#what even is a loup where did that come from

[hedgehog-moss]

Loved your mentioning of learning poetry by heart: this is something I haven’t done since school! What are some of your favs that you’d suggest to ease my brain back into it?

(Française ici donc les options 🇫🇷 autant que anglais sont welcome :) merci!)

Hi :) You can look at the poem tag of my quote blog if you want—some of the ones I've learnt by heart (or excerpts from them) include this one by Sara Teasdale - Nanao Sakaki - Velimir Khlebnikov - Wallace Stevens - Rabindranath Tagore - Archibald Macleish - Howard Nemerov - and these paragraphs by Henri Peña-Ruiz which I consider prose poetry... My favourite French verses (from Corneille, Aragon, Anna de Noailles, Hugo, Valéry...) are all alexandrines and I find it to be the easiest type of verse to remember, as the structure is so rigorous and consistent. I sometimes translate English poems into alexandrines (like this one) to make them easier to learn in this more familiar form—I think even after all this time English prosody still feels foreign to me; the patterns of sound and rhythm in French are more deeply embedded in my brain so it can more easily predict what comes next...

Re: easing your brain into it, I guess that depends on your style of learning? For me the best way to learn a text is to spend time with it in written form, be it by translating it, or by writing it down by hand (slowly) and then (sometimes) keeping it for a while in a place where I often stand idle, like taped to my microwave so I re-read it as I wait 1 minute for something to heat up.

One thing I like about learning poems is that it's a costless, always-accessible way to get a sense of personal accomplishment. Beyond that, I've got three categories of poems I like to learn for different reasons—I'll go into some detail in case it can help you figure out what you're after :)

1. Classic poetry, because it's just fun to have little snippets of ancient tragedies or epic Victor Hugo poems living at the back of your mind and accompanying you through your own everyday tragedies—as an overdramatic person who tends to feel devastated or exasperated over tiny stuff, it helps me to take some distance from my feelings. Like if I spill a bucket of manure on my boots and my first reaction is rage and despair and my second thought is a couple of verses by Euripides where Iphigenia bemoans her relentless fate, it's a way to make fun of (and get over) myself.

My grandmother did this a lot, she knew so many poems by heart and often used them ironically. If I went whining to her when I was little she'd recite to me the last few verses of Alfred de Vigny's La Mort du Loup (it sounds better in the original but):

[...] With all your being you must strive To that highest degree of stoic pride [...] Weeping or praying—all this is in vain. You must instead shoulder your long and heavy task In the way that Destiny has seen fit to ask Then suffer and die without complaint.

(Let me tell you, that's just what a five-year-old wants to hear after scratching her knee at the park) But really I admired this treasury of poetry she carried within her, especially as she only went to school until age 14 and came upon most of it thanks to her own curiosity; as well as the way she used it playfully in everyday life, using dramatic classical verse to de-dramatise minor annoyances.

2. Nature poems are great in the opposite way, to magnify minor positive things :) Like seeing a fox and having a few lines by Mary Oliver come to mind, seeing a frog and thinking of that Basho haiku... I recently discovered Jean-Michel Maulpoix and I also love his nature poems, like 'The recovery of blue after a downpour', the way he describes snow melting in the spring, or golden-blue evenings:

[Snow] takes some time to leave, but delicately. She doesn’t insist, hardly persists, never roots… She gives way. No one else dies so merrily With such good humour Unmatched is her disdain for eternity…

L’azur, certains soirs, a des soins de vieil or. Le paysage est une icône. Il semble qu’au soleil couchant, le ciel qui se craquelle se reprenne un instant à croire à son bleu.

3. And then there are the poems that proudly serve no purpose. <3 I mean beyond distilling language in a beautiful way. No deep meaning—or no meaning at all, e.g. surrealist poetry. I learnt this passage from Les Champs magnétiques back in middle school:

La fenêtre creusée dans notre chair s'ouvre sur notre cœur. On y voit un immense lac où viennent se poser à midi des libellules mordorées et odorantes comme des pivoines. Quel est ce grand arbre où les animaux vont se regarder ? Il y a des siècles que nous lui versons à boire. . . Prisonniers des gouttes d'eau, nous ne sommes que des animaux perpétuels. . . Nous ne savons plus rien des astres morts ; nous regardons les visages. . . Quelquefois, le vent nous entoure de ses grandes mains froides et nous attache aux arbres découpés par le soleil.

—and I've often recited it to myself just to enjoy these gratuitously nice sentences that aren't here to deliver information. Like Kay Ryan said, "Poetry makes nothing happen. That's the relief of it." It's a nice break, a way to remember that communicating isn't all language is for; beyond the social dimension there's also an intimate one that relies on our own aesthetic sensitivity. Most of the time we look through language, to access ideas, meanwhile enjoying poetry means looking at language, for a change, appreciating it for itself.

I just realised I'm paraphrasing John Brehm here—in The Poetry of Impermanence he wrote something that can be read as an ode to learning things by heart:

When you read lines that seem especially lit up—that move or intrigue you in some way, or that are simply pleasing or even dazzling—don’t focus on being able to formulate a statement about what they might mean, as if you might be called upon to explain the poem, to yourself or to someone else. Just linger with those poems or passages that resonate with you. . . Rest your mind on them; let them live inside you.

#ask #poetry

[sliebman10]

Restaurant AU

Places set? Check.

Chairs straight? Check.

“Half hour till open,” was called. 

“Yes, chef!” Came the response.

Tonight’s opening went off without a hitch, Remus thought as he surveyed the line chefs working methodically and his sous chef, keeping everyone honest. 

He liked his kitchen running like a well oiled machine. That meant he did his job, that he could take in the rewards he worked so hard for.

But then…

“Remus? Remus!” Dorcas exclaimed. As the front of house manager, Dorcas was usually as unruffled as they come. Not so now as she rushed toward him. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, failing to hide his surprise. 

“Critic. Table seven,” she murmured, so that the line chefs couldn’t hear. 

“Oh shit,” Remus said. “Well, we’ve got our best foot forward tonight. Do you know who it is?”

“That’s the other thing…” Dorcas said and gestured.

Sitting alone at a two top was a figure Remus would recognize anywhere. His mouth went dry as he took in the handsome, aristocratic features, the long hair. Of course his ex would grace them with his presence so soon after opening.

Remus squared his shoulders and willed there not to be any stains on his chef whites. He strode over to the table where his ex boyfriend and well respected food critic Sirius Black sat.

“Good evening,” he said. 

Sirius looked up from the menu and smiled. “Good to see you, chef,” he said softly, extending his hand. Remus took it and shook, memories of dark apartments and home cooked meals, drinks on the roof and found family dinners all came surging back.

“Welcome to Maison du Loup,” Remus said, as if his insides hadn’t suddenly shrunk.

Sirius let go of his hand and gestured toward the menu. “What do you recommend?”

Word Count: 297

@wolfstarmicrofic

#wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar microfic #exes to lovers #restaurant au

[arrowofcarnations]

Ooo!!! “Fucking someone so good that they struggle to kiss you back” for Coops?

Hohoho. Oui.

Have some married Coops fuckin' in the Olympic Village on this fine Wednesday.

(Rating: E)

Character credit to @lumosinlove <3

~~**~~**~~

First of all, the bed breaking wasn’t Remus’s fault.

Yes, he did shove Sirius down bodily onto it before all but tearing his clothes off; sure, he didn’t hold back when he took his favorite seat, giving Sirius most of his weight as he opened himself up with two-then-three efficient fingers right there on Sirius’s lap. He’d own up to partial responsibility for the incident—after all, he was the one who sank down onto Sirius’s dick and rode him hard enough that the cheap mattress’s springs squeaked their displeasure—but it wasn’t his fault. What choice did he have, really, after playing an Olympic hockey game against the love of his life?

His entire body felt like it was on fire as he braced his hands on Sirius’s (strong, so strong) bare chest and worked himself down until he was filled. Twin groans broke the quiet of the tiny room; Remus spared half a thought for Sirius’s neighbors on the other side of the shared wall, but Sirius’s hands flew to his hips, gripping tightly, and all he could think about was getting more of him, taking more.

A desperate Re! from underneath him made him throb. No teasing, no warmups, no bullshit—he hit his stride in seconds, setting a quick, ruthless pace that made lights pop behind his eyelids and reduced Sirius to a begging mess on the thin cotton sheets.

"So—fucking—" Remus cut himself off as a grind of his hips pressed Sirius just where he needed him and all he could do was moan. "Annoying, shitfuckrightthere."

"Me?" Sirius said incredulously. Remus could feel the gallop of his heart beneath his palm; the adrenaline of the game was still hot in their veins, pulling them together like magnets the second they'd walked out of their respective locker rooms. "C'est impossible de te prendre le palet."

Despite the accusatory tone, Remus felt it wash over him like the praise it really was. He brought himself down harder, pulling a whine out of Sirius that the neighbors could probably (definitely) hear; he took one hand off Sirius's chest and tried to touch himself, but Sirius caught his wrist lightning-quick.

"Non." All the weight of the captaincy was held in that one quiet command. Remus shivered immediately; his neglected cock dripped onto Sirius's stomach. "Over too soon. That's not what you want, loup."

He was, damn him, absolutely right.

He let Sirius draw him down for a sloppy kiss by the nape of his neck, and clenched around him just to taste the sound he made. "Want you," he said, leaning back again so he could fuck himself down onto Sirius the way they both liked, ignoring the bedsprings' protests. "Your goal in the first, Sirius..."

"Your breakaway," Sirius countered, breathing hard as he stroked Remus's flanks. "You're so fucking fast, Re. Got away from Tremzy. Got away from me."

"Never," Remus said, a little nonsensically. His grin felt stupid, lovestruck, even to himself. "With you always, baby."

He wasn't expecting Sirius to push himself up to sitting, keeping Remus in his lap with a hand on his lower back. His noise of surprise was muffled by Sirius's lips on his, as was his yelp when Sirius took him by the hips again and started to bounce him on his cock.

"Oh god," Remus cried as he broke the kiss to tip his head back and close his eyes. "Yes, yes, yes, like that!"

Anxiety, excitement, exhaustion, soreness—everything he'd felt throughout the day faded into the background until all he knew was pleasure, as thick and warm as Sirius's body was where it wrapped around him completely, surrounding and filling him all at once. He splayed his knees a little farther, Sirius brought him down hard, and he swore he was coming without so much as a finger on him.

"Baby," he managed—maybe a warning, maybe a plea. "C-coming, oh!"

His head spun as Sirius looked down between them, then up at his face and said, "Not yet. Feels that good?"

"Yes!"

"Want more?"

"Yes, Sirius, I swear to—"

This, in Remus's opinion, was the final nail in the flimsy Olympic Village bed's coffin: Sirius grabbing hold of him, rolling him onto his back, flipping him onto his belly and pulling him back onto his cock. A high, sharp cry broke loose from Remus's chest as he scrambled to get his forearms and knees under him while Sirius slid home. He could hardly stand how good it felt when Sirius started to move, could hardly stand the litany of praise washing over him in both English and French.

"So—fucking—good." Sirius punctuated it with snaps of his hips that stole the breath from Remus's lungs. He was going to come; he was going to sob; he was going to die if Sirius stopped. He sank right under to the rhythmic smack of the headboard against the wall, down so deep that nothing existed in the whole world except the feeling of his husband's body holding his, the smell of his sweat, the sound of his perfect voice behind and above him as he said things like "gorgeous, Re" and "you're amazing out there" and "wanna play with you forever."

He'd completely forgotten about his own cock, but Sirius hadn't; a few tight strokes was all it took to make his orgasm slam into him for real this time. Sirius doubled over while fucking him through it to try and catch him in a kiss, but Remus couldn't do more than moan against his lips as wave after wave of pleasure wracked him.

Up this close, Remus felt like he was drowning in a pool of silver as their eyes met. He was breathing like he'd just come off a double shift. Sirius was still hot and hard inside him, and Remus's brows pitched in a wordless plea. Sirius pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek, weighing him down just enough to stretch Remus's orgasm out to the very last dregs as his hips moved in quick, shallow thrusts, then slow, erratic ones as he gave Remus the last thing he wanted.

