]; At what age did you get your first period? (Sorry if this one question doesn’t apply to you) I was twelve.

2o]; And what age was your first kiss? Eleven.

21]; With whom are you planning trips currently? Nobody at the moment. Mike and I keep saying we’ll go away for a weekend but we haven’t got round to actually planning anything yet, lol.

22]; When is the last time you got laid? I can’t remember off the top of my head.

23]; What all is in your pockets? Nothing.

24]; What is the last strain of weed you smoked/consumed however? I’ve never touched drugs.

25]; What size is your bed? We have a super king.

26]; What size are the spare beds? Like we have room for spare beds, lol. The sofa does convert to a double bed but it’s really uncomfortable and I would’t recommend sleeping on it, ha.

27]; What is the last load of laundry you did? Colours, darks, towels..? It was just a load of clothes - I guess darks?

28]; What is the last YouTube channel you watched? I don’t remember.

29]; What is the last thing you used water for? To make up a coffee.

3o]; How old are you turning next year? I’ll be 35 at the very end of next year.

31]; What is the last thing you wrote down? A note for a client to let them know their dogs behaved fine on their walk yesterday. I’ll need to write them another after today’s walk, too.

32]; Who is the last friend you spent time with? Uh, I don’t really have friends to begin with, but I guess Lisa on Friday when we took the beagles to the beach.

33]; What calendar year did you last turn a multiple of 11? 2021.

34]; What is the range of year answers in this survey (#2, 3, 4, 33)? 1920′s-2021.

35]; How many people have texted/messaged you today? Let’s see - Alice, Helen, my mum, Mike and Ruth. So, five in total.

36]; Last person to comment on your anything? Susie commented on a post I put up yesterday.

37]; What are you doing after this survey? Because I’ve not taken it before and have another half an hour or so before I have to go and get the spaniels for their second walk.

38]; How many steps did you walk yesterday? According to my phone, 4,031.

39]; How many hours of sleep did you get last night? Around 7-8 hours, I think? I don’t remember what time I fell asleep but I woke up just before 7am.

4o]; How many tattoos do you have? Just the one so far.

[pyvs]

THEORY AND PRACTICE OF EDITING NEW YORKER ARTICLES

This was written by Wolcott Gibbs around 1937, apparently at the request of Katharine White, who wasthen trying out a succession of new fiction editors. Though it has passed into New Yorker legend, "Theory and Practice" was a working document and fairly reflected the magazine's guidelines and tastes of the time e. [--from Genius in Disguise: Harold Ross of the New Yorker, by Thomas Kunkel (Carroll & Graf,NY 1995]

THE AVERAGE CONTRIBUTOR TO THIS MAGAZINE IS SEMI-LITERATE; that is, he is ornate to no purpose, rull of senseless and elegant variations, and can be relied on to use three sentences where a word would do. It is impossible to lay down any exact and complete formula for bringing order out of this underbrush, but there are a few general rules.

Writers always use too damn many adverbs. On one page, recently, I found eleven modifying the verb "said": "He said morosely, violently, eloquently," and so on. Editorial theory should probably be that a writer who can't make his context indicate the way his character is talking ought to be in another line of work. Anyway, it is impossible for a character to go through all these emotional states one after the other. Lon Chancy might be able to do it, but he is dead.

Word "said" is O.K. Efforts to avoid repetition by inserting "grunted," "snorted," etc., are waste motion, and offend the pure in heart.

Our writers are full of cliches, just as old barns are full of bats. There is obviously no rule about this, except that anything that you suspect of being a cliche undoubtedly is one, and had better be removed.

Funny names belong to the past, or to whatever is left of Judge magazine. Any character called Mrs. Middlebottom or Joe Zilch should be summarily changed to something else. This goes for animals, towns, the names of imaginary books and many other things.

Our employer, Mr. Ross, has a prejudice against having too many sentences begin with "and" or "but." He claims that they are conjunctions and should not be used purely for literary effect. Or at least only very judiciously.

See our Mr. Weekes on the use of such words as "little," "vague," "confused," "faintly," "all mixed up," etc., etc. The point is that the average New Yorker writer, unfortunately influenced by Mr. Thurber, has come to believe that the ideal New Yorker piece is about a vague, little man helplessly confused by a menacing and complicated civilization. Whenever this note is not the whole point of the piece (and it far too often is) it should be regarded with suspicion.

The repetition of exposition in quotes went out with the Stanley Steamer: Marion gave me a pain in the neck. "You give me a pain in the neck, Marion," I said. This turns up more often than you'd expect.

Another of Mr. Ross's theories is that a reader picking up a magazine called The New Yorker automatically supposes that any story in it takes place in New York. If it doesn't, if it's about Columbus, Ohio, the lead should say so. "When George Adams was sixteen, he began to worry about the girls he saw every day on the streets of Columbus" or something of the kind. More graceful preferably.

Also, since our contributions are signed at the end, the author's sex should be established at once if there is any reasonable doubt. It is distressing to read a piece all the way through under the impression that the "I" in it is a man and then find a woman's signature at the end. Also, of course, the other way round.

To quote Mr. Ross again, "Nobody gives a damn about a writer or his problems except another writer." Pieces about authors, reporters poets, etc., are to be discouraged in principle. Whenever possible the protagonist should be arbitrarily transplanted to another line of business. When the reference is incidental and unnecessary, it should come out.

This magazine is on the whole liberal about expletives. The only test I know of is whether or not they are really essential to the author's effect. "Son of a bitch," "bastard" and many others can be used whenever it is the editor's judgment that that is the only possible remark under the circumstances. When they are gratuitous, when the writer is just trying to sound tough to no especial purpose, they come out.

In the transcription of dialect, don't let the boys and girls misspell words just for a fake Bowery effect. There is no point, for instance, in "trubble," or "sed."

Mr. Weekes said the other night, in a moment of desperation, that he didn't believe he could stand any more triple adjectives. "A tall, florid and overbearing man called Jaeckel." Sometimes they're necessary, but when every noun has three adjectives connected with it, Mr. Weekes suffers and quite rightly.

I suffer myself very seriously from writers who divide quotes for some kind of ladies club rhythm. "I am going," he said, "downtown" is a horror, and unless a quote is pretty long I think it ought to stay on one side of the verb. Anyway, it ought to be divided logically, where there would be pause or something in the sentence.

Mr. Weekes has got a long list of banned words beginning with "gadget." Ask him. It's not actually a ban, there being circumstances when they're necessary, but good words to avoid.

