#and I guess it's a thing since the sixties actually. I think those shelves in the hall that Iovingly polished last year were bought soon

[david-watts]

the problem with having 1870s bookshelves is that most books published after then are much taller than the shelves

#part of me really prefers having books upright. probably because it's easier to remove books like that #and I guess it's a thing since the sixties actually. I think those shelves in the hall that Iovingly polished last year were bought soon #after my grandparents married since the builder's label is still on them. and those are not much taller in actual shelf height #and whilst I do admittedly have a lot of old books most of them. are modern. in the sense that they were printed within my lifetime or soon #before I was born like. to the early nineties I'd say. #like so my beloved 1851 shelley poetry book fits wonderfully on the shelf. my copy of all tomorrow's photos #(not so subtle plug for genesee's book but also it's the most recently printed book I own) #does Not fit

[thehandsomeasshole]

@starttheanarchy from X

She kept silent as he talked, rambling about some rather interesting work that was being handed to a CEO. Wouldn't that kind of issues fall into a mixture of legal and HR? Ah poor is the chain of command. Well Gaige held her tongue on those thoughts, leaving the man to his legal headaches. Though at the mention of a wife, her eyes cut to the sky, right to the giant H that loomed overhead no mater where she was. And she felt a small bit of pain for the older man, not having a chance to mourn or process. Just work as usual. And she could tell that this was something she at the very least wasn't suppose to know with how he cut himself off. A small light humm came from her throat, a form of acknowledgment that she was listening and that this was marked down in her memory.

The topic swap back into technology got her moving again, nearing the garage that Ellie owned. Said woman was in front of the compactor doing what she seemed to love best, and Gaige just sent her a wave before ducking into the building.

"Yes, but is it not a sign of good quality when even the parts of your work can be used beyond others?" Gaige was going to be nice this once and allow the conversation to flow away from his past. "No, I can say with absolute certainty I would never take any shortcuts with DT. Or own a company, why would I want to be a sell out like that?" And that is where the anarchist started to come out. Ah the amount of times in class she debated the ethics and morals of the different corporations of the universe.

"Well then it is poor design then to have all the sensors in one place, and you can't say that you don't with how fast they are rendered useless once shot in the blatantly obvious eye." Stairs were taken two at a time as she head over to the workbench beside the vending machines. "I could care less about the funky stuff, would probably be a downgrade more then anything else to my work of art.” The tool case dropped onto the workbench, and a loud snort at the agree to disagreement. Eyes roll at the claim of superiority.

Gaige stills at the mention of what happened at the science fair. Eyes narrow as she was trying to figure out if he was trying to insinuate if the accident was not actually one. Fingers grip the workbench, dents forming under her robotic ones. It had been a moment since she had even had a single thought of that day, one of her worst days even compared to what Pandora had thrown at her so far. And something to think about when there was far less on her plate, one more issues shelved for the eventual emotional and mental break down.

"Actually, DT is programed to react to hostility. Meaning they will only take action after aggression has happened. Reactive rather then active, always has been like that." Sure it was a stupid idea to keep one of her main ways of defending herself on a more passive setting, but Gaige refused to to cause harm first.

"Yes I will admit, there is a fair amount of blood on my hands. But when did I ever claim to be the good guy? You have always been the one to bring it up, usually to either defend your actions or yourself. Since when have heroes ever claimed to be one? When have they allowed cruelty into their actions? To break apart families?"

Jack leaned away from the echo, burying his face into his sweater sleeve and he groaned loudly.

Well, that was definitely going to come back and bite him in the ass.

"Uh… No." Jack raised his head and turned back towards the echo, "No, it is not. You see, I don't exactly design my bots to help you jerks. I design 'em for maximum efficiency in production and combat. Got that? Good."

"Ooh, ouch! Look at you go, insulting me left and right. Good for you." He snorted, shaking his head, "Listen, kid, you can shit on the corpos all you'd like–trust me, I did my fair share of it when I was younger–but it's not as bad as it looks from the outside. And, hey! At least we don't have slaves like- Oh, actually, I think that's confidential… But, my workers get honest pay for, mostly, honest work. If they don't work hard enough, then, yeah. They get the crap beaten outta them or, if they're real lucky, they get airlocked. Much quicker. And funnier, actually. Their little eyes popping out of their heads and they just burst."

For a moment, Jack considered disagreeing. Telling her that the sensors were all strategically placed for maximum energy efficiency. While it was partially true, it wasn't entirely for that reason.

"Nah, I know," Jack laughed slightly, "you're right. It's mostly for the aesthetic, everything just slots together so nicely that way. Looks all sleek and tidy, y'know? You know."

Jack had taken the silence as confirmation he'd made her uncomfortable, talking about her killing her classmate, though it hadn't felt as good as he'd hoped.

She's probably around Angel's age, you asshole, he thought to himself, even more displeased now he'd made himself uncomfortable, too. 

"I did the same thing with the loaders. Can't have them mowing down all my workers, can I? No matter how funny it would be." Jack hummed slightly, picking his pen up off the desk and beginning to rapidly click it, "That did happen once, though. Rouge claptrap unit, got it's gross little hands onto an assault rifle after it found out it was gonna get shot down onto Pandora cause it was useless."

He shook his head, shuddering, "Something you'd never want to see, an ugly little trashcan of a robot coming at you sixty miles an hour and screaming 'you'll never take me alive!' at the top of it's voice module." A small laugh slipped past Jack's lips, "We didn't, the turrets finally kicked in and slaughtered the bastard."

"You're-..." Jack paused, the expression of frustration slowly melting off his face and he leaned back into his seat, "Actually kinda right. I always forget it's not you I hate. Well, I don't like you by any means but… Heh, guess I'm just amazed you'd work for the Crimson Raiders with their track record for screwing everyone over."

He shrugged, satisfied with planting the little seed of doubt in her mind, "I mean, whatever. No hair off my head if they try to kill you, right? Just less effort on my part."

"But, to answer your question…" he leaned forward again, letting out a quiet chuckle, "When they think it's the right thing to do. Y'know, human flaws and all that. The whole trolley problem thing or whatever. Would you rather kill one person you hold dear, or ten you don't? That kinda bullshit."

In all truth, he couldn't remember what they were talking about.

"Next time you wander into a bandit camp, stop and ask yourself: am I doing what I need to? Or am I just doing what I'm told? Always thought it was kinda funny how y'all just run around like headless chickens doing whatever your 'leaders' told you to, bet you don't even question it, do you? They say kill, and you just ask how much you're gonna get paid or if you'll get a shiny, new gun outta it."

"So, how am I doing so far? Pissing you off enough to keep you interested?"

#ahaha i think i just get excited to reply and it's just automatic #i look at the word count at the end and im just like huh #also hope this was okay!! #it could've been paradise // borderlands 2

[hobidara]

just friends?; cho seungyoun, kim yohan

part 1;

pairing: cho seungyoun x fem!reader, kim yohan x fem!reader

genre: university!au, fluff

word count: 1.9k

next |

“come on, y/n. loosen up a bit! It’s the first week of university.” seungyoun, your bestfriend begs you as he literally thrashes around in your studio room.

“no.” you deadpan, “i didn’t go to any parties during college. what makes you think i’m going to change this year just because it’s university?”

“but it’s the first week! you have to go out and make friends.”

you roll your eyes, scrolling through the hotel del luna episode list, pondering whether you should just watch it all over again from the start or only watch your favorite episodes; flashbacks of chung myung and man weol or when chung myung finally shows himself after 1,300 years. 

“i don’t necessarily have to go to clubs just to make friends.”

“just for once, please. you have to try living a university life since you didn’t live one during college.” seungyoun continues, this guy doesn’t know how to give up.

you groan, becoming frustrated, “for fuck’s sake, seungyoun. i said no and out of all people, you know the best that if i say no, it means no. just go have fun with others.”

“fine,” he sighs, “it would be a lot more fun with you.”

you eye him suspiciously, “you always went clubbing without me during college anyways.”

“okay, cool. i’m really glad you are not coming with me. thank god.” he scoffs, low-key offended by how you just denied his way of expressing his feelings.

knowing that he’s just messing with you, you just wave him off to leave your room quickly. he huffs, storming out of your room only after ruffling your hair. 

you have a pretty okay-size group of friends, consisting of 14 people including you. other 2 boys and you are the only ones who don’t drink, smoke and go out to clubs or parties.

people think you are scared of those kinds of places or you just have really strict parents but none of that is true. you just don’t like the idea of them. you don’t understand why some people pay to just dance with some strangers.

but again, everyone’s different. just like how you don’t understand the way your friends have fun, they also don’t get how you think watching movies and just staying home is fun.

back in college, you used to share a flat with four girls and you are not really close with them. you would greet each other when you see at the halls or at the shared kitchen but that’s it. 

when you first arrived, you tried making conversations but the answers were always cut short, making you conclude that they are just not very sociable but when you saw the four of them getting along with each other really well, talking in their own language, you realized that maybe it’s just the language barrier.

plus, you’ve never heard of them speaking in english. 

anyways, whenever seungyoun visits your room which is like seven times a day, your flatmates were quick to guess that he’s your boyfriend. it’s funny because it’s not only your flatmates who had that idea, literally almost everyone back in college thought that. 

you wouldn’t exactly blame them. you guys were best friends, literally always together. this year, thankfully, you are not sharing a flat with anyone but seungyoun of course, takes that as his advantage to stay in your room almost 24/7. him living on the same floor as you doesn’t quite make the situation better. 

you decide to watch episode 14 of hotel del luna and you are not surprised when you find yourself wanting to munch on something as you watch the drama. tesco is just 2-3 minutes walk away. therefore, you quickly grab your winter jacket and leave the dorm building. 

you came for two things; the packet of 5 chocolate doughnuts, the melted chocolate pudding and pringles. yes, you have a sweet tooth. your friends keep warning you that if you continue eating this much sweets, you might end up getting diabetes but it’s not like you can help it.

with your poor eyesight, you search for the pack of 5 chocolate doughnuts on the shelves after finding the other two items. those are often out of stock or they just run out quickly.

when you suddenly see a guy grabbing a very similar looking pack of doughnuts from the bottom row, an accidental “wait, no!” slips out of your mouth.

his movements freeze aside from his head which turns to look at you, “sorry?”

“sorry.” you apologetically smile, bending down to look if there’s anymore left.

sighing when you find none, you stand straight back up just to see the guy still standing in the very same position from a minute ago.

you blink, “everything okay there?”

“yeah, um, were you searching for these?” he asks, slightly waving the very sweet looking pack of doughnuts in his hand.

“yes,” you nod. “it’s fine, you can have it.”

“i didn’t say i was going to give it to you though.”

embarrassment floods into your system that very moment. right, he never even hinted that he was going to give it to you.

seeing your reaction, the guy chuckles, “i’m just kidding. you can have it.”

“are you sure?” you ask, hoping he would say yes.

he nods eagerly, “i just wanted to give it a try but seeing how much you want them, they must be really good.”

“they are!” you reply, jumping slightly and he finds it cute.

you don’t know that, of course.

“i will give you two. i will show you a whole new world.” you grin cheekily, striding your way towards the cashier to quickly pay for the doughnuts which are now in your hand.

you don’t even remember how they end up in your hand but that’s not important.

“how do i give you these?” you ask, stepping out of tesco with the guy whom you still don’t know the name of. 

“where do you live?”

you look at him wearily. he’s cute, actually really cute. he can even be an actor or idol right away with his looks. also, you are pretty sure he’s korean.

no, you are not a koreaboo. you are just pretty good at guessing people and their ethnicities. 

despite him being really good-looking and cute at the same time, it’s 11 pm. it’s still kinda dangerous for you to be telling him where you live and all that. what if he suddenly takes out a pocket knife and threatens you or worst, kills you?

if this was a kdrama, and both of you were the main leads, you would be shipping hard already, because you know, a bad guy and a good girl makes a good cringe love story.

but this is reality. if he does that, you are dead. there’s nothing else after that, no love, no romance.

“where do you live?” you throw back the question at him. 

“do you know the student dorm right at the top of the hill?”

“i live there too!” you immediately respond. too much for being cautious of a stranger, y/n.

but if he actually lives there, it’s not bad. is it?

“okay, i’m yohan. first year.” he suddenly introduces, holding out his hand.

“after like 10 minutes of talking --” you quickly cut yourself off, “y/n. first year as well.”

“i doubt it has been 10 minutes of talking.”

“i’m sure it has been 10 minutes or even more than that.”

“so,” he pauses as the both of you are now surrounded with the dormitory buildings. “which block are you in?”

“A, and you must be A too?” you ask, seeing the way his plump lips turn into a shape of o the moment you replied.

“let’s go!” he happily hops towards block A, looking back to see if you are still following him.

“i’ve never seen you in college.” you say, watching him press the elevator button after entering block A.

“i did a-levels so i didn’t need college.”

you nod, understanding, “no wonder.”

“what major are you doing, by the way?” he asks. 

“computer science. i have no idea why i chose that as well.”

“i chose --” his answer is interrupted by the sound of the elevator doors sliding open. and there stands a very familiar person in it.

both of you chorus, “why are you here?”  

“did you not go to the club?”

“i turned back,” seungyoun answers, eyeing yohan before laying his eyes on you. “you? why did you leave your phone in your room?!”

“i did?” you gasp, putting your hands in your jacket’s pockets to realize that you really did. “i forgot. i went to tesco in a rush.”

“you got me all worried.” he groans, but the relief evident in his voice.

seungyoun grabs your wrist softly and pulls you into the elevator with yohan following behind, already thinking that seungyoun must be your boyfriend.

because, what kind of friend reacts that way?

“oh, seungyoun! this is yohan.” you gesture between the two of them.

“are you korean?” seungyoun asks carefully, to which yohan nods with a big grin.

“yes!” he replies in korean, “i haven’t met any koreans since i moved in here.”

“oh, me too.” seungyoun chuckles, both of them now conversing in korean. “but i know with a few korean people.”

“a few, my ass.” you interrupt and seungyoun quickly shuts you off, “stop being a koreaboo.”

okay, so you do understand korean pretty well due to the amount of korean dramas you watched since 10 years old. but that’s it. you just somehow started realizing that you do actually understand korean and started watching some shows without needing subtitles anymore.

but promise, you definitely are not a koreaboo. seungyoun always like to tease you that you are though because he likes the offended expression you always give him.

“you understand korean?” yohan asks, looking pretty shocked and impressed.