When Sirius finally pulled out and rolled onto his back, the bed creaked; when he coaxed Remus down to lay on his chest and Remus gave him (and the mattress) his full, afterglow-heavy weight, a distinct crack-snap was followed by the half of the bed that was underneath them hitting the floor as the frame gave, while the other half valiantly hung on at its normal height, sending the two of them rolling off onto the floor.

They stared at each other in shock for a moment, and then there was nothing to do but laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

Maybe it was a little bit his fault, but technically, it was Sirius's room (that Logan had blessedly been kicked out of for a few hours), so it was his name on the fine that was eventually mailed to their house. But Remus, being a kind and loving husband, offered to split the cost.

#my fic #sweater weather lumosinlove #coast to coast lumosinlove #vaincre lumosinlove #coops #this was supposed to be like 500 words lol

[the-iceni-bitch]

Congrats on 7000 followers!! For your Fluffmas celebration, I feel like Lloyd and his coquinette are perfect for the dialogue prompt “Did you make me a tinsel crown?” because of her love of shiny things.

I can definitely see this! And it’s perfect because you know his coquinette goes way over the top with the Christmas decorations!!

Warnings for fluff and just a little bit of smuttiness.

The front hall of of the estate was practically blinding when Lloyd walked through the front door, all the lights and the garland and extravagant gold ornaments making him chuckle as he started to try to find you.

“Amour?” Lloyd called out as he wandered through the foyer, longing for the sight of you even though he had only been gone for a few hours. “Ma nénette, where are you?”

“The salon!” You beamed as soon as you set eyes on him, bouncing just a little on your toes after you hung another ornament on the massive tree and gesturing to your masterpiece. “What do you think?”

“It’s enormous.” He laughed when you gave him a bratty huff at the lack of compliments, biting his lip as he walked to where you were standing on the ladder while you wiggled petulantly in that way that made your tits jiggle. “It’s almost as beautiful as you, chérie, but why are you the one standing on the ladder? Why didn’t you ask Brutus or Cleveland to do it?”

“They kept putting things in the wrong places.” You leaned down and giggled when he grabbed your hand and kissed it. “Hand me one of the red ones.”

“Uh-huh, and why aren’t they at least holding the ladder for you?” Lloyd handed you an ornament and watched you stretch to place it, groaning when your skirt rose up your hips and gave him a perfect view of your bare pussy from his position at the base of the ladder. “Never mind, that answers my question.”

“Hush… Lloyd!” You squealed when he grabbed your knee and pulled as soon as you placed your ornament, falling into his arms and letting out tiny little whines when he started kissing you all over your face and neck. “Mon loup, wait! I have something for you.”

“Mon joli chaton, did you get me a present?” Lloyd nibbled on your ear and started walking towards where you indicated, sinking onto the chaise and settling you in his lap while you grabbed the glittering package you had set aside. “You’re so fucking sweet. Look at this! Did you make me a tinsel crown?”

“Mmhm, I thought you’d look pretty with one.” You pressed yourself close and placed it on his head, kissing the tip of his nose and humming when he wound his arms around your waist. “And I was right, you look very pretty, Daddy.”

“Ma pie, you and your sparkly things, you spoil your Daddy.” Lloyd leaned forward and sucked on your neck until you purred, licking over the bruise he’d left before starting to nip his way down your chest. “Gonna spoil you too, make my girl al sparkly. What do you say we hang some ornaments and tinsel on your pretty nipples while you ride me and then I’ll come all over that glistening little pussy until you look like a perfect present for your Daddy?”

ᥴ᥆mᥱ ȷ᥆іᥒ mᥡ 𝖿ᥣᥙ𝖿𝖿mᥲs ᥴᥱᥣᥱᑲrᥲ𝗍і᥆ᥒ!

#natalie answers #natalie’s fluffmas celebration #poison paradise #le grand homme and coquinette #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen fluff #chris evans #chris evans character #the gray man #asks are always open

[super-ion]

Red & Wolf

(remastered)

Chapter 1: Princess

Red sprinted through the forest, weaving around tree trunks as low branches slapped at her face and snagged at her clothes. She dared not pause to see if her pursuers were still following. If half the stories of the enchanted wood were true, one would have to be crazy to enter so close to dark.

What did that make her?

Desperate, she reminded herself. She never would have entered if not for the direst need. She desperately hoped the Queen's huntsmen would have hesitated on the border of the wood. Loyalty would certainly eventually win out over apprehension, but she needed any shred of distance she could put between them and herself and them.

Something caught her toe, a stone or a root, she wasn't sure. Either way, she pitched over and found herself half sliding, half rolling down a leaf coated slope. She landed hard against the trunk of a tree, with a thud that knocked the breath out of her.

She suppressed a groan of pain as she sat up slowly and tried to catch her breath. As far as she could tell, nothing was broken, but a dozen new cuts and scrapes burned painfully. Aches bloomed across her body where bruises would certainly follow.

Just as she was recovered enough to stand and keep moving, a hand clapped over her mouth and an arm wrapped around her middle blocking her arms.

Instinct took over and Red tried to scream.

"Quiet!" hissed a low soft voice at her ear, which only made Red struggle harder.

She thrashed and twisted. She tried to scratch and bite, anything to get out of the iron grip of her captor.

"Hey! Lady, I'm trying to… Hey! Stop struggling, you idiot! I'm trying to help you!"

That voice.

The accent, the cadence, the words, the tone. Red knew that voice. She fought down the panic trying to claw its way out of her and willed herself to stillness.

"I'm going to let go," the voice said. "Don't scream, don't run."

Red nodded and the hands let go.

She whirled to see the girl. She was taller than Red, more lean, more muscled. She wore hunter's clothes, sturdy and practical, all in browns and greens. Her skin was tan and freckled from the sun, with a few more pale scars than Red remembered. The wild brown hair was drawn back in a messy braid that Red did remember.

And the eyes…

Red would recognize those eyes anywhere. They had playfully haunted her dreams for years. The golden brown color, almost gold or amber, had always reminded Red of fallen leaves.

"Loup?" she whispered, not daring to trust her eyes and the new hope that flickered in her chest.

The other girl blinked and cocked her head in confusion. Her brow creased and she narrowed her eyes. Of course Loup wouldn't recognize her. Five years ago, Red had been someone else, someone pretending to be something they weren't, hiding the truth even from themself.

Loup made the tiniest inhalation of a gasp and her eyes widened. Seemingly unbidden she tentatively reached to brush a tress of Red’s hair.

Loup opened her mouth to speak, but she froze, eyes darting back up the hill Red had tumbled down. Without a word, she grabbed Red's arm in a firm but gentle grip and pulled her behind a fallen log. She pressed a finger to her lips and Red nodded and willed her lungs and heart to stop working so loudly.

Loup peered over the log before crouching down once more next to Red. She chewed her lip and eyed Red's cloak dubiously. It was a crimson hood that in retrospect was probably a terrible choice for fleeing through the woods.

"Give me that," she said, gesturing to the cloak.

"What?" gasped Red.

"Someone's coming,” Loup replied. “Judging by your state, you're looking to not get caught. Give me the cloak and I'll send them on a false trail."

Red hesitated. Loup had been her friend once, but that was a long time ago. Five years earlier she and her grandmother had stolen into the night, chased by rumors of monsters and witchcraft.

After the events of the past few weeks, Red’s trust was in painfully short supply.

Was Loup even the same person that Red remembered?

"Look,” Loup sighed, seeing Red's expression, “I want to help you. If you are who I think you are, then you know we once trusted each other. Can you trust me now? Please?”

What choice did Red have?

This was Loup. This was her Loup.

She swallowed and nodded. She unclasped the cloak and pulled it off her shoulders before holding it out with the slightest tremble in her hands.

Loup flashed a crooked smile as she took the cloak. Red never thought she would see that smile again. Seeing it now sent a thrill through her.

Loup threw the cloak around her own shoulders with a jaunty flourish, flashing Red a wink as she fastened it.

"Stay here,” she said. “Stay quiet. I'll be right back."

Her eyes lingered on Red for a moment.

"You look good, Red.”

*

Loup ran.

Red had made such a horrible racket, running blind through the forest as she had. It took every fiber of Loup’s focus to move just as noisily, to fight down every instinct of stealth and silence.

She needed them to follow her, whoever it was that pursued Red.

This was her forest.

She knew it better than any of the trappers or huntsmen foolish enough to venture in. She knew exactly where to lead them to get them off Red's trail.

That was Red, wasn't it? Loup had barely recognized him…

Her, Loup corrected herself.

Finding Red in her forest had certainly been a surprise. Finding her to be not the grangly boy that Loup remembered was even more of a shock. But she had Red's brilliant auburn hair, her grey-green eyes, that scent that had always reminded Loup of roses and lavender.

She slid to a halt at the edge of a ravine and scanned the rushing water below as she caught her breath. Yes, this would do nicely.

She yanked the cloak off her shoulders, cringing as the fastenings tore. It was a nice cloak, nicer than anything she owned. She would have to make it up to Red somehow.

She tangled the cloak up in a thorn bush. Then she heaved a nearby log down the slope causing it to crash into the ravine below. The false trail wouldn't hold up to any scrutiny, not from an experienced huntsman, but in the fading light of the evening, it might be enough. In the very worst case, it would buy them time.

She doubled back on the intentionally careless path she had left for them to follow and climbed quickly and silently into a tree. These were her woods. The huntsman might be experienced, but she had spent every day for the past five years stalking through these trees.

She was now the hunter and he was her quarry.

A few moments later the huntsman appeared. He was alone, which was surprising. Any companions he might have had had must have turned back, sensibly not wishing to linger here after dark. This one though moved silent and deadly along the path. Something else must be driving this one, some dire unknown purpose.

She did not want to fight one of the queen's huntsman, but she would to keep Red safe.

The realization startled her. Red had only tumbled back into her life moments before and here she was ready to risk her life for her best friend. It didn't help that her friend was now absolutely beautiful…

Focus. She needed to focus.

The huntsman had found the cloak and was dubiously examining the edge of the ravine just as she hoped he would. But then he muttered a curse and began searching the area with a tense desperation.

Loup gritted her teeth and eased her hunting knife out of its sheath.

What are you up to? She asked silently.

He froze and quick as lightning, quicker than she could have possibly reacted, he drew his bow and fired off an arrow into the underbrush.

The resulting scream wasn't human and Loup felt herself relax by the tiniest degree. Red had been wise enough not to follow her.

She watched him as he dragged the body of a wild pig into the clearing. With quick precise moments he had the pigs heart out of its chest and was wrapping it in Red’s cloak, heedless of the blood that spattered all over it.

Satisfied with his grisly task, he turned back down the trail and moved swiftly back in the direction of the queen's castle.

Loup stared at the carcass for a long while.

What the hell have you gotten yourself mixed up in, Red?

*

Red was half asleep, wedged uncomfortably between the branches of the fallen tree when she was startled awake by the sound of a twig snapping. She leapt to her feet in a burst of terror and brandished the dagger she had been clutching.

"Woah! Calm down! It's just me," Loup said, raising her hands placatingly and taking a cautious step back.

Red blinked at her for a moment before dropping the dagger and lunging to throw her arms around Loup. The other girl grunted in surprise as Red buried her face in her shoulder.

"Um… okay," Loup said as she returned the hug tentatively.

Red let out a single sob. It felt so good to see Loup again.

"So... Do you still go by Red, or should I call you something else?"

Red pulled back and sniffed. "Red's fine, I always liked Red."

Loup might have blushed at that, it was hard to tell in the twilight, but the flicker of a delighted half grin was unmistakable.

Loup had been the first one to use that name after all. Loup had discovered a sniffling prince hiding in the hay loft in the stables, in one of the horrible, sick moments when Red wanted to be someone else, anyone else. It hadn't taken Loup very long at all to determine Red’s true identity, but the nickname stuck, and Loup had never once used her given name.

Loup was now studying her with a strange intensity that made Red suddenly shy.

"Come on," Loup said finally. "There's a hunting shack a couple miles from here. We should be able to get there before it gets too dark."

Red looked up at the twilight sky, painted red-gold by the fading sun. A trickle of dread coursed though her as she realized how late it was.

“Isn't the forest dangerous at night?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.

"You're not frightened of the Big Bad Wolf, are you?" Loup replied with a flash of a wicked smile.

Red swallowed.

"Should I be?"

Loup laughed.

"It's just a story that my grandmother made up to keep unwanted guests away. I'm the most dangerous thing you're likely to meet around these parts.”

Loup tossed her head in a beckoning motion and started walking, prompting Red to stumble after her.

"So… it's been a long time," Red said as she caught up.

"Sure has," Loup said, sounding somewhat evasive.

"You left so suddenly and I never found out why. I mean, there were rumors, but you never know."

"Rumors?" Loup paused, glancing back at Red, face creased with worry.

"They said your grandmother was a witch and you seduced a stable girl.”

Loup barked a laugh.

"Yeah, that's… pretty much exactly what happened,” Loup said with a wink that made Red blush.

Loup laughed again before sobering slightly.

"After your stepmother took over, things weren't looking too great for… people like us, so Grandmother made plans to run. One night we got word that the guards were coming and we left."

They walked in silence for a while as Red digested that. She knew the impact of the queen's policies all too well. Loup's grandmother had been right to run.

"I wrote you," Red said softly. "For a little while at least."

"I know," Loup said with a slight strain in her voice. "Grandmother said it was too dangerous to reply."

"I would have come with you," Red said in a rush, the words spilling out before she could stop them.

Loup hunched her shoulders and kept looking ahead.

"I know…” she said, “and I did ask Grandmother, I begged her to let you come with us. Again, she said it was too dangerous. She asked me what would happen when the queen realized we kidnapped the prince."

Red felt her stomach twist at that last word. She fell back a few paces until Loup turned around, her expression a mix of regret and curiosity.

Red's heart began to race. This part of the conversation had been inevitable and if anyone would understand, it would be Loup, but the ever present nagging terror had been eating away at her in the background.

"So… um… are you a princess now or what?"

Red forced a smile.

"Legally, no, but it's… complicated.”

Loup raised an eyebrow.

“But you are a woman, right?”

Red nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Loup studied her, opened her mouth to speak and closed it once more without saying anything. Instead she opted to wrap Red up in a big hug.

“Glad you figured it out,” Loup said and Red felt the tension drain out of her.

“I mean,” she added, “I'm not exactly surprised.”

Red stifled a giggle.

“You're okay with it right?” Red asked. “You're still my friend?”

Loup scoffed.

“Of course, dummy.”

Red found herself grinning.

“This… doesn't have anything to do with why you were being hunted, does it?” Loup asked with a protective edge to her voice.

“Yes,” Red sighed. “But not the way you'd think. Years ago my stepmother uncovered a prophecy that said the fairest princess in the kingdom would take her throne. She was secure in her belief that her daughter would one day become queen until she checked her magic mirror and saw me instead of my stepsister."

"Huh…” Red commented wryly. “Congratulations on your magically affirmed gender, I guess.”

"Thanks," Red replied with a sardonic smile.

For all the terror of the past few days, it did feel oddly validating.

"How exactly does a magic mirror judge fairness though?"

Red shrugged. "I have no idea, but she believed it and my life became a lot more complicated."

Loup frowned and chewed idly at her lip.

“That explains the huntsman then…”

She related what she had seen at the edge of the ravine, the huntsman, the torn cloak and the pig’s heart.

Red mused over that for a while.

“The huntsman?” she asked finally. “He was blond with a scar over his left eye?”

Loup nodded.

"That's Maximilian, I'm pretty sure he's in love with my stepsister. He must have taken the heart as a decoy, maybe trick them into thinking I was dead? Maybe, if they think I'm dead, they won't come back."

"And what's going to stop your stepmother from checking the mirror again and seeing you alive?"

Red frowned.

"We'll head to Grandmother's house in the morning, she'll know what to do," Loup assured her. “Worse comes to worst, I'll keep you safe. I promise.”

*

Night had fallen fully by the time they reached the hunting shack. The last glow of the sunset had faded and the stars glittered through the branches of the trees overhead.

After their initial conversation, Red had remained quiet. The girl was understandably exhausted and had begun to stumble in the gloom

The shack itself wasn't much to look at, just a single room built against a rocky outcropping. But it was meagerly stocked with provisions and it kept the evening chill at bay.

"Make yourself comfortable," Loup said, gesturing at the pallet of furs.

"There's only one bed," Red said, her voice hazy with exhaustion.

"There is," Loup said as she busied herself with the stove. "I'll be fine on the floor, you need it more than I do."

"You don't want to share?"

Loup fumbled the firestarter and she felt her face heat.

"Uh… no, it's fine. I'll be fine."

She took a breath and forced her hands to steady and finally get the fire going.

"I'm sorry, it's not exactly top tier accommodations," she said over her shoulder with a grin.

But Red was already asleep. She had only barely managed to get her boots off before collapsing from exhaustion.

Loup grabbed a blanket and draped it over Red's sleeping form. Her eyes lingered on Red's face for a moment. Beneath the scrapes and smears of dirt, Red was indeed beautiful.

It was Red, but not the timid, uncertain creature she remembered. The Red she met in the forest today had certainly been scared, frightened even, but underneath the immediate fear, she carried herself like someone who knew exactly who she wanted to be.

Loup wrapped her own jacket around herself and curled up on the floor opposite the sleeping pallet. It wasn't the worst sleeping conditions she has ever subjected herself to, but as the night wore on, she found herself wishing that she had taken up Red's offer to share.

Dim firelight played across Red's face and Loup's mind wandered back to the nights like this one, when she and her best friend stayed up through the night, sharing secrets.

But there was one secret that Loup had never shared with Red.

#my girls are back! #this story sorely needed editing but I'm glad i did it #my writing #lesbian #transgender #writers on tumblr #writeblr #fantasy #fantasy lesbians #transgender fairy tale #lesbian fairy tale #fairy tale mashup #lgbtq fairy tail #lgbtq fantasy

[uvobreakmylegs]

Psychopomp’s Lament: Chapter 1

chapter 1 of a vampire!Pakunoda x reader series i’ve been planning out for a while now. i hope everyone who reads enjoys it :D

Next Chapter

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of death and gore, mentions of disease

Word count: 4.4k

A loud knocking on the wooden door of the room you were staying in woke you from your rest, the noise jolting you out of sleep. You groaned a bit as you pushed yourself up from the bed; it hadn't felt like you'd gotten a lot of sleep, and you couldn't help the annoyance in your voice when you called out a sharp “yes?”

“So sorry to disturb you, miss.”

You recognized the voice. It was one of the bar maids who worked for the inn. The brunette who'd been eager to chat with you the previous night. You had noted to yourself that you found her to be nice, although at the moment you didn't feel quite as warmly towards her as you had earlier.

“It's fine,” you said, although you hadn't been able to completely get the irritation out of your tone, “what is it?”

“You have a visitor.”

“What's their name?”

“He called himself Loupe.”

Hearing that name was like getting a bucket of cold water thrown onto you, and suddenly you were awake, your mind clear and all traces of your previous tiredness gone completely.

“Ah, I see. Tell him I'll be there shortly.”

The woman gave an affirmation, and then you heard her footsteps growing fainter on the wooden floors as she headed back towards the tavern area, where Loupe was no doubt waiting for you.

The night before you had fallen to the bed while still in your clothes, and though part of you had felt like a slob for doing so, you had been so tired that you didn't have the energy to remove them. At least that meant that you wouldn't need to take up any time getting dressed. After splashing some water on your face to freshen up and making sure that your hair wasn't too much of a mess, you exited the room and made your way to the dining area.

Loupe didn't strike you as the type to be strict when it came to one's appearance, but it was better to try and appear as though you hadn't just gotten out of bed.

He was your boss, after all.

You found him sitting next to a far wall when you entered. As you had come to expect from him, he was focused on a document he had in hand, no doubt double-checking over every detail of your next assignment before he passed it over to you.

He noticed you when you came closer, and he got up to greet you as he invited you to sit with him.

“Did you have a good trip, sir?” you asked as you sat in the seat opposite him.

“Oh, it was fine,” he answered, “have you eaten?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“Then perhaps we can discuss this over breakfast.”

Loupe Highland wasn't necessarily one of the most social people of the association – in fact, most of the higher rank Hunters could best be described as being strange – but after how long you had worked under him, you could safely say that he liked you. At least he liked you enough to make sure you ate first when he could've easily gone straight into whatever assignment you had been tasked with. He even went as far as to make some form of small talk.

“Is there any need for further supplies for the relief effort?” he asked.

“I don't think so, sir,” you answered between bites, “the majority of the illness appears to have been wiped out. If there are still some who are infected with the disease, I think most local healers will be able to take care of it without it becoming too much of an issue.”

“Good, good,” he said, nodding.

An outbreak of the plague was what had initially brought you to this region. A disease that had caught people by surprise, one that blackened the flesh of those unfortunate to become infected and spread until functionality of the limbs were lost and those blackened parts of the body became stiff and rigid. A great number of people had required amputation of some sort as the disease had spread far too quickly for medicine to be of any help.

You had been among those that the Hunter association had sent out to help with aid to the region. Bringing medicines and fresh bandages and whatever else the towns you visited needed. It was over a year ago that you had arrived, when the plague was at its worst. And now most of it had subsided, and you suspected that you were the only one still on standby in that region, with everyone else having moved on to other areas with other assignments, other problems that needed to be taken care of.

“Have you been assigned to this region for something, sir?” you asked.

“Missing people, as usual,” Loupe answered, “disease like that scatters people about as they try to escape it or they run from their loved ones for fear of giving them the illness, only for them to die somewhere out in the wilderness. But now that things have settled, I've been sent in to locate them. So their loved ones can know what their fate ultimately was, at the very least.”

“With how many areas were affected, I can only imagine that list of missing people is a large one.”

“You're not wrong.”

Loupe reached over to the seat next to him where his bag sat, pulling it up by the flap at the top and revealing what was inside. A thick stack of paper, the pages no doubt filled with the names of those who had gone missing since the plague began. At seeing that, you found that you definitely didn't envy your bosses' main job of dealing with lost and missing people.

“Since you mentioned it, I suppose this is a good time to bring up why I've met with you here,” he said, setting his bag back down and pushing his mostly empty plate aside. You sat up straighter when he reached for the documents you'd seen him holding earlier, and you copied his motion of setting the plate to the side as he handed you the pages. As you scanned over the paper, Loupe spoke.

“There's a mining town called Peijin within the East Gorteau region, and for months now no one has been able to make contact with anyone who lives there. No one living within the town has come out, and any who go to Peijin never come back. Quite a few merchants and tradesmen who've been eager to start business up again have gone missing after they set out for that town.”

You nodded as you listened and read the information before you. A mining town nestled between two mountains, with only one way in or out. The main export seemed to be fine metals and stones used for jewelry that sold at a high price. No wonder the merchants wanted to get business running up there again. They likely anticipated that the town would be desperate for their flow of resources to start up again and would sell those materials for far lower prices to get what they needed.

“Are we not aware of the current state of Peijin? Has no one been able to get close?” you asked.

“Two scouts were sent out to investigate after a report was filed,” Loupe said, “they are also missing. A third was sent, but he was given orders to survey the general area and to keep from approaching the town itself. He went as far as the edge of the forest path that leads to Peijin, and the only thing he could discern was a particularly strong odor that came from what he assumed was the direction of the town.”

“So we really have no idea what's going on with it?”

“I'm afraid not,” he said, then added “there's also reports of strange things happening within the surrounding region. People who are sick or elderly seem to be living beyond their expectations.”

You furrowed your brows.

“People living longer is an issue?” you asked.

“It is when people are stuck and in pain on their would-be deathbed but can't pass on to the next world,” he said.

Ah. That was what he meant.

“Sorry for that, sir.”

“It's fine. I can understand that it may not sound like a problem at first.”

The other pages of the report just went over what he had told you, although on the very last page you found there to be a list of deities that were worshiped within that region. You didn't recognize the names, which must have meant that the religion they were apart of was one on the smaller side. Some form of Paganism, it seemed. Something in you told you that this was important, and you made a mental note to do further research if you got the chance.

“When do I need to leave?” you asked.

“Preferably as soon as possible,” Loupe answered, “by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. In the event that the people of the town are still alive, the association doesn't want them to be left there. And although we've barred anyone from traveling to the town, I'm sure you know how effective that usually is.”

“People are going anyway.”

“Yes,” he said, “worried people who are scared for their loved ones who went to the town or are still stuck inside it. And then they go off to investigate for themselves and only add to the list of missing people.”

You looked again at a map that was among the documents, the town of Peijin and your current location clearly marked. You estimated that it would be a three day journey to get there on foot.

The town you were in had an extensive library, you remembered. Maybe there was a chance they would have more information on that region. Or perhaps a bit more on their gods.

“I think I'll leave tomorrow morning,” you told him, “I'd like to do whatever research I can before I leave.”

“That's fine.”

Setting the papers down in front of you, you looked back over to him.

“What will the association's plan be if I don't come back?” you asked.

“Then we'll know that it's a problem that can't be solved by an average Hunter and we'll send in a call for a single star Hunter at the very least.”

….. Oh.

“So what you're saying is if I die too, it'll be enough excuse to get the association to send someone more capable.”

“You're plenty capable.”

“But yes,” he admitted, “although I would like that to not be the case. It's bad enough that we've likely lost the two scouts who went in. It would be another blow to us if we lose someone like you.”

“I doubt there are many in the association who would agree with you on that.”

There was no mistaking the bitterness in your voice, and he frowned again.

Stupid, you told yourself. He's trying to be nice and you need to go ruin it by saying that?

The smile you gave him was weak, but you did mean it when you said “but I do appreciate you saying so, sir.”

“Yes. Well,” he began, “at least it should be nice for you to finally leave this area. Do something more then hand out food and medicine.”

“Handing out food and medicine is fine,” you said, “besides, I got to leave a few days ago on my last assignment.”

Loupe frowned again, his eyebrows furrowing as he asked you “what? What last assignment?”

You blinked at him, confused.

“Down in the village of Doli. I was sent a message ordering me to take care of a monster in the river there.”

“They sent you there without informing me?” he asked.

“I... I suppose they did, sir. I'm sorry,” you said, “I assumed you were aware.”

“No, it's not your fault,” he said, sighing and adding “the way things are handled at the association are not always right. Still, I'm not sure why they would send you without notifying me.”

“I assumed they sent me because I was the one closest to the area,” you told him, “and since the problem was something within my expertise, I suppose that was also a factor in their decision.”

“Mm. A river monster, you said?”

“Specifically a kelpie.”

Loupe's brows furrowed again as he tried to recall which one that was.

“Kelpie.... That isn't the seal person, is it?”

“No. The kelpie is a river spirit. Usually takes the form of a horse and lures its victims into the river.”

“And you settled the matter?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Have you finished writing your report on the incident?”

“Yes, I have it in – ah! I actually have it on me, if you'd like to look it over,” you said, reaching for the folded paper in your pocket.

“Please.”

Setting the pages he had given to you down, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the report you had finished up only last night. Though sleeping with it still on your person hadn't done it any favors as it was hopelessly crinkled. You tried to smooth the paper out, but there was little else you could do to fix it before you handed it over to him.

Loupe skimmed over the page, another frown quickly forming on his face as he read the contents.

“Five children drowned and eaten,” he said, shaking his head as he continued “how unfortunate.”

“Children tend to be the main target of that sort of beast,” you commented, “it has an easier time tricking them into trusting it.”

“Those sort of monsters always go after the weakest ones, don't they?”

You nodded in agreement.

He read down further.

“You say the children were dead before you arrived,” he began, “what happened with this old man that died after that point?”

He looked up at you in question.

You suspected there would be questions about that part, and you weren't excited to explain why you had failed to save someone.

“When I was fighting the thing,” you explained, “there was a man with a boy near the river. The boy had a dog with him, and when the poor thing saw the beast, it spooked and ended up running into the river. The boy ran after the dog, and the man ran after the boy.”

“And the kelpie noticed this?”

You nodded.

“It was bleeding out and desperate,” you said, “I think seeing those two gave it a second wind that I wasn't expecting.”

“I was only able to save the boy,” you continued, “the man's arm became stuck to the beast, and he drowned when it submerged again.”

“I see.”

The mood had now turned significantly grim, and as he read the rest of your report, you saw him try to contain a small sigh.

“Well,” he said, “at least you killed the thing.”

You nodded.

“Hopefully that town can have some peace now.”

He noticed when you frowned at that.

“Something wrong?”

“I think the association might want to avoid sending any of our personnel into that town for a while,” you told him.

“For what reason?”

“The families that had lost their children had been under the impression that they were still alive, and they were.... Not satisfied when I told them that there was no lair that the kelpie was keeping them.”

“And you're certain that they're dead?”

“Sir, I found rotting human entrails littered across the riverbank,” you said, “those five are gone.”

You could still see the angry faces of those parents when you informed them of that. When you told them that their children were no longer of this world and all that remained were the chewed up bits of organs on the sand. Rage and despair and hatred directed at you, the Hunter who was meant to save their young ones but couldn't do even that.

Loupe must've had an idea of the thoughts that were plaguing your mind based on what he said next.

“Try not to resent them too much,” he told you, “they're grieving. No parent wants to experience the death of their child.”

“I know.”

You were about to say something else, but paused when the bar maid walked over to the table to collect your empty plates, waiting until she had left earshot before you continued.

“They also felt that I should've been able to save the man as well as the boy.”

“I see.”

Placing the report down and clasping his hands, Loupe gave another small sigh, this time not bothering trying to hide it.

You knew there would be some kind of reprimand coming your way, but that didn't help the horrid feeling of anticipating it.

“I know you do your best,” he started, “and that is appreciated.”

“But things like that,” he continued, nodding towards your report “are what the association will focus on. For many in the higher echelons, a civilian dying while a Hunter is present is something that is unacceptable. And after the Ochima Pass incident, you don't need any more dead civilians on your record.”

You cringed a little at his last statement, although you had been wondering how long it would take for that to be brought up.

Ochima Pass was always mentioned whenever you had made some mistake.

He tilted his head towards you when you didn't answer.

“Is there anything you want to say?” he asked.

“I don't want to make excuses, sir.”

“Ah.”

It was quiet between the two of you for a few more moments, and then he sighed once more, pushing his glasses up as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“I'm sorry,” he said, “you already get such a hard time from everyone. I shouldn't be so harsh.”

He looked back down at the report once more, saying “six dead is unfortunate, but were it not for you, that town would still be suffering because of that thing. You did well.”

You offered a small smile.

“Thank you,” you said.

The tavern area had been fairly quiet up until now, just the two of you and a few other patrons that were quietly finishing up their breakfast. That changed when the front door burst open and a loud group entered, all chattering away and a few calling for drinks despite the early hour. Your gaze went to the group when you heard them, just as everyone else in the building had, but although the tavern's regulars looked at them with annoyance and thinly veiled disgust, you found yourself focusing on a woman in the group.

Her build was different and her skin was a tad darker, but what really stood out to you was her short hair that was a particular shade of blonde. She happened to glance over in your direction, and you saw the brown eyes that looked at you through the strands of her golden hair.

With Ochima Pass already on your mind, it wasn't hard for that sight to trigger a memory:

The darkness of the mountain was illuminated by the fires that still burned within the camp while the harsh wind rushed past the both of you, kicking up the white of the snow and red that had stained it. Blonde hair fluttered across the pale but bloodstained face of the woman who stood before you, and beneath the strands a pair of deep brown eyes looked at you, taking in your stiff form while you continued to stand uselessly. Then the color changed from brown to yellow, pupils dilating and a mouth full of sharp teeth opening up in a snarl as she suddenly surged forward-

You snapped your head away, suddenly finding the grain of the table to be fascinating to look at.

Your boss had noticed your reaction, and he understood when he saw the woman you'd been looking at. But he waited a few moments before he spoke next.

“When was the last time you saw that woman?” Loupe asked you.

“... Two years ago now.”

A lie.

“When you encountered her and another from her group, correct?”

You nodded.

“How many of the troupe have you seen in person by now?”

“Only – only two, sir.”

You pretended to cough when you stuttered and hoped that he didn't recognize that you had nearly given a different answer. The real number was three, but you feared that if that knowledge became known it would only spell more trouble for you.

“And how many times have you seen her?”

“Three,” you answered, “that first time in Ochima, the second shortly after I recovered from that, and the third two years ago, when the big one was going to crush my head with his foot.”

The real answer to his question was four, and yet again you kept that extra encounter to yourself out of fear.

“Seeing one of the troupe face to face three times,” he mused, “that's more than even the triple star Hunters have seen. Too often those that encounter the troupe never live to tell the tale.”

“I know.”

That was a fact that had been made quite clear to you from many of the association, and it was the source of the distrust and dislike that most had for you.

“I really don't know why I've managed to live through all of that,” you told him, “I should've died the first time I met her at Ochima.”

“We know that the troupe is cunning, and I have no doubts that they intend to use you for some plot of theirs,” Loupe said, “I know you don't need me to tell you this, but be careful if you encounter her again. She could be letting you live just to lull you into a false sense that she isn't a threat to you.”

You doubted that there were any plans that involved you. She probably just wanted something to play with.

But you kept that thought to yourself, just nodding at his words.

The chiming of a nearby clock signaled the changing of the hour, and with that, signaled the end of this meeting between the two of you.

“Well, I need to be going.”

With that, Loupe stood, gathering his bag and leaving enough coin on the table to pay for the meal. You had nearly forgotten why he was actually here; the mountain of lost people weren't going to find themselves.

“Until we meet again,” he said.

“I hope so, sir.”

Loupe paused. There was a sad look in his eye as he gazed at you, and he placed his hand on your shoulder as he spoke your name.

“You're a good person,” he said, “you just have extraordinarily bad luck.”

“That's one way of putting it.”

He patted your shoulder, continuing with “we'll see each other again. I know it.”

He began to walk away from the table, calling out to you “try to have this issue with Peijin end on a happy note.”

You nodded.

With that, Loupe exited through the door of the inn, and then he was gone.

You remained seated, your eyes following the patterns of the wood grain on the table in front of you. End on a happy note. It would be nice if you could deliver that, even though it seemed like an impossibility. Loupe likely knew that even as he said it, but he was trying to help you. Trying to make your outlook a bit more positive. Time had made you far too pessimistic as it wore on. Something that had begun early on in your Hunter career, and worsened every time a mission of yours ended on a less than satisfying note.

Loupe was correct. When he sent in that report for you, your enemies at the association would focus on your failure to save a single life. That would be the only thing they would read.

A happy end for the issue in Peijin would be a good way to try and offset that.

“So you really are a Hunter?”

The voice of the bar maid brought you out of your thoughts, and you glanced up to see the brunette looking at you with a certain amount of awe.

“Sorry, I heard little bits of your conversation,” she explained, “I kinda suspected that you were someone important when we talked last night, but I wasn't sure until I heard you two. That really was your boss? From the Hunter Association?”

“Yeah,” you answered, nodding.

She had a look on her face that reminded you of when you were younger. Back in your hometown, a Hunter had also lived and stayed there during their off-time. They were a local hero, and you and dozens of other children would listen to their every word with fascination as they told of their exploits during their travels. They had been the reason you had become a Hunter in the first place.

At hearing your words, she beamed at you.

“That's amazing that you can do that. I've heard that being a Hunter is hard, but it must feel so good to be able to travel around and help people like you do.”

Help people.

The last person you had helped had been that little boy, who had cried and squirmed in your grip after you had narrowly pulled him away from the snapping teeth of the kelpie. And the last person you had failed had been the boy's grandfather, whose arm had become stuck to the beast when he attempted to fight it off, and his eyes were wide with horror as he screamed for you to save him, to free him from that monster, to not let him drown.

His last moments in life were panicked and full of despair, his last breaths being used to scream at you before he was pulled beneath the dark water.

The boy you had saved was inconsolable, and he had been snatched away from you by one in a crowd of townsfolk who had come swarming out of their homes once they realized that the kelpie had gone away again.

And the townsfolk had cursed you, even after you had shot the kelpie full of your arrows and presented the body to them as proof that the deed was done. They blamed you for that man's death, even though you'd told them, you had told them that they all needed to stay away from the river. But you were the scum who was not only unable to save the lives of those lost children, but also needed to sacrifice an old man in order to do something as simple as killing a monster.

It must feel good to help people

You managed to fake a smile, nodding as you told her “yeah, it does.”

#reader insert #yandere #yandere hunter x hunter #hxh pakunoda #pakunoda x reader #yandere pakunoda #yandere x reader #yandere hxh #Pakunoda #loupe highland #x reader series

[gal-palanaeum]

Four Dresses by Abalidoth

Rated Teen, 1000 words, Ranette/Marasi Marasi knows how important it is to dress for any occasion, especially when a certain gunsmith is involved.

Black and brown, utilitarian. Calf-length skirt that sheds stains easily. A working dress. Accessorize with an unsolved case file.

Marasi knocked at the door, fully expecting a shotgun in her face. Ranette was, of course, always the one to defy expectations -- it was a pistol.

“Miss Colms,” Ranette said. “What can I do for you? How did you find my house? And more importantly, does Wayne know where it is?”

“I need help with a case, I called in some favors, and I haven’t breathed a word of this to him.”

A pause. Then Ranette closed the door, did something with the deadbolts, and flung it open wide. “Inside. Quickly.”

Marasi stepped through, and Ranette Pulled the door closed with a gesture. “A case?” she asked.

“I’ve been working with the constabulary as part of my doctoral studies. Something of an internship.”

As Ranette led her through the house, Marasi couldn’t help but notice how Ranette looked in her trousers. When Marasi had borrowed them they just felt awkward, but the gunsmith wore them with confident, attractive grace. “If you lead the constabulary to my door, Miss Colms…”

“I promise that won’t happen. They wanted to find you, I offered to go and ask for your help on the condition that they didn’t come looking for you.”

Ranette stopped by her workbench. Marasi saw the tension ease in her shoulders, even obscured by her thick braid. “That was… very thoughtful of you.”

Marasi reached into her bag and pulled out a handful of melted, deformed bullets. “These were used in a bank robbery. They’re not a usual alloy, and there’s an unusual shape to them. Any idea who’s behind this?”

“Hmm.” Ranette fitted a jeweler’s loupe on her forehead and bent over the workbench, turning them this way and that. Marasi looked around the office, not trusting herself not to stare otherwise.

After a few minutes of inspection, Ranette dropped them back on the workbench. “Kelippe’s work. Looks like he’s trying to copy my Slider rounds. Unsuccessfully."

"More hazekillers?"

"High velocity fin stabilized rounds for Sliders to use inside speed bubbles, that don't waver at the boundary."

"Or for a Pulser's bubble?"

Ranette stared at her for a moment, stunned. Then she held out her hand and caught a paper sachet which came flying off the shelf. "A year working on these rounds and I hadn't once considered that you might make use of them. Thoughtless of me."

Marasi took that as the heartfelt sentiment it was, given the woman who said it. "Thank you, but my bubble makes everything slower on the inside. So unless I. .. oh. Right." She blushed.

Ranette nodded and pressed the bullets into her hand. "They can be used from the outside. Give them to someone you trust. Your power can pin down assailants if need be."

"Thank you. I hope to not need them, but... Kelippe, you said?"

"His attempts are substandard but it's definitely him."

Marasi grinned. "Thank you! You might have just blown this case open. I'll make sure you get none of the attention for it."

"That's one of the kindest things anyone's ever said to me."

Keep reading

#femslash february #wlw cosmere #cosmere femslash fic #cosmere fanfic #ranette mistborn #marasi colms #mistborn era 2 #mistborn #marasi x ranette #marasi/ranette

[gunnerkriggcritical]

A Personal Reflection On Gunnerkrigg Court (by @kestrelknight)

I started reading Gunnerkrigg Court at least by the time of Chapter 20. I was in elementary school, and obsessed with a number of webcomics. Gunnerkrigg Court was among the two that I persisted in reading up into college. It has been a foundational piece of media for me; it was one of my models for good visual storytelling, for pacing, for mystery and atmosphere, for kitchen-sink fantasy. I even made a single page of a comic in middle school, heavily based on the "spooky magic girl in abandoned industrial setting" concept. I loved it.

I wouldn't care about Gunnerkrigg Court so much if I hadn't loved it for so long. I wouldn't be this frustrated, and hurt by the comic, if I hadn't loved it for so long, so much.

There were always a few little bits that made me uncomfortable in the comic, though I had difficulty articulating it- mostly the way young girls wound up being sexualized, or having romantic teases with older men (humans or magic wolves). None of it ever really impacted my enjoyment of the comic; I tried not to dwell on it. While I was frustrated by Annie's perpetual tolerance for her father's neglect, I assumed this was just the beginning of her character arc- that the point would be her coming to process and reckon with the fact that he had not treated her well, and that she was allowed to be angry about it.

The point at which I started having misgivings came at the same place as for many people: The Tree. This chapter hit me very hard, and very personally. I've never been in a situation similar to Annie's. I have been in situations similar to Kat. I was so affected by each individual update, I read more than the top comments- and was deeply disturbed by how many people tried to justify Tony's behavior, especially as comeuppance for Annie for cheating. From that point on, the comic was a source of stress and worry for me. I bore with it, because I loved it, and had faith that Tom would deliver catharsis at some point- that there was a point to all this, that he had something to say about the nature of neglectful and abusive parental relationships. He was writing one, after all.

Annie and the Fire meant so much to me, as someone who's struggled with anger, and a desire to please and placate others, to the point of struggling deeply with dissociation for years. It resonated with me to the point of being hard to read; but I kept with it, and accepted that Annie's journey wasn't done yet. Tony's remorse did very little for me, but it didn't kill my hope in Annie's development. Just because Tony feels bad doesn't negate what he's done, and what he's failed to do. That's obvious. I waited longer.

The moment where Kat suddenly turned face and decided Tony wasn't so bad a guy after all caught me completely off-guard. It felt like a betrayal- and I thought that was the point, that Annie's astonishment at this character change was the point. That now, Annie couldn't offload her own resentment onto Kat- she could no longer rely on someone else to get mad on her behalf. I hoped she would try to convince Kat, even indirectly, of why she should still be mad at Tony, and so come to realize she herself was still angry at him. Something. It didn't happen- but I was willing to wait. Tom had unfolded an incredible, dynamic slow-burn of a story for years and years. I had faith in him.

The second point came with Loup's arrival. Ysengrim and Coyote were some of the best characters in the comic, characters that had defined the dually humorous and sinister tone of the world. To have them both killed off, and replaced by a worse-designed, boring, Chaotic Stupid deviantart wolf without even the honesty of a glitter and rainbow color scheme? Yeah, hated it. The way the plot bucked and heaved, gaining and shedding momentum just as fast did not do it any favors.

I think I stopped reading during the Two Annies arc. I've never been a fan of stories that introduce time-travel or multiple universes late in the story, so it was never going to be to my taste. Combined with Loup, it just felt like the comic was off the rails. And since the plot was all over the place, there was little motivation for me to keep. waiting. To keep putting myself through this constant anxiety, reading every individual update- waiting to see if Annie's relationship with her dad would ever have the pay-off I wanted.

I was nervous it wouldn't come. I really couldn't tell, at this point, what Tom's intent was. But I didn't want to make assumptions prematurely. This was a story told a page at a time; it would be silly to get upset over a narrative resolution that wasn't even going to happen! But I realized that it was doing me no good to keep waiting around for the story to end, one way or another. I stopped reading sometime around 2019, having read for maybe a decade.

There was another layer to my discomfort with the comic, one more related to real life events and relationships. To put it bluntly, the main other GC reader I knew IRL agreed with Tom's framing: Annie was immature, headstrong, and was facing the just repercussions for her actions. Not in those exact words, but close enough in sentiment. I didn't have anyone else in my life to discuss the comic with. I was getting old enough that while I could see how Annie had made mistakes, and was a flawed, messy person- she was also a child, surrounded by uncaring or passive adults, in an uncaring system, constantly reprimanded for taking matters into her own hands while also burdened with immense responsibility. She was treated like a kid while being expected to act like an adult. There were very few adults in Gunnerkrigg Court that I could even like anymore. Even the kind ones frustrated me by their inaction. Obviously, you don't need to like the characters in a story to enjoy the story, but it did stop me from enjoying GC. I realize now that it was because the framing was leaning more and more into Annie being the problem, not the system and adults around her. Which, is horsepiss.

Every now and then I came back, and read several chapters in one go. It was a disappointment pretty much every time. Something felt off, and the parts of the comic I cared about weren't really the main focus. I dropped it again, picked it up, dropped it. There are still whole chapters of the comic I've not read, or only skimmed through. My family owns the first four volumes of the comic, some of which are coming loose at the binding for being handled so often. I've barely reread anything past The Tree.

Some point a few months ago, I was stewing over the comic again, and wanted to see if people on tumblr were talking about it at all. I found some fanart, and one or two critical posts that validated my feelings. I kept coming back to the tag, looking for more of both- and eventually came across gunnerkriggcourtcritical. I've gone through the backlog of this blog multiple times- every time my memories of the comic frustrate and upset me. It's comforting to know that other people feel the same way, underwent the same disappointment, even betrayal, reading this comic.

And finally, it was closure for Tony and Annie's arc. Not the closure I wanted- but at least I know now what Tom was planning. I don't regret giving him the benefit of the doubt. Now I know for certain what the point of it all was. I was disgusted by The Mind Cage.

I've been in Kat's situation: watching my best friend be ridiculed in a public place by their parent, helpless to do anything to help them. Listening to another friend make constant excuses for their parent, idolizing their worst aspects, wanting to be more like them, so they can feel in control. I've been like Annie, so horrified by my own anger, so unable to process my emotions, that I just cut them out and sent them to another country. I've washed my face in that mirror, the restroom unrecognizable around me.

Annie deserved better. There are no heroes or villains in Gunnerkrigg Court; there are abusive parents, and neglected children. There are no readers who keep up with the comic, just to complain and hate it for the sake of hating; there are readers who saw themselves in Annie, in Kat, and who are still trying to process what the hell happened.

Authorial intent does matter- but a good author understands that readers will always get the last word. Stories are a reciprocal process, especially episodic ones like webcomics. Tom had all the opportunities in the world to observe reader responses, and adapt his story to be both consistent with what he had already written, and sensitive to what dynamic he was portraying.

I still love Gunnerkrigg Court. I'll probably reread those volumes again, sometime. It's still what I point to, when I want to give an example of how simplified style can be more effective in comics. It was my model of a beautiful, effective webcomic, both in story and artwork. I'll never forget how Gunnerkrigg Court shaped my art and my stories.

I'll also keep thinking about how it ultimately failed to recognize the story it was telling, and turned to mean digs at its audience rather than reflect on its own content. I'll keep thinking about what a wretched message it is, to imply that being neurodivergence is the cause of child neglect, to point at Annie doing all the work in her relationship with her father and say: that's fine, and you're stupid for thinking that isn't fine. I'll keep dunking on Loup/Jerrek, because he sucks.

I'll never forget how Gunnerkrigg Court let me down.

#submission #gunnerkrigg court critical #gunnerkrigg #gunnerkrigg court

[adarkrainbow]

Names in fairytales: Big Bad Wolf

This is a question I asked myself when I looked briefly over the figure of the “Big Bad Wolf”, and to be fair I have no true answer to this, merely a theory. So if you have any more info about this topic, any insight to help solve the question, you are more than welcome!

And this question is: Where does the name “Big Bad Wolf” comes from?

It is the name associated with the archetype/stock-character of the wolf in fairy tales, the same way you have the Evil Stepmother or the Prince Charming. But the character itself is a very artificial construct that, as I highlighted before, merely works as a patchwork of very different sources. The “Big Bad Wolf” is a name given to a character that is thought to be all at the same time the wolf from Little Red Riding Hood (French and German fairytales), from the Three Little Pigs (English fairytale) and from other works such as “Peter and the Wolf” (Soviet “musical fairytale”). The character of the Big Bad Wolf was created from taking various stories involving wolf from various points through time and through countries, and shaping an archetype out of them.

But where, oh where does the name “Big Bad Wolf” comes from? Because, when you look at the original texts the stock-character comes from, when you look at Perrault, and Grimm, and Jacobs, you do not find “Big Bad Wolf” anywhere... It is all just “the wolf” or “a wolf”. No “Big Bad”. And yet everybody knows the name today. I tried to search for the origins of this denomination, with nothing coming out of it. So, based on what seems to be the earliest media appearance of this name, here is the humble theory I bring forward:

“The Big Bad Wolf” is a name invented by Disney. We have to remember that Disney actually played a very important part in shaping the stock-character of the Big Bad Wolf we know today, through their “Three Little Pigs” shorts, a series of cartoons I talked about at the beginnings of my blog, and in which Disney most famously fused various wolf tales together: the wolf of the Three Little Pigs became the wolf of Little Red Riding Hood in the sequel, and the one of Peter and the Wolf in the second sequel. In fact, were the various “wolves” of these fairytales ever considered to be one BEFORE Disney did it? If you find a piece of media that proves it, please share it. But let’s just focus on the name: “The Big Bad Wolf”. To my knowledge, this name first appeared in the very popular, very iconic song of the Three Little Pigs short, “Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?”, a song that almost all little American kids of the first half of the 20th century knew by heart. Did Disney INVENT the term for their song, and thanks to the enormous success of their animated short and song, it became widespread and commonly used in America, creating somehow this “stock-character” of fairytales? I am very inclined to believe so.

The only other clue I can bring to the table is based on the French translation of “Big Bad Wolf”, which is “Le Grand Méchant Loup”. In Perrault’s version of Little Red Riding Hood, the wolf is noted several times to have “grand” elements in his body - it is the famous exchange about the great teeth, the great eyes, the great ears - which was translated in English as “big” (What big teeth you are). So, it seems there is a first root of the name here. And at the very end of his tale, Perrault did describe the wolf as a “méchant loup” (a nasty/wicked wolf). I do not know how it was translated in English, but clearly in Perrault’s texts, the two other components of the French name “Le Grand Méchant Loup” are present, though are mere adjectives, separated from each other (and one even used indirectly as the wolf is never said to be “grand” himself, he just has “grand” body parts compared to the ones of a human being).  It however doesn’t prove that the name “big bad wolf” came from Perrault’s story in any way - but maybe it is where Disney found the ideas of writing “Big Bad Wolf”, since we know lots of Disney fairytale productons (Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty) were taken from the fairytales of Perrault. 

All in all, I am led to believe that the name “Big Bad Wolf” was invented by (and maybe that the stock character itself was heavily shaped by) Disney, or if it didn’t invent it, it massively popularized and spread it. If you ever find additional elements concerning this investigation, don’t hesitate to share! I truly want to know if a part of popular fairytale culture is in fact a product of the Big Mouse (which, given how it changed the perception and reception of other fairytales, wouldn’t be surprising).

#names in fairytales #big bad wolf #the big bad wolf #disney #disney fairytales #the three little pigs #little red riding hood #charles perrault #history of fairytales #stock character #fairytale archetype #red riding hood

[moonofthenight]

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

Hello and welcome to my new “Coops with a child” series! I have plans, I have ideas and a little time on my hands for once so we’ll see how this works out but for now: here is the first part - Coops decorating the nursery :) (Slight Vaincre spoiler for chapter 14!)

Read in AO3 here!

Coops and the Cubs belong to the amazing @lumosinlove , the child is my OC though <3

Twinkle, twinkle little star

When the blazing sun is gone

Then you show your little light

When he nothing shines upon

 „What’s taking you so long, mon loup? Come back!“ Sirius shouted from upstairs.

They had a long summer this year, with their season ending earlier. It was weird, unusual because, well. They weren’t exactly used to it. It wasn’t a bad season for them but the other teams were better this time and the mood had been gloomy for the past week, everyone still feeling a little down. Despite that, Remus couldn’t bring himself to care. Well, that was a lie. He did care but the long summer gave them more time for something way better and way more important than another Cup.

He heard some faint grumbling and smiled to himself. This was a little insane. His life had been a little insane, for over four years now. Remus thought about it often, about everything that had happened to him, about everything he gets to experience. Playing again? Being in the NHL? Getting to love Sirius Black through all of it? Marrying him? It was dreams coming true and more to Remus. It was like seeing the lemon tree he planted in 8th grade grow. Seeing all the work he put in, all the careful watering, all the healing finally making it bear the fruits. Five years ago he had laughed into anyones face when someone so much as mentioned he would be with Sirius Black. All the rest he never even dared to hope for. And now-

Remus laughed, „I can’t make the kettle boil the water faster, baby, give me a second!“

 The kettle started to whistle and Remus turned the stove off, filling the two cups he had grabbed from the cupboard with the hot water, letting the tea bags change the colour of it. Carefully, he balanced them up the stairs, successfully not spilling anything.

„Your tea, Mr. Black,“ Remus said with an English accent as he walked through the door, placing the cups on the makeshift table.

„That’s Lupin to you,“ Sirius replied with a cocky grin, kissing Remus on the cheek as a thank you for making them the tea. He closed his eyes, trying to calm his beating heart. He would never get tired of Sirius casually saying his last name out loud in that kind of context. Their last name. Remus sighed happily.

„How is the crib coming along?“

Sirius let out a suffering groan, „I swear that shit is more complicated than any schooling I had to endure.“

Remus laughed again, he never stopped around Sirius if he was being honest. He knelt down next to his husband on the ground, snatching the instruction manual out of his hands.

„Let the one with an actual degree look at this.“

„You have a medical degree, not one in engineering.“

„A degree is a degree,“ Remus insisted. 

Sirius smiled and pressed a kiss to Remus‘ lips.

 It was several hours later that the crib was finally in the corner of the room where it was supposed to be, perfectly built and standing. Sirius and Remus both stood in front of it, hands on their hips, looking proud but tired. Remus turned his head to look at Sirius.

„There is going to be a baby in there soon. Our baby,“ he said with a soft smile, grabbing Sirius’ hand.

„Don’t say that or I’ll start crying again,“ he answered with a chuckle, pulling Remus closer to his side. Remus rested his head on his shoulder, relishing in the quiet for a moment longer before he straightened again.

„I’ll go and make us dinner, yeah?“

„Oui. I’ll be down in a second, too,“ Sirius said, bending down for a soft kiss, his hands coming to rest on Remus‘ hips, who couldn’t help but melt into it.

„I love you so much,“ Remus said against Sirius‘ lips after they parted, not quite wanting to put more space between them just yet.

Sirius‘ grey eyes shone brightly. Most people described his eyes as a thunderstorm, a fog so thick nobody could see past it. Remus had always disagreed. He found freedom in those grey eyes. Romance. Love. Passion. Relief. Home. He smiled, the adoring one that was reserved for Sirius only. Although, he might have to share it with a little someone soon.

„I love you, too, mon vœu.“

Remus kissed him one more time, just a quick peck to not get carried away, before making his way down to the kitchen. He was quite hungry after all.

It was still warm and bright outside and Remus decided to set their table on the patio instead of the one in the kitchen. Some fresh air and afternoon sun would do them some good after spending the last days crammed up in the nursery. They had thought about this for a long, long time, talked to the team and then also with several boys separately. They spend nights awake, whispering the future into each other's skin. Sirius spent a whole week at the Dumais house at some point and James and Lily had been over more evenings than not. It felt right. They were in a secure spot in their lives right now and both of them started to feel the urge to have an addition to their family getting stronger by the day. It had been a journey of talks and phone calls and meetings and paperwork. They were sure, so very sure, about this but still, it was a huge step, a huge decision, and doubts crept up from time to time. Sometimes they needed each other through those, sometimes they needed themselves, sometimes someone else. After so many years together both of them were pretty confident in knowing what the other needed, especially in moments like these. So, he gave Sirius time, he knew he would join him when he was ready.

He came downstairs when Remus was halfway through his plate. Remus could hear the gentle pad pad pad of Sirius’ naked feet on the laminate, then on the wood outside. He put his own plate down on the table in favour of pushing Sirius’ in front of him. “All good, baby?” 

Sirius nodded and while Remus believed him, he still caught his gaze, searching for any sign of discomfort in his eyes but finding none. Remus grabbed his own plate again, leaning back in the chair at the same time that Sirius did. 

“You know,” Sirius said after he swallowed his bite, “I am so excited for this new chapter with you.” 

Remus smiled, “Sap.” 

That made Sirius chuckle in response, “You love it.” 

“I really do,” Remus said, reaching over the table to take Sirius’ hand in his own who gave him a look, “Who’s sappy now?”

They enjoyed the evening sun, watching it set lower and lower until it almost disappeared behind the horizon. They probably would have gone from watching the sunset to watching the stars together but their moment was interrupted by the doorbell and they looked at each other, confused. 

„Are you expecting someone?“ Sirius asked, standing up.

„No, I*m not,“ Remus answered, still confused, turning his body to look around the chair into their living room, following Sirius with his eyes until he was out of sight.

He leaned back in the chair again with a gentle huff, closing his eyes. He loved hockey, no doubt, but evenings, days, like these? He loved them even more. It was a reminder that this was what will always be around, what will always stay with him, no matter what and Remus liked being reminded of that fact once in a while. He opened his eyes again when the glass door behind him was being pushed to the side.

„It’s a package,“ Sirius said, sitting down and placing it on his legs.

„I didn’t order anything either,“ Remus said, leaning over in interest to peek at the address. New York.

„It’s from the Cubs,“ Sirius smiled, looking up at Remus, who grinned back at him. 

Remus snatched the package from his legs and Sirius poked him in the ribs for it but scooted his chair closer. Remus placed it on his own legs, tearing the tape away to open the box. Inside was another, a smaller one. Glowing Stars it said. With it came a card and Sirius recognised Leo’s writing almost immediately. So we are the favourite uncles from the start. Remus read out loud and laughed. Sirius rested his chin on his shoulder to read the next line. We would get her some real ones if we could. See you soon xxx

„It’s those “Glow In The Dark Stars” you put on the ceiling,“ Remus said excitedly, heart warm. Sirius looked at the package and then at Remus. „That’s actually really cute,“ Sirius said and then there was a pause. „We have to put them up in the correct constellations so she always looks at the same sky as we all do.“

Remus smiled bigger and then laughed out loud. He laughed and laughed until Sirius laughed too, both sounding more tearful than they would like to admit. Sirius reached out, putting his hands on both of Remus‘ cheeks, wiping away the wetness underneath his eyes. 

“We are going to be dads,” Sirius more or less sobbed into the summer evening air. 

“I love you,” Remus whispered, he couldn’t seem to stop saying it these days. Loving Sirius came as easy as breathing to Remus and he simply couldn't and didn't want to imagine doing this terrifying, beautiful thing with anybody else. Remus told him so. Sirius just cried more and Remus laughed quietly through his nose, putting his hands on Sirius’ face the same way he had. I am here. They cried with their foreheads pressed together until there were no tears left to cry, no tears of joy, nor tears of fear, finding comfort in each other. He didn't know how much time had passed, but Remus shivered and turned more into Sirius’ arms, searching for warmth. Sirius pulled him in closer, “Should we go sleep, mon cœur?” Remus thought for a moment, then shook his head. He pulled away slightly, resting his cheek on Sirius’ collarbone, looking up, finding his husband’s eyes. 

“Can we put up the stars now? I want to put the stars up now.” Sirius grinned and nodded, “Allez, Loops.” 

The funny thing was, the stars were the perfect finishing touch to the room. It was mostly done, the only thing left to build up was the changing table, everything else was pretty much already set and in place, even the decor. To be fair, both Sirius and Remus were the most excited to go shopping for baby clothes. Baby fever struck them hard and even though their family had gifted them enough clothes and supplies already, they would rather have too many than not go shopping themselves. Baby clothes were just too cute. 

The nursery was mostly beige, specks of Gryffindor red and gold scattered around the room. There was a fluffy carpet, stuffed animals and pictures of everyone who loved the little girl so deeply already. There were some of Harry’s old books on the shelves, Katie’s old princess costumes which she handed over readily, almost begging for them to take them even though they were still way too big. Sirius' heart soared at the memory of Katie coming into the guest bedroom of her house with a bag of her old childhood clothes, putting them next to the bed Sirius had been lying in. “I want her to have those.” “So she has something from me too.” 

The little black velvet box with the birth bracelet Regulus got her as ⅓ of the godparents sat on the window sill, ready to be put on her tiny wrist. Her name was engraved in the handwriting of all three. Her first name in James’, her middle name in Lily’s, her last name in Regulus’. Madison Aurélie Lupin. The name had been a difficult topic and they had endless talks about it. Over breakfast, over taxes, across the locker room. While Madison was never up for discussion (Remus was one of those people who had a list of baby names on his phone since his teenage years; Madison always had been his first choice and Sirius loved it as well), the second name was much more difficult. The first idea was to use one of their mothers names but with it came the question, Hope or Celeste? They agreed that the second name was Sirius’ to pick, since the first and last were already connected to Remus in some way. But, in all honesty, both women had played a significantly important role in his life and he didn’t want to choose. While he wasn't particularly fond of the family he was born into, he still wanted a connection to his French roots. For Regulus but also for his team. Remus lost count of how many books Sirius brought or websites he looked through to find the perfect name. He still didn't know where he found it but it was mid December and Sirius came home from a day out with James and Harry. He had barely toed his shoes off before he had been standing in the door of the living room, coat still on when he looked at Remus and said, “Aurélie. I want her second name to be Aurélie.” and that was that.  They hadn’t really told anyone the final decision, except her godparents, who were too persistent and annoying to keep it from them. But Sirius and Remus didn’t really mind, not when the three of them had surprised them with the bracelet not too long ago, making sure they would know they had made the right choice. Not that there was ever any doubt about it in the first place.

Hope and Lyall cried in their arms when they had told them about the decision to have a baby and promptly cried even more when they said they already chose a surrogate mother. Remus had taken Jules to the rink the day after, wanting to tell his brother separately. Jules stopped mid play, had let his stick fall to the ice and tackled Remus into the boards with a grin so bright it rebelled the sun. A week or so later there had been a package from Wisconsin with a crescent moon lamp in it. The very same Remus, and then Jules, had all their childhood long. It now sat on the wall over the crib. There was a bit of everyone in their family in this room and they loved it more than anything. So, the stars were the perfect addition. Now the Cubs were with her as well. 

Sirius felt tears well up in his eyes again when he looked up at the finished ceiling, blinking rapidly to keep them at bay. He just stood there for a while and layed down on the ground eventually, eyes never leaving the stars on the walls. Unknown to him, Remus snapped a picture of it, sending it to the Cubs who responded with a selfie. All three of them had red, puffy eyes and were pouting into the camera. Remus smiled, put his phone in his back pocket and walked over to his husband, laying down next to him.

#we run together they are my family series #Madison Aurélie Lupin #twinkle twinkle little star #coops #lumosinlove #sweater weather lumosinlove #vaincre lumosinlove #vaincre spoilers #sirius black #remus lupin #leo knut #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #o'knutzy #fluff #~ 3k

[dotthings]

Oh my goodness I loved this. 1x01 of The Winchesters, let's goooooo.

This was a strong pilot episode, the whole cast is excellent with each bringing their own energy and doing well with the hints of depths to come on all of them. The John-Mary-Carlos-Latika interplay really snaps, and there's the different relationships inside the group, surrounding John and Mary's early connection and pining. But all these friendships and relationships are going to be really fun to watch unfold. Millie and Ada are luminous, both serving in the gravitas roles to flank the main four and add some ballast.

Really enjoying the entire gestalt of this, the look, tone, and visual style. Those NOLA locations are gorgeous and the perfect backdrop--they filmed at an old fort for this one.

The arcane lore and books and hidden chambers, the monsters, the family multigenerational traumas and secrets, it even goes a bit Indiana Jones mood a few times which is a delightful flourish.

The core driving theme of it being about connections and family and friendships and all kinds of love, the hurt in their back stories. John coming back from 'Nam already having nightmares on the bus to Lawrence. John having a sweetness and innocence to him but the darkness is already starting to show. We are going to see him utterly "ruined." Millie trying so hard to save and protect her son, to protect what is left of her fractured family, but also knowing she has to let him find his own path. Mary's closeness to her family, the trust she has with her father, but also aching to escape that life. Her bossiness and her hard facade while she keeps showing what a soft heart she has. Her grief for her cousin Maggie who was like a sister to her. (Maggie flashbacks when????) John and Mary both looking for missing fathers. Carlos losing his whole family to a monster and knowing how grim things are for hunters yet has his unquenchable spirit and he's every bit a tough, skilled hunter, but also plays guitar and relishes humor. Latika just starting to get out there in the field as a hunter, with her main strength right now her intellect but we know she's going to do more than just that. I'm so curious to see her have to kill something and get blood-splattered and see her shock at what she just did and at the same time want to protect her from all harm. Latika seems like a gentle heart who is going to be capable of ruthlessness when it's needed. Ada in just a few introductory moments already clearly a caring, strong willed person who refuses to quit fighting, and is already in the thick of it with the hunter team.

There's a lot here already with loss and trying to save the ones you've got. Carlos killed the ghoul that killed his family but couldn't save them. Millie having Henry slip away from her, and not able to save her son, but trying to. Mary unable to save her cousin Maggie, and now trying to find and save her father. John unable to save Murph and now haunted by his memory. Latika unlocking the dark forces of the monster trap box to save everybody from the loup-garou.

And there's our Dean. Standing by the side of the road, writing in his journal, telling the story and putting together the pieces of the past, to help make sense of who he is and where he came from, and he's picking his own music. Reclaiming the narrative like the badass he always is.

#The Winchesters #spnwin #John Winchester #Mary Campbell #Carlos Cervantez #Ada Monroe #Millie Winchester #Dean Winchester #spnwin meta #spnwin pilot #Latika Dar

[the-toastyverse]

7-12-23

"Michelle..." The voice of Monty's mother awoke her. "Wake up and get dressed. The King has summoned all of the townsfolk for..." Sorrow welled up in Monty as she remembered what day it was, and she sobbed.

*The King was executing Stanley.* In the King's ignorance, he believed that *Stanley* was responsible for the slaughter of the livestocks in the districts. The only evidence he had that solidified this accusation was Stanley's status as a Lycanthrope.

Despite Stanley's role as a knight, despite his loyal service to the Kingdom. And despite the protests of his subjects, the knights that served him, even his own Council.

The whole kingdom knew of Stanley's innocence. Livestock that had been killed could be replaced, even the King's prized cattle.

But a life could not.

Despite the protesting, the attempts at reducing his sentence to one of imprisonment, the King was adamant. Stanley *had* to be killed, had to be executed, for the good of the Kingdom.

Monty glanced at the empty basket on her nightstand through tear-filled eyes. Perhaps she could give him something, before...

Monty's mother rose from the bed, taking the basket with her. Monty followed, drying her eyes. She watched as her mother packed the basket.

Monty did not fail to notice how her mother packed Stanley's favorite foods, clean clothes, and bandages into the basket. Her mother covered the basket's contents with a red checkered handkerchief.

"Michelle," Monty's mother looked at her with green eyes like her own. She hugged her daughter tightly. "Go to him, save your love. But please, mon biquet, be careful." Monty nodded, hugging her mother back.

They both looked up at the sound of Monty's father, Pierre entering the house. His face was grim, but there was hope in his brown eyes.

"I spoke to the Commander," Pierre turned to his wife and daughter. "She said there was a place we could hide him for the time being." Monty nodded, allowing herself to hope. The townsfolk were coming together to defy the King, and save one of their own.

She just hoped the plan wasn't for naught.

When they arrived at the castle, Monty spotted the cage beside the gallows. She ran towards it, kneeling beside it. Her gaze landed on a familiar face, haggard and defeated. His eyes were closed, but she could tell he was awake.

Monty reached for his hand through the cage bars.

"Mon loup..." She whispered, and Stanley's eyes opened slowly. His eyes, normally bright yellow, were dull and nearly lifeless. He squeezed her hand weakly.

"Ma...biche..." His voice was a rasping whisper. "What are you... doing here...?" Monty squeezed his hand, determination in her eyes.

*"We're getting you out of here." She whispered fiercely. "Commander said she had a place to hide you. You will not be killed here."* Stanley nodded faintly, closing his eyes again.

Monty squeezed his hand again before rising to join her parents. The townsfolk watched as the King appeared, sitting on his throne. There was no fanfare to greet him. The King's voice was thunderous in the silent space.

"Stanley Baldwin, it is with my power as King that I hold this execution. I declare you guilty of high thievery, and stealing from the crown." He paused, watching as he was taken from the cage, and led to the gallows.

Though he was weakened, and ill, Stanley held his head high, eyes glowing faintly despite his exhaustion.

Monty scanned the crowd, spotting her close friend Mindy. She was holding her pistol, blue eyes sharp and assessing. She knew in a moment, what her friend was going to attempt.

Mindy fired two shots in the air, and pandemonium followed. In the chaos, no one had put the noose around Stanley's neck. Monty took advantage of the chaos and ran straight for the gallows. She grabbed Stanley's hand, leading him to where the Commander waited. The Commander nodded and took him to where he would be safe. Monty followed, carrying the basket.

#the oc corner #oc posting #toasty's ocs #stanley #monty #montley #almost death mention

[dajaregambler]

HeliosR - Sing in the darkness - Chapter 2 - Part 28

Translation of Sing in the darkness from ‘Helios Rising Heroes’, a new side arc alongside the current main story arc Like the dawning light.

Sage: Because, Sensei, you speak kindly but normally you don’t hold back with throwing in all the bad stuff too, right. 

Robin: Ah, that’s when I’m fortune telling, no? The results speak for themselves, I must only be the messenger. 

Robin: If I keep the awful parts to myself, then I’d be accused of such things as trickery or being a fraudster.

Robin: However, all that now wasn’t fortune telling nor anything else. I voiced what I wanted to convey to you, Sage.

Sage: Sensei thought so…?

Robin: Yes. Since the chances to see each other has become less, I thought I might as well do it now

Sage: Right…  Sensei’s words are persuasive as fortune telling itself. 

Sage: ….I was fretting over how I must find a new path to walk on like everyone else, but now I feel a little better. 

Sage: Being told how I don’t have to hurry with finding it… made me believe that one day I’ll find something that only I am capable of. 

Robin: It’d be nice to find it

Sage: Ehehe, that’s the Sensei I know♪ At the end of the day you are my hero no matter what. 

Robin: ……

Sage: Ah, that reminds me that Nico wanted something from you! He said to come check out how the pie’s done!

Robin: Is that so. Then, let us go to Nico. There’s a nice smell in the air after all. 

Sage: He already mastered that Loup En Croûte, you know! Can’t wait to eat it♪

-

---Several days later

Sage: Uwaah, what lovely weather♪

Sage: (Since I started doing night shifts there’s been less days where I can do my morning runs, but now I started to think how running during the day isn’t too bad either.)

Sage: (The temperature’s also nice outside today. Since I’m at it anyway, let’s see how far I can go---)

???: Sage?

Sage: Eh?

Robin: …….

Sage: Sensei! What are you doing here? Is it your day off today? 

Robin: …Yes, that’s right. You too, Sage?

Sage: Yes♪ I’m off night duty but it became a habit to go on a run whenever I wake up. 

Robin: Running…. Which means, towards the bridge?

Sage: Exactly there. I’ll go across Brick River Bridge and see then see how far my legs will take me today

Robin: ………

Sage: Sensei? …Are you okay?

Robin: …I’m fine. Something has merely caught my attention.

Sage: Caught your attention?

Robin: Please look up

Robin: The weather’s strange today, isn’t it.

Sage: Eh… Even though it’s sunny?

Robin: Sage, did you bring an umbrella with you?

#helios rising heroes #heliosr #sage skyfall #sing in the darkness

[bradsmindbrain]

jack and ted making up increasingly ridiculous/cheesy/funny nicknames for each other bc they're bored n it's a way to pass the time

Names

Summary: It’s a lazy day, so Jack and Ted find a way to kill some time.

TW: None

Jack sat on his husband’s lap as the TV played some mindless reality show that didn’t really interest either of them. It was a slow day, he had no plans, and Ted never had plans to begin with anyway. It was nice being with his husband, sure, but he at least wanted something to do with him. Even Ted wasn’t even interested in what was unfolding onscreen for goodness sake. He turned his attention away from whatever drama was unfolding on screen to gently caress one of Ted’s large, calloused hands. 

Ted grumbled, giving a puff of amusement.

His eyes lit up, “Jacky Wacky? Really?”

His husband grumbled, playfully shoving one of his shoulders.

He grinned, “Alright, Teddy Weddy, sure.”

Ted gave an unamused rumble.

He grinned, “So you can dish it out but you can’t handle it, eh?”

He audibly heard Ted roll his eyes before his husband grumbled again.

His eyes widened before he laughed, “Jacob Black? The Twilight character? I should divorce you for just saying that.”

Ted grumbled, resting his head on Jack’s.

He laughed again as tendrils filled his vision, “You’re right, Green Man, I would never do that.” He remembered the being he encountered several times in Europe, who had more than a few passing similarities to Ted.

Ted kneaded his sides with a grumble.

He smiled, “Hey, he’s a forest god, you should take that as a compliment.”

Ted grumbled in response.

He gave a look of mock offense, “Balto?”

Ted grumbled in response, moving a hand from one of his sides to pat his head.

He rolled his eyes, “I suppose you’re right Green Bean, he did save people.”

Ted gave an amused groan, pulling him in closer.

Jack smiled, petnames had been a part of their relationship since it began, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary. But the sheer strangeness of what they were calling eachother now was oddly endearing. Besides, it was something to do, which was better than nothing. He laughed, “Come on, it wasn’t that bad of a nickname.”

He felt Ted trace his fingers over his ribs as he groaned.

He giggled in response, “Pit Bull? Sure thing, Daisy Face.”

Ted gave a trill as he moved his hands back down to knead his sides once more. 

He smiled as he felt his husband rub his sides, “Louey? Wow, Beanstalk, where’d you come up with that one?”

Ted grumbled out an explanation. 

He smiled, he supposed making a nickname out of Loup Garou made sense given what he was and where he lived. All these petnames they were sharing were so varied, so affectionate, it made him feel so warm and fuzzy inside. Ted wasn’t really used to using petnames, he usually just called him “Puppy” on on occasion, so it was nice to hear his husband come up with more, as ridiculous as they all were. He brought a hand up to touch Ted’s, “Love you, mi amor.”

Ted grumbled affectionately.

He smiled, there was the “Puppy” petname. He laughed, “I know you do, Teddy Bear.”

#werewolf by night #wwbn #wbn #jack russell #ted sallis #man thing #marvel #mcu #russallis #my stuff #prompts

[tedexia]

Chapter 4: Èûpiriktâka- The evening star

Complicity became an everyday part of the journey, the process was somewhat rewarding although at times tiring and not because of the mutual companionship. They had been living for weeks on the hunt and Eli's extensive knowledge of the edible fruits along the way. But rest was scarce, at night all the weight fell on both of them and they began to trust each other too much, wasting an extra hour or two of travel in clinging to each other as if danger did not lurk.

Days before they reached Loup lands, they were surprised by a violent breeze from behind and Eli discovered that a storm was overtaking them without too much effort. In open country it was a real danger, and reaching any settlement seemed rather improbable, not to mention more risky than being struck by lightning.

The native saw Cornelia's expression between amused and surprised when the downpour broke over them, making the hot clothes start to get cold and stick to her body.

- There," Eli pointed to a rocky area where an irregular cave could be seen.

Cornelia nodded and rode briskly, a little uneasy about the sporadic lightning, she was not unaware of the danger that the sky in those conditions could mean for them.

Eli jumped down from his horse and helped the woman safely off her own transport. Eli grabbed his saddlebag and her saddlebag and hurried her in the direction of the cave.

- I'll get them to safety," Eli said, taking the reins of the two horses and walking away from her.

Cornelia hurried to the entrance of what appeared to be a shallow cave, although she wasn't too worried about the money she was carrying, she knew she needed it. She had to make discreet purchases in order to make sure she had ammunition and some provisions in case she had no luck in hunting. Just a few days ago they came across a caravan that had sold them some salt and sugar.

Eli didn't seem too trusting at first, and it was obvious why, anyone would remember seeing a woman as beautiful as her accompanied by a stoic native like him. At least that's what the Pawnee said by the campfire hours later.

"It would be easy to spot us based on the people who see us, we are quite a conspicuous pair. First they will think in all probability that I have kidnapped you. Secondly they will think I am your servant and that you are the daughter of someone important."

Cornelia made a somewhat vague grimace looking into his worried eyes.

"The worst thing would be for them to conclude that we are together by choice," Eli pointed out.

- Isn't that so," she asked uneasily.

- It is, but in this country it is frowned upon for a lady of good looks to be seen to be so familiar with a native," Eli affirmed and threw a small twig into the fire.

- I'm not interested in this country's point of view....

- Cornelia..." Eli called out to her causing her to remain silent, "this is not about simple confrontation. In every corner of this land there are people who would turn us in not for a crime, but for the simple fact that you are English and I am a Pawnee."

The memory of what they talked about dissolved in Cornelia's mind when she see a glow in the cave and before she could differentiate the danger, a hand closed over her mouth, silencing her.

Eli tightened her grip on the reins and grabbing the sodden blanket along with her weapons, she hurried toward the cave. An acrid odor wafted through the air alerting the Pawnee that he was sure he heard sounds of fighting coming from the cave.

The sound of the rifle's safety put the man holding Cornelia hostage on guard.

"Let her go," Eli warned, noting the man's reflection through the fire.

"What the hell are you doing here?" The growl and the accent made the Pawnee calm down a bit.

"We're not enemies," Eli said, noticing the bodies huddled behind the man, "let her go without hurting her, or I'll blow the head off you and your family."

Cornelia felt her breath come again as her feet carried her into Eli's arms, who held the rifle in the attacker's direction.

"You're a Pawnee" the man mentioned and the silhouette took the shape of a man shorter than him, with long hair and wounds on various parts of his body.

"You're a Cheyenne," Eli pointed out and lowered his rifle to shift his gaze to Cornelia next to him, who still looked a bit puzzled, "They're running away.

- There are four of us, the pace is very slow and we don't have shelter for another six days or so," the man pointed out, "My name is northern cloud."

- Eli Whipp -answered the Pawnee-, the storm will last at least a day, if you remain in peace we can stay here without fighting.

Cloud nodded and dropped to the ground, Eli could smell the blood in the air.

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

The bonfire was livelier and Cornelia made animal figures on the wall for the two children who laughed with amusement at her audacity.

"There's a search and hunt party, led by a Pawnee," Cloud pointed out and handed the water bottle in the direction of the older woman accompanying him.

"Are they in this area?" Eli asked.

"It is certain that they will be here soon," Cloud stated.

- They don't belong to the army.

- No. Many Cheyenne were taken as servants on these lands, traded as slaves. This Pawnee, he's like his master's favorite foreman," Cloud said, almost spitting contempt at his words, "we managed to escape from one of the caravans.

"He'll find you," Eli pointed out.

"I know, after all, that's what the army used them for," said Cloud, "but we will die on earth, my mother and my children, rather than be slaves to demons."

Eli directed her gaze to Cornelia who was making a duck with the shadow of her hands. She seemed to feel his eyes searching her and turned to look at him.

She made a face that the native interpreted without surprise, this was none of their business, neither his nor hers. But she wanted them to get involved, and now there would be no point in dragging her out of the cave, forcing her onto the horse and as far away from danger as possible. Because for Cornelia this was already her responsibility, although a few hours ago she had been caught off guard.

-"Why did you tell me this in English?"Eli asked, using her hands to keep Cornelia from knowing more.

-I prefer that my family does not die, in my town it is said that the eyes are the ones that light the way. You will go exactly where your eyes tell you,"Cloud said and looked at Cornelia,"if she stays, so will you."

Eli knew the answer before the Cheyenne told him, he had spoken with the purpose of making Cornelia feel moved by the lives of the children. By captivating her, she had him on her side.

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

Cornelia was snuggled against his shoulder, her tired eyes closed but not sleeping. The fire illuminated the interior of the cave and the copious rain dampened the entrance. Lightning flashed from time to time, making Eli uneasy.

"We have to go" Eli whispered to Cornelia who widened her eyes, waiting for him to suggest that option.

"They're not armed," he whispered, looking at Eli's jaw.

"We are in danger with them," said the native, "a hunting party, they are not coming to take you alive." There is no diplomacy, they just want to take their pieces to please their master.

"It's not our fight," he asked, knowing the answer.

- No, it's not.

"I'm glad to hear you say that," she whispered and brought her left hand closer to his.

- Why do I always do the opposite?

"Because there is a us" he mentioned and looked a few meters ahead, where a couple of children were sleeping next to the older woman while Cloud cleaned their wounds with the ointment that Cornelia had given him- What place is safe?

- To survive with them, none", said Eli, "Without them, the Loups.

- A place where we can let them go on their way, Eli.

"A six-day drive, it's out of the way, but there's a grove of trees and they can get to a Cheyenne camp," Eli said.

Cornelia nodded and turned her eyes to Eli, who looked at her, his warm smile and lips mouthing the word "thank you" affirmed Eli's inner belief. Cornelia could use that face as a weapon, a very deadly and dangerous one. At least for Eli it worked very well to motivate him, to make him feel strong...hopeful.

>> Remember to excuse any translation errors.<<

#cornelia locke #eli whipp #eli x cornelia #the english 2022 #happy ending #fanfic

[corvidmagicae]

Small musings that came up through discord that i’ve dabbled with the idea of, but never fully went into here:

The older Bri’s birds get, or rather the longer they’ve had them, they lose their sense of self and their former humanity. Similar to how Bridgette herself has shapeshifter syndrome, and has trouble remember who she used to be.... the birds gradually forget who they used to be, too. Not because of their shifting forms, but because that much time spent in something else’s form will do that to a human mind. Spend long enough as a bear, and you eventually forget you were ever not a bear.

Bridgette... obviously has a disassociation from the rest of humanity, where she doesn’t consider herself part of them. But the birds - the ones who remember who they are and what they used to be - still retain that sense of self. They will be less inclined to act upon baser desires seen amongst a corvid species, like preying upon easily-obtained live creatures or scavenging carcasses. The ones who have forgotten their humanity..... will not see any issue with it.

The ones who have forgotten their humanity will do that. A dead human is nothing more than a food source to them. A dead pokemon is likewise, a food source.

This means that if Bri absolutely wants to, she can order the birds to destroy a target that she wants removed - devoured in a swarm of birds, with nothing but some shreds of evidence left behind that there was ever a person there.

... but more likely than not, she won’t order such a thing.

She knows that not all of her birds are alright with attacking humans outright - not to that sort of degree. She WILL ask them to attack a threat in a swarm, if necessary. It serves as a very good distraction, if she needs to not be the center of attention. And she will ask them to use lethal force if necessary. But for the most part, she sees no reason to let her birds get involved in something that dangerous, or force them to commit an act that gruesome. She’s not about to ask them to eat something they don’t like, or that they would have a problem with eating.

She won’t stop them if they try, of course. Nor would she be bothered, if they did. That’s just part of their nature as scavenger birds. But she takes no thrill in acting out of pure cruelty, and sees no point in such behavior. There is nothing worthwhile for her to gain by acting in such a way, so she takes no interest in the thought.

It’s not that Bridgette herself is reviled by the idea. Some witches have that reputation - mostly loup-garou, shifters change their form with the purpose to kill, and then lose themselves to the bloodlust. But she’s no loup-garou. She doesn’t revel in the thrill of the hunt, she doesn’t care for the taste of human flesh, and doesn’t go out of her way to obtain it. It doesn’t interest her. There are other things she’d much rather prefer to eat. The driving intent behind her transformations are not to maim and kill - they’re to hide, watch, and explore in safety. She’s not at risk of getting overtaken by any desires to commit harm.

Bridgette is a villain - she can and will commit acts of irreparable harm, intentional or not. Those she wants removed will be dealt with in the harshest manner feasible if that degree of force is deemed necessary, so long as they pose even the slightest hint of danger towards her life and way of living. But she has her own rules, there are lines she won’t cross. She can come off surprisingly soft, even morally pure for something deemed a witch.

But those lines don’t exist because her morality prevents her from considering or condoning horrible actions. They exist simply because she deems what’s on the other side of those lines nothing interesting or useful to her - not worth the time or effort to pursue.

Removing a threat? Worth her time. It keeps her safe. Torturing the poor bastard? Acting in ways to prolong fear? Boring, wasteful.

Time spent tormenting humans is time much better spent on things which are actually interesting.

#⧉ musings #murder tw// #horror tw// #cannibalism tw// #casual reminders that bri is not a good person but not in the way you'd think