I would be delighted to go over the list of writers, explaining the peculiarities of each as they have appeared to me in more than ten years of exasperation on both sides.

Editing on manuscript should be done with a black pencil, decisively.

I almost forgot indirection, which probably maddens Mr. Ross more than anything else in the world. He objects, that is, to important objects, or places or people, being dragged into things in a secretive and underhanded manner. If, for instance, a Profile has never told where a man lives, Ross protests against a sentence saying "His Vermont house is full of valuable paintings." Should say "He had a house in Vermont and it is full, etc." Rather weird point, but it will come up from time to time.

Drunkenness and adultery present problems. As far as I can tell, writers must not be allowed to imply that they admire either of these things, or have enjoyed them personally, although they are legitimate enough when pointing a moral or adorning a sufficiently grim story. They are nothing to be light-hearted about. " The New Yorker cannot endorse adultery." Harold Ross vs. Sally Benson. Don't bother about this one. In the end it is a matter between Mr. Ross and his God. Homosexuality, on the other hand, is definitely out as humor, and dubious, in any case.

The more "as a matter of facts," "howevers," "for instances," etc., you can cut out, the nearer you are to the Kingdom of Heaven.

It has always seemed irritating to me when a story is written in the first person, but the narrator hasn't got the same name as the author. For instance, a story beginning: "George," my father said to me one morning; and signed at the end Horace Mclntyre always baffles me. However, as far as I know this point has never been ruled upon officially, and should just be queried.

Editors are really the people who should put initial letters and white spaces in copy to indicate breaks in thought or action. Because of overwork or inertia or something, this has been done largely by the proof room, which has a tendency to put them in for purposes of makeup rather than sense. It should revert to the editors.

For some reason our writers (especially Mr. Leonard Q. Ross) have a tendency to distrust even moderately long quotes and break them up arbitrarily and on the whole idiotically with editorial interpolations. "Mr. Kaplan felt that he and the cosmos were coterminus" or some such will frequently appear in the middle of a conversation for no other reason than that the author is afraid the reader's mind is wandering. Sometimes this is necessary, most often it isn't.

Writers also have an affection for the tricky or vaguely cosmic last line."Suddenly Mr. Holtzman felt tired" has appeared on far too many pieces in the last ten years. It is always a good idea to consider whether the last sentence of a piece is legitimate and necessary, or whether it is just an author showing off.

On the whole, we are hostile to puns.

How many of these changes can be made in copy depends, of course, to a large extent on the writer being edited. By going over the list, I can give a general idea of how much nonsense each artist will stand for.

Among other things, The New Yorker is often accused of a patronizing attitude. Our authors are especially fond of referring to all foreigners as "little" and writing about them, as Mr. Maxwell says, as if they were mantel ornaments. It is very important to keep the amused and Godlike tone out of pieces.

It has been one of Mr. Ross's long struggles to raise the tone of our contributors' surroundings, at least on paper. References to the gay Bohemian life in Greenwich Village and other low surroundings should be cut whenever possible. Nor should writers be permitted to boast about having their telephones cut off, or not being able to pay their bills, or getting their meals at the delicatessen, or any of the things which strike many writers as quaint and lovable.

Some of our writers are inclined to be a little arrogant about their knowledge of the French language. Probably best to put them back into English if there is a common English equivalent.

So far as possible make the pieces grammatical, but if you don't the copy room will, which is a comfort. Fowler's English Usage is our reference book. But don't be precious about it.

Try to preserve an author's style if he is an author and has a style. Try to make dialogue sound like talk, not writing.

[imnotwolverine]

Happy New Year, and hello 1000 followers!!

Hello dear readers! Welcome in my writing nook, and welcome in 2021 - FINALLY!! 

2020′s been a long year. A sad year. A year that felt like March for 9 months straight. A year that left a little dent in my corner of the couch as I was huddled away, writing in the most awkward positions because my cats tried to get on my lap alongside my laptop (it doesn’t fit - trust me, kitties). 

But, it was also a fun year; I could spend long hours reading and writing to my heart’s content. Meeting new people, and discovering kinks and fantasies I never knew were even a thing. To that; thank you my fellow horny bitches, you gave me the perseverance to work on getting proper orgasms, buying a sex toy and making my boyfriend very confused about what-the-hell was going on with me. (thankfully the shock is now gone and he’s enjoying this new horny me far too much 😂)

In more fun news; I just noticed my once small reader tribe has crossed the 1000 follower-mark (WHAT?! HOW?! YOU GUYS AND GALS ARE AMAZING -- *bounces off the walls*) 

I don’t really know how to thank you all for your love and support in reaching this unique milestone. But to those who are just crazy about reading, let me share with you something from my vault of short stories - a little side project next to this blog, to practise my writing ❤️

The Keeper

This new world order was hardly orderly.

--

It was dusty chaos, filtering in through the sole newspaper-covered window above the door that had just veered at the return of the Old Man, his persistent coughs making that same dust curl and swirl through the air.

Feeling my old bones crack, I took a moment, stretching out on my paper throne of Descartes’ body of work, before I jumped aside so he could add his new-found treasures to this grand collection of paper-bound napping nooks.

It was a good new stack. Six thick covers, the pages yellowed and musky in smell. Perfection, really. Old, gold, glorious perfection. But the Old Man didn’t seem to share my sentiment; his leathery face was wrinkled with concern, heavy brows furrowing like a thick hairy caterpillar above his gentle eyes.

Finding a new spot I swished my long tail, more dust swirling up in the single streak of light that caressed the silhouette of the Old Man.

I hadn’t seen him this worried since we met all those long years ago, his warm hands taking me to this dusty good place that I called my home. Our home. A home that oozed old world magic; thousands of books all lined up in ceiling-high cabinets, their vastness somewhat resembling the sky-high buildings outside; that is however where the comparison stopped. This place was warm, kind, soothing. It smelled nice, felt nice, housed mice - my favourite.

Outside, the world was cold, white, wicked. It smelled of chemicals and disdain, the presence of nature and animals one not wished for in its green, disorganised beauty. But the Old Man had been different. Had been. Right now he moved with the same hasty manner the men outside did, his heavy feet moving daintily past the hastily stacked collections, the structure in them long gone.

The same had happened to the ever structured and unchanging man I once knew; The Old Man was looking older each day, which was strange for a being I thought immaculate and immortal. In my long years of life I had never truly ever seen any differences in this man, his wrinkles ever wrinkly and his eyes ever curious. But, these past few weeks I started having my doubts. I never liked change, but change was suddenly here in abundance. I could hear it on the nervous streets outside. I could feel it in my aching bones and the knits in my pelt. I could feel it in the lack of scratches I received, the Old Man suddenly more occupied with the world outside than in.

This new world order was a terrible thing indeed.

Stretching up my aching back, I curled my tail around my paws, watching as the man passed yet again, his eye catching mine for just a second, his feet slowing down so he could give me a long overdue sign of affection.

“Hello Minnie.” He said gently, his warm voice making my muscles tremble in delight, “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait yet a moment longer. Duty calls!” And with that he disappeared once more, the door hastily closed behind him as he moved back out into the streets that no longer had names.

Everything was changing and I didn’t like it one bit.

--

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away - or actually a few streets from here - I lived a perilous life of hunting, fighting, mating and waiting. You see: I was not made for the streets I lived in, the large neon lit signs up above too bright for my eyes and the food too sparse to feed the real hunger inside of me. The hunger that goes beyond the growling of the stomach; it was the hunger that gnawed at my brain and my heart as I watched dark figures pass by beneath their umbrellas, their eyes not directed at me, but at my much shinier counterparts on those sky-licking white screens.

e-Cat, e-Book, e-Love..e-Life. The words sparked with promise on beaming backgrounds, luring in the attention of the drifting souls down on the streets. Luring them in to look up, up and away from the truth that could be found right at their feet. A truth that once, an age or so ago, was so very normal.

It must have been a good time then. With ear-scratches and hugs and real talking; I had once even seen humans talk so close to another that their lips touched. And they seemed to find it very agreeable indeed, their lips curling in what the Old Man had explained to be smiles.

Smile (verb)

Form one's features into a pleased, kind, or amused expression, typically with the corners of the mouth turned up and the front teeth exposed.

Humans are peculiar beings.

Then, one day, someone looked down, not up. A man, a dreamer probably, his step shortly disrupted from his travels as our eyes met and, just like that, I was invited into his life, his shovel-sized hands picking me up and stuffing my scrawny bones beneath his warm jacket.

The Old Man.

--

“Why..I thought you had gotten rid of this?” A new voice entered the small haven of books, the door swiftly closed again. Their hushed voices made me blink open my eyes, a flickering light turned on to brush artificial light over the Old Man and the new person. A Young Woman.

She was pretty I think. Her hair cut just beneath her ears and her body wrapped in a large, fresh smelling jacket. I liked her smell. She smelled of my creatures, two males I think. And so with a little more curiosity I yawned and stretched, welcoming the two back in my domain.

“Hi there Minnie.” The Old Man wistfully scratched me behind the ear.

His voice sounded fragile as crystal, his eyes looking equally translucent as they shimmered in the low light of the single light bulb.

“OH..what am I to do, Dee? It’s just..” He turned back towards the woman, her eyes still looking in honest amazement at the huge collection of books stacked up high to the ceiling.

“Well..this is more than a ..little problem, Badger.” She looked back at him, teeth biting down onto her lip in thought. Humans sure had a weird way of expressing distress. Why didn’t she just hiss or growl? Furl up that pretty mane of her? - At least she got the eyes right.

With a quick flick of her large pupils she looked at me, then the books again.  

“Alright. I’ll..I’ll see what we can do.” And with that she disappeared back out of the door, back into the mayhem of white light and clicking feet on cold pavement.

--

“Hahaha. Oh, aren’t you a happy little purr-machine?” His large hand stroked comfortably over my back, my legs stretching out a little further to give him extra length to touch and soothe.

“How about I read you something, hmm? Ever seen one of these?” He picked an object from one of the shelves, the thing foreign, but smelling of forests and sweat. I liked that smell.

“It’s a book. A very old, nearly extinct..book.” He shuffled a little in his seat, his hand scratching over my chin as he sensed my shock-surprise at being moved. And then he opened this so-called ‘book’, his deep voice sending warm vibrations through my body, my eyes closing slightly as I let him take me away to another world. A world with a thousand trees. And nymphs. And gods - which I think from his descriptions, are like humans but then ever older.

Every few minutes or so he would turn a page, a new whiff of smells entering my satisfied nostrils. I was warm, safe and quite content, my muscles vibrating along with the man’s words as he relieved the ache deep in my soul. I had never heard or smelled such words as his, but I liked them very much.

--

A loud crack burst open the door, that fierce white light burning my eyes as I quickly skedaddled, getting out of the line of sight of whatever horrific beasts were here to break into my sanctuary. Humans, their smells not to my liking. Too much rubber, plastic and other synthetic whiffs.

“Take him.” One spoke, the others following his curt instructions, the Old Man being mercilessly dragged from the corner where he trembled like a child, his large body not small enough to hide behind the books like I could.

It all happened so quickly that I wasn’t sure whether it had happened at all, the small room quiet and the dust settled before I dared to look again. I waited and waited. The night came and went, but the Old Man didn’t return. My hunger did though. The gnawing, aching emptiness made my bones clatter in their furry furbishments and I tried my best to understand the words the Angry Men had spoken.

“Incinerate elsewhere. Risk of attention. Incinerate elsewhere. Risk of attention.” The words had near eaten me alive when the dark door opened finally, the satisfying scent of two tomcats alerting me it was her. She was not happy though, my heart already aching for her before she could switch on the light, her tears muffled behind a pale hand.

“Oh gods.” She squirmed when the light bulb flickered on, her eyes roaming over a new trail that led over the floor, the smell reminding me of food..though I hadn’t found any, anywhere.

“Oh gods..Badger.” Her eyes started to rain, her lip trembling in pain as she cried out.

That is the moment when I crawled out of my hiding, my careful paws walking towards her until she noticed me, her lips curling up in what I learned was that good emotion. A smile. Though on her it looked a little weird - were there more types of smiles? 

“Minnie.” She whispered, picking me up to cuddle until our short interaction was roughly disturbed by a sound outside. “Shit..Fuck..Okay we need to go.”

And, again, I found myself in the insides of a jacket. This time hers.

--

From the insides of the nice smelling jacket I heard a million voices spinning around us. Some human. Some metallic. Some whispering, some loud. My ears were folded flat against my skull by the time the world quieted again, the two of us landing on a mattress in a mal-furnished room; there were simply too few comfortable places to lay on, the mattress the only surface that was to my liking.

The Young Woman got up, her nose sniffling with the threat of more tears as she conjured up some food and water. Strange food and water. The type that was the standard these days. Tasteless. Shapeless. Soulless food. And disgustingly sterile water. Blergh.

But thankfully this new place brought me something good: the woman was more than eager to hug and cuddle, her body sinking down onto the mattress again so I could crawl up to her, her eye-water sinking into my fur as she held me close.

I wanted to speak to her then, and I did. I talked and talked and talked. But I’m not sure if she understood me. Why was all this water coming from her eyes? Was she the goddess of rain? I leaned in heavier into her warm chest and felt my muscles buzz with eagerness.

And then she found it. My greatest secret. The thing that the new world order was supposed to hate according to the Old Man.

Scratching my chin, I easily surrendered it to her, her fingers removing the small tube from my collar, unscrewing and finding two things: a miniscule piece of paper, reminding me of the smell of home, and some type of metal pill-tube-thing.

Silently she read the words, her lip trembling again with emotion, before they turned into a watery smile - happiness, love, good!

“Oh, I will..I will.” She mumbled.

Curiosity sparked in me and I spoke to her again, begging for her attention: “Please tell me what it reads!” -- And of course she couldn’t understand my words, but the sentiment was clear I think, for she now finally read it aloud:

“Code Minerva. Keeper of Wisdom. 112049 - Erase after uploading. Ps. she loves ear scratches.”

--

It was the day the new world order fell into true chaos.

I liked it very much.  

--

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Halloween 2021 - Day 5 - The Invisible Ray (1936)

Doesn’t that just sound like a bad magician? “Ladies and gentlemen, introducing...The Invisible Ray!”

Ah, this takes me back. Back in year 0 of this horror marathon business, before this blog was a thing, it was kinda heavily skewed towards the ‘classic’ period; Dracula, Frankenstein, The Mummy..all that Universal 1930’s type stuff. Amongst that first run were a pair of films starring both KARLOFF and Bela Lugosi;  The Black Cat and The Raven. I remember them both being quite good, both having this sort of rivalry between their two characters. The Black Cat moreso with a young couple caught in the middle of a heated feud between KARLOFF and Lugosi’s characters. Whereas The Raven has KARLOFF as more of a de-facto good guy as he plays a reluctant henchman to Lugosi’s character. Not that that level of power translated off screen, with Lugosi’s star beginning to fade but I remember reading something about KARLOFF insisting on some parity in pay between the two in one of their movies when the studio tried to lowball Lugosi so good on you, KARLOFF.

Neither have much to do with the Edgar Allan Poe stories they take their names from, outside of Lugosi’s character in The Raven having an obsession with Poe and adapting various means of torture from Poe stories. There have been plenty of Poe adaptations throughout the years but the other big uptick in them was in the 1960’s with a series of films directed by Roger Corman, often starring Vincent Price but with other big names sprinkled in like KARLOFF, Peter Lorre and Lon Chaney Jr. Plus a relatively early Jack Nicholson appearance in The Raven, which was shot at the same time as The Terror. That bloody bird!

So, yeah, it’s good to see one of these KARLOFF/Lugosi films again. Apparently there are eight films that featured both of them so I’ll be halfway there now on them. This also has Carl Laemmle Jr’s name attached, albeit in a minor way as he’s listed as ‘presenting’ the movie. I’m not sure if that ever means anything. It’s like when Tarantino ‘presents’ something, did he have any actual input on the film or was he just shining a light on something he personally liked because he has so much power and influence?

The movie’s foreword is an early indicator of the more science-fiction leaning nature of the movie which catches you off guard a little with the people involved and the timeframe we’re working in. Feels like the 50’s was more when the whole sci-fi thing took off. Also, since when was science a verb?

Certainly has the feel of that classic ‘old, dark house’ horror thing early on as we start with the Rukh household awaiting the arrival of some of Dr Janos Rukh’s (KARLOFF) peers who are to bear witness to his new discovery.

KARLOFF has clearly been eating his crusts to get curls like that, normally he’s a slicked back kind of guy. And it’s kinda weird seeing both of them with facial hair. Oddly though this is one of the rare times that Lugosi plays a good guy, this is a clear violation of the parallel universe protocol:

Normal universe – clean shaven – good guy Parallel universe – goatee – evil

This early version of Dr. Doom is a bit naff. Are you making a great scientific discovery here or doing a spot of welding?

Apparently Dr Rukh’s invention is a telescope that is able to see into the deepest reaches of space, but can also pick up on vibrations left by the events that have taken place and he can then project that as a moving image that shows an asteroid crashing to Earth millions of years ago that can help him pinpoint the crash site and allow him to discover new elements inside the asteroid...wait, what?! Is this like that time on CSI when they solved a murder by getting sound out of something someone made in pottery class because the grooves could be played like a vinyl?

We then pivot sharply into the great plains of Africa where our team have set off in search of what will become known as ‘Radium X’. Oh yes, I think that’s on the periodic table next to Hardtoobtainium. And I’m specifically trying to avoid animal cruelty by not watching Cannibal Holocaust, don’t come around here with your dead leopards and talk of how many rhinos you’ve shot. I must say I’m a little wary of this sudden introduction of all these natives carrying spears and wearing bone necklaces, I just don’t feel like I can trust a movie made in the 1930’s to be sensitive on it’s portrayal of other cultures.

Thought it does present us with the best actor in this picture, look at those bug eyes! He’s like Africa’s answer to Marty Feldman.

And that’s just his reaction to a piece of scanning equipment going off, him and his mates are definitely going to be worried when this white devil makes a demonstration of his new found Radium X and it’s ability to melt pure stone. Looks like a portajohn backing up...

He then promptly turns his cosmic ray gun on all the locals when they tell him they want to go home. Sure, you can leave, you’re not going to get very far though. Dude, there’s like 12 of you and he’s given some of you rifles. Just jump him when he’s asleep.

Dr. Rukh finds that evening that he’s suddenly turned an interesting shade of neon yellow and can be seen by anyone in a three mile radius so either this Radium X is highly poisonous or Rukh has been running in opposition to Vladimir Putin. This poisoning leaves him so irradiated that merely touching another living thing is enough to kill it. Dr. Benet (Lugosi) is able to make a serum for him but can never truly cure him, he must regularly take this serum or otherwise he will revert to this killing machine type state.

But, in his eagerness to not spread this poison to his wife, and his general upholding of the man code to never air ones medical problems, he generally acts a bit surly and tells her to piss off which see views as him not loving her anymore so he promptly shacks up with the young explorer type who came with them to Africa. Worse yet, Benet and crew have taken a sample of Radium X to show at a scientific conference in Paris. Between losing his missus and thinking that other people are taking all the credit for his work, Rukh is just slightly annoyed.

It’s not all bad though, he is able to use this new element to cure his mother’s blindness. I like how his first reaction upon learning that Radium X has irrecoverably changed his life, leaving him one missed injection away from imminent death, is to shoot it directly into his mother’s face.

“Patients won’t like being shot in the face.” “They’ll like what I tell them to like.”

Whilst sulking outside of the church that his ex is getting re-married in, he spots a series of statues of saintly figures and imagines them representing each of the 6 people on the African expedition, vowing to destroy each of them until only he is left. Marvelous invention this Radium X, it can melt statues and cure blindness. Do you have to put special filters on that ray gun of yours depending on the situation? That’s a malpractice suit waiting to happen if you mix those up.

Dr. Benet is a little suspicious when one of their party dies suddenly for no explainable reason so takes a few ultraviolet photos of the victims eyes in order to study. And wouldn’t you know what he finds?

Bullshit! Nevermind the ultraviolet camera, this is more like the dues ex machine camera. I know this is science fiction and all but what is this, 1936 or 2036? Or maybe they’re just able to make the most detailed contact lenses known to man.

Eventually, when Rukh finds himself unable bring himself to kill his former love, he is confronted by his mother who smashes the serum and condemns him to death as, going unchecked, the Radium X within him will destroy his body. Sensing the end coming, Dr. Rukh dives out of the nearest window and promptly erupts bursts into flames, now left as little but a pile of ash on a damp Paris street. It’s a shame really, dozens of people spontaneously combust every year, it’s just not widely reported.”

This one was okay, definitely a different vibe compared to other Universal stuff at the time with all the science fiction and Africa based stuff but it does still travel down that ‘descent into madness’ thing that they often fall back on and it’s always fun to see KARLOFF and Lugosi, especially when they’re together. But, if we’re strictly talking about the KARLOFF/Lugosi pairing, I’m definitely leaning towards one of their other outings like Black Cat, Raven or Son of Frankenstein. There’s just something not right about Lugosi playing some normal, if he’s not being unhinged then you’re not really getting what you came here for.

[aion-rsa]

Endeavour Theory: Has Morse Already Crossed Paths With Nemesis Hugo de Vries?

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Warning: contains spoilers for Endeavour Series 7 and Inspector Morse episode ‘Masonic Mysteries’.

There’s a beauty to mystery that could hardly be lost on fans of Endeavour, a series with playfulness in its bones, as evidenced by its regular tips of the hat to pop culture and Morse creator Colin Dexter. The show’s viewers understand that ambiguities deliberately positioned as such should be allowed to stand, unaccosted by any fun-sucking need for certainty. We’re not here to unweave rainbows or clip angel wings.  

That said, Endeavour does love a game, and its fans love to play along. So while appreciating that some things are destined to rightly remain in the hazy hinterland of maybe, let’s play. The name of this game? Find Hugo de Vries!

Played by Ian McDiarmid in Inspector Morse Series 4 episode ‘Masonic Mysteries’ (1990), Hugo de Vries is a fan-favourite villain in the world of Morse. Erudite and cultured with a love of classical music, he has much in common with the detective, as is fitting for any two nemeses. A great difference of course, is that de Vries is a diabolical killer utterly without conscience. 

Ian McDiarmid as Hugo de Vries in Inspector Morse Series 4 episode ‘Masonic Mysteries’

In de Vries’ one and only Inspector Morse appearance, Morse finds himself framed for the murder of a woman from his choir, which is staging a production of Mozart’s The Magic Flute. After the murder, Morse finds almost £100,000 transferred to his bank account from the charity administrated by the victim. Morse’s personal file on the police computer is hacked to insert a fictional past event in which he supposedly attacked a woman, and his guvnor – McNutt at the time – covered it up. His home is set on fire, he’s pulled over and breathalysed after an anonymous complaint is made about his erratic driving, his Jag is vandalised with masonic symbols and McNutt’s dead body is discovered in his bathroom. All of it, realises an increasingly unhinged Morse, is the work of de Vries, who’s borne a grudge against Morse since his sergeant days.

Endeavour being the story of those very days, Inspector Morse fans have been watching the prequel closely for a cameo by the younger Hugo de Vries. After another ‘Masonic Mysteries’ character, Marion Brooke, turned up in Series 3’s ‘Arcadia’, Endeavour writer Russell Lewis was asked in this 2017 interview whether Endeavour would one day bump into de Vries. Lewis replied, “Each thing in its season. I shouldn’t be surprised to see him sooner or later.”

Jump forward four years to a post-Series Eight finale exchange on Twitter when Lewis is asked the same question. The writer’s answer this time is more playful. “Ah, Hugo. Who can say if he hasn’t already crossed our path? He might well have done, of course. On the other hand… ‘Now you see him, now you don’t. That’s de Vries all right’.”

Ryan Gage as Ludo Talenti in Endeavour Series 7

In the spirit of investigation, let’s assess the evidence. Is Lewis just teasing or has Hugo de Vries already crossed our path in Endeavour, namely in the form of Ryan Gage’s Series Seven villain Ludo Talenti?

That name alone may contain all the clue we need. Not only do Hugo and Ludo bear more than a glancing resemblance, but the latter in Latin is the first person of the verb ‘to play’. ‘I play… many talents’ would be an inelegant translation. A better one might include the possible allusion to Patricia Highsmith’s famous conman Tom Ripley, given the epithet ‘Talented’ in his first appearance. Like Ripley, both Hugo and Ludo are master manipulators who charm and inveigle their way to wealth, leaving a trail of bodies in their wake. 

To jog the memory, Ludo recurred throughout Series Seven, initially presenting himself as a university contemporary of Morse’s who ran into him after Morse’s wallet was lifted at a garden concert (almost certainly a ruse designed to engineer the ‘accidental’ meeting). Ludo befriended Morse and the pair bonded over a shared love of opera. Ludo’s family is in shipping, he tells Morse, and he travels around raising money for their charitable fund, driven by a pursuit of music and beautiful women. 

Read more

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Endeavour: The Beautiful Poignancy of Series 8’s Last Lines

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When Morse asks him which country he’s from, Ludo is coy, preferring to say he is a “man of the world.” He later tells a childhood story about life during Nazi occupation, which throws up various suggestions but like so much Ludo says, that could well be fiction. For what it’s worth, the saying he cites as from his country, “Do not praise a day before sunset,” is Polish. And what of Hugo de Vries’ nationality? Ian McDiarmid’s accent in ‘Masonic Mysteries’ is difficult to place, though the name is Dutch (borrowed from a famous botanist), and he faked his death in prison in Sweden. (Ludo incidentally tells Morse that he posed as a Swedish policeman on the phone once to track the detective down.) Ludo’s name, it’s revealed in the Series 7 finale, was taken from the gravestone of a 16th century priest on Venice’s San Michele cemetery island.

Ludo Talenti’s priest namesake revealed in Endeavour’s Series 7 finale

To tot up the similarities so far, that’s two criminals, of indiscriminate European origin, around Morse’s age, fluent in the language of classical music and opera, living under assumed names. Both also share a snobbish disdain for the police. Ludo expressed surprise that a man as cultured as Morse would be “a lumpen, plodding petty official” while Hugo sneered at Morse’s colleagues going about in pairs “like low comedians.” They also share a similarly rarefied, Bond Villain-ish way of speaking (Every man has his price, every man, I shall make it my life’s business to find yours,”), and express the same nihilistic attitude. “Life, death, rich, poor, it’s all a roll of the dice, Morse, there’s no reason to any of it,” says Ludo, foreshadowing Hugo’s words when he forces Morse to his knees at gunpoint in ‘Masonic Mysteries’. “He was clever, you see,” Inspector Morse tells Lewis in that episode, “he took one look and knew your weakness right away.” In Series 7, Ludo jokes to Morse that he will find his weakness and exploit it without mercy to his own ends.

What else? The nature of their crimes. In ‘Masonic Mysteries’ Morse tells Lewis that his past encounter with de Vries saw him con Oxford University out of millions of pounds. His scam had a kind of poetry to it – posing as the heir to a Swedish armaments manufacturer, de Vries proposed the building of an institute for peace studies. His later scheme involved stealing money from Marion Brooke’s charitable foundation to frame Morse. 

Paperwork from Ludo’s life insurance policy scam. Note the signature.

Ludo’s Series 7 scheme was less poetic, but of a similar flavour. He bought up life insurance policies of people looking for a quick pay out, killed them, cashed in, and disguised the deaths as freak accidents. One such victim was poor Carrie Bright, the cancer-suffering wife of ACC Bright. (In a rather baroque twist, the initials of the locations for each murder spelled out the name L.U.D.O.). Both men wore disguises to do their evil work – de Vries posed as a homeless man to murder Morse’s former guvnor McNutt, and Talenti posed as a healer to gain access to the Bright home and sabotage their Christmas lights, causing Mrs Bright’s death by electrocution. Note in the image above the name of the Executive Director of Ludo’s fake company ‘California Amenity Redemption and Disbursement’ (or C.A.R.D, perhaps another game-play reference…) in the signature on one of his victim’s letters: E. De Vere?

Hugo and Ludo didn’t work alone on their devilish schemes, they each had a female accomplice. Hugo’s was the aforementioned Marion Brooke, a devotee who shared his revenge obsession (Hugo’s the kind of man who makes women kick off their shoes and men open their chequebooks when he enters a room, Morse once told Lewis). Ludo’s was Violetta (played by Stephanie Leonidas), who started a passionate affair with Morse during his holiday in Venice. In the Series 7 denouement, Ludo says that he picked Violetta from the streets when she was 15 years old and “gave her the world,” forcing her to become his co-conspirator in the life insurance murders and the plan to make Morse his “pet policeman”. 

On the subject of having police officers in your pocket, Hugo de Vries’ association with Morse’s longstanding adversaries the Masons mustn’t be forgotten. De Vries taunted Morse with his masonic connections, through Mozart’s freemason-themed opera The Magic Flute. There’s no evidence that Ludo Talenti was involved with the freemasons yet, but Endeavour viewers know that they’re in full operation in Oxford at the time. 

Endeavour Morse attends ‘The Demon’s Wife’ opera in Venice

Endeavour and Violetta met at a performance of ‘La Sposa del Demonio’ in Venice, an operatic work by Endeavour composer Matthew Slater, which translates fittingly as ‘The Demon’s Wife’. Demons come up a great deal around Talenti and de Vries. “There speaks a devil sick of sin,” Ludo says to Endeavour. “There may not be a devil, but there’s devilry alright, and de Vries…” says Inspector Morse, walking away from Hugo’s burial and doubting whether or not he’s really in the coffin. (De Vries’ name, cryptic crossword fans can’t ignore, shares its first three letters with ‘devil’). And perhaps it just suited his complexion, but Ludo wears deep red numerous times in Series 7, perhaps in echo to de Vries’ burgundy shirt in his sole appearance. 

Speaking of that Venetian denouement, did Ludo not die after being shot by Fred Thursday and falling into a canal, putting the kibosh on the ‘Ludo is Hugo’ theory? Well, he was certainly shot, and he certainly did fall into the canal, but did he die, or did that devil live to return and torment Morse under a new name in future adventures? You’ve heard the evidence. What’s your verdict?

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Endeavour Series 8 is available to stream on ITV Hub and Britbox.

The post Endeavour Theory: Has Morse Already Crossed Paths With Nemesis Hugo de Vries? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[merakisnotavailable]

MOON

Moon- verb; to behave or move in a listless manner.

-by Srishti Shivam

(written by Shivangi)

Blinded by the tears staining her cheeks, Niki closed her eyes and buried her head in her knees as she hugged her legs closer to her chest on the tiled bathroom floor, the warmth and the sound roused by the water running down her back in the constricted shower cubicle seemed to be the last string of sanity she was hanging onto, she truly felt like she would go crazy from the pain that sprouted from her broken heart, the absence of a certain someone's embrace and the deafening silence of her apartment. Moreover, she felt incomplete, insecure and listless. Why did she have to be here like this? Why was she pinning for someone who wouldn't even spare her a glance? Why did she give someone the power to turn her into the very person she swore she'd never become? and when did it start?

-3 months ago-

The soothing sounds from the air conditioner composed the background of the dimly lit room, the only source of light being the ceiling light right on top of the dressing table as Nikini added finishing touches to her makeup before leaving the house for a much needed dinner with her girlfriends.

Niki is like a breath of fresh air in a city where everyone seems to be walking in the same direction, everyone looks and dresses the same, everyone has similar goals and they seem to be rushing towards them all the time.

Surrounded by people who wore the same dull expression on their faces everyday, Niki's eyes glimmered with mischief and she'd throw her head back and laugh without a care in the world every now and then. Nikini is a woman who speaks her mind, she is an unconventionally slow paced, charismatic woman with a heightened sense of self importance.

Niki left the house and hailed a cab at 7:30 sharp, exactly half an hour before the dinner appointment had been made; being the most punctual one of the bunch came with it's own drawbacks, and one of them was waiting. Waiting for the the others to arrive after having done everything in her power to avoid getting late in the first place! Nikini had gotten used to it by now though, she arrived at the restaurant, was escorted to the table and started scrolling through her social media while she waited for the others to arrive and this is when she starts to drift off on her train of thought.

The people she is meeting up with today are her closest friends, their presence means a lot to her and if even one of them was in pain, there was no way Niki would be able to bring herself to sleep in peace, not until she had made sure that her friend is alright now.

She doesn't have a remarkable number of friends, it's just herself and her three girls; Nabi, Andy and Arya.

Work is good, she's happily busy with her life, but one could always use a catch-up with the friends! And besides that, Niki really wanted to check up on her friend Andy, who has recently come out of an excruciatingly long relationship followed by an extremely difficult breakup.

According to Niki, her friends deserved the best and only the best in life and she gets anxious whenever they start going out with a person who makes them feel otherwise, it goes without saying that Niki was not particularly fond of the way Andy had handled her feelings or even herself through the relationship as well as the breakup, but all she really could do here was give advice or even a shoulder to cry on; She could not make the choices for her friend.

This brought her back to the one thought that has been playing on a loop in her head lately; She knows that she still has a lot to learn in life, and that the future is the epitome of uncertainty itself, however, one thing she knew for sure is that she'd never become a part of the lovesick folk who are ready to roll the dice on everything they have and who they are for the only one that might not be meant for them to have in the first place.

That being said, she first needs to get a boyfriend.

Niki is brought off of her train of thought by a tap on her shoulder and as soon as she turns around, she comes face to face with Nabi who chose to wear a smile on her face that accessorizes her midnight blue dress in the best way possible, some people are effortlessly charming and this woman is definitely one of them. She gets up and greets her with a hug and sits down to talk while they wait for the others to arrive.

Andy is the next one to come and they decide to place the orders as they catch up so that the food will be ready by the time Arya makes it. While the girls are waiting for the orders to get prepared, they make a quick trip to the ladies.

On the way back to the table, Niki accidentally bumped into a stranger and impact was such that it sent her purse onto the floor and all of its contents out of it, they both started apologizing profusely as they bent down to collect the scattered belongings; the last thing she wanted was to be seen running after her lipstick as it rolled away from her in a Michelin star restaurant.

Niki only looks up once they're done collecting all of her stuff to thank the kind stranger only to be met with the most beautiful pair of hazel eyes she'd ever seen in her life. There was nothing extraordinary about them, they just felt familiar, like they carried a glint of mischief, much like herself. But she pushed the butterflies aside, thanked the guy and carried on with the night.

This was the first time they met.

The second time was at the park, when Niki had stepped out to complete her fitness target for the day and ended up meeting the cutest Golden Retriever while she sat at the bench for a little rest, the only thing that seemed off about the dog was that it didn't have anybody accompanying it at the moment.

He was definitely not a stray, if the bright blue collar around his neck was anything to go by; he looked quite young and it didn't take her that long to put two and two together and figure out that he had probably run away from his owner who will come searching soon enough.

So she started playing with the little guy to engage him and distract him from getting any farther from his owner than he already was and almost as if on que, there was a tall figure that came calling out to the dog from a distance, the cheerful barks and wagging of the tail directed towards the said person being the tell tale signs that this man was in fact the owner of the dog who's name happened to be "Toffee" of all things.

Niki bid a silent yet smiley farewell to the dog as it ran towards his owner before carrying on with her jog, the earbuds blaring with music preventing her from hearing as the stranger out to her with Toffee in his arms to thank her, eventually having to give up on it.

The next time was at the grocery store at the corner of her street. Niki was struggling to bring down a bag of chips from the top shelf with one hand and balancing another armful of snacks in the other while she was in her favorite five inch heels, her current state was probably not very graceful to look at but her ego prevented her from asking for help and right when she lost balance, she was caught in a tight embrace, the person behind her waiting for her to regain her balance and get back on her feet so that he could let go of her.

And as soon as she did, she was greeted by a familiar pair of hazel eyes and she couldn't stop her lips from curling up in a smile that reached her eyes; Thank you! she chirped at the handsome stranger No, thank YOU!! was what he said back, and then went on to explain how he was out walking his brother's pet the other day and how he lost the dog and how thankful he was for her help; the realization dawned upon her, and she told him why she happened to remember him.

That night they realized, they were in fact meeting for the third time, they first exchanged smiles, then names and then the numbers. Niki was over the moon for she could now attach a name to the handsome face of the man that she kept running into these days; " My name's May, Maynard, but everybody calls me May."

Third times' a charm, they say; it however turned out to be a tribulation that led Niki into a relationship that proved to be a blight on her self worth for a very long time.

Her relationship with May taught her what it was like to be tied to a sallow heart, to be in love with someone with her entire being but only being entitled to a part of his heart. She was so deeply in love that she found reason in everything that he did and said, she lied to herself to pretend she was not hurt or suffering, the glint in her eyes growing dull day by day. She delayed her reactions to his actions till the day she could not take anymore and then she left.

The imprints of his touch were etched into her brain in the form of memory, and all the places they went to became off limits for a while. she became exactly what Andy used to be like; The way she handled herself and her feelings for the person she loved was not something she could be proud of, even when she was the one making all the choices this time.

And the most important lesson that she learned was that, loving is hard, and it is completely possible for the perception of a person that you've created in your head and the person himself to be entirely different from each other.

It was all fun and games till the late realization hit her like a ton of bricks in the face, the dates, the fun they had together, the feeling that they got along well and were on the same page in the relationship, the memories were all reduced to nothing until the day she fell in love and he didn't.

Here it is!!

MOON, inspired by the song, " One Last Night" by Vaults.

A huge shout out to Srishti for coming up with a great source of inspiration and allowing me complete creative freedom with the plot.

Make sure to leave your suggestions and encouragement in the form of a comment, share this post if you liked it and feel free to send me prompts for my next story!

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[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Mirite

Mirite was not a difficult name to remember.

There was a Mirite. A Mirite was a person in Floornight whose name you couldn't quite place. And of course that made Mirite very easy to forget.

Just one Mirite, though, two Mirites, sometimes three, a Mirite with an extra Mirite on the end, a Mirite who had an extra "ite" and not an extra "mir" -- and then you had to remember whether it was a proper noun, a verb, or an adjectival form of a noun. How do people remember all that?

"Mirite," Mirite said, turning to look at her. She was in her late twenties or thirties and had short brown hair framing a face that was heavily lined. She looked a lot like one of Thea's professors, Miranda had said. "I didn't think we had any Mirites left in all of Floornight."

It was a joke that she had made at the party. A joke that had seemed funny at the time, and had spread through the party until everyone was making it again and again, each time funnier than the last. The whole affair was like that now. Everyone was the butt of the joke in one way or another.

Mirite's joke had been, of course, a reference to her name. But the reference wasn't strictly necessary. Mirite's name was a joke, and one of those jokes had a whole lot of people cracking up.

It was going to be light tomorrow. It was going to be a very, very soft dawn, a Dawn Light That Will Not Pass, and Floornight would be in that delicate early morning light for about another two hours, maybe more. It was going to be very, very beautiful.

In the half-light of the eastern sky, the little planet Ceres was low in the sky, close enough to the horizon that the city on it could be seen, but high enough up near the stars that not much light hit the city. It was one of those mornings that you could easily see what you were going to see if you were good enough -- perhaps you could even read the sign above the coffee shop, the one that said "BOND BETWEEN TWO." Or maybe not -- one look at that sun was all it took to know that it had either a massive penis or a moonlike gravitational pull. It looked so inviting, that little piece of sky. The horizon was so close, so inviting, it was easy to understand what it meant, even without any translation.

"Mirite?"

Mirite turned at the sound of her voice. She was standing in front of her bedroom window, which looked out into the backyard of their modest home.

"Yeah?"

With a smile and a nod, Mirite indicated that the two of them should follow each other. It had been half a year since Thea, who had been working as a junior software engineer in Seattle, had left in a huff, and Mirite, who was working odd and mostly-dull manual jobs and living on the streets, had wanted to find whatever excuse she could to talk to Thea. That was why she had come out here. That was why, before Thea got back, she and Mirite had taken this trip. It was in the back of her mind, always. This morning especially.

"Do you want to sit?"

She gestured to the recliner in the living room. "Have a rest. You can tell me about whatever you were thinking about earlier." And if there was a Mirite, if there was anything they could talk about, then yeah, Mirite would like to rest. "Or make yourself at home."

"Okay," said Mirite, heading toward the recliner before Thea could argue.

"It's going to be easy day today," Mirite said, taking the seat opposite Thea, who was in the bedroom, in the bed. "I'm gonna make this ten percent good, this dawn. I'm going to make this dawn an A+ dawn, a great day, a Mirite dawn."

She turned and looked directly into Thea's eyes. Her gaze was intense, almost accusatory. It was a gaze that said, "Don't question this," "Don't even think about questioning this," "I was wrong about this and I'm going to prove myself correct."

Thea wasn't used to Mirite like this. It was a new way of looking at Mirite, and it made Thea uncomfortable, although she didn't say anything.

"I'm going to get food and drink and go back to the party, and get some more people. It's going to be real good, Mirite."

Then, after a slight pause: "Wait until after breakfast, though. I just got out of bed and I feel fantastic. My head's all clearer, and I feel like I'm on fire all over." And after another pause: "Don't talk to me until you've had something in your stomach."

Mirite laughed. She laughed, and laughed, and laughed again. Thea laughed, too. No one besides Mirite at this morning's party had laughed for the last week.

•

After lunch, it was time for Mirite to prepare her breakfast. Mirite went to the kitchen, poured a glass of orange juice, and grabbed a croissant with cheese. She ate it quickly and went to the bedroom. Before she had finished eating, she'd washed her croissant down with a long gulp of orange juice, and was ready to begin.

"Mirite? I'm going to look at the dawn."

No one had ever called her by that name, it was just "Mir." But Mirite had a sense for humor -- and this, this sense of humor, this sense of "this will go on my to-do list," this was Mirite -- this was the kind of thing she had made up her mind not to do. But her sense of humor was so pure that it was almost impossible to stop yourself when she had set out to do so. It was impossible to resist. And Mirite liked it that way.

And so, with a smile and an "that's what she sounds like, right?" voice, she turned to face the dawn.

•

It was a very, very mild Dawn Light That Will Not Pass, and if you were in the back of your head, you could envision little bits of stars in the sky, like glittering dust specks. And you could actually see the stars, in that way the light revealed them.

•

Mirite smiled. She remembered how hard it had been, earlier this morning, to sit down and eat a breakfast such as that that was -- a breakfast that was completely full of carbohydrates, but full of that pleasant orange flavor, too. But to Mirite, that flavor of orange was so important to the meal that she was willing, almost, to give up everything else.

•

Mirite could taste the sky on the tip of her tongue. The "greatness" of the daylight, and the perfection that it represented, was so close to her, it was almost in her -- in the way that only that sense of greatness and perfection could be.

•

Everything about this morning was perfect. The sky, the sun, the taste of the food that made Mirite so happy, even the croissant, the texture, the taste of Mirite, who was Mirite, was all amazing. It was like she had never been away, it was like she had never come back, that she was the best in the whole world, that she was the very best thing that could ever happen to anybody. And she knew she was the best. That was something else her sense of sense did, that was so important to her, that it seemed almost, to Mirite, as though it were part of Mirite herself, part of the miracle that she was.

•

The world was so close. Oh, the world was so close! The horizon was so close!

•

Everything in the room was perfect, and Mirite, the only Mirite left, was the best, and everything was perfect.

The whole room was full of wonderful morning light. And the Mirite could see the stars, so clearly. It was as though she had been away, in a place the most wonderful place the whole world, and now she was coming home, and she could see the stars in the sky. She could see the stars, and it was a small gesture, but to Mirite, it was beautiful.

She laughed a laugh that no one else had thought was possible. Thea had been the only one to laugh in months. There was nothing left for anyone to do but laugh. And then, in that moment, the sun rose. Mirite closed her eyes and leaned back in the recliner. She waited for the sun to come up. She thought of the food inside the cupboard. She thought of the drink, too. It was time to drink.

•

And then it was as though the sun emerged from within the sky, with fire filling its light. Its light was beautiful, and it filled her with an unspeakable feeling. She felt the perfect way that she was, for now, the best, forever.

•

And when the sun and the light had filled every pore of the sky, and were like glowing jewels