“like i said, she’s a koreab--” seungyoun answers before you can but you interrupt him by elbowing him in the guts. 

you see how yohan opens his mouth to say something but the ding from the elevator indicates that you have arrived at the third floor, which is where both you and seungyoun live.

“see you later, then.” you wave at yohan and step out of the elevator, seungyoun mirroring your actions.

yohan watches the way seungyoun circles his arm around your shoulders as the two of you walk away, as if it’s a habit or whatsoever.

even though he’s sixty percent sure you guys are a couple, he decides to not come to a conclusion quickly. with his good looks, it’s no surprise that girls are interested in him. 

but he only has guy friends. whenever a conversation comes up between him and a girl, it always turns out awkward. mostly, because, the girl is too shy and timid once she starts talking to someone this charming and good-looking.

yohan who’s a really humble person doesn’t think this. it’s always his friends who point out that he’s too good-looking for girls to not be shy when talking to him. 

y/n is a different story, all the way from tesco to the dorm, the conversation flowed smoothly. it almost felt as if they just didn’t see each other for the first time 15 minutes ago. 

and maybe, just maybe because of that, yohan wants to know you more.

#yohan #seungyoun #x1 #yohan imagine #seungyoun imagine #yohan scenario #seungyoun scenario #x1 scenario #x1 fluff #yohan fluff #seungyoun fluff #yohan angst #seungyoun angst #wooseok imagine #seungwoo imagine #hyeongjun imagine #dongpyo imagine #hangyul imagine #dohyun imagine #junho imagine #minhee imagine #eunsang imagine #x1 imagines

[theawkwardterrier]

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 35

AO3 link here

“That goddamn asshole again!”

Peggy leans up and peers at him over the back of the sofa as he slams the door to the apartment. Her hair is slightly squashed on one side, and she has the sort of marks on her cheek that indicate either that her book is so engaging that she hasn���t moved since he left or so dull that it’s lulled her to sleep.

“Well, this is a bit of a different frame of mind than when you left earlier,” she says calmly. He had gone to church that morning for the first time in a year; it’s the anniversary of his mother’s death and he knows that she’d have liked him to light a candle at least for that. His heart had been settled and a little sad as he thought how strange it was that his mother wouldn’t be even sixty years old had she lived but she has been gone from him now for circular decades. “I assume this means that you’ve seen the neighborhood menace once again?”

Steve strips off his suit jacket with more violence than he normally would: not so he tears the seams, but enough that his elbow gets stuck and he has to slow down to extricate himself more deliberately. He collapses into the armchair, fabric crumpling between his clenching fists.

“He nearly ran over Iris. While she was pushing the baby,” Steve says, voice low. “And she was on the sidewalk. Everyone walks in the street around here.”

She sits up properly. “Did Officer Miles see this time?”

“Cigarette break. As usual.” The fury is becoming something molten within him, boiling itself over uselessly. “Waste of a badge. If I was still—If I could just—”

“Steve,” she interrupts with sharp intent. “If you can’t do some good simply because you don’t have a badge in hand, then I’m not certain I know you.”

“Right,” Steve says, because she is. “Right.” And he goes to change out of his suit.

People in their neighborhood don’t have much call for cars of their own. Sure, there are some around, but for the majority, buses and streetcars can take them the places they need to go, and where would everyone park them if they did have them?

The car they saw come through most often, or perhaps only noticed most often, was driven by a man everyone had started calling That Devil.

That Devil was perhaps thirty, with a rounded face and slicked-back blond hair. Instead of seeming cherubic, there was an animal squint to his eyes which changed your consideration of him on sight.

That Devil’s car was a green roadster, nearly new except for the wear which he had put on it, because That Devil drove the city streets not as if he were being chased but as if he was the one doing the chasing. The problem wasn’t even so much his disregard of traffic laws as it was his disdain for laws of common sense and humanity: he screeched his way around corners on a diagonal, came close to the edges of sidewalks if not actually atop them, seemed not to see pedestrians no matter how colorfully they dressed or how loudly they shouted. His speed, his recklessness, did not seem pointed or purposefully malicious but instead the product of a lack of care for those around him, as if he simply couldn’t be bothered with the people in his way.

Regardless of his reasons or lack thereof, he was a menace. He was making Steve’s neighbors unsafe. Steve wouldn’t stand for it anymore.

The following Wednesday, Peggy is coming home from work when she hears someone call her name. Mabel, who owns the butcher shop with her husband Frankie and her sister Marceline and Marceline's husband George, waves her down. She comes out wrapped in a heavy sweater against the evening drop in temperature and holding a full brown paper bag on her hip.

“Your man was in here an hour ago,” she starts, watching Peggy with keen eyes. Mabel always knows everything that is going on with everyone around, or tries to. “George was wrapping up his stew meat and I was finishing with him at the register and all of a sudden we hear the sound of That Devil starting down the street. And your Grant asks me to hold his meat and keep the rest of his shopping behind the counter - and he certainly is polite, mind you - but then he just takes off down the street after That Devil.” Peggy looks mildly back at her without comment, so Mabel continues, more pointedly, “I’ve never seen someone run so fast.”

And I suspect that you haven’t even seen the most that you could have, Peggy thinks, but aloud she says casually, “Yes, he’s something of an athlete,” and holds out her arms for the grocery bag.

She’s been quite exhausted lately - apparently building an international espionage organization is not for the faint of heart - so after she’s put the food away, she lies down for a brief nap. When she wakes up and comes out to the kitchen, Steve is standing by the counter, roughly chopping a red pepper. He scrapes the pieces onto a tray of already cut tomatoes and onions and slides it into the oven (she liked the roasted tomato soup recipe he tried last week so much that she’d asked him to make it again) and smiles over his shoulder at her.

“Did you catch him up?” she asks from the doorway.

“I did.” Even with his back turned as he reaches a saucepan and frying pan from the cabinet, she can hear the satisfaction in his voice. “He lives in Georgetown. Nice house. Rich parents. We had a talk.”

“And he won’t be coming around here again?”

Steve sets the cookware on the stovetop, leaning against it as he turns to face her. “He did try to give me the ‘I know every cop in town, my dad’s friends with J. Edgar, they won’t lift a finger’ line, but I think he understands now that if he keeps acting the way that he has been, in this city or anywhere else, it won’t be a matter of bringing in authorities. Unless he’s more of a fool than I’d pegged him for, he should be much less dangerous to himself and others from now on.”

She watches him with care as he speaks. How different he is from when she first knew him, slightly lined now, with more of a solidity to his shoulders and jaw, the set of his feet, a settledness in his eyes that speaks of other lives seen and sampled and put intentionally aside. How similar he is, going on an unplanned chase because those who did wrong should not escape justice.

At least he was - presumably - wearing shoes this time around. And appropriately sized clothes.

“You realize that had you simply caught a glimpse of the registration plate, I could have found the address without you putting one of your less explicable talents on display in front of everyone,” she points out.

Steve nods his head, conceding the point. He does not make excuses about not having thought of that, or not wanting to involve or trouble her. Instead he says thoughtfully, “I think I needed to do something like this. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to make something right, and I guess I wanted to show myself that I still could. No orders, no tech, no supernatural crisis, no world hanging in the balance, just a chance to help things get a little bit better, a little bit safer.” He folds his arms against himself. “Bucky’s still out there - I know we’re waiting on intel to fill in the blanks of what I remembered but it’s taking longer than I would have hoped - and we still have Hydra to handle, and all the business with the USSR, but today I was able to do this.”

“And tomorrow you’ll carry Iris’s bags while she pushes the baby, and help Mr. Hancock reorganize his high shelves so he doesn’t have to get on the ladder at his age, and sit with me to work out our next steps. And I have faith that you will continue to do all of that and more.” She gives a small and true smile. “My faith in you has rarely been misplaced.”

“Rarely?”

“The preparations appear to have stalled although I was promised supper at some point tonight.”

He laughs. “And you’ll get it, even if the timeline’s a little off.” He indicates a chair and goes to get out butter and milk, ham and cheese. “You’ve heard about my day. Come tell me about yours.”

“Well, I wasn’t involved in any footchases,” she says, coming completely into the warmth, “so I don’t know that it was as exciting as yours.” (She’s found herself surprised by how little she misses fieldwork, how much her current role fulfils her even as overwhelming as it is. And it helps that she can assign herself something more hands-on if she chooses to.)

“Then again—” She takes a seat and puts her feet up, watching him squint at the scrap of paper with the scrawled-down directions for croque monsieur which Dernier had included in his last letter, trying to convince her that it was easy enough for even Peggy to attempt. “I work adjacent to the government, so I deal with devils of a sort nearly every day and usually can’t simply threaten them into behaving better. Though,” she adds with mock thoughtfulness, “it is quite satisfying when I can.”

He laughs, shoulders shaking a bit as he starts grating cheese, and she smiles for it, settling in for another evening of conversation and food and joy with him.

More chapters here

#Steggy #Steggy fic #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #things left behind fic

[le-petitmort]

Part II – This thing is about to be a thing

In one-point-four seconds I came to the realization that I am quite literally…the dumbest motherfucker ever. First, I never got her digits. Second…I never got her digits. Disgraceful. Where was my situational awareness? It was akin to a scrawny defender putting pressure up court on the opposing team’s guard, not paying attention and running smack dab into a pick set by a seven foot chiseled like a bronze formed by the hands of Donatello, NBA center. Basketball metaphors…get used to them.

Anyway, it knocked the wind out of my sails. The reason being is that I had formulated this grandiose plan for her to make the first move beyond the first move. To engage the conversation. Open the forum. Get the small talk out the way. Allowing me to pitter patter and tiptoe my way past the threshold of awkwardness and straight to the glory road of getting to know her intimately.

By intimately, I’m not talking about straight to boom, boom, out go the lights carnal skullduggery complete with passionate wet kisses, heavy petting and cock to pussy communication. I was angling for dinner first. Not wine, dine and sixty-nine dinner either. I had it built up in my head that I was going to treat this one like a lady. Later on, I could whisper filthy invitations in her ear that would make her coo, as my hand deftly slid up her thigh towards paradise. Getting to that point would be the hard part. Or maybe not.

Maybe, I had put this particular pussy on a pedestal. Perhaps she was a cum guzzling cock whore who jumped bed to bed trolling for fat cock in the ocean of fuckery that is Brooklyn?

Mayhap, she was one of those chicks who secretly delved into her passionate side by stroking the kitty by the light of her iPhone to kinky images on tumblr. Trolling for virtual cock with selfie side boob action, a toothy smile of seduction and a user name like…say…wantonbabygirldreamsandtequilamemories.

Perchance, all that was completely off base and she was raised right by her parents. A pristine catholic girl with of heart and mind of gold, devout in her love of our lord and savior Jesus Christ who would be spending good Friday getting ashes thumbed on her forehead…or whatever it is Catholics do on that religious day. I’m agnostic so, I have zero idea and I highly doubt she’s Ms. Goodytwoshoes since I had already noted in passing that she likes a smoke and a cocktail in the evening. Plus, she wears those fancy stocking that scream “unwrap me Daddy and see the present beneath”.

Let’s get back on point. This is how much I’ve thought into her. The epitome of pussy on a pedestal syndrome. Now, we’ve had an actual conversation. Albeit, a very short conversation. Brevity is sometimes good…except when you don’t get the digits.

The face to face was going to have to happen. Overcoming my fear of ineptitude and delving into my inner rico suave. A little more toned down though, than an unbuttoned white shirt to the navel, smooth talking lothario schtick. But, more than simply me. Yep, this girl has me all sorts of fucked up.

You’re probably wondering, “what’s with all the self-loathing, dude?”. I admit it’s got to be a bit of a turn off so, here’s the back story. No, I am not a virgin who sprawls across the couch in my jockey’s eating flamin’ hot Cheetos whilst penning dirty poems to lewd images on tumblr under a username such as…bigdongdaddysearchingforhootchiecocksluts. I’m also not the kind of man who walks into a room, drawing in beautiful, leggy, big busted vixens like steel to a magnet. I’m somewhere in the middle.

A relationship failure who gets too wrapped up in his work. Which can come off as neglectful to a significant other. But, I’ve had a plan since I was eighteen that I’d be retired on a beach in Mexico by the time I was forty, with my gorgeous wife and two adorable children playing in the sand as I sip a corona and reminisce about all the good times.

You see, I like plans. I don’t like flying by the seat of my pants. Life is analytical. Meant to be linear with a point A, B, C and onward. Peaks and valleys are for the weak. Which is why, when I first spied my dream girl promenading down the crooked sidewalks of Williamsburg, I stopped the initial urge to go in for the kill and went with formulation of a process. Fucking up in love multiple times will do such things to a man.

The plan was off though, for now. I wasn’t going to be able to slap another ”call me, maybe” note on her morning coffee to pique interest. That was already done. Mutual admiration and quite possibly mutual eye fucking were already in play. She had said it herself! Not so much in those words. But, I’d been noticed. How had I not noticed her noticing me? I really am daft at this shit…or maybe I need a lightning bolt of confidence in my life?

Is this moment it? Is that all I needed was the knowledge that there was a connection from across the room that I hadn’t felt? Was there truly distant simpatico? Was kismet closer than the vacuum of my unsure, fearful mind? Do we already have a thing for each other?! Holy fuck. These are the questions whirring in my head at 5 AM. Just like the ceiling fan spinning full speed above my bed. I’m one hundred twenty miles an hour of jubilation and angst. As much as I pride myself on a linear lifestyle, I climb to the mountain summit and hurl myself into a canyon of doubt with every passing second spent thinking about her.

I can hear the city coming to life. The traffic beginning to snarl. The metal clank of bodega doors rolling open. A single bird stationed on it’s perch singing.

I should be ambling into my office, coffee cup in hand starting my so-called work day. Instead I’m counting the minutes before I jump in the shower, clean up and go finish business with my future paramour. Yes sir, I’m forcing myself to project a dose of swagger. Laying here, mean mugging like an NBA power forward who just euro-stepped his way to a thundering game-changing dunk. I’m a winner, baby! Shelve that pitiful shit, bruh. You da man! Get fuckin’ fired up!

Which is why I basically pimp walked my way to the coffee shop when the time came for action. Outfit: casual. A hoodie from my alma mater, jeans with a strategic knee rip, green Nike air force ones on my feet. I popped straight through the shop door towards the familiar blonde at the counter like I owned the place. Ya boy iz in da house! Woof, woof, woof!

“Large straight black and a skinny latte, please.” I winked, expecting she’d question why I was getting two drinks instead of one.

She went straight to brewing and giving me the inflated total. “Twelve even. Name, please.” Ok, babe, maybe you don’t understand that lives are about to change in mere minutes. A whole cosmic galaxy is about to open up. Astronomers like Neil Degrasse Tyson will be talking about the cavalcade of stars falling out of the sky because two lips met at an overpriced local coffee shop in Brooklyn. Guess I’m getting ahead of myself there.

“Stephen…with a P.” I responded.

Apprehension and giddiness course through me. Giddiness seems unmanly but, my excitement isn’t. I’m bouncing heel to toe as our drinks magically appear before me. I check my phone one last time. Knowing her punctuality, we are currently at T minus 2 minutes and counting. Ps. I am not a stalker…to reiterate.

I grab the steaming drinks and fly towards the door, nearly tumbling over a shorty with her nose buried her phone. No time for apologies, I must nail down a cozy table on the sidewalk. I want this first meeting to be something the entire five boroughs of New York stops in awe to witness.

But, there she is coming through the door just as I reach for it. The coffees are in one hand and I can feel them about to crash right into her. I swivel my wrist, going for the save. No fucking way am I flinging a skinny latte across the object of my forever affections. Fuck no. Shit. There it goes. Whoa…steady as she goes. Eye widening panic! Boom goes the dynamite! My fingers grip the cups harder and safely held. Crisis averted.

Cool and casual like that. “Here you go Iona.” I handed over her drink with a smile.

“Iona?” She looked at me puzzled.

My eyes darted, alarmed. “Uh, yesterday…when you made your order here. Uh…you told the cashier your name was Iona?” Now it was time for my own quizzical. “Your name is Iona…right?”

She blew out a breath. The kind that shoots upward, blowing a dangling strand of her bangs from her rolling at being caught in a fib eyes. “That’s a thing I do. To sound exotic.” She gave a quick shake of the head and nodded to the counter. “I change it up every day. Glenda, Marion, Billie Jean...Iona. Whatever I’m feeling like that day.”

Her hand casually reached for a true introductory shake. “My real name is Tuesday…and I already know you’re Stephen…with a P.”

My smile was contemplatively wry. “Isn’t Tuesday an exotic enough name already? I mean…I’ve never met a Tuesday.”

“Yeah, well, a girl has to have many faces. One must stay intriguing and beguiling.”

“I’m intrigued and beguiled.” I shot back. Somehow feeling comfortable in my skin for a change.

The corners of her lips curved. “Mutual.”

Relaxation immediately struck. My entire being at ease. A wordless infinity.

“But, I’m sorry Stephen. Much as I’d like to sit down and get to know you, I have to be to work in five minutes. I’m all about a strict schedule.” Nice! She really is perfection.

“I completely understand that.”

Tuesday fished a hand into her oversized tote, withdrawing a business card which she handed over. “I neglected to leave you my number last night. I was a little jittery over it all…well...you know.” Our eyes locked. Mesmerizing. “Will you call me for dinner?” She questioned as if there was some sort of doubt.

“Absolutely.” I opened the door, leading her through. Two fingers steadied at the small of her back. Feeling a response as Tuesday’s back comfortably adjusted.

She turned to me on the street, one last parting moment.  Words breaking apart the sweetest lips I’d ever laid eyes on. “Thanks for latte. I like a man who gets me coffee in the morning…cliché, I know.”

“The pleasure was all mine.”

Tuesday paused, giving thought to one last message. “Just so you know…I don’t do personal calls or texts during the work day. So, don’t bother. I’m married to my career. I have a plan.”

I gave the thumbs up. Fucking perfection.

-bart 4.20.2019

[peachyjie]

Metal Lace || Cai Xu Kun

—Author Note :

Requested by the lovely and my dearest friend @mydearestkunkun , and yes I kinda got out of hand. Enjoy 💕

—Wc : 3.1K+

—Pairing : Gryff!Cai Xu Kun - Raven!Reader

—Genre : Hogwarts!AU + slight!angst + fluff

—Summary : When a missing metal lace bracelet became the wingman on the domino effect for him to get to your heart.

The night sky darkens as each minute ticks away. The moon began appeal itself more as the night grows darker, decorating the night skies as it was accompanied by the constellations. The dim shine of the moon is enough to light up the semi-dark hallway, the night breeze gave out a cool vibe that’s much contrast to the scorching hot sunlight. Out in the first floor in Hogwarts Castle’s corridor laid a simple wooden door, not many students are presence there after study hours. We could all understand why, basically no one needs to torture more brain cells with lectures and the intimate stares from thousands of books.

But simply not everyone hates the presence of the Hogwarts Library. Well, more likely those who didn’t mind burying their nose on the raw scent of papers, murdering their eyes with blabbering words that would surely bring out headaches, or getting endless paper cuts by extreme master level flipping skills. And believe it or not, you’re all of the statements above.

Being a sixth year in Hogwarts means frequent extra time off, random holes of subjects that you can customized yourself for your own pleasure. Especially since the stress of OWL was over, people doesn’t even care right now. Even if it’s time for the advance NEWT-level classes, most would rather stress it out next year. But you? Hah. Passing the OWL test in your fifth year brought you great joy, especially you’re the one with the highest score in the whole year. Hence making you the prized star of your own house.

But that didn’t stop you from taking extra courses, from usual courses to private ones with the professors. You were preparing for your final year aka the devil NEWT itself, meaning stressing yourself out in your sixth year with loads of works and un-ending preparations for the everyday tests or quizzes. You could even proudly say the professors who’ve dealt with you since your first year have slight more fondness with you than the other students existence. Even Snape didn’t snarl at you when you greeted him, surprisingly he greeted you back. With a slight cold tone, just a slight.

Your soles tapped lightly on the empty hallway as you made your way once again to the library itself. Your body is hugged by the existence of your robe. The color of blue and bronze that lined every details on it, an Eagle rested on your left chest. Hands full with books and papers to jot down notes, from Charms to Transfigurations, but also from Herbology to Potions. Everything is neatly piled on top of one another.

When you arrived, trying your best to open the door itself. You find the existence to too many books slightly annoying, but it didn’t last long. The door swung open, a figure holding it from the other side. “Spiffy on time at 6 o’clock again”, Madam Irma said with a smile on her face. “Good evening, Madam”, you replied back and soon stumbled to get in. “Oh dear, be careful my dear. You don’t want to hurt yourself nor the book themselves now, do we?”, you laughed at her statement. You walked down to your usual table and soon began to flip each pages, boring every intensity as you finds interesting points to be remembered.

*****

It took you approximately an hour for your mind to snap out of your own bubble of knowledge, especially when the person beside you decided it was a great idea to slam their books down on the wooden table. Sure the library is empty with its knowledge glory from the presence of the students, professors, ghosts, house elves, anything. But you didn’t appreciate how easily this person was so egocentric enough to even neglect the fact someone else is also using this room itself.

This person by mean, is none other than Cai Xu Kun. “Is that Herbology?”, you perked up from your notes as you tried to draw the basic features of the famous Venomous Tentacula. “Uhh... yes?”, you said in more of a question than a statement.

“I thought only sixth year took those”, you stared at him. Eyes boring into his, judging him in every aspects. “I am a sixth year”, you snapped at him. He stared you in surprise, before he became flustered. “Sorry”, he mumbled.

You decided it was best to ignore him, and continued on your journey to deathly plants land. But he wasn’t having it.

“So you took Professor Sprout’s class I assume”, he said. “Yes, regular and private ones also”, you replied back. Curt and short, you could hear him whispers “Private also? Bloody hell” making you etched a small smile but soon hid it.

Cai Xu Kun, sixty year Gryffindor. Everyone knows him, everyone adored him. He’s like those typical muggle highschool boys, good-looking and very good at sports. But very lacking on terms of passing grades. You wouldn’t say he’s that idiotic, he passed other subjects perfectly. Aside of Herbology and Transfigurations. You should see how he tried to turn a cat into a glass but ended up giving his friend, Justin donkey ears for a month. It was hilarious.

But that’s him. If you go more in depth, he’s basically Hogwarts star. Representative of the Triwizard Tournament, and actually winning it. But also his house’s prized seeker, ultimately taking the Quidditch trophy back to his house but also breaking the 3 years row to row champion of the Slytherin. You would always see him walked down the hallway with such a strong aura of pride, his head held up high laughing with his group of friends.

“I didn’t know you took classes with Professor Sprout”, he snapped you out once again from your endless writings.

You turned and stare at him, smiling. “We basically share the same amount of classes together”, this made him gape. You took time to enjoy his reaction, finding it way amusing for your once already tired mind. His white-silver hair made a big contrast on his scarlet-golden robe, the lion on his chest made him looked like a lost kitten.

When he snapped back out of his trance, he was back to square one. He looked at your endless scribbling, words one by one decorating the pages. “Are you seeing someone right now?”, you almost wrote out of line hearing his words that were blurted out from his mouth. “E-excuse me?”, you stuttered out.

Oh wow, how much more would you want to slap him so bad. You don’t even care if it cost you some of your house point. His smirk, was mocking and looking down at you. And you wished you had your wand right now, hexing him or give him a large tooth or something.

“Guess that’s a no”, he said in a sing sang tune. You furrowed both of your eyebrows, eyes boring into him more. “What does that supposed to mean?”, he stared at you smiling. Humming, he etched closer to you making you jerk away from him a little.

“Let me tell you this”, he leaned getting nearer to you. “Go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend”.

Your eyes twitched, and you swore you never felt them twitch this hard before. “Enlighten me”, he perks up at your statement. “Why should I go with someone who I barely know?”

He chuckled. “I mean, speaking very frankly. You’re a Ravenclaw”, he said as he pointed at your blue robe you’ve always wear. “And all you do is this”, he pointed out the large scale of papers and books that are scattered on the wooden table itself.

“Probably you’ve never had a love life your whole Hogwarts life”, you stare at him agape, hands tightening its grip on your quill. You stood up, your force was almost enough to stumble the chairs as it hits one of the shelves. You calmly gathered all your papers and books, trying your best to put all of them on the respective books of courses you’re having. Xukun only stared at you, shocked register his system.

You took everything with you and dashes out from the library. “Out so soon dear?”, Madam Irma said as she perked up from her book she was reading. “Brain’s fried. Thank you, Madam”, you smiled sadly at her and continued your walk.

It wasn’t until you were near the corridor to your Common Room you heard his voice again. You fasten your pace, but he was faster. He yanked your shoulder, causing a force big enough for you to be dragged back and turned to look at him once again.

“Bloody, you run fast”, Xukun said huffing. You stared at the male blankly, eyes so morbid you wished you could spit venom on him. “What do you want, Cai?”, he winced at your venomous tone. He sighed.

“I didn’t mean to offend you”, he quickly blurted out. You continued to bore your gaze on him, either thinking if he is dumb or plain dumb. “Your existence already offended me enough, Cai Xu Kun”. Well ouch, Xukun retreated back from you. He swore he never felt such mock that could even slash his pride in him.

“I was helping you out!”, he said in frustration. “You probably lived your whole life in Hogwarts dreaded being alone, without any dating life. So I was helping you out”, you swore to the pureblood you thought things couldn’t get worse. But this male who’s the star of your year, he made you things in your wizarding life is already hell.

“Just accept my offer”, he said. And you’ve regretted enough for leaving your wand on your nightstand. You wished you could burn his face off or hex him burping glitter for a whole year if you can. But you did the thing that’s close to giving him pain. You shoved your books at him, the impact of largely thick books and papers was enough pressure to send him tumbling down. He stared at you with a scoff, but stopped seeing how cold your gaze went on him.

“If you think offering yourself to me just for the sake of completing a bucket list of mine, you shouldn’t.”, you snarled as you took one of your book that sprawled beside him. “You’re not pitying me, Cai. You’re making yourself looked pitiful, desperate and it’s not a pretty sight”

“Do not think you can get all things to yourself just by your status”, you stared at him. He was gawking at you, clearly you could feel him intimidated also. You scoffed at him.

“Go rot in Azkaban, Cai Xu Kun”, turning your way you continued to walk to the Ravenclaw common room and disappeared on the cold silent night.

Xukun honorably speechless still sat rooted on his spot. He stared at your figure slowly disappearing, not even glancing to his side to make sure if he is okay or not. He could only stare, sitting on the cold floor. His hand grasp on a rounded object, a metal linen bracelet. The color of gold shines when in contact with the moonlight. The clasp was open, probably also the reason why such thing would stay lying helplessly waiting for the owner.

“It’s her’s”, Xukun jumped by the sudden voice. Ziyi stared at the latter from the common room’s door, in all his glory. Or well, a trip to be a responsible prefect. He walked down to Xukun’s side and help him got up, patting him on the shoulder.

“This time, you bloody lost your chance”, and Xukun groaned by his friend’s statement.

*****

“Stop staring at your hand”, Zhengting scolded. You haven’t touched your food yet, too preoccupied by the sudden emptiness on your right hand. You felt naked almost. “I can’t believe I lost my mother’s gift”, you sighed before picking up your toasted toast. Nibbling a bite of it, you sulked at Zhengting. The male pat your head, hoping to comfort his fellow Ravenclaw smartie.

Finishing breakfast was a jiff for you and Zhengting, so walking down on the hallway on to Herbology gave both of you enough time to walk in a snail pace. When you opened the glass door, you choked. In there sat the obnoxious egocentric shameless male, Cai Xu Kun. And in his hand was your metal lace bracelet that your mother passed down to you.

Xukun perks up by the sudden presence and smiled when he saw you. He waved at you but simply stared at him with the same cold eyes like yesterday’s. You went to prepare for class remembering Professor Sprout’s request earlier.

Then everything was back to silence. Zhengting and you were too busy being the usual Ravenclaw both of you are, preparing the most for class even before it start. So basically, Xukun could feel the awkward cold air lingering around him despite of the sunlight that’s piercing through the glass.

“Y/N, have we fed the Venomous Tentacula yet?”, Zhengting asked from the other side. You turned around, staring at him in wonder wrecking your brain out. “I think not?”, you said before going to the plant itself. You could particularly hear their hissing, you scoffed.

“They’re hungry”, you stated. “Can I help?”, you jumped by the sudden presence beside you. You stared blankly at Xukun, then the stare became cautious as if you’re ready to fight him. “I just want to help”, he said softly.

You were about to properly declined him, but horror grasp your face in a mere second. “Watch out-“

As the vines from the Tentacula grasp on Xukun’s hand, trying to take him as a prey itself. Xukun hissed in pain. He tried to swat it away, but you grasp his hand from doing so. You took out your want in a hurry, pointing at the vines. “Diffindo”, you flick your wand. The green light burst out giving enough reflect on the glass panes, grabbing attentions of those who are near it.

You stared at Professor Sprout who was frozen on her feet. “W-what in the world-“

“I am truly sorry, Professor”, you said in a hurry. You stared at the severed vines of the poisonous plant on the ground, laid motionless. “Professor, excuse us. Xukun here got tangled by the vines. I’ll have him check in the hospital wing if you may”, with a nod you didn’t hesitate to drag the while haired male out.

*****

Xukun’s hissing didn’t stop after the incident, he was whining every so. You could still feel the way those vines grips on his hand, but that’s not what you were afraid of. The spikes, pointy as it is, one struck and the venoms are out. You checked his hand, just some burning red mark on it. You iced it down before treating his arm.

Xukun hissed again. The amount of hissing he produced was enough to send you to the edge, you did what you’re gifted in. You silenced him with a spell.

“You’re such an idiot”, you said to him as you tied a bandage around his wounds. “Hogwarts’s star, but really idiotic”, you continued. When you were finished, you stared at Xukun. You will think he got some venom in his brain system because he was completely smiling at you, you swore he wasn’t even blinking.

“Speak up”, you said, crossing your arms. He stared at you unamuse, that stare that was as if he was judging you. “Oh yea, sorry”, you waved your wand once again.

None was spoken out. “If you’re not going to say anything, then I will excuse myself for Herbology”, you said standing up as you straightening your robe. It didn’t take too much reflex for Xukun to suddenly snap out of his trance of scrabbles. He grabs your hand, stopping you from doing anything further on.

“I’m sorry”, is the first thing he said. Which caught you in more surprise, actually. “Look, I didn’t mean to make you feel less than your actual worth”, he mumbled on. Xukun was never glad to have no one in the Hospital Wing right now. How would anyone react to a stuttering well known seeker.

“That doesn’t let go of the fact you’re obnoxious off the hook”, you said back to him. He stared at you, relief washes him knowing you’re slightly opening but sighing knowing he did bloody ruined his chance. “You think you could go off asking random people to go on a night out just for experience, it means nothing to you”

“If that someone is you, that experience means a lot to me”, he blurted out. Xukun was so flustered he didn’t even see you turned your head to stare at him in shock. He hid his face on the palm of his hand, groaning. “See, look what you did”, he mumbled on.

“I’m a bloody mess with you, and I hope you noticed now”, he sighed. He was rambling on and on, he didn’t even catch the smile on your face. “I tried to appear cool to you, but instead the play backlash at me and oh wow I really blew my chance away”, he ruffled his hair, a habit whenever he’s stressed or confused.

“In other meaning, you like me?”, you pestered him. Red, the Cai Xu Kun is flustered enough and you’re not making it better. “Yes”, he mumbled. “I like you, so so much.”

You giggled at his cute act, in your life you’ve never been so intrigued by anyone before. But here we are, in the empty hospital wing. Just you and Xukun, and he’s blabbering his confession to you.

You took the metal lace bracelet and clasp it on his hand, he stared at you in confusion. It was a cute sight of him, how his pupils shakes with your every movement. “Keep it on until your wound heals”, was the only thing you said.

You walked to the door, opening it. Xukun legit thought he ruined it, he blew off a chance with his own crush. He sighed, and slumped down on the bed ready to be buried out of reality itself.

It wasn’t until your head comes popping out from the door, cheerfully staring at the male. “Remember to give that bracelet back to me, then we can settle on for that date” and the door closes.

The silence was enough to give Xukun time to drift off into slumber, but his mind was wrecking too much energy. He jerks up sitting on the bed, realizing what happened.

“I scored the date?”, he asked himself. Soon his lips was tugged up into a smile, the small smile expanded into a bigger one. “I scored the date!”, and his hand punched the air.

Before he regretted on the fresh wound he just received, but none of that matter anyways.

#9% #idol producer #nine percent #cai xukun #idol producer scenarios #idol producer imagines #nine percent scenarios #nine percent imagines #9% scenarios #9% imagines #9 percent scenarios #9 percent imagines #cai xukun scenarios #cai xukun imagines #written scenarios

[jennacha]

here’s a big rant about The Child Thief

ok i have a big confession to make

I’m kind of obsessed with the book The Child Thief.

It’s not a particularly good book. In fact, I would go as far to say it’s poor. The writing has the cadence of 15-year-old-going-through-their-novelist-phase. I guess I could say it reads like fan fiction. The plot is very messy. The characters are badly written. It feels like a book that wasn’t edited. The word “magic” is used a lot, and it’s embarrassing. There’s a part where a character slams their fist on the ground and yells “WHY?!” and it’s embarrassing. The dialogue feels like it came out of a 1990s teen adventure fantasy movie trying to imitate the success of a Corey Feldman/Haim movie. Several times throughout the book the thought, “Why did the author do this?” popped in my head. However, the author is a fantasy illustrator, so the descriptive writing is a plus. He knows how to illustrate the landscape with words as well as he would in painting. The book is not a special unit dumpster fire piece of shit insult to literature; in fact, as far as I know a lot of people like it and it has gotten a decent amount of praise. It’s just not very good, in terms of the surface level writing. But I can easily see a lot of people enjoying it for basic entertainment value.

So that would be my YA-focus blog summary review of the book.

My public outcry summary review of the book is this:

I’m obsessed with the book because it’s so fucking weird.

It’s so fucking weird in that it’s a perfect shitstorm of the author not knowing what he’s doing, and thinking he’s knowing what he’s doing. Like a perfect bad B-movie that exhibits textbook schlock where the director is incompetent and clueless but lacks any self-awareness, in terms of style, layout, and production.

But also, the author thinks what he’s doing is…cool.

The book is about evil Peter Pan.

I could end this whole thing right there. But I must release these hounds. I’ve been needing to let all this out.

My wretched insanity craves affirmation.

This book should be a carbon copy of every other average to below average dark fantasy novel that you see on the bookstore shelves and never heard of and wonder what the author is doing now with all their not-fame. This book should be one that could’ve been written by anybody and it wouldn’t have made a difference. This book should be one of sixty million examples of nothing special. In a way, it is definitely 100% yes definitely yes all those things. The universe decided that I would be the bearer of the burden of having much stronger feelings about it then necessary. I probably feel more strongly about it than the author ever did. It is in my life now.

The biggest thing about this book being so fucking weird is the mind boggling tonal inconsistency. There are a number of shifts in universe-encompassing moods, which go from “Christopher-Nolan-but-also-kind-of-Stephanie-Meyer-dark-gloomy-the-world-is-unhappy-and-I-like-it-that-way”, to “David-Fincher-the-world-is-ACTUALLY-awful”, to “Oh-right-this-is-a-Peter-Pan-story-whimsical-fun-Goonies-meets-Disney-Channel-original”, to “A-worse-version-of-The-Hobbit-movies-with-some-redeeming-qualities”, to “Quentin-Tarantino-literally-wrote-this.” This isn’t hyperbole. The writing language can be REALLY EMBARRASSING and straight out of a Disney movie. That tone of a fun romp for the whole family is cradled by an abundance of swearing, unsettling fantasy-horror, and extreme, shocking violence.

You know when you’re watching Beetlejuice, and you’re like “Okay this movie is for children” and then out of nowhere Michael Keaton goes “NICE FUCKIN’ MODEL” and grabs his dick.

In The Child Thief, THAT washes over you every time you finish reading a sentence. Only, it’s as if you’re watching Hook, and at one point Robin Williams slices a person’s face off, and the camera stays on the faceless person for a minute and Steven Spielberg walks into frame and points to the gurgling faceless head and describes to you how you can still see the holes where the mouth, nose, and eyes were.

(Yes that actually happens in the book.)

Or if you’re watching Neverending Story and at one point you get expository dialogue explaining how Atreyu was pimped as a boy and had to live on the streets because his mother was, uh, a drug addict or something?. 

(That also happens.)

Or if you’re watching Indian in the Cupboard and the film opens with a little girl about to get raped by her dad.

(I’m serious.)

Or if you’re watching Hocus Pocus and Bette Midler is a vampire and she preys on a 6-year-old kid and neither of them have shirts on.

(I swear to god.)

Or if you’re reading a modern re-imagining of Peter Pan and the story involves blatant themes of gore in acute descriptive detail, mass murder, torture, and scenes with naked women and perverted fantasy-creature-men.

(Oh, wait.)

You’re probably thinking, “All those themes are found pretty much everywhere in every medium, especially the naked women and perverts. Big whoop.” I’ll add, then, all those themes, involving children.

Now you’re thinking, “Jenna don’t you love that movie Drag Me To Hell which involves a child being murdered within the first 2.5 minutes?”

Just hear me out and yes.

The Child Thief is entertaining in how CAPTIVATING the strangeness is. The tonal mishmash of kid-friendly meets rated-R is something I actually like, when it's a hit. I like things that have a quality of whimsy amidst dark themes. Movies such as Temple of Doom, Gremlins, Return to Oz, Darkman have this quality…basically almost every movie from the 1980s during the period when audiences had grown up with movies after censorship was abolished and half the world said “think of the children” and the other half said “no.” There are tons and tons of other examples in every medium of how general tonal contrast makes for unique and effective works of art. My point is, this specific type of tonal contrast also can be done well.

But those movies don’t open with attempted child rape, and they don’t end with children literally being mowed down in a grisly battle scene (I’m serious). I’m making a lot of comparisons to movies because the book almost feels like a movie, in that the author isn’t a novelist, he’s a visual story-maker who wrote a book because he knew that no movie studio would pick this shit up. Maybe the films I listed didn’t intend for tonal contrast to be a calculated driving element for their stories, but the subtlety of tones in those movies allows for one encompassing, harmonious tonal blanket to wrap them in. There is no subtlety in The Child Thief.

The tonal confusion of The Child Thief is, I almost wanna say coincidental. I think the author just didn’t know how to write well, but he’s a very dark visual guy and had all these dark visuals in his head ready to be unleashed. All the horrible violence and awful themes are fine in and of itself, but they aren’t earned if the attitude of “I’m gunna turn the children’s book foundation on its head” isn’t committed to, and “I’m gunna subvert everything you know and love about Peter Pan” isn’t calculatedly plotted out. The author has a bad sense of humor, a poor understanding of what is required of an epic storyline, and treats violence, horror and revenge less like a literary device and more like a fetishization of coolness in a vulgar display of power as a writer.

The misguidedness goes as far as the character writing. None of the characters’ motivations make sense. The author couldn’t keep track of either committing to one motivation or the other, a lot of the times for the sake of the plot. Especially with the Peter Pan character. He’s basically literally the anti-christ (this is 100% canon, if the author says it isn’t then he’s a liar and an idiot) and written like a “troubled villain” but then gets these VERY polarized directions of unrelenting psychopathic Cause It’s Die Motherfucka Die Motherfucka Still, Fool villainy and ham-fisted humanism and victimhood. It’s a case of like, the author meant for him to be the charming bad guy who tricks the audience into being on his side because that’s what Peter does to the characters in the book. But the author found him too cool and wanted to be his friend, but in order to justify being friends with a character who wants to murder everybody, he inappropriately gives him remorse and forces the reader to feel bad for him.

And like all the kids in the book are supposed to super love Peter Pan but the version of Neverland is like this horrific, NIGHTMARE HELL of a place and the kids are basically being used to fight in a war, and all the kids are totally okay with it, because their lives in the real world were really awful and the whole thing is that Peter “saves” them and they’ll do anything for him. And it’s like, okay???????????????????? But wouldn’t it be cooler if the kids were like okay this guy is a fucking psycho and Neverland is a horrific, nightmare hell and I’m learning a lot about myself right now having once trusted him???? And then in their retaliation Peter would show his true colors and enforce aggression onto them in serving as his personal enslaved militia? And it becomes like this inner circle of conflict? And since Peter is the only person who can bring them back to the real world, they play ball but hope to steer their own agenda out of the situation? OH, right, that DOES happen, but with ONE of the characters. ONE. Conveniently, the main character. And god knows there can’t be more than one smart human being at a time.

But if you want to SUBVERT the BELOVED CHILDREN’S STORY FORMAT wouldn’t it be fun to do PETER PAN VS. THE LOST BOYS? Instead of MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE PETER PAN AND THE HOT TOPIC LOST BOYS VS. THE ONLY SEMI-SMART MAIN CHARACTER? Like wouldn’t it be GREAT if the characters WEREN'T DUMB? And the author put in some CONSTRUCTIVE, CHALLENGING CREATIVE EFFORT and treated the interactions like a CHESS GAME instead of a CONTRIVED MISUNDERSTANDING BETWEEN JOEY, ROSS, CHANDLER, RACHEL, MONICA AND THE OTHER ONE? Wouldn’t it be GREAT if ALL THE CHARACTERS TURNED AGAINST PETER but then Peter SLOWLY CHARMED SOME OR ALL OF THEM BACK IN, to make him MORE like an UNEARTHLY MONSTER? Like the lost boys became SELF-AWARE LITERAL VICTIMS OF THE ORIGINAL TALE FORMAT, where Peter Pain is this IMPOSSIBLY CHARMING CHARACTER THAT IS BELOVED BY THE LAWS OF THE UNIVERSE? ALSO, the MAIN CHARACTER is supposed to be the MODEL OF REASON FOR THE READER TO RELATE TO, but the main character still gets CHARMED BY PETER PAN, WHILE WE KNOW AS RATIONAL ADULTS WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING TO HAPPEN? LIKE THAT’S SUPPOSED TO BE HOW READING BOOKS IS? When we KNOW WHAT’S GUNNA HAPPEN? BUT THE AUTHOR WANTS TO BE PETER’S FRIEND SO HE DOES IT ANYWAY? AND LIKE SEVERAL OTHER CHARACTERS THAT THE MAIN CHARACTER IS FRIENDS WITH ARE ALSO SUPPOSED TO BE FIGURES OF REASON BUT THEY’RE ALSO 100% PARTISAN IN SIDING WITH PETER? SO IT’S LIKE HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LIKE ALL YOU DUMB, DUMB KIDS?

LIKE OKAY, SO HOW IT GOES IS THAT PETER CAN LIKE WALK ACROSS THE DIMENSION BETWEEN NEVERLAND AND THE REAL WORLD AND THAT'S HOW HE GETS THE KIDS? SO AT ONE POINT IN NEVERLAND THEY ALL HAVE TO SCAVENGE FOR FOOD BECAUSE THE VEGETATION IN NEVERLAND IS DYING, AND THEY MENTION HOW PETER USED TO BRING THEM FOOD FROM THE REAL WORLD? AND IT'S LIKE, HOW ABOUT YOU JUST KEEP DOING THAT? OR LIKE, WHY DON'T ANY OF YOU WANT TO JUST LEAVE? YEAH THE REAL WORLD SUCKS, BUT IS IT WORTH STARVING TO DEATH JUST SO YOU CAN STICK IT TO THE MAN? LIKE ARE THERE PEDIATRICIANS IN NEVERLAND? ARE THERE AT-RISK YOUTH SHELTERS? FOSTER CARE? NEVERLAND SOUP KITCHENS? NEVERLAND SOCIAL WORKERS? NEVERLAND CHILD PROTECTIVE SERVICES? NEVERLAND POLICE? NO? JUST MONSTERS THAT PAINFULLY KILL YOU, ZOMBIE PIRATES, NO FOOD, AND LITERALLY THE ANTI-CHRIST?

AND THEN THERE’S RIDICULOUS SHIT LIKE, AT ONE POINT ALL THESE MAGICAL FANTASY CHARACTERS HIJACK A NEW YORK CITY FERRY TO GET TO THE HARBOR AND IT’S LIKE, THIS IS SO RIDICULOUS IT SHOULD BE AWESOME, BUT IT ISN’T AWESOME BUT IT SHOULD BE SO WHY ISN’T IT?

AND LIKE ONE OF THE CHARACTERS IS A FAT USELESS KID NAMED DANNY AND THERE IS NO REASON FOR HIM TO BE IN THE BOOK BESIDES TO BE THE TOKEN FAT USELESS KID NAMED DANNY?

BUT DANNY IS LIKE ALSO THE ONLY OTHER SMART CHARACTER IN THE BOOK BECAUSE HE’S LIKE WHY DID I SAY YES TO THIS WHY ARE WE STILL FOLLOWING THIS GUY WHY DON’T WE JUST LEAVE AND IT’S LIKE YEAH PUT DANNY IN CHARGE BUT NOBODY LISTENS TO HIM AND HE’S JUST COMPLETELY UTTERLY USELESS?

AND THEN CAPTAIN HOOK ADOPTS DANNY AND IT’S LIKE OH MY GOD THE AUTHOR FORGOT HE NEEDED TO GIVE DANNY SOMETHING TO DO?

AND LIKE I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER THE MAIN CHARACTER’S NAME?

AND THEN AT THE END OF THE BOOK, SO, THERE’S THIS BIG HUGE BATTLE SCENE WHERE CHILDREN DIE LEFT AND RIGHT, LIKE THE “ANTAGONIST” (NOT PETER) HAS A HUGE SWORD AND IS SWINGING AT THE KIDS LIKE HE’S HARVESTING WHEAT, OH AND YEAH, BY THE WAY, AGAIN, THE REAL WORLD IS LOCATED IN NEW YORK CITY AND THE BATTLE HAPPENS ON LIKE THE FRONT LAWN OF A LIBRARY OR SOMETHING. LIKE THE STORY KIND OF TOTALLY GOES OFF THE RAILS INTO FANTASTIC SCHLOCK. AND AT ONE POINT THE BATTLE IS ABRUPTLY INTERRUPTED BY NYC POLICE AND IT’S LIKE ARE YOU SHITTING MY NUTS THE NYC COPS ARE INVOLVED IN THIS FANTASY BATTLE THIS IS AMAZING, BUT THEN THAT DOESN’T HAPPEN AND IT GOES NOWHERE. AND ALL THE MAIN CHARACTERS ARE DYING, AND NONE OF THEM HAD ARCS, LIKE NONE OF THEM REALIZED WHAT THEY GOT THEMSELVES INTO OR WHAT PETER REALLY WAS, AND AT THE ACT 3 POST-LOW POINT THE MAIN CHARACTER DIDN’T GO OFF TO DO HIS OWN THING AND TRY TO SAVE THE DAY, HE JUST GOES WITH PETER TO DO WHATEVER HE WANTS, AND THEN HIS ARC IS BASICALLY NOTHING AND THEN HE DIES. AND *PETER* WINS. AND AGAIN HE’S LITERALLY THE ANTI CHRIST SO THE BOOK ENDS WITH HIM BRIDGING THE REAL WORLD WITH NEVERLAND, AND BASICALLY BEING THE BRINGER OF HELL UNTO THE EARTH. AND UP UNTIL THEN THE BOOK HAD ABOUT 68 INSTANCES OF THE READER SWITCHING BETWEEN FEELING BAD FOR PETER AND THEN ACCEPTING THAT HE IS HITLER NURSE RATCHED MAO STALIN. SO WHEN ALL THE KIDS DIE, HE HAS A SCENE OF FEELING REALLY BAD AND THE READER IS SUPPOSED TO BE ALL LIKE AW HE REALLY DOES CARE! AND THEN NEVERLAND GETS BRIDGED INTO NEW YORK CITY, AND HE’S LIKE HA HA HA HA I DID IT I WON. BUT IT’S WRITTEN IN SUCH A WAY THAT LIKE, THE AUDIENCE IS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE, WHEEEEEE! LIKE THIS THING THAT HAPPENED IS THE DOOM OF MANKIND, AND THE TONE SHOULD REALLY BE “OH GOD NO.” BUT THE AUTHOR WAS HAPPY THAT PETER WON IN THE END BECAUSE HE WANTS TO BE HIS FRIEND, EVEN THOUGH LIKE FIFTEEN PAGES AGO PETER CAUSED THE DEATH OF AN ARMY OF CHILDREN (AFTER ANOTHER 600 PAGES OF ALL KINDS OF OTHER AWFUL SHIT). SO NOT ONLY ARE WE SUPPOSED TO FEEL SAD THAT PETER FEELS SAD, BUT THEN WE’RE SUPPOSED TO FEEL HAPPY THAT PETER FEELS HAPPY. HOW ABOUT GO FUCK YOURSELF? HOW ABOUT IF YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE PETER A CHALLENGING UNRELIABLE ANTI-HERO, DON’T MAKE HIS DARK QUALITIES SO INCONTESTABLY EVIL, OR, EITHER CHOOSE TO MAKE PETER HATED BY THE AUDIENCE, OR MAKE THE AUDIENCE FEEL FOOLISH FOR BEING CHARMED BY PETER AND PARTLY RESPONSIBLE FOR ALL THE BAD SHIT THAT HAPPENED AND GO FUCK YOURSELF?

...

I’ll give a different example of both tonal incongruence and bad character writing.

So, the opening scene of the book that involves attempted child rape, so. What happens is that Peter saves the little girl in time by killing the dad, and gains her trust to go to Neverland. The way the story regards the introduction to Peter is that of wonder and curiosity through the little girl’s eyes, as if it was derived from the original children’s tale. So the opener is meant to establish: a gritty “realness” to the book (which is never earned but i digress), and Peter as a mysterious magical hero. Then, the story carries on into describing Peter’s motivation in saving (the book uses “stealing”) children, which vaguely mentions his villainous indulgence (he’s saving children to recruit them in an army in Neverland to fight captain hook because his mommy is the president of neverland and there’s almost-Oedipal themes going on). Fine. However, the cadence of Peter actually being villainous is very very…undermined. Like the actual voice of the NARRATION is misinformed. Like the narration sounds more like Peter’s inner monologue speaking in the third person. Like the third person is in on it. Like the author is painting Peter as this wicked wrongdoer as if it’s a cool thing and he wants to be his friend (Oh wait).

This is how the voice of the opener is handled: Child rape —> Peter prevents child rape and saves child —> Peter is a good guy for doing this —> Peter is still a good guy for doing this but he did it maybe not for the right reasons. As it turns out, Peter is unquestionably the bad guy. Peter was the bad guy from the start, Peter was the bad guy while he was saving the little girl.

The rest of the book is handled like this: Peter is cool and badass  —> Peter is mischievous but still the person we want to follow —> Peter is a psycho...but still cool —> Oh shit Peter has a super awful past and his psycho-ness is the result of being a victim so I forgive him —> Wow Peter’s both a psycho and an asshole—> Okay I dunno about Peter —> The author keeps having Peter save people from being raped as if he’s not an asshole but he’s still a psycho and an asshole so I still don’t know —> The plot has a a lot of stuff so I guess I’m still with Peter —> Okay Peter won but everyone is dead because of him and he’s still an asshole so I still don’t know.

Peter tricks victims of rape, abuse, slavery, etc. into thinking they’re being saved when in fact he objectifies them for his personal needs. Remember how I said this book’s insane tonal confusion isn’t subtle? Well, from the book’s perspective, putting a finger on Peter’s good side and bad side...is subtle. Problematically subtle. Which, on a literary standpoint, sounds like a good thing, but...

This is the part when I say the thing you ACTUALLY SHOULDN’T BE SUBTLE ABOUT is PETER. You CAN be subtle about his tragic backstory. Be subtle about sprinkling his good qualities over his CAKE TOWER of BADNESS. Give him some KICK. Have the flavors INTERACT. Make the audience be like “OOOH, is that cumin?? Interesting! HMMMM! INTERESTING! CUMIN! ON DORITOS! YEAh I am definitely eating Doritos, this is absolutely Doritos, but there’s some CUMIN in there! Okay, back to eating my DORITOS! OOOOH, IS THAT CAYENNE?????” But whatever you do, make it CLEAR what you are SERVING. You should not have a MIXED BAG, a MEDLEY, and try to sell it like not-a-medley. You should NOT make half your plate super spicy and half your plate super sweet and make the audience roll the dice on each bite they take. Peter Pan isn’t some complexass Faustian character study, it’s SUBVERSIVE HYPERVIOLENT DARK FANTASY PORN. IT’S DORITOS

This is how the voice of the opener should've been handled: Child rape —> Peter prevents child rape and saves child —> Peter is the bad guy.

This is how the voice of the rest of the book should've been handled: No matter what happens —> Peter is the bad guy.

I don’t have and never will have the literary criticism credentials to say anything with credible boldness, but I’m going to say this anyway: Using child rape to force the reader to feel a certain way about the tone of the world and the first heroic impression of a character is wrong. Forcing an act of heroism (especially for you to then later say “Just kidding not the hero”) in that context is inappropriate and wrong. That’s like throwing 9/11 into the background of a love story to force the audience to feel extra emotional. 1) There are many, many, many, many ways you can establish “realness” in your opener with or without violence. I’m not saying there is a hierarchy of what kind of awful things involving children are okay to write about, but opening your story with attempted child rape is an unnecessary extreme if parts of your story reads like an episode of Saved By The Bell. Revenge alone isn’t cool. John Wick is cool because of the way revenge is handled. Writing about attempted child rape and then immediate revenge on the rapist is the Epipen-shot-to-the-brain method of forcibly getting your audience to go “I LIKE PETER!”, which isn’t at all earned and probably shouldn’t be in your story… 2) ESPECIALLY if you don’t simultaneously establish with slats nailed on a wall that Peter is the bad guy. The author basically deceived the audience into liking Peter in the worst way possible, ironically, which is what he had Peter do to the other characters. If you want to cleverly deceive the audience into liking Peter, do it through his dialogue, personality, the externalized product of the relationship between him and his environment. Be inventive about it. It’s a book. You got words. Use...words to your advantage. If you want to open your story with attempted child rape at the very least as a way to tell the audience this shit’s serious, don’t.

Just don’t. It’s fine.

The Child Thief can’t be pinned as So Bad It’s Good. It’s poor, but it’s not Tommy Wiseau-acclaim-bad. The only way I can describe it is So Disorderly It’s Weird. But it has potential for being SO Weird It’s Kind Of Genius. Which makes it So Almost SO Weird It’s Kind Of Genius It’s Frustrating.

The book’s biggest detriment is that it takes itself too seriously. The author’s motivating in writing the book (this is fact) was that he recognized that the beloved original tale of Peter Pan has a lot of dark elements, but continues to be celebrated as a children’s story. And he wanted to take that notion and run with it. What happened was that he selectively fell in love with elements of that concept, and instead of writing a story that was meant to pull the rug from under us, he ended up writing a run-of-the-mill edgy dark fantasy that he was obliged to pepper with Peter Pan references. Instead of pulling the entire rug beneath our feet and hauling us onto our asses, he took a small handful of rug here and there and just occasionally tugged at it roughly, so that we’d almost lose our balance and get annoyed and tell him to stop.

The book lacks its own conceptual self-awareness that it built for itself, and the result is two different bodies trying to be forcibly shoved into the same book-sized box, when it should’ve been a new gross, satirical, humorous, unique body entirely.

In that sense, I really think this book could’ve been truly unironically awesome. I love the idea of cartoonishly exaggerating the dark elements (especially the violence) of the original tale that have been culturally ignored, like a lot of (or most) (or all) old children’s tales. My ideal solution to this book would actually be making it even more ridiculous in every way, but strung together with self-awareness and intention, where the author could acknowledge that the absurdity is instrumental, not indulgent. There are many aspects of the book that I really like thematically, and none of them are fully (or at all) seen through to their potential. These ideas aren’t really intentionally presented in the book, but: I like the idea that Peter is a sadistic volatile killing machine because he’s cursed with being riiiiiight on the cusp of hitting puberty, and his body is trapped without that natural sexual/psychological release, turning him into an aggressive animal constantly teased by unfulfilled subconscious heat. I like the idea that the lost boys element would be subverted into an inevitable Lord of the Flies esque shitstorm. I like the idea that the danger and villainy are at first generalized in adults but eventually presented in the children. I like the idea that every single possible fucking thing in the world—both the real world (mostly nyc LoL!) and Neverland—are a threat and are actively trying to kill the children, and the children treat it like an adventure before the horror becomes real. I like the idea of illustrating the outcome of blindly following fun naive figures of leadership. There are even a number of character interaction scenes that I like format wise. Just minus the embarrassing dialogue. That stuff's easy to rewrite in your head as you read it. Also I would take out that part in the book that I described as Bette Midler not having a shirt on while preying on a 6 year old. That part was really fucking uncomfortable. Seriously wtf, Gerald Brom.

I must concede this notion: The writer didn’t set out to create a masterpiece. He wrote the book to have fun. He succeeded, and his readers expected the same thing and received the experience they wanted. Of all the things that could’ve landed in my hands and tickled me in a weird enough way to make me wish it was better, for some reason it had to be this.

I could keep going, but...eh, (sigh).

But lastly—again, the descriptive writing of the world is very lush, and at times effectively horrific. The reading experience is a constant stop and start call-and-response of really great potential, really clumsy writing, and really misunderstood tonal directions. All those things put this book directly on the edge of FRUSTRATING. Uniquely frustrating. It couldn’t have been salvaged by the hands of a more competent writer, because the product came to light specifically out of the author’s unintentional confusion, not his laziness. A lazy product with potential can be salvaged through additions and tweaks, but The Child Thief cannot because the story was seen through the way it existed in the author’s head and heart. It is exactly what it...is. It can’t be imitated, or inspired by, or re-re-imagined. This weirdass fucking book is just sitting on this planet, being read by people, and shit. 

…..Anyway. This was all just meant to be the caption for my fan art. http://jennacha.tumblr.com/post/172559227502/i-made-fan-art-of-a-book-i-both-love-and-hate-lol

#the child thief #brom #gerald brom

[prolestari]

A few weeks ago @galfridus1 brought up the idea to me of writing a fic about Gowther (dad not doll) and Merlin meeting, and then earlier today @mercurialvoid was kind enough to create a drawing of them. It was super inspirational and got me moving on the oneshot. Please enjoy.

Gowther knew immediately someone was in his cell. He had spent decades alone in the prison with only the occasional visitor to interrogate him about this or that. So the moment the presence of someone he didn’t know and wasn’t expecting appeared, every sense in his body rang like a bell.

He wasn’t worried, though. The feeling was very benign; more curiosity than anything else. It was also very, very undeniably young. He smiled to himself, wondering if it was one of the demon children playing a prank. Perhaps one had come to take a look for themself; he assumed he had grown into a bit of an urban legend, the sorcerer who stood up to the Demon King. Who knows what the rumors were like by now: he imagined red eyes, a twisting beard, sharp nails and teeth. The perfect creature for stories to scare younger siblings.

So Gowther waited until whoever it was made themself known. Several minutes passed as he nonchalantly felt around the room, trying to pinpoint where the intruder was hiding. But the little one was cleverer than he had thought. Instead of trying to mask their presence, they had duplicated it, making it harder to guess which was correct.

Since that did not work, Gowther decided to draw them out. With a nod his chair began to move around the room, which he had outfitted over the years with all the things that he wanted and needed: work tables, shelves of magical items, ingredients labeled neatly, books and parchments stacked and organized according to subject. Maps hung on the walls alongside pictures of demon anatomy and lists of quotes from spells.

Gathering together several jars, he laid them on his lap as he rolled over to the table. “Now then,” he said aloud, making sure his voice was even and clear. He snapped a finger and a scroll flew by, standing up at eye level so he could read it. “This experiment is one I have been trying for quite some time. I hope it works out today.”

With a glance at his notes, he began to measure out substances from the jars. “One hundred milliliters white vinegar. One half kilogram of sulfur. Two spoonful black sugar. Sixty milliliters essence of dragon egg.”

Another flick of his wrist and a large, clear glass jar sailed to the table and settled in front of him. Carefully Gowther poured all but the vinegar inside, using a spoon to sift the ingredients together. “There we are!” he proclaimed. “Now to try the experiment.”

His eyes darted around for movement, but no hints were revealed. “If my calculations are correct, when I add the vinegar, then an incredible magic reaction will occur!”

Still nothing.

Gowther smirked. Fine, if the little one insisted on remaining silent, then this would be a lesson learned. He poured in the vinegar, and then pushed backwards, rolling across the floor. “Perfect Cube,” he said calmly, holding up two fingers and swiping them from left to right.

It took less than a minute for something fell out from seemingly nowhere, coughing and choking as it laid double-over on the floor. Gowther chuckled to himself; the fumes now filling his cell were certainly foul-smelling, but not dangerous in the least. “There you are,” he laughed. “Did you think I didn’t know you were in here?”

The little thing looked up, a scowl in a pretty little face with yellow eyes narrowed to slits. “You—”

The threat was cut off with another round of coughing. Gowther raised his brows. It was a girl, and not a demon. How interesting. “Yes, I knew,” he admonished. “What are you doing here? How did you get in here?”

“I’m dying!” she shouted, covering her eyes.

“So dramatic,” he sighed. Wheeling a bit closer, he peered at her pale face. “It’s just a little stink bomb.”

Her head snapped up to his, eyes wide. “A stink bo—”

Another round of coughing shook the girl, and finally Gowther took pity. He muttered a phrase and suddenly the air was clear. With another word the barrier protecting him was gone.

As soon as she could breathe again, the little one scrambled to her feet and turned to run, but Gowther called, “Aren’t you curious why it didn’t affect me?”

She had taken exactly one step when she paused. “You made a spell,” she answered. “I heard you say Perfect Cube. What is that?”

“As if I would give my secrets away to little girls who sneak into places they don’t belong.”

Gowther was actually pleased to see the smug look that came over her face. The more he held her interest, the more answers he was sure to get. “Tell me, how did you get in here and past the demon magic?”

To his surprise, the girl whirled around and put her hands on her hips. “As if I would give my secrets away to an old man with a bag of stinky tricks.”

A moment later, she was gone, just a shimmer of magic left in her wake.

The girl was still on his mind several days later when Meliodas paid him a visit. As his friend described the new developments in the war, Gowther only half-listened.

“The modifications on the blue demons are working. Their claws can cut through rock and metal now.”

“Hmm.”

“I brought you a sample. Anything you can give us to help combat them will help.”

“Mmm.”

“They also wear little hats and hand out cakes as they set fire to the treetops.”

“Ah.”

The demon’s laughter finally caught his attention. “Have you heard a word I said?” Meliodas shook his head with another chuckle. “You’re somewhere else.”

Gowther shifted in his seat and sent it rolling towards him. “I’m sorry. I’ll examine the sample right away.”

He held out his hand, and Meliodas handed him a small vial with a dark blue substance inside. However, the blonde raised his brows and said, “What is wrong? I haven’t seen you this distracted in a long time.”

Huffing a bit, he rolled back to the table and set the sample down. “I had a visitor the other day,” he answered cryptically.

Meliodas gave a deep frown. “One of my brothers?” he growled.

“No, nothing like that.” Gowther turned again to pull a bowl down from a shelf. “It was a little girl.”

“A girl?”

Gowther nodded. “Very strange. Little thing, scrawny, with dark hair and gold eyes. She was hiding in the shadows, but got away before I got a name.” He opened the vial and dumped the contents out, putting on a pair of specially crafted spectacles to help him see closely.

“Was she human?”

He paused and looked up. “Couldn’t say for sure, actually, but definitely not a demon. Why?”

Meliodas’ mouth twisted a bit. “I’ve been looking for her.”

“Looking for her?” Gowther took off the glasses and placed them on the table. “This sounds like an interesting story.”

The demon’s face went suddenly serious. “She is a daughter of Belialuin.”

“Belialuin?” Gowther frowned in confusion. “What would she be doing here then?”

“You haven’t heard.” Meliodas’ voice was grave as he took a deep breath. “Belialuin has been destroyed. Every man, woman, and child was wiped out.”

Gowther’s eyes went wide—an entire city, gone?—it was nearly impossible to comprehend. “But why?” he demanded. “They were neutral in this war. It was a place of knowledge, a place for scholars and science. Both the Demon King and the Goddess Queen could benefit from such a place.”

“It’s because of that girl,” Meliodas answered. “She has an ability called Infinity. Both gods wanted it, so both gave her a gift. But she refused to ally with either, so in their wrath they allied with one another.” Here the former prince gave a shudder. “The evil that is wrought when the two of them lay down their weapons… it’s unspeakable. I can’t imagine the suffering those poor people endured until death.”

A heavy silence fell on the two companions as they both pondered the two deities combining their power. “I pity whoever must face their combined wrath head-on,” Meliodas added.

“But if they destroyed Belialuin, how did she survive?” asked Gowther.

“No one knows,” Meliodas replied. “Elizabeth and I went to see what could be done, and she caught sight of her in the wreckage. It probably had something to do with her gift, making her resistant to demon and goddess magic.”

“That’s how she broke in here,” he murmured.

Meliodas nodded. “Elizabeth is scared for her, and I’ve been trying to track her down. If she appears again, will you tell her to stay put? We can offer her shelter and safety. She shouldn’t be on her own.” With that he stood and said, “I’ll be back in three days. Will you have something by then?”

“Most likely.” Gowther bid him farewell as he opened the cell and left, his lineage as the son of the king allowing him to still manipulate the magic in the demon realm. Sighing, Gowther went back to examining the bit of blue demon Meliodas had brought him. Helping Stigma create spells and defenses was the least he could do as his part in the war.

A short time later he said to the room, “Would you like some tea? I was about to make some, if you want to come out.”

There was a brief silence, and then the girl stepped out from the shadows. “How did you know I was here?” she asked.

Ignoring the question, Gowther wheeled to the stove, where he put on a kettle of water. He could have used magic, but he was always charmed by the things the humans would invent to accomplish easy tasks. He laid two cups on a tray before placing the sugar bowl, and then wheeled to a cupboard that held a bit of cake. Two slices on two small plates of china then sat next to two folded napkins. The kettle began to sing, so he carefully poured the hot water into the cups, and once all was loaded onto the tray he sat it on his lap and moved back to the table.

The girl snapped up from where she was staring at the specimen on the table. She took a few steps backwards, but Gowther ignored her as he laid out their tea. After a minute or so, she approached slowly; he pointed to a stool, which she picked up and carried over, climbing on top. Only the top half of her face was visible, but her thin arm reached out and grabbed the cake, which she promptly stuffed into her mouth.

He noticed the dirt on her arms. “What is your name?” he asked.

She did not answer, but went for the tea. Gowther was faster, however, and snatched it back out of reach. “Your name?” he prompted.

The girl heaved a big sigh. “Merlin. Can I have that now?”

He nodded and pushed it back towards her. “Did you hear everything that was said?”

The girl nodded as she sipped. “Is it true? You’re the one from Belialuin?”

Gowther saw her hand shake slightly, and she abruptly slammed her cup down. “I don’t want to talk about that,” she said pointedly.

“That’s fine.” He took a sip of his own tea before eating a bite of his cake, noting how her eyes followed the food from his plate to his mouth. “So why have you come here, Merlin?”

“You’re the greatest sorcerer in the whole entire world,” she said seriously. “And I need to learn how to be too.”

“And what do you want to do with such power?” he asked.

The girl simply smiled. “Can I have the rest of your cake?”

Gowther looked at her for a moment; then nodded and pushed his plate over. The two companions sat in silence, finishing their tea.

#nnt #fan fiction #merlin #gowther #meliodas

[spnreactionblogging]

raising hell

SPOILERS BELOW 

okay I really learned my lesson last time about not typing this directly into tumblr so it's going into notepad first and then I'm pasting it over

I have angel's envy for the episode in general, which I will be drinking gradually as a special occasion just for S15 as it airs, and also devil's cut for this episode in particular because I hear buckleming wrote it and I'm toasting to crowley and drinking that one if/when something fucked up inevitably happens to kevin

I'm SO FUCKING GLAD to see osric in this btw just like. I love him he's so good I'm glad he's back

I've tried to avoid spoilers but from what glimpses I've seen before I could glance away it sounds like maybe some meta shit is getting into territory I was also going into with the kevin/crowley/castiel fic I'm doing? so super intrigued to see where that goes but also not getting my hopes up because I fear the writing is going to drop the ball

I love meta shit though I'm so here for it, I gotta double back for time travel shenanigans in Lebanon

okay anyway let's start

oh and apparently rob benedict had a stroke a while back?? and i'm so glad he's all right, here are the signs of a stroke if you need to refresh because you really ought to know what to look for https://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/09/03/too-young-to-have-a-stroke-think-again I had this open in a tab from someone totally different on twitter

I like the "road closed" sign we start with because it seems thematically on point for like... shutting down the infinite potential of stories as they are not done being told, and as all those doors close

it's not a buckleming episode unless it starts off with gratuitous violence against women

the amazon subtitles are spelling it "benzine" [sic] and it's pissing me off

I love jared playing sam playing an FBI agent who's nervous about delivering speeches

crams all this sam and cas footage into my mouth

I don't believe "belphegor" at all but I love seeing alex playing this part

this implication that belphegor has teamed up with a hunter previously.........

pretty impressed with these townspeople actually? their concerns are not unreasonable and they're right to be skeptical

pffffff at this parallel of sam addressing the living crowd vs jack the ripper addressing the ghost crowd

the makeup on the ghosts is pretty fuckin good, I like the wardrobe and hair too

I like the fake posters at the school for various fictional sporting events

castiel continues to have a conscience and I adore him

rowena "am I interrupting something juicy" eyes emoji

ruth is pretty fun, I like her necklace

I like that ketch literally has a gun that just kicks spirits out of people. like. ...why haven't they been using this technology the whole time. guess it's an endgame weapon.

hahahahha an attractive female demon named Ardat. ................me @ homestuck like oh Ardata got it

this is the first time i've seen adult amara? it's bizarre to see characters I've only heard of

dude's right to be very upset and worried about his neighbors and cas should tell them what's up honestly, I see sam's point about not inciting panic but on the other hand :\

no idea where this arthur/rowena thing is going except I do I guess

I really, really like castiel's take (which is also sam's take from the last episode) that even if their lives were written by chuck, their experiences still mattered, and are not rendered worthless because of external circumstances about how they came into being

are people seriously doing a "THIS IS A DESTIEL MOMENT" from this? like. i guess.

also i hate that cas is having to apologize for "dropping the puck". he didn't. fuck off. he didn't drop the ball. dean didn't give a shit about felix being killed anyway so what the fuck.

misha and jensen both have excellent delivery though

I do like seeing dean play off ketch and belphegor and rowena, it's a nice change of pace

dude these stunts of getting thrown into a wall or a shelving unit like I realize they're stunts but OUCH

ahhhhhh that's kevin i hear osric's voice

kevin got the other ghost to go away by yelling at them lmaooooo I love him so fucking much!!!!!

so we're gonna retcon that kevin has spent the last what, four??? four fucking years? not in heaven, but in hell or purgatory or just wandering earth? remember how a year on earth is forty years in hell?

I'm glad I specifically have the devil's cut to drink to kevin getting fucked over because I'm already enraged

** "DRINK FOR KEVIN" COUNT: 1 **

god he's been on the screen for less than sixty seconds and he was just never sent to heaven because god lied, I'm so glad I have bourbon for this. fucking buckleming, how do they keep getting put in charge of kevin episodes

I got up to get my kevin keychain to watch the rest of this episode with I'm so mad holy fuck I'm so mad, it just never stops

the amazon subtitles: "the vegetables and herbs are finely chopped and added to a SEXY pastiche of fragrant tripe"

thinking emoji, did you mean zesty....

I took like a 30 minute break because I was so mad just now about kevin being denied access to heaven like fuck you

the break was so long that amazon timed out, goddamn it

oh so we can't get kevin into heaven because god's not around to make an exception and god hates the winchesters and how god feels about the winchesters extends to their surrounding "friends" and family. amazing. this is bullshit.

** "DRINK FOR KEVIN" COUNT: 2 **

"whiny kevin tran! typical millennial." he should whine more. he has every right to be furious

also amazing that bobby and john manage to stay in heaven, and chuck didn't cast them down to hell along with mary out of spite when this all went down? so like... why not kevin. AMAZING!!!!!!

** "DRINK FOR KEVIN" COUNT: 3 **

sam has the dignity to actually look concerned instead of just annoyed

oh I like sam being linked to chuck lmaooooo

I do love this shot of a bunch of ghosts just hanging out in some suburban kitchen.

osric is so handsome I'm so glad to see him on this again

"you know how the hellspawn are, all they talk about is sam and dean, sam and dean" maybe the only time jack the ripper has been right about anything

not a fan of this extremely heteronormative bullshit courtesy of buckleming

also left-brain/right-brain is basically a lie isn't it

this fucking music. I'm so sick of buckleming

like I would be fine with this if it had been written by literally anyone else but this is the worst shit, nobody flirts like this

the road is "FAIR WYND", that's the cousin of zack fair and cid highwind

she hooked up with jack the ripper briefly? weird flex but okay

oh kevin is now being held GHOST HOSTAGE because dean told him to go do some reconnaissance

** "DRINK FOR KEVIN" COUNT: 4 **

also I paused on a screenshot that's extremely funny to me

oh I don't like hearing kevin screaming :(

drinking for kevin being tortured by jack the ripper trying to ghost-vore him

** "DRINK FOR KEVIN" COUNT: 5 **

I'm also waiting for the ghostbusters containment thing to backfire and swallow him too

DEAN: you can see them, how many are there "BELPHEGOR": 100 at least, more keep coming

convenient way not to animate 100+ ghosts

oh ketch took off the fucking iron, or maybe it fell off when he was hurt?

good job rowena for real

CASTIEL: I tried to heal him, but it didn't work. I don't know why. SAM: You're probably just tired, Cas. We all are.

for fucking real the biggest sastiel mood is taking naps

also this is troubling

it's like legitimately weird to see them call an ambulance on this show? I guess since they're posing as FBI agents it's more feasilble but

SAM: I'm sorry, Kevin. I wish there was some way to make this right. KEVIN: Me too, but there isn't. And sometimes you just gotta accept that.

actually fuck you lmao holy shiiiiiiiiiiiit omg fuck this

I'm about to drink the rest of the kevin-designated devil's cut

"there's nothing to keep him tied to earth, he'll go crazy!"

hey what about y'know

his mom...........................................

I'm screaming

"I love you guys" osric I know you love them IRL but this is so unfair for kevin the character

I like alexander and osric in the same shot, that's kind of fun, I enjoyed their panel I watched

and there's him waving goodbye. this is so unfair. time to down the rest of this

** "DRINK FOR KEVIN" COUNT: 666 **

to kevin, and to osric

thank fuck I was already in the middle of writing fix-it fic, this is injust

I have such mixed feelings because I'm so happy to see osric back but like AT WHAT COST, the worst timeline

there's a finality to this too like he's not coming back after this unless there's massive all-cast-reunion episode at the tail end in a paradise party AU but I doubt it

goodbye Kevin, this sucks :(

I'm more motivated than ever to finish this fic

"Even on your best day, you couldn't force my hand." is a pretty good line

also negative space is not inferior or "backup vocals"? it's part of a composition

you fucking know what buckleming is that WE CAN FIGURE OUT THAT THERE'S A NARRATIVE PARALLEL ABOUT HER LEAVING HIM TRAPPED WITH HIS CREATION, WITHOUT YOU SPELLING IT OUT jesus christ

bluhhhhhhhhhh I liked the premiere a lot more

#s15e2

[david-watts]

192, 174, 155, 146, 134, 86, 84, 52, 2 sorry that’s a lot asjxjsk

don’t worry man you really can never ask too much 💙 

2. favourite dog breed? samoyeds, tibetan spaniels and japanese spitzes 

52. my room is: technically I only have half a room because Reasons™ but here we go. my bed is really long because as y’all know I’m a giant, it’s a family heirloom and been around since at least 1914 (because that year someone died in it). underneath I keep a lot of things such as my cd and cassette player, three old suitcases, two boxes of old coins, and some sheet music. at the end of my bed I have my guitar which is a really dumb place to keep it because it keeps getting bashed by the door whenever someone slams it open... anyway. there’s pictures of mainly brian jones I printed out and stuck all over the walls because I could, before that I had some doctor who posters that mum made me take down because nardole was creeping her out. (she now complains mick jagger is creeping her out, except she still hasn’t learnt that those aren’t pictures of mick jagger). there’s also some shelves that my grandpa probably installed in the seventies where I keep SO MANY books. I’ve run out of room for any more so like if I impulse buy any more special-interest-related stuff I have nowhere to put it - also there’s a shoebox I found a knife in up there. don’t ask I don’t know 

84. people call me: god idc what people call me!! I go by like... six names. most people either refer to me as some form of george or keith because those are my Main Two names but if you’re a close enough friend you unlock another name. alternatively I go by redboots which I don’t even remember how that one came about but school people know that one so uh 

86. the thing I’m looking forward to the most? well I just did this one but it can’t hurt to think about it some more. I think moving out and actually going somewhere where I don’t get hit over anything minor and can get some proper help is driving me forwards a bit even if I have no fucking clue how I’m going to do it. do they accept sixty year old suitcases on international flights these days 

134. singing or dancing?last time I tried dancing, also known as friday, I tripped over my own feet and fell over (different times). on top of not being very good I’m the most uncoordinated fucker ever who can’t move his legs correctly to run yet alone try to dance properly... then again I sound horrible when I sing. that might just be because I hate my voice, keep comparing myself to people who’ve got experience and I haven’t properly sung in like... forever. but singing is much better suited to me I guess 

146. chocolate or vanilla? I don’t particularly care for the vanilla flavour that much. let’s go with the chocolate, which could actually cause my death, but that’s not terribly likely 

155. do you believe in magic? first thoughts were that I used to believe in magic like in fairytales, books on witches and fairies, and of course harry potter which I read as a child, but not any more. second thought is that there’s magic in everyday things, like hearing that one song, or that one artwork or whichever thing, that’s a kind of magic, isn’t it? that’s the magic I believe in tbh 

174. do you have any siblings? yes and no. because my dad is Ancient™ I have two half siblings, both of whom were in their twenties by the time I happened. they’re like my cool aunt and uncle 

192. what am I allergic to? I get hayfever a lot and I can’t go near lavender because my nose straight up starts bleeding. the big one is that it turns out I’m lactose intolerant like my dad which means I can’t have milk, yoghurt, and some cheeses, which is fine because I don’t like those anyway 

thank you!!! I hope you don’t mind the rambling I just did 💙💙

[afoolsingenuity]

Bite Sized Books // The Arcs Which Time (Or I) Forgot Part 1

I am currently on a quest to conquer my Netgalley shelves by the end of the year (or at least to no longer have 26 books to review on there). I have a whole heap of books I simply forgot/no longer fancied reading and I am going to power through or at least read a solid way in (between 10 and 25%) and give them that chance to hook me. There are a few I know I will review and a couple of 2018 releases, so it’s not as bad as I’m making it in my head… but it’s quite bad.

This first batch of books (because I hope to have 3 or 4 of these posts up through to the end of the year) I had planned to call this batch the DNF Chronicles after I skimmed The Scot Beds His Wife to get an even vague idea of the story and because Duke With Benefits ended up being abandoned. I thought Juniper Lemon’s Happiness Index might be the same as I didn’t think I was in the mood for more YA… I was wrong. And then after being guilted into reading Completely by Nick I discovered that all my unread ARCs weren’t misses, I was just not giving them a full chance. These are my mini reviews for those books.

The Scot Beds His Wife (Victorian Rebels #5) – Kerrigan Byrne

Published: 3rd October 2017 Source: Netgalley Genre: Historical Romance My Rating:

The Scot Beds His Wife is the next lush, captivating Victorian romance in the Victorian Rebels series by Kerrigan Byrne. They’re rebels, scoundrels, and blackguards—dark, dashing men on the wrong side of the law. But for the women who love them, a hint of danger only makes the heart beat faster.

Gavin St. James, Earl of Thorne, is a notorious Highlander and an unrelenting Lothario who uses his slightly menacing charm to get what he wants—including too many women married to other men. But now, Gavin wants to put his shady past behind him...more or less. When a fiery lass who is the heiress to the land he wishes to possess drops into his lap, he sees a perfectly delicious opportunity...

A marriage most convenient

Samantha Masters has come back to Scotland, in a pair of trousers, and with a whole world of dangerous secrets from her time spent in the Wild West trailing behind her. Her only hope of protection is to marry—and to do so quickly. Gavin is only too willing to provide that service for someone he finds so disturbingly irresistible. But even as danger approaches, what begins as a scandalous proposition slowly turns into an all-consuming passion. And Gavin discovers that he will do whatever is necessary to keep the woman he has claimed as his own...

I received this book for free from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. This in no way affected my opinion of the book, or the content of my review.

This one I agreed to review simply for the fact it mentioned a Scot (because who doesn’t love a good Scottish accent?) and I really wanted to enjoy it. I read the beginning and although it was a bit dark and twisted I could see a close bond between two brothers shining through and was thoroughly interested in the story. I thought I would see this brotherly connection between Liam (or a previous book in this series) Gavin and I was totally wrong. Maybe I’d have had a better idea if I’d actually read any of the previous books in this series, but I was mislead and that really affected my enjoyment.

When the book moved to the present the story just wasn't as interesting. I guess I should have read the summary a bit more closely as it did mention that this was about rogues and criminals. I just wasn't quite prepared for it and found the characters a little absurd and I couldn't connect. I genuinely didn't care for their story and ended up skimming through the book to the end. I probably wouldn't have even done that if I hadn't have gotten an ARC so felt obliged to be able to offer some thoughts on the book.

This book was not for me and I admit I was probably wrong to want to read. If I'd have read the summary I would have known it wouldn’t be what I was thinking in my head and I probably wouldn’t have been as interested in reading. You live and learn, don’t you?

Duke With Benefits (Studies in Scandal #2) – Manda Collins

Published: 27th June 2017

Source: Netgalley

Genre: Historical Romance

My Rating: DNF 

LADY + DUKE = TRUE LOVE?

Lady Daphne Forysthe is a brilliant young math prodigy with a burning passion for puzzles. When she learns that the library belonging to her benefactress houses the legendary Cameron Cipher a mathematical p that, once solved, holds the key to great riches Daphne is on the case. Unfortunately, her race to unlock the cipher s code is continually thwarted by a deliciously handsome distraction she hadn’t counted on. . .and cannot resist.

Dalton Beauchamp, the Duke of Maitland, is curious as to why Daphne is spending so much time snooping around his aunt s bookshelves. He s even more intrigued by her bold yet calculating manner: she is unapologetic about her secret quest. . .and the fiery attraction that develops between them both. But how can they concentrate on decoding a mathematical mystery once the prospect of true love enters the equation?

Witty, sensual historical romance that will captivate readers. Romance Junkies

I received this book for free from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. This in no way affected my opinion of the book, or the content of my review.

I decided I was still fancying a good historical romance after finishing The Scot Beds His Wife, one where I didn’t have to flick through to the end just to sate my curiosity about what happened (it was ridiculous, don’t bother) so I picked up Duke With Benefits as I knew it was on my ARC list and I figured why not? I read the first book this series with Kaja and Danya and it was highly ridiculous and the mystery in it hadn’t been great and the characters weren’t brilliant, what on earth possessed me to read the second?

I tried valiantly but this one just didn't click for me. This is partly to do with how sudden the romance is. There isn't build up you are told the Daphne and Dalton have chemistry, there is a rejection of a possible affair to explore this chemistry and then you jump forward in time to the cipher mystery this book focuses around whilst our MCs supposed chemistry continues. I didn't feel this at all. Maybe it had been too long between reading the first one and this one where you would have noticed the chemistry. I don't know, but in the end, I felt like I'd been told more than seen the chemistry for myself, I didn’t even get to the good stuff with the romance because it felt so stiff and forced. Never a good sign for a romance.

Maybe I was too harsh but this romance and this series maybe won’t be one I continue for obvious reasons.

Juniper Lemon’s Happiness Index – Julie Israel

Published: 1st June 2017 Source: Netgalley Genre: Young Adult, Contemporary, Romance My Rating:

This moving and uplifting debut follows Juniper Lemon, heartbroken after her older sister Camilla's unexpected death, as she navigates the holes that have been torn in her world, and the mysteries that Camilla left behind.

It's hard to keep close a person everyone keeps telling you is gone.

It's been sixty-five painful days since the death of Juniper's big sister, Camilla. On her first day back at school, bracing herself for the stares and whispers, Juniper borrows Camie's handbag for luck - and discovers an unsent break-up letter inside. It's mysteriously addressed to 'You' and dated July 4th - the day of Camie's accident. Desperate to learn the identity of Camie's secret love, Juniper starts to investigate.

But then she loses something herself. A card from her daily ritual, The Happiness Index: little notecards on which she rates the day. The Index has been holding Juniper together since Camie's death - but without this card, there's a hole. And this particular card contains Juniper's own secret: a memory that she can't let anyone else find out.

The perfect summer read for anyone who loved All The Bright Places or The Fault In Our Stars.

I received this book for free from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. This in no way affected my opinion of the book, or the content of my review.

This was the point I realised my ARCs weren’t all misses and those reads I’d put off because of bad reviews or simply because I’d not heard enough about them was judgey of me and I needed to do better.

Was this book a totally original YA contemporary? No. Did it matter? Not really. I may have felt like I'd seen some of these characters in one form or another in various YA but it didn't once bother me because this book was about much more than romance or friends (although, those things played significant roles within the story) this book, at it's heart, is about loss and grief and that was what was important with this one.

I began this book unsure of what to expect, to be honest, I was drawn in my the cover and the cool name. I needed little more than that for the story to appeal to me. I began reading and I was still uncertain what the book was about but with the mentioning of a sister that Juniper didn't wish to be reminded of and the various mentions of condolences it wasn't hard to tell this was a book which very much centred around less. It was heart-breaking to see Juniper struggle with the loss of her sister, especially as throughout the book you learn how close the two girls were. They were friends and Camilla played a major role in Juniper's life, pushing her out of her comfort zone to try new things and have new life experiences. The absence is never more obvious when you learn that as Juniper is still grieving and keeping herself separate at the start.

I enjoyed Juniper's quests within the book, especially with the lost and found things. I know some of the choices she made weren't right or fair but everything she did she with good intentions. She was never being cruel, she was just on a continual quest to make things right as she could never do that with her sister.

I enjoyed the friends Juni found along her way in the book. Kody was so sweet and I loved seeing her at the start, especially as she grew closer with Juni and Kody finally got to be herself and break from her old self. And Angela was so sweet with her love for unattainable men and how she was the most understanding for Juni. I wasn't as big a fan of Nate's, but I think that's because I easily saw that there was more to him than it initially seemed (nothing bad, I just saw things coming). It was Brand I loved, though. I know you shouldn't have a thing for bad boys, but I am a sucker for a fictional bad boy, especially when he was a real softie really. I do not forgive all of his actions in the book (there should have been grovelling) but I understood why he did as he did.

This wasn't a perfect read but it had me tearing up in all the right places and I didn't even notice the time as I read and those are really the signs of a good old enjoyable read

Completely (New York #3) – Ruthie Knox

Published: 26th September 2017

Source: Netgalley/Bought

Genre: Contemporary, Romance

My Rating:

Everest. If they can make it there, they can make it anywhere. Maybe even New York, where Ruthie Knox takes her charming rom-com style to new heights.

Beneath her whole “classic English beauty” appearance is an indomitable spirit that has turned Rosemary Chamberlain into something of a celebrity mountain climber. But after an Everest excursion takes a deadly turn, Rosemary is rescued by her quick-thinking guide, New York native Kal Beckett. Rosemary’s brush with death brings out a primal need to celebrate life—and inspires a night of steamy sex with the rather gorgeous man who saved her.

The son of a famous female climber with a scandalous past, Kal Beckett is still trying to find himself. In the Zen state of mind where Kal spends most of his time, anything can happen—like making love to a fascinating stranger and setting off across the world with her the next morning. But as their lives collide in the whirlwind of passion that is New York City, the real adventure is clearly just beginning. . . .

I received this book for free from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. This in no way affected my opinion of the book, or the content of my review.

I got both an ARC and preorder myself a copy of Completely. I was excited for it’s release. I did a happy dance getting approved for the ARC. I was excited! So why did it take me so long to read? In fact, it was a tweet from Nick which guilted me into picking this up (thank you, Nick, you help me make good choices). I will forever be ashamed I didn't read this sooner but I'm also glad I waited until I was totally in the mood for a romance read as this book was a perfect example of romance done right.

I admit, I think I waited because I had some doubts. I loved the idea of the book and everything I’d hears about it but remembering what I knew of Rosemary from the last book I wasn't overly enamoured with her and wasn't sure I'd enjoy a book focused on her and her journey. Turns out I'm an idiot because I loved it. She was a powerful woman who had spent far too long as wallpaper. She finally had her freedom after divorcing Winston and choosing to climb Everest was part of her being her. When it doesn’t even remotely go as planned and she and her team are evacuated off of Everrest she ends up growing closer with Kal, an ice doctor on Everest (I didn’t know what that was either, I got a full mountain climbing education with this one). The romance which develops between the pair is brilliant, their chemistry is crazy, but I loved that they grew as friends as well. Like seriously, they were adorable and I loved them.

The thing is, this is a romance. It has an utterly brilliant romance between Rosemary and the slightly younger Kal (yay for an age difference romance which doesn't feature an older man) but it's way more about Rosemary finding herself and who she is it's her journey to who she is and also Kal's journey to regain his focus. Along the way the two just happen to fall in love and I love them for it. Rosemary was very lost, that was obvious from the first page. She is on a quest to find herself, which I think any woman is who is coming out of a long term relationship and has had children and is now trying to figure out who she was before marriage and being a mother. I think a lot of people will relate to Rosemary. I loved her realisations as she learnt what she actually wanted from life. And Kal! He used to be a sweet idealist thinking he could save the world, it sucked that he had to learn it isn’t as simple as having strong ideals but also work, and failure and a whole heap of picking yourself back up and trying something different. I really loved him figuring out his purpose once more, and the fact that he time with Rosemary helped him do that. The pair helped push one another forward and that’s what should happen in any good relationship.

This was a brilliant romance. I expect no less from Knox and I totally enjoyed every page. Kal and Rosemary are fantastic, the romance is brilliant, and this is a romance with an awesome story which links so well with the rest of the series which I hadn’t totally expected!

Have you read any of these books? Which ARCs have you put off reading for far too long? Anyone else discovered some brilliant books from their neglected book pile?

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#a fool's ingenuity #books

[type2diabetestreatments-blog]

Ask D'Mine: No Insulin Needed?, Alternative Medicine's Bad Rap

New Post has been published on http://type2diabetestreatment.net/diabetes-mellitus/ask-dmine-no-insulin-needed-alternative-medicines-bad-rap/

Ask D'Mine: No Insulin Needed?, Alternative Medicine's Bad Rap

Need help navigating life with diabetes? Email us at [email protected]

Yup, you guessed it: it's another edition of our new diabetes advice column, Ask D'Mine, hosted by veteran type 1, diabetes author and community educator Wil Dubois.

Alex from Canada, type 1, writes: I was diagnosed roughly 9 months ago. Since then, my insulin requirements have increased every now and then. Last week, I needed 16u of basal insulin in the morning, and from that I work on a sliding scale of rapid on a 15:1 ratio. But in the past two days, I have had so many lows that I didn't take insulin with any meals. Now I've spent the last 48 hours without any basal or rapid insulin. My question is: why?

Wil@Ask D'Mine answers: As I read your email my head starting literally brimming with possibilities. I just love, love, love medical mysteries—this kind of stuff makes my job fun! The top three things that came to my mind were: Custer's Last Stand, prairie dogs, and lazy stock boys.

Bear with me.

Custer first. So, as you're somewhat new to the D-family, this could be a garden-variety case of honeymoon phase. We covered what that's all about in our October edition here; just scroll down to the picture of the syringe and start reading at that point for a refresher on what type 1 diabetes and Col. George Armstrong Custer have in common.

Second, prairie dogs. There's always a remote chance you were a glucose-toxic type 2 misdiagnosed as a type 1. We covered what that's all about in November here; just scroll down to the second question to learn what the pancreas, eagles, high blood sugar, and prairie dogs have in common.

As to the third possibility, it's time to break out a new analogy. Everyone, please meet the lazy stock boy. Lazy stock boy, meet everyone.

We all know what a stock boy is supposed to do, right? His job (or her job, I wasn't dissin' lazy stock girls) is to replenish the stock of goods for sale in retail stores. Done right, the job is much more than just putting boxes of Post-Toasties on the shelf at Safeway, because most grocery items have a limited shelf life. Milk goes sour. Bread gets moldy. Chips get stale. Even beer has a "best used by" date stamped on the can. Or so I'm told.

So a properly trained and motivated stock boy not only re-stocks the shelves, but rotates the stock—placing the newer stock in the back and pulling the older, but still sellable, stock to the front. Oh yes. And the stock boy is also supposed to pull stock off the shelf that's past its expiration date.

That's actually a pretty complicated job for one that pays minimum wage. At night. Which is why it's so easy to get home with your groceries and find you just bought sour milk, moldy bread, stale chips, and un-drinkable beer. Milk, bread, chips, and beer, of course, make up the now-retired My Food Square Nutrition System. (Wink).

And this has, what, exactly, to do with diabetes?

OK. Now all of you. Get up. Go to the bathroom. Look in the mirror. Be honest with yourselves. Are you lazy stock boys and girls?

That's right. All your diabetes meds and diabetes stuff are like milk, bread, chips, and beer. It's only good for so long, and you and you alone are responsible for rotating the stock.

Alex, I see that you take 16u of basal insulin per day. Well, more correctly, you said last week you needed 16 and you had been titrating up. That tells me that a few weeks ago you were probably using even less.

So I gotta ask, when did you start using your current vial of insulin? 'Cause at 16u a day, a vial would last you sixty-two and one-half days. The problem being, of course, that once you pop the top it's only good for thirty days. You might have been injecting sour milk for thirty-two and one-half days.

Now, of course, insulin's useful life can be stretched. It's really not like milk, good one day, vomit-worthy the next. But it can lose its potency pretty quickly. If you were titrating up insulin that was spooling down, and then popped open a fresh one, you might have effectively over-dosed yourself, leading to the chain of lows. Maybe I could be clearer: if you're increasing doses of insulin that is getting weaker every day, then you aren't really titrating to your body's needs; you are titrating to the reduced action of the aging insulin. When you open a fresh one, WHAM! You have a boat-load more insulin than you need, and, to make matters worse, it's a 24-hour-action insulin.

My advice to everyone who uses little enough insulin that a vial or pen won't be empty in thirty days: get a sharpie out and write your own expiration date on the bottle or cartridge.

Then no more lazy stocking!

Jay from Nevada, type 2, asks: Why are medical associations against "alternative" medicine? My current doctor seems to think it's all snake oil.

Wil@Ask D'Mine answers: Fish oil has been absolutely proven by Western Medicine to lower cholesterol. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before the benefits of snake oil will be scientifically demonstrated as well.

But seriously, there's an interesting history behind the attitude of many modern docs towards the universe of alternative medicine. And that history isn't very old because, frankly, modern medicine isn't very old either.

Here's the story: Many of the practitioners of modern medicine would have you believe that Western Medicine traces its roots directly back to Hippocrates in ancient Greece. Nothing could be further from the truth. Our current tradition of Western Medicine, commonly called scientific medicine on the inside, really only goes back about 200 years to the early 1800s. At that time, in fact, scientific medicine was just one of a large pack of competing medicine systems to choose from that also included homeopathy and chiropractic medicine. Hard to believe now, but back then, the medical system we all take for granted today was a barely respectable trade, not well-regarded by much of anyone, and frankly, as likely to kill you as help you.

Then, in 1846, a rag-tag medical rabble formed the forerunner of the American Medical Association. This organization became the enforcer of scientific medicine over the years, using both fair means and foul. Don't get me wrong, the AMA's done plenty of good, and continues to up to this day; but its early mission was to simply put everyone else out of the medicine businesses.

They came damn close to doing it, too.

To their credit, however, they also cleaned their own house while trying to evict everyone else from it. Don't forget that in the mid-1800s anyone could call himself a doctor; there was no accredited system of education or government licensure in place. Dentists had better training than doctors at the time. But by the end of the 1800s the AMA had successfully lead the charge to require a license to practice medicine in every state in the Union. In the early 1900s they took on initiatives that effectively overhauled medical schools, bringing them, literally, out of the dark ages.

But the AMA was also focused on the survival of the fittest, and went to great lengths to stamp out the competition: alternative medicine. Remember that at the time, alternative medicine included just about all the other guys in the field of medicine. You can read more details about the battles between the different "camps" of medicine in Jon Queijo's entertaining book Breakthrough.

To this day, there are many bone-headed died-in-the-wool white coats that're suspicious of everything that doesn't smell like science, a legacy of the AMA's work. In fact, most medical schools today teach the latest incarnation of Western Medicine, called Evidence-Based Medicine, that requires any therapy to be validated by clinical studies before being used in the health care trenches. That said, many modern docs are taking a longer view. A more open view. The sum total of what we do not know overwhelms the sum total of what we do know. A few medical schools are now teaching something called integrated medicine; and I've even seen doctor's referrals for acupuncture. So the times are changing. I don't think that would have happened in 1950. Or 1960. Or 1970. Probably not even in 1980, either.

Doctors, once banned from even associating with chiropractors by the AMA, now will send patients to them. Medical massage is widely recognized. Diet and exercise remains a valid therapy for type 2 diabetes—that's a pretty non-medicine approach, if you think about it.

Scientific medicine has a great many strengths, but it does tend to micro-manage illnesses. It tends to single out symptoms and attack them. It sometimes ignores the person in purist of the illness.

Alternative medicines, on the other hand, while ranging from blatant quackery to highly effective treatments, tends to be better about viewing the person as a whole. And I mean that in the widest possible way: not a whole collection of cells, and organs, and systems; but rather body, mind, and soul. And that's why alternative medicine is rapidly regaining popularity after two centuries out in the cold.

Personally, I don't think alternative medicine has all the answers, but I know that scientific medicine doesn't either. I believe that we can intelligently blend various approaches. But we can't be kooks about it either. If you want to drink cactus juice to lower your blood sugar, be my guest. Just don't stop taking your prescription medications in the meantime.

As to your doc, you're not married to him or her (well, you could be, but I'm assuming you're not); if you think your doctor is closed-minded, go shopping for a new one. Just be sure to check the expiration date to make sure his/her attitudes aren't sour, moldy, or stale. Those damn lazy sock boys are everywhere!

This is not a medical advice column. We are PWDs freely and openly sharing the wisdom of our collected experiences — our been-there-done-that knowledge from the trenches. But we are not MDs, RNs, NPs, PAs, CDEs, or partridges in pear trees. Bottom line: we are only a small part of your total prescription. You still need the professional advice, treatment, and care of a licensed medical professional.

Disclaimer: Content created by the Diabetes Mine team. For more details click here.

Disclaimer

This content is created for Diabetes Mine, a consumer health blog focused on the diabetes community. The content is not medically reviewed and doesn't adhere to Healthline's editorial guidelines. For more information about Healthline's partnership with Diabetes Mine, please click here.

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