#Casio speaks

[123moiaussi]

SJM could’ve made an Eris x Elain x Azriel triangle.

Enemies fighting over a lover. Are you kidding me?! Chefs kiss and ugh what a missed opportunity but I’ll wait for Elriel endgame✌️

[layne-thepencilthing]

hi everyone go listen to weatherday, five pebbles, glass beach and casio dad right fucking now thank you very much

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

Good morning Hawkins my partner had to talk me out of buying a V shaped guitar for the *aesthetic* but doesn’t know about me shopping around for the 1970’s refurbed Casio.

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

Mr Pole pusher makes a smoosher

In Atari I beat that shit quick.

Moon Patrol is a different story. It stopped fucking around after the 4th level

[shybunnie20]

Eddie Munson x Alt!Fem!Reader

★Teaser ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie seeks Steve's assistance in wooing you, but it doesn’t go the way he planned.

Author's Note: This was so fun to write! I don’t think it turned out particularly angsty tbh. There's a little bit of Halloween in it, 'tis the season.

Proofread to an extent. 90s AU with no Upside Down. No use of Y/N. Reader is vaguely depicted: wears black, has tattoos and piercings (no amount or locations indicated for either), enjoys spooky movies, and likes metal music. Happy ending!

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: brief mention of alcohol consumption, includes more swearing than usual

The sun hangs low, blowing kisses of dusk through the streaky panes of Family Video. Inside the store, the sporadic popping of kernels sets the tone for the evening shift.

When it comes to this job, unboxing shipments of snacks is the one task that manages to hold Eddie’s fleeting attention, simply because it gives him an excuse to wield a box cutter. Alas, today is not one where a shipment has been delivered. He’s more or less getting paid to hang out and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leaning beside the register, Eddie lazily flips through a dated issue of Rolling Stone magazine. He’s not even reading the articles, just skimming the pictures.

In the documentary section, Steve is busy restocking the shelves. “I heard Keith’s giving out a plaque for 'Least Productive Employee' this year. If ya ask me, I think you’ve got Robin beat.”

“That’s debatable,” Eddie licks the pad of his finger and flips the page. “You’ve got it handled, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but there’s plenty of stuff that needs to get done before we get slammed tonight.”

“I’m doing my part,” Eddie raises his head and a smirk slowly overtakes his bored expression. “Someone’s gotta keep the front counter company. It gets lonely.”

“Aw, how touching. Of all things, you’ve found true love with a piece of furniture,” Steve scoops up the bucket of go-backs and sidesteps to the neighboring genre. “That’s gotta be the closest thing you’ve ever had to a relationship.”

Burn, but an accurate one. Eddie isn’t a Casanova but there’s nothing wrong with that, not at all. He’s got his hobbies and friends, what point is there in trying to convince the town that he’s up for a little romance? Besides, the absence of encounters means that flirting isn’t in his wheelhouse.

Eddie looks down at the face of his Casio, reading that it’s nearing seven o’clock. “Hey, do we still have a copy of Beetlejuice around?”

“I doubt it. All of the spooky shit has been going like hotcakes since Halloween is right around the corner.”

As customers trickle through the door, Eddie shifts to the computer system and types hurriedly on the keyboard. “Fuck, it’s gotta be here,” He abandons the register and searches the store.

Steve opens a case and snaps it closed, entirely oblivious to the commotion until Eddie whizzes by in his peripheral vision. “Okay, this is a whole new level of obnoxious,” Steve huffs. “Why are you so hell-bent on finding that specific movie?”

“Because she’s probably gonna wanna rent it, and if we don’t have it…” Eddie trails off as he flies by on the other side of the store.

“Cool your jets, turbo,” Steve notices that more people are coming into the store so he waves Eddie over. The last thing they need is a lawsuit because an old lady got plowed down. “Seriously, what gives?”

Wheezing at the end of the aisle, Eddie hunches over and bows his head. He grips his knees for dear life while he tries to catch his breath. “There’s this girl.”

Steve’s feathered brows mirror the nosey tone of his voice. “Who is it? Do I know her?”

“I doubt it,” Eddie coughs. “But she stops in every Friday night.”

“News flash, butthead. It’s the busiest day of the week, that’s not exactly narrowing it down,” Steve feels a creeping presence over his shoulder. Speaking of old ladies; he peeks, just to find an elderly woman encroaching on his personal space to view the titles that he’s blocking. “Sorry,” he says halfheartedly before directing his coworker toward the register with a toss of his head. “Is it Tara P.?”

“Nope,” Eddie follows and plops on the stool furthest from the computer. “She wears a lot of black, has tattoos, piercings-”

Steve shakes his index finger. “Okay, yeah, I know who you’re talking about now. She’s always dressed for a funeral,” He snorts.

“I know, isn’t it hot?” Eddie sighs dreamily while he tugs at his green coil key ring, stretching it as far as it’ll go.

“I mean, if you’re into that kinda thing,” Steve shudders dramatically. “Gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“I’m definitely into that,” Eddie gnaws on the soft pink flesh of his lips as he pauses. “There’s this aura around her, y’know? Not just her looks either, it’s her energy too.”

“Dark and brooding, huh? That’s what gets ya going?” Steve switches to his customer service voice as he checks out the elderly woman with minimal back and forth.

“Yeah, whenever she’s around my hands get all sweaty,” Eddie looks down at his large palms that are growing slick from discussing you. “She hangs out at the bar where I play. God, just seeing her makes my heart sing.”

He loses himself in thinking about seeing you at Wraith. You’re the only one that he strives to impress but he has yet to. You dance to other bands but not Eddie’s. Sometimes you nod your head to the beat, though it’s never enough for you to acknowledge his existence.

“Pass me a barf bag,” Steve gags. “Makes your heart sing?”

“Whatever, dude. It’s not like you’re gettin’ any action with your Harrington charm.”

“Excuse you,” Steve looks at Eddie pointedly. “I almost got that girl’s number on Monday, thank you very much. She was totally digging me.”

“Was she, though? ‘Cause she left without giving you her digits,” Eddie chuckles mockingly and tilts his head. “How many more times do you have to strike out before you finally throw in the towel?”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who canoodles furniture,” Steve scoffs. “Don’t come for my manhood. At least I have the balls to make a move.”

“So many moves, and yet, so few takers!” Eddie throws his head back and laughs boisterously.

“Put a sock in it,” Steve groans.

Speak of the devil. Eddie spots you walking into the store, just as you always do at this time. “Oh god,” He gulps and his joints lock, freezing time and space simultaneously. His mouth is slightly agape as the world comes to a standstill. His vision narrows to a tunnel, rendering him deaf and mute.

Steve snaps his fingers in front of Eddie’s face. “Jesus, man. Try to act somewhat normal,” he rolls his eyes. “If you even know how.”

Eddie does not know how especially not after being literally snapped out of his trance. His palms are clammy, his breathing is rigid, and he’s dizzy as all hell. “Look at her,” He whispers. Christ, you look so fucking pretty today.

“Are you trying to catch flies, dude?”

“No,” Eddie scowls, promptly tightening his lax jaw. “Fuck off.”

Steve takes notice of your figure moving down the aisle and turning in their direction. “Duun dun,” he begins to imitate the Jaws shark theme. “Duuun dun,” As you approach from the other end of the store, Steve gets progressively louder. “Dun dun dun dun dun-”

“Quit!” Eddie barks through gritted teeth and kicks Steve’s calf. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Ow, that was uncalled for,” Steve bends over to rub his leg in an attempt to soothe the ache. 

“Jesus Christ! She’s coming over here,” Eddie paces in the cramped area, nearly colliding with Steve when he pivots. “What the fuck do I do? I don’t know how to be Mr. Cool Guy.”

With your chosen film in hand, you are in fact approaching the register. Steve’s voice becomes discernible as you get nearer. “...if you keep acting like such a wuss. Grow a pair and just-”

“Shut up! Shut it,” Eddie makes it appear as though he’s doing something productive to the snack display, but he’s really just shifting the packets of Skittles around.

“Just this,” you confirm by setting down the tape and digging into your purse. The atmosphere feels tense, to say the least. You’ve clearly interrupted something. It’s plain to see on the other employee’s tomato-red face.

Steve offers a straight-lipped smile and scans your membership card. “Find everything alright?”

You hum in response. While he carries on with the transaction, you notice how peculiarly still the other guy is. “Hello,” you greet him softly, hoping to ease the atmosphere.

Eddie’s hands come to a halt and he looks up at you with wide eyes. “Heh,” He meant to say “hey” but only the first letter made it out alive. As you pay for your purchase, his mouth is still moving and he doesn’t know why. “That’s a good one,” he gestures to the movie.

You startle inwardly, not having anticipated an actual conversation to start. He seems nice enough. “You’re a fan of scary movies too, I take it?”

Eddie nods timidly. He flexes his fingers to combat the overwhelming numbness that’s plaguing his hands. His heart is beating so goddamn hard that it’s on the verge of bursting through his chest and landing wetly at his feet. “Yeah, I like them. They’re good. Really good.”

“Agreed,” While you tuck your wallet away, a polite smile rests on your face. “I was actually in the mood for Beetlejuice but it doesn’t look like you have it,” Your smile falls ever so slightly.

The sight causes Eddie’s pounding heart to twist and plummet to his ass. He’d give you every copy on the planet if he could.

Steve listens in over the sound of your receipt printing. His brows arch in genuine surprise that Eddie knew you’d want that movie tonight. Creepy, but impressive nonetheless. “Sorry about that,” Steve tears the paper from the machine and hands it to you. “Maybe next time.”

“Maybe,” you nod, accept the receipt, and pick up the tape. “Have a good night,” you say to both of them and head out.

Once you’re through the doors, Eddie clutches Steve’s forearm to ground himself in reality.

“Ugh!” Steve yanks his arm away to escape the muggy grasp. “That’s gnarly, man.” 

“Do you believe me now?” Eddie wipes his sopping palms on his jeans.

“Oh, I believe you, especially after witnessing that. I’m pretty sure Henderson has more game than you.”

Eddie returns to the stool with a plop. “Just kill me already,” he rubs his face, sighing. “Put me out of my fucking misery.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time,” Steve laughs to himself. “Anyway, back to Little Miss Dead Inside. What’ve you tried?”

“Nothing,” Eddie drops his hands and slouches in defeat. “I don’t think she even knows my name.”

“You gotta give her a reason to,” Steve continues conversing from over his shoulder while he checks out another customer. “What about notes? Y’know, old-fashioned love notes.”

Eddie scrunches his nose. “I dunno about that.”

“It’s right up your alley, Shakespeare. Besides, the ladies love melodramatic shit like that.”

Eddie suddenly perks up. “Wait, I could be totally anonymous! She could figure it out on her own. That way she comes to me and I don’t even have to approach her.” 

“That’s not what I said at all.”

“This could totally work,” Eddie motions to Steve’s head. “Who woulda thought there’s a few marbles rollin’ around in there.”

“Ha-ha,” Steve continues to slowly but surely shorten the line. “Don’t think I’m helping you.”

“The hell you aren’t,” Eddie hops up on the counter beside the register. He swings his legs with newfound optimism and tears open a package of red vines. “You’re obligated to help since it’s your idea.”

“I absolutely am not, and I have no interest in being inadvertently bitten by some vampire chick. Leave me out of it.”

“C’mon, I’ll owe you big time,” Eddie begs with his mouth full of waxy candy.

“You have to clean the restroom for two weeks,” Steve declares with a smirk.

“No fucking shot,” Eddie points with a half-bitten licorice rope. “Pick something else.”

“Do you want help or not?”

Eddie did indeed want help, so he agreed to the bullshit terms and conditions. He can scrub a toilet, no problemo. Honestly, he’d polish a hundred of them with a toothbrush if that meant you’d step into his life. You’re worth cleaning toilets for.

After closing up shop for the night, Eddie sits at his desk in his bedroom until the early hours. He writes draft after draft, struggling to find words that are forward and inviting without coming on too strong right off the bat.

Upon your arrival the following week, Eddie is shaking like a leaf. He listens to your interaction with Steve while being partially concealed behind a tall cardboard cut-out. Despite not being able to see you, he can see your lips forming the words in his mind. Your voice alone is making him weak in the knees. Eddie’s certain that if you don’t hightail it out of here soon, they’ll buckle and his cover will be blown.

Once he’s certain you’ve left, Eddie releases the breath he’s been holding since you walked in. “How’d it go? She didn’t see you put the note in there, right?”

“Why are you even asking? You eavesdropped the whole time. Yeah, it went fine, she didn’t notice.” Steve grumbles.

“Okay, cool,” Eddie chews on his thumbnail. “Shit, what if she thinks it’s creepy? What if she thinks it’s the lamest thing ever? Fuck, what if-”

“Dude,” Steve closes his eyes and holds his hands out. “You’ve gotta stop.”

In the comfort of your home, you plop down in front of the VCR and open the case that holds the reels of this evening’s entertainment; a movie you’ve rented a few times before, but not enough that you could quote it. Instead of a hard plastic shell, your fingertips find wrinkled notebook paper. Your brows furrow as you inspect it, shredded pieces dangling from where it was yanked from the spiral binding.

You unfold it three times. 

In the aisles of the video store, I've found a treasure unsurpassed. Not on the shelves, but in your eyes, I fell so fast.

It’s a prank, whatever the fuck this is. 

Never in your life have you ever thought about Steve, like, at all. You’re aware of his reputation, that he apparently has the tendency to be douchey and arrogant. But the more you think about it, he’s nothing like that when you interact at Family Video. Maybe he’s not that judgmental and he sees past your midnight exterior. This note is stupidly genuine and endearing. Who would’ve thought he had it in him? Certainly not you.

That’s the thing, though. Steve isn’t your type and you’re certainly not his. But you can’t recall a time when he’s ever looked at you like you’re some kind of freak. Most guys do, that’s something you’ve grown used to over the years and learned to ignore. This poem basks him in a new light, and you’re not quite sure how to process it.

Like clockwork, you’re back again but this time your chest is thrumming. The note could’ve been a fluke or maybe it was meant for someone else, you’re not entirely sure. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to be the intended recipient. Right now, it would be ideal to appear composed but you’re already wearing an unusual expression—a pleasant one—while you make your way to the drama section.

Tonight, it’s Robin and Eddie holding down the fort. As your combat boots scuff across the forest-colored carpet, Eddie can feel your arrival in his bones. He’s immediately seeking you out and when he locates you, he just about faints. Admiring from afar while manning the register, his mind races. Kissing is what’s on the curiosity menu tonight. Eddie wonders what flavor of toothpaste you prefer. If he could just get a little taste…

You meander your way around the shelving and through the dotting of customers. Eddie snaps his head in the opposite direction to avoid being caught staring. The sudden motion causes a pinch in his neck and he winces.

Lost in his own little world for a minute or two, Eddie’s attention is violently brought forward when you place a tape down in front of him. He buffers, noticing how you look subtly disappointed all of a sudden. He can’t imagine why, but he hates it with every cell in his body. Eddie fails to greet you and instead, he stares at your wine-painted fingernails as they tap the surface of the case.

“Is he not here?” You glance around with a lack of determination.

“Steve? Er, no. He called in sick,” He clears his throat harshly, all of the moisture drying up in his mouth by the millisecond.

“Oh, okay,” Over your other shoulder, you admire the new promotional display that was put out during the week.

Eddie seizes the opportunity to slip the second note into the case. His hands viscously tremble despite his best efforts to steady them. “Not to worry though, I can check you out way better than that walking hairdo,” Stop while you’re ahead, man. “Ring you up, I mean. I can ring you up better… than him.” Jesus fucking Christ.

“You’ve got quite the mane yourself,” A smile blooms as you look into the chocolate pools he has for irises. “I like your curls,” You can’t help but softly giggle at how bug-eyed he goes at your compliment.

“Uh, thanks,” Eddie bites back the cheek-splitter of a smile threatening to form. His trembling hands tingle unbearably from being able to make you laugh, despite not knowing what he did to earn it. He grabs a packet of M&Ms from the rack and slides it across the counter to you. “Here, free of charge.”

Your tightly sewn brow is accompanied by a slight pout. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense,” Eddie insists. “Everything’s on the house.”

“Is this some loyalty reward thing you guys do now?”

“Right on the money,” Eddie winks.

“Sweet,” you chirp. It’s as though your spirit has been replenished by saving a few bucks. “Do I get one of those little punch cards? I love those things.”

With the way your eyes are shimmering over a stupid piece of paper; Eddie would build you a house made of punch cards if that’s what you wanted. “Yeah,” he searches aimlessly. “But, uh, we haven’t gotten them yet.”

Your gaze finds his name tag and then returns to his flushed face. The corner of your mouth quirks as you notice the faint freckles dotted across his cheeks and nose. “Okay, well, thank you, Eddie.”

“No need to thank me, I should be thanking you! You’re a valued customer,” he exclaims. “My favorite of them all!”

“If you say so,” you exhale with amusement and turn to leave. “See you around.”

Eddie holds his palm open as a farewell gesture until you’re out of sight. He then brings his hand directly to his forehead in a ruthless smack. “You’re my favorite customer,” He mocks himself in a nasally voice.

With the press of a button, the register drawer launches open with a thunk. He nonchalantly retrieves his wallet, plucks out a five-dollar bill, and tucks it under the stainless steel clip to pay for your “free” movie and candy. Eddie finds Robin staring at him with a knowing look on her face. “Not a fucking word, Buckley. Not a word,” he glares, to which she throws her hands up in defense.

You couldn’t possibly wait until you got home to see if there would be another note. As you hop into the driver's seat of your car in the parking lot, you find an identical piece of folded paper. Your heart pitter-patters with the assumption that Eddie is in on it and he did Steve the favor of delivering this one for him.

With your illuminating smile, Baby Ghoul, you're the moonlight in my darkest night.

This note takes you by surprise for a different reason. It feels far more personal to be bestowed with the cutest goddamn nickname you’ve ever been given; ghouls are so metal. You obsessively reread it through the duration of your movie, while you brush your teeth, and as you lay in bed. You’re swooning over each messily penned letter, memorizing the spots where the ink drags and smudges.

It’s a bit difficult to imagine Steve saying this to you, but your insides are lurching at the thought. You hold the note to your chest and squeal.

The following visits are heavenly. Eddie loves seeing you bounce around on the balls of your feet like you’re on cloud nine. It’s becoming damn near impossible to fight the urge to smile because he knows that you’re looking forward to his imminent written affection.

Note after note, confidence simmers in his belly from seeing how the expression of his feelings is affecting you. To know that he’s the reason you’re glowing like this is turning his brain to pudding. Not tapioca, though. Ew.

With wide puppy dog eyes and a glossy lower lip, you present your past-due rental to Steve. He sucks his teeth, crosses his arms, and scolds you playfully. You successfully get out of paying the fee by simply batting your lashes at him.

Steve is eating this shit up. While you might not be his flavor of choice, he’s suddenly feeling open to sampling the femme fatale vibe. You’re beautiful, he wouldn’t waste his breath denying that. Not to mention, you’ve got a great sense of humor, considering you’re laughing at his awful jokes. That’s something he will admit—they’re bad.

Eddie doesn’t have to hear the conversation to know what’s unfolding. He feels like he’s gonna hurl when Steve leans down to shorten the distance between the two of you. He's supposed to be the middleman, not stealing Eddie’s thunder. In hindsight, there haven’t been any hints at his identity and Eddie’s been too chicken shit to give them to you except for the other day when he had no choice.

To put it simply, he’s torn. Eddie wants to scream that he’s your admirer, that he’s the one who dreams of you, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He can’t possibly reveal that it isn’t dashing Harrington who’s pining for you, but instead, it’s the dork. That would be a world-crushing level of disappointment.

This deal turned out to be a massive ego boost for Steve. The conversation is easygoing and it quickly progresses past small talk. The best part is that you haven’t even mentioned the notes. You think he’s some poet when in reality, he doesn’t even have a clue of what they say. You’re smitten without him having to bend over backward to impress you. He’d be nuts not to take advantage of it.

During closing time, Eddie stomps around while collecting the flimsy trash bags full of receipts and candy wrappers. For the past hour, he’s been pondering ways to “take care” of Steve. Sadly, it would be tricky to avoid raising suspicion if he suddenly disappeared, but hey, a guy can dream.

After dishing the silent treatment all night, Eddie finally speaks up. “You think you’re pretty clever, huh?”

“What?” Steve briefly looks up from counting the cash drawer.

“Cut the crap. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Eddie drags a clunky vacuum out of the cramped utility closet and unwraps the lengthy cord.

“It’s not that serious. Look, it’s not my fault that she’s into me.”

“Is all that hairspray finally soaking into your brain? She’s not into you,” Eddie growls, throwing the canary-colored cord to the carpet. “She likes the person who’s writing to her. Last I checked, that’s me.”

“Yeah, but she thinks it’s me,” Steve shrugs. “She’s happy, I’m happy. I don’t see a problem here.”

“The problem is that you know how I feel about her,” Eddie retorts while staring daggers. “The shit you’re pulling is really fucking unfair.”

“Life’s not fair, buddy. It’s not like you’re gonna do anything about it.”

“We’ll see about that,” Eddie mutters, clenching his jaw as he turns around to plug in the vacuum.

“Will we?” Steve snickers. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.”

It’s Saturday night and Eddie’s praying to every conceivable higher power that you’ll be here. You don’t come to Wraith every weekend, but when you do show, he’s nothing short of a nervous wreck.

He peeks out from behind the velvety black curtain of the concrete stage. Eddie’s heart stops when he finds you in your usual booth. You look hot, so so hot. It’s already hard enough to perform in front of you but when you look like this? Oh, brother.

Every year, you look forward to coming here on Halloween. Your friends have gone all out with their costumes and the hours you spent getting ready were well worth it. The typical dark and dingy ambiance is heightened by the plastic skulls and bones strung from the ceiling. Your drinks emit wisps of dry ice fog and each table has a bowl of candy.

Seated at the end of the booth, your eyes drift from your drink to the floor. There you find a pair of dirty white Reeboks. Your gaze travels up the lanky figure shrouded in navy coveralls.

Eddie twists his ring around the base of his finger and the glide is effortless, thanks to the premature perspiration. “Hey.”

“Uh, hi,” your expression reflects a mix of hesitance and confusion, though you maintain a kind demeanor. “Eddie, right?”

“Yeah,” She remembered my name. Eddie motions to your getup. “I like your costume. Elvira, right?”

While you may not be sporting a ceiling-high black wig, your costume is unmistakable. “Right on the money,” you flash a pert grin, quoting him from the other day. “And you’re a…”

“Supposed to be Michael Meyers,” he clarifies, pulling a plastic knife from his oversized back pocket. “The mask was too hot to wear so, I guess I’m a killer repairman?” Max’s borrowed mask was indeed suffocating.

“Or a plumber who secretly dreams of being a professional chef,” you shrug, your irises glistening with humor.

Okay, so far so good. Talking to himself in the mirror for an hour is really paying off because he’s not a bumbling idiot for once. He could be imagining things, but it looks like you’re leaning closer. Maybe you’re just trying to hear him better over the music. He shouldn’t be overanalyzing your body language but it's the only thing keeping him vertical.

Eddie wants to prove Steve wrong but most of all, he wants to tell you how incredible you are. He’s not sure that you’ll want to talk to him after this. You might be hurt when you realize that you’ve been misled and he’s not the one you want. There’s only one way to find out.

The sound of his band getting set up beckons him. “Show time,” Eddie shakes jazz hands with the toy knife still in his grip. Of course, he just had to make it weird.

While he’s playing through the usual set with Corroded Coffin, you don’t pay them any mind, per usual. Their final song is a new one. Eddie may lack the confidence to confess, but he’s gonna sing this with all of the moxy he’s got.

In this world of shadows, what else is there to do

Wanna explore life’s cemetery with you

Your haunting beauty tells no lie

The one thing I cannot defy

The familiarity of the lyrics floods your head. You look up and find his dark, gleaming eyes locked onto you. Your heart leaps in your throat as he repeats the verses. Eddie leaves no room for uncertainty, confirming that the lyrics are pulled from the notes you’ve received. The tone of his voice is raw and passionate as he sends his affection across the room.

As soon as he steps off stage, you’re on a mission to find him. He feels a tap on his shoulder and turns to find you beaming at him. Eddie finally allows himself to do the same, all the while blushing with exhaustion and anticipation.

“Hey, again,” you stare down at your shoes and scuff them against the floor. “You sounded great up there.”

“Yeah?” he swallows hard. “You liked it?”

Your eyes snap back up to his. “All of it, every single word.”

“I’ve got like half a notebook’s worth of stuff like that,” Eddie chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “Is that weird?”

“Far from it,” you tilt your head toward the bar. “I’d love to hear what else you’ve got to say.”

Eddie hovers his hand over the small of your back to guide you through the crowd. “I’ll sweet talk you until the sun comes up, Baby Ghoul. Anything for you.”

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

Consider reading From Bar to Billboard, I worked really fucking hard on it 🖤

★My Masterlist

★Tip Jar

tags:@nj01@tlclick73

[kaitaiga]

Archie “Frost” Campbell HCs ❄️

Some random hcs that’s been sitting in my head for a while :)

Loves to have Tapas and chat with Joseph. Just catching up on life or any new developments.

The type to have 5 photos of his family but about 1000 of his cat, Vader 🐈‍⬛

Speaking of Vader, he is a very chatty cat. Struts around Archie’s apartment like he owns the place. Very clingy, always having his nose in whatever Archie is doing.

He drives a BMW F82 M4 in dark grey. Red interior.

I mentioned in his profile that he self-taught himself various mechanical and electrical engineering concepts, however he also taught himself programming too. In his spare time he likes to tinker and do various projects with Raspberry Pi.

I like the idea that once Archie joins Task Force Dagger, the rest of the members occasionally train him up with CQC. Archie isn’t particularly a great fighter. Sure he flies a fighter jet and all but without it, he’s stripped of the majority, if not, all of his power. The boys agree that SERE is just a baseline and that now he’s in TFD, he’s exposed to more risky situations. The real deal.

His clothing style sticks to neutral colours. He likes to wear quarter Polo zips, jeans, knit sweaters, vintage leather bomber jackets and converse sneakers.

He also likes to wear Ray-Ban Aviator sunglasses and a Casio G-Shock watch. RAAF x IWC watch for formal occasions.

For Archie’s birthday, Joseph gifted him a Lego Star Wars Republic Gunship set. Unfortunately as he was about to finish, Vader knocked it off the table and it shattered. It now sits unfinished in the corner of his room.

He secretly feels out of place in TFD.

Archie promised his grandfather that he’d be able to watch himself fly for the first time in whatever fighter jet he was given. It happened, his grandfather who was too weak to stand and was bound to his wheelchair still made it to the base, dressed in his old leather flight jacket from WW2 and cap watched Archie soar across the skies. With all the strength he had left and some help, he managed to give Archie one last final salute before he passed a few days later.

Archie prides himself on his cooking ability. He was so fed up with cafeteria food that he spent a great time learning to cook. He likes to have a nice glass of red wine with some jazzy music playing in the background as he does so. Oh, and a few candles to create a warm atmosphere.

His favourite food is a nice steak cooked ‘til medium well with roasted veggies, gravy, herb butter and chips.

On average, he drinks at least three coffees a day. Usually black or with two sugars and a dash of milk. He likes black tea too, his favourite being an Indonesian brand - Sariwangi - that was introduced to him from Daniel.

He wants two more cats: Luke and Leia, both orange cats. Unfortunately he doesn’t have the time or space currently.

[hansolmates]

honey tea | 02

banner by @theluttleprince

summary; hansol vernon chwe is crying at his doorstep like a taylor swift music video, and you’re for some reason there to help  pairing; hvc / reader (f) genre/warnings; neighbors to friends, friends to lovers!au, slice of life, fluff, angst, tw—cheating, mentions of pregnancy related to cheating, profanity w/c; 1k a/n; *this will be a very noncommittal drabble series, i know this isn’t the return many were expecting but pls be gentle with me—unedited unplanned and all around chaotic impulses, you know the drill! take care drink water and have a wonderful week!  [masterpost]

“And she has the audacity to come crying to me—me! I’m not even the father and I’m the one she’s stressing out!” 

Is it possible to become inebriated over three glasses of honey milk tea? In your biggest sweater, your head pops out of the collar, nodding and humming at all the right spots. Who knew Vernon could be talkative? After all, he always seems perfectly content. 

Your eyes blink rapidly over the next few hours, trying to absorb the movie-like play-by-play from Vernon. Nevermind that you have work in less than eight hours, or that Vernon ate more of your meal than you thought and you have to drink more and more tea to fill yourself up. Due to the fact that you’re drinking tea also guarantees you won’t be sleeping anyway, so it’s best that you call out of work now before it’s too late. 

Just as you’re about to reach for your phone tucked into your sweater, Vernon breathes out, “Thank you.” 

“Oh—oh no! It’s nothing,” you sound like a commercial as you say that, a smile that is a little too strained due to your tired eyes and caffeinated body. However, you still feel pity and there’s no sense in showing how you truly feel. “I’m glad you could talk about this with someone, sometimes it’s easier to talk about things when it’s between strangers.” 

He neither refutes or denies your comment about being strangers, just hums contentedly as he tries to scoop up more honey from his mug. Vernon looks exhausted, molding himself between the couch with every minute. 

Speaking of minutes, your eyes flit over to your My Melody clock hanging on the wall. At the center of My Melody’s belly, pink hands indicate the time is 12:01AM. Since starting your career, you run on grandma hours. Grandma hours mean being in bed by nine, otherwise you might as well throw the whole work day away. 

You haven’t called out of work in awhile, so it’s okay. However, you’re ready to hit the hay and Vernon is dozing off on your couch. It looks like he’s trying hard not to go to bed, the caffeine finally wearing off his weary body. 

Gingerly removing yourself from your seat, you grab the empty mugs and trash off the coffee table. “So,” you whistle, softly nudging Vernon with your toe, “I’m gonna get ready for bed, if that’s okay.” 

“Oh, oh shit,” he jerks alive, swinging his Casio on his wrist and throwing your blanket across your cushions, “my bad, I’ll get out of your way.” 

“No, no, don’t worry about it,” okay, maybe now you’re lying a little through your teeth, you are going to call out of work and he did eat seventy-five percent of your noodles, but this is definitely an off day. You’ve been waiting for things to go awry, especially when you’ve had a pretty good week. 

Vernon is whirlwinding, throwing things in the plastic takeout bag and spilling chopsticks on the carpet. He’s not really helping, but he’s trying. You don’t have it in you to tell him to stop, so for a brief moment you close your eyes and pretend you’re in your bed.

However, instead of envisioning your bed, you’re thinking about Vernon having to step back into his apartment, where Yoojung would probably be waiting. 

Or not waiting, if Yoojung is staying with the alleged baby daddy. You don’t know which is worse. 

“Will you be okay?” Your words are short but filled with worry. 

“I—I will be. Thanks, really,” Vernon doesn’t even look at you as he throws himself together. He launches all the trash in your metal bin, cheeks puffy and pink as he runs to the front door to slip in his shoes. He doesn’t even untie the laces, just jabs his feet in the sole. “Okay, I’m good. I’m good, uh, bye!” 

Uh, bye? 

The door closes, and as soon as he leaves, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. 

As soon as he’s gone hits you like a trainwreck, and you’re out before you hit the pillow. You dream of Vernon, crying alone, and you an arm’s length away. You’re worried, but don’t know where to go from here. I mean, wouldn’t it be awkward to approach him after all of that? 

It seems like life knows where to go, and you’re hanging on for the ride. 

Your blackout curtains are probably the best investment you’ve made on the apartment. It really does make you feel like you can sleep for hours and hours without feeling bad about being a bum. Unfortunately blackout curtains are not soundproof, and nothing could dispel the horrid banging that’s been happening for the past hour. No, not sexy banging. Like shaking the ground, someone is moving a refrigerator down two floors banging. It’s loud, very loud. This shocks you because your neighbors have never been loud since you’ve moved in. 

There’s a vibration throughout the apartment which reverberates through the hard frame of your bed, giving you no choice but to get up to figure out what the commotion is all about. Someone has hung up something in the wall connecting yours (maybe a mounted television?) and either dropped it or something because it’s making you anxious. 

It’s 6:01, and you’re stuffing your feet in your hot pink Crocs, hunched over as you step out into the hallway. 

“Oh, hi neighbor.” 

Turns out, your neighbors are never loud because you never had neighbors to begin with. 

Your landlord pops up, Jihoon jerking a head to the person behind the door frame. “Meet your new, or old neighbor, Vernon Chwe,” he says blandly, with a straight face indicating that it’s also way too early for him to be awake. 

Vernon, who is still wearing the clothes you saw on him hours before, waves shyly from his (new!) empty living room. 

[m0llygunn]

Can we have a sneak peak of chap 2 BWB?

yes we can!! almost 600 words of sneakily peeking, enjoy!! (also i think we need a consensus on the name cause its already been called so many things, which i acknowledge is my fault because of all the unnecessarily fanciful parenthesis lol but i've been using fwbb (friends with baby benefits), if chill lmk

───── ⋆⋅୨୧⋅⋆ ─────

“It’s almost nine now, so it’ll be ready at…”

“9:20,” you say when Eddie takes a concerning amount of time doing the math. The ride home was quiet. Being out of the fluorescence helped your nerves, and as you got further and further away from the pharmacy, and closer and closer to Eddie’s place, you started to feel normal again. 

“I knew that, I was just… thinking,” he responds. He sits up from where he was crouching in front of the dresser, using it as a table to put together the test. 

Decidedly, it was just nerves that had put you on edge, that’s it. The test is nothing but precautionary, just to rule out what could have made you sick. Eddie joins you, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Uh— before, we get a response,” he pauses, wringing his hands together. His eyes move down to his lap and your chest tightens. “I just want to say that whatever it is… I don’t regret what we did… and whatever it is, I’ll be there… for my girls.” 

He looks at you, his smirk widening by the second, and you can’t help the snort of laughter from escaping. Like every other ill-timed joke that he's pervasively told over the last month or so, he gets you, and you appreciate it this time as it lessens the gnawing feeling in your belly.

Despite the joke, when you really look at him, with his lips spread in a smile, his eyes swarm with the same trepidations that you feel. He’s a comedian but even the comedian is human. You try your hand at lightening the mood. 

“What if it’s not a girl?” you ask, playing along. He smiles, bumping his shoulder into yours as he huffs a breath from his nose. Shaking his head in an almost mirthful way, you think you were successful, until his demeanour drops into something serious. 

“What did you mean earlier?” he asks, “When you said that it doesn’t feel like you ate something bad?”

“I just— I don't know. I just, I thought I had a feeling,” you explain. Eddie hums, eyes now set forward on the test. “I think I was just nervous, that’s all.” 

Twenty minutes has never felt longer. Eddie accepts your answer at face value but doesn’t do much to show it. He doesn't do much in general, and neither do you. At the ten minute mark, his hand found your knee. At the fifteen minute mark you were curled under his arm, resting your head on his chest as he rubbed up and down your arm. In the last minute, you had taken his hand in yours, playing with his fingers as you watched the seconds tick by on his casio watch. 

9:19:59 turned to 9:20:00, and you turned to Eddie. Synchronously and in silence, you parted from each other. He stood and you sat. He moved to the dresser, and you held your breath. 

With his back facing you, you watch with unblinking eyes as he reaches for the instructions. Humming to himself, your lungs ache. You try to parse the meaning behind his tone, or vibration, or pitch— or anything that could give way to what he's seeing, but it’s far too vague. Taking a deep and vital breath, filling your begging lungs with air, you're just about to ask what it is, mouth already open, lips already forming words, when he speaks.

“It says negative.”

“It says negative?” you parrot in disbelief.

“Negative.” Eddie answers firmly.

─────────

[mchlgayser]

𝐀 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐘 ft jude bellingham

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: It was a normal day, another day to go through but somehow becomes very special because of a certain someone.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff / ✮

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: none

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: That kind of trope I love so much + jude being the best guy he is!! I'm inlove 🤭🤭

You put on different dresses for you to wear. A simple white maxi dress, sleeveless and silky. An elegant red-wine dress, with a square neck, and puff shoulder. But after almost half an hour picking and throwing dresses out, you finally came out with a knees length of khaki-colored V-neck short-sleeve dress.

After that, you put on makeup and did your hair by letting it loose and coiling it a bit. You get your bag and put on your Casio brand watch, the one Jude got for you and him as your first-anniversary gift. Lastly, you put on your eggshell white square-toe heels.

The doorbell chimes and a loud voice of Jude are heard. He was knocking while chanting 'Y/n, Y/n' continuously. You jog over to the door and open it to see... Jude but with his complexion almost covered with a bouquet of Red Tulips. You were awed at the sight of him peeking his head from over the medium-sized bouquet and smiling 'Hey, precious! I got these lovely flowers, especially for you.' He handed you the strong aromatic bouquet and you thank him.

'Let's go!' He held your hand in his bringing you inside his Mercedes Benz and kissing your cheek 'I'm so excited to pamper you today!' You giggle at his exaggerated utterance but speak out nothing more nonetheless. The ride wasn't entirely quiet. The background music play chill songs from your playlist whilst Jude informs you about his practices and upcoming matches. More can you say, the ride was lively and comfortable.

As Jude arrived at the destination, he abruptly stopped the car and helps you get out of it even though you told him not to. The car is later handled by one of the employees as you two strutted inside the elegant-looking mall. Honest to say, this is the first you ever step foot inside the mall and you were not disappointed. The interior and all the branded shops never fail to gawk your eyes forward. You stare at Jude with half-quivering eyes 'Jude, I already don't like where this is going!' He laughs at you so that the corner of his eyes creases.

'It's fine, precious. Let me.' He holds your hand throughout the entire trip and brings you from one store to another.

'Alright, done warming up? Where you wanna go next?' He chuckles once more, seeing you looking around like a lost puppy as you mumble 'I don't know...'

He entered a Gucci shop and stroll around but stop momentarily once he spotted a black organ bag and immediately snatched it before the old lady as she sighed in defeat. He pay for it and left the shop with you 'Let me hold that for you...' He insists on pushing you forward and smiles, muttering 'I got this.'

He drags you around the other shops stopping by Prada and buying you a pair of heels and Dior to buy you a set of unisex perfume. His hands are full of paper bags from all sorts of different trademarks, his head held high as he brought the paper bag back with him and inside his car 'You gotta stop doing that.' You hit his arm playfully and he winces in pretended pain 'Ouch precious, is that your new habit of saying thank you, yeah?'

You blush and kiss the corner of his lip 'Thanks, Judy.' He hums reciprocates the kiss and smirks 'Gladly!'

It was a long ride, the sun setting building an unreal beauty of the dusky sky, the cloudy sky painted with orange and yellow hue colored horizon. This time the ride was utterly quiet but comfortable. Jude hums the song called Just the two of us to which you are glad he didn't sing it out instead or it's gonna turn out pretty bad, just kidding he's a splendid songster.

The ride eventually came to an end and the car stopped atop a hill. He came out first and open the car door for you 'Thank you...' You confess and join him on the wooden barrier around the edge. From above, you two could see the whole city, the skyscraper buildings, and the car fastly passing by. It was calming, even calming that the night sky and the moon accompany you both. The peaceful situation surrounded you two as you sat there without a word exchanging.

'Thanks for today even though I still don't get why you spent so much more than usual for me. Do you secretly ready an occasion for me?' You fool and wiggle your brows.

He laughs contagiously, hands rubbing on both of his thighs 'Nah, nothing special really...' His aura turns wary and cautious making you nervous 'You alright?' He nods still rubbing his thighs for a sort of consolation.

'C'mere' He ordered pulling you back from the edge and onto a bending tree 'Woah, this spot is even beautiful--'

'You can make this our particular spot?' You look at him in pure bewilderment 'You mean it?!' He chuckles, taking your hand in his and stroking the back of your palm, soothingly.

'But I have one more thing to do...' He announced suddenly taking off his hold on you and deeply letting out a sigh 'Okay... Here I go!' He fish something out from the back of his jeans pocket and the sight of a bright velvety box came to your view.

He slowly opens the lid revealing a silver ring decorated with a white oval diamond stone. 'This is not yet a proposed ring but instead a promise ring. A ring I vowed to take care of you. A ring you must carry with you all the time until the day I asked you officially to be my missis. A ring to show how deeply in love I am with you and only you. A ring to dead-tie our bond. A ring... I am custom-made only for you. It's one in a million?' You chuckle through tears at his last sentences before pulling him into a hug. He held you by your waist and your back swaying you in his arms left and right.

'Here... There...!' The ring perfectly fits into your ring finger and you grin 'It's gorgeous, thank you, Judy!' He pulls you into a hug once more and gives your head a chaste kiss.

'I love you, precious.'

[123moiaussi]

Hi everyone, just letting y’all know that I’m taking a hiatus to focus on my studies. I’ll be back soon and I hope y’all have a good one🫶

[canonfatbisexualenby]

Word Count: 1k+

Rating: G

Pairing: Dann/y Tanne/r x Catie

Catie tapped her fingers against the bulky cash register and fished into her pocket for a piece of cherry cola bubblegum. She popped it into her mouth and slowly began chewing as she scanned her eyes around the grocery store, squinting as they adjusted to the fluorescents.

Suddenly, she saw a large crowd enter and instantly recognized them when one of the three children with bright blonde hair spoke up.

It was The Tanners. Apparently, before Catie even started, they were ‘known around the market’, so to speak. Danny and Pam Tanner, who had three little girls.

She knew they had had their first child kinda early on, at least in her opinion. But she also knew life happened so she didn’t judge them for it.

And, unfortunately, she had found out from a co-worker a few months back that Pam had passed away. It had broken her heart in a way she hadn’t expected, since to her, or at least she initially thought, they were just regular customers. She figured it was because she knew what it was like to be without a mother in this big, crazy world, and she didn’t wish it on anybody.

Before she could ruminate on her sad thoughts, her co-worker and best friend Jo walked up.

“The Tanners are here.” She giggled.

“I noticed.” Catie chewed and blew a bubble. She smiled as it popped against her full bottom lip.

“Check out the hottie with a body who’s with them...” Jo looked over, her eyelids low, and smiled. Catie looked towards the same direction and noticed two new faces to the clan.

“The guy with the mullet?” Catie asked, a bit perplexed someone who seemed like the typical wannabe bad boy had caught Jo’s eye.

Jo laughed and rolled her brown eyes. “No, the guy with the loud and fun shirt, silly.”

Catie looked again and took in the aforementioned shirt. She nodded and mouthed ‘oh’. That made more sense. Jo had always liked men with ‘unique’ senses of style.

“Well, I better get back to stocking aisle five, I’m supposedly in the bathroom.” Jo waved goodbye and winked, shooting a quick peace sign before she went off to complete her tasks. Catie chuckled and waved back.

About thirty minutes later the men and girls walked towards the checkout lines. Danny was talking to the mullet haired guy, seemingly chuckling at something the latter had said.

Catie smoothed out her apron and fidgeted with her large, plastic earrings to make sure they were proper and in place. It was usually about a 50/50 toss up as to whether or not the Tanners chose to check out at her specific station. But she had to look ‘presentable’ nonetheless.

She noticed Danny briefly glance at her and quickly beamed her best version of a ‘how-may-I-help-you?’ smile. Her hands instinctively reached to her honey brown updo, making sure there were no bobby pins poking out.

Stephanie, the middle daughter, followed her father’s suit and smiled at Catie. When they met eyes she lit up and shouted “Catie!”

She came running up as fast as her tiny legs would take her. Danny gave a half-hearted disapproving look as she got to the conveyor belt. The mullet guy laughed and the other man simply shook his head and grinned, like he was used to it.

“Well hello!” Catie greeted the little girl. Stephanie rocked back and forth on her heels and smiled “Guess what?” she asked. Catie looked over as the family joined them.

“What?” Catie raised her eyebrows playfully and grinned. She placed her head in her hands to show the girl she was all ears. “My family got bigger.” Stephanie half whispered. Catie raised her brows a bit higher, a tad confused.

Danny laughed nervously and put his hand behind his head “My brother in law and my best-friend-turned-symbolic-brother moved in.” He chuckled. “I was getting to that!” Stephanie chimed in.

“Hi, I’m Joey.” The blonde haired man extended his hand, which was adorned with a brightly colored Casio watch. Catie clasped her hand around his and gently shook, her large plastic bangles clattering.

The mullet man turned away from briefly playing with Michelle, the baby, to wave at Catie. “I’m Jesse.” he grinned widely. Catie waved back.

“And I’m DJ and he’s Danny, can we PLEASE get a move on people?” DJ, the oldest daughter, spoke up suddenly. Danny looked over and furrowed his brows, looking slightly taken aback. “Grandma’s gonna be here sooner than we know it and we’ve gotta clean the house.” she raised her eyebrows back.

Catie laughed at the blunt, matter of fact statement and started ringing up the groceries.

“How’s the crew been?” Catie asked Danny, ringing up a hefty amount of toiletries and cereal.

“Oh, you know...” he chuckled and mildly shrugged.

Catie smiled and chuckled back. “I certainly feel you on that.” She focused back on the groceries, noticing a few more hair products than usual. “Big event coming up for the girls?” She asked him, looking at the bulk size bottle of hairspray on the belt.

“That’s my stuff.” Jesse turned to face them, dawning a pair of the sunglasses from a display near the counter. Catie simply nodded, briefly smiling at Michelle.

“How about you?” Danny asked her, his brown eyes twinkling under the lights.

She avoided his earnest gaze briefly, not wanting to give him an honest answer about how her life had been lately. She looked back up and gave her best smile.

“Oh...” she punched in some numbers “You know.” She giggled halfheartedly and tapped her fingers against the counter.

Danny smiled and turned to start putting his bags in the cart.

After paying and making sure everyone was accounted for, Danny turned to her.

“Well, we’ll see you next time.” He gave a small wave. Catie smiled “Have a good day Mr. Tanner.”

“You too, Catie.” Danny turned to leave but then briefly paused his stride “Before we leave one more thing.” he said, his back to her. He turned his head and grinned widely “You don’t have to use all the corporate formalities with me, just call me ‘Danny’.”

Catie fumbled with her bracelets and touched her earrings again. “Right...” she looked down briefly at the checkered floor. “Okay. See you later, Danny.” she replied, looking up and lifting her hand to gingerly wave.

Taglist: @gideongrovel-reblogs | @deadlock | @megas-x-l-r

(If you would like to be added or removed let me know :0D)

[opalchoi]

Writing challenge! 🥸

Include one or more of the following:

Pokémon

Waffles

Uniform

It was Opal's last week at the cafe before embarking on her new adventure.

She was cleaning the counter as the door chimed, she looked up to greet the customer and her heart stopped as she saw a beautiful tall presumably European tourist stooping down as they entered the doorway.

Their complexion glistened in the sunlight and Opal lost her balance for a moment as their eyes met one another...

For that fraction of a second, Opal was elsewhere. She felt herself floating above her body feeling nothing but a mere spectator.

The girl walked up to the counter

"Scusi ...Do you speak English?"

Opal came plummeting down back to earth like a waterfall. Feeling bruised and nauseous she attempted to compose herself

"Uh...Hi yes! I can speak English, what can get for you?... " Opal froze again as she once again locked eyes with the customer, she noticed the depth of brown in their eyes through neat tortoiseshell glasses & the delicately placed freckles on their cheeks.

She looked away shyly and gasped for air while the customer had chance to respond

*come on Opal get it together!!* she commanded, pleading with her brain to switch on & whatever was in charge to drop it momentarily.

Opal had forgotten the kissaten she worked at had a good reputation online, part of the reason she got the job was her ability to speak English.

"One cappuccino please..." the girl paused to look at the array of cakes and sandwiches, then up at the specials board in deep thought

"And uhm, I'd like something sweet, what would you recommend?"

Before she realised her mouth had opened, still a spectator Opal heard her own voice immediately respond

"Me?"

Again her soul came crashing back to earth stunned that whoever was in charge of Opal in that moment had the audacity to be so confident

Opal unlocked herself from the eye contact in an attempt to regain control of herself

"Uh..... I mean, how about a waffle?

You can have ice cream & strawberries with it?"

"Sure that would be great" the customer responded in a friendly tone

Opal noticed how cute they looked as they smiled back at her, and became more flustered

"...pppp-Please find a seat, I'll bring it to you when its hot... i mean, when its ready!"

"Perfect, thanks"

The customer beamed at her once more and Opal just froze with a dumb look on her face and holding an extremely awkward thumbs up 👍

As Opal began to breathe, she now had the accept the reality that this cafe did not infact sell waffles... or have any ice cream to place on top... it had strawberries used for some of the cakes at least.

She rushed back into the kitchen to check what ingredients they had, clumsily bumping her shoulder into the doorway as she entered.

As she ran through the ingredients in her head 'eggs, flour.. sugar...."

She realised the biggest thing was there was no waffle maker...

"I'll be right back" she shouted to the owner as she ran out the back door

There was a store a block away, she ran as fast as she could, it was a mini mart the chances of a waffle maker was slim

Opal quickly stepped through the Isles trying to find the random electronics section in the back corner of the store "Yesss" she thought as she saw a pokemon waffle maker with a pikachu on the front.

She grabbed it and ran, quickly throwing money onto the counter in the vague direction of the clerk "do you have any ice cream?" She panted..

"No sorry" they responded "but there's a ice cream stall a couple blocks that way" they pointed back towards the direction of her café. ".....Thank you" the dust of Opal echoed to the clerk. She left so abruptly it was the only trace of her left.

Opal ran as fast as she could with her newly purchased waffle maker under her arm. She quickly checked her pink casio for the time "Oh man, I'm running out of time"

She burst back into the kitchen, stuffed the waffle maker into her colleagues arms and said "Please please please can you start making a waffle with this I promised a customer...."

"The Cute Italian one?" Yumiko replied

"Uh yeah!! and pleeeease make your best cappuccino for them" she was still out of breath "it's important"

"Okay okay I will, you planning to propose or something?" Yumiko teased

Opal punched Yumiko in the arm as she ran out of the kitchen to not expose her bright red cheeks.

Opal found the ice cream stall thankfully fairly quickly. In the end she got a takeaway coffee cup filled with vanilla ice cream

She ran back to the cafe, blinkered like a horse in a race and as she turned a corner there was some small children walking home from school.

Right in front of the onrushing Opal..

Opal took evasive manoeuvres to avoid killing the innocent children but this meant she tripped on the curb and she could only watch as the tub of ice cream went hurtling into the air

She fell to the ground, scrambling to get back up to catch the makeshift ice cream tub but as she was disoriented it was unclear what the trajectory was.... and as she reached out the tub actually landed on her face *bonk*

At this point the children started to break into fits of laughter and were cheering what they had just witnessed

Opal put on her falsest smile and bowed towards the children as if an entertainer at a birthday party. She then bolted back towards the store, not feeling any pain due to the adrenaline or shock.

As she got back into the kitchen the owner was irritable as usual

"What are you doing, you sneaking off to get coffee elsewhere?"

"Why are you covered in blood?!"

"Why is your uniform ripped?"

Opal's eyes welled up with tears, she didn't like conflict & wasn't well versed in dealing with it...

"This isn't coffee this is ice cream for a customer!!" She chirped back

"I'm sorry nakamura-san" she bowed briefly

"There was a tourist and I mis-spoke so I went to get a waffle maker and ice cream"

The manager started to laugh, "Opal you realise this is a waffle maker for kids right? "

"Buh.. does it still make waffles?"

Yumiko shyly appeared in a crab like fashion from behind the owner to show Opal a plate covered in tiny Pikachu face shaped waffles

"Ohhhh fuuuudge" Opal sighed

In the end the Pikachu waffles looked cute with strawberry ears and ice cream eyes and tourist found the funny side.

Opal proceeded to hide behind the counter occasionally peeking to see if they were enjoying the food.

Still dying of embarrassment

[valentinesparda]

casio is flamboyant and vaguely evil, but behind all of that they are deeply lonely and refuse to admit to it. once they see life outside of the garden they get angry about being cut off from the world, and while they're still incredibly abrasive and a little (very) annoying, their walls are broken down when interacting with the party, and each member has their role in rehabilitating them:

cooke and mack initially don't like casio and casio doesn't like the kids, but they warm up to them and are protective over them in a roundabout way of "honoring the childhood i lost". they're children, they're hardheaded and don't think before they speak, and luckily for casio, they're easily swayed to feel bad for them once sarah and kaim shows them kindness. eventually casio tries to give the kids a hug, and they both hug them, and casio just turns into a blubbering mess

ming is subject to their overt flirting that is simultaneously half-hearted to climb under jansen's skin and also them not sure how to deal with their feelings. because she's very stoic and yet kind, with a sweet smile that hides her massive fucking suspicions about them and their intentions (as well as their relationship to gongora and, like with tolten, if there is the chance they would be turning on the party), but she can read people fairly well, and she sees their desperate attempts to find a place to land after being seemingly abandoned by the one person they had bonded to

jansen and casio were 'coworkers' that had feelings for each other but casio won't admit to it - jansen however spends all of his free time annoying them with his quips and flirtations mainly because he knows that they hate it (read: get flustered). jansen's quite suspicious of them as well, particularly because he's seen casio do their work and thinks he knows the bond between them and gongora is tight - but he's also been witness to their blank expressions when not being paid attention to, like they're shielding themself from the mental anguish of existing. lol

sarah is the purely kindhearted female figure that they never had in their life, and she knows the way it feels to be isolated from society and detests gongora for his ways - she didn't know casio very well because she went into hiding shortly before they were even born. the one character besides kaim to genuinely pinpoint weakness and flaws in their elaborated personality who asks so sweetly "are you alright?", only for casio to bristle and huff and tell her to leave them alone

kaim was likely commissioned to teach casio how to fight, and the majority of the time they spent together was fuel for a rage equal in measure to their debilitating childish crush on the man, and while he's been on the receiving end of their anger, he was never aware of the extent of the things they had been subject to in gongora's lab. he's seen enough lifetimes to know a broken doll when he's seen one, and if anything it's a little fuck you to gongora and a small mention of "being manipulative to humans and their feelings is fucking weird dude" that echoes his larger plans

tolten, besides jansen, is probably the closest person to become friends with casio - not because casio wanted it, but because they pitied him and knew what gongora's plans were, and he's just so pathetic that it's endearing (but of course casio grows to like him, and they're not so hard on him because it makes them feel like shit). tolten on the other hand is slightly scared of them initially because they laugh with bared teeth, but they show a softer side to the young prince that brings his guard down. while they're still haughty as ever, at the very least they're the only one who hasn't viciously mocked him for being a spoiled rich boy

seth can't stand casio and casio can't stand her, and seth trusts them about as far as she can throw them - which is actually pretty far, and unfortunately for casio it is VERY easy to throw them - but eventually she takes pity on them and treats them kind of like a stray dog; with the possibility of them biting the hand that feeds is infinitely higher than the chance of them coming back around to find their kindness again. she's proven wrong, however, and believes in casio's humanity becoming strong enough to save them

sed and casio hate each other but it's all entirely because of their personalities grating each other, not for their ruthlessness. he knows their kind, he's been around them for decades being a pirate on the open seas and the kind that try to catch him and persecute him for his piracy, the kind that is all bark and no bite without the permission of their master, and yet they're the one person who hesitated in locking him in chains before being sacrificed

anyways. hi

[angeldigital92]

speaking of music , I love it when my brain makes these lil MVs in my head when listening to songs i havent heard before !! like i knew the song was good but actually sitting down and really listening to the song and feeling the vibe and energy the song is setting up and then you can see the environment and its just so cool yk?? anyway cheap casio wasei jj chikada has a very nice specific vibe that makes me miss walking in a forest during the summer and feeling that gentle early summer breeze that's still nice enough to cool you down even with the sun beaming warmly down at you as you wander said forest full of green ..!! I like the part also in the song that makes you feel like you're sitting on a small hill of grass watching the clouds be taken away by the same gentle wind blowing , the sky is so blue and beautiful...!! idk I guess I miss walking around and getting myself lost going to places I never walked to

[still-single]

HEATHEN DISCO ep. 334 streaming now

HOUR 1

Th’ Faith Healers – Don’t Jones Me

Spacemen 3 – Billy Whizz/Blue 1

Shizuka – 6 Gram Star

Kicking Giant – She’s Real (version)

Trees Speak – Stone Tape

Mark Stewart + Maffia – As the Veneer of Democracy Starts to Fade

Charles Hayward – Lopside (A JD Twitch Optimo Espookio Version)

Ministry – Twitch II (version)

Cyberplasm – Autogenesis (HIDE Remix)

Old Saw – Weathervaning

Ultramarine – Pansy (Peel Session)

HOUR 2

McDonald and Giles – Tomorrow’s People (The Children of Today)

Roy Ayers – Sweet Tears

Patrice Rushen – Haven’t You Heard

Primal Scream – Higher Than the Sun (A Dub Symphony) Part 1

May Blitz – Virgin Waters

Todd Rundgren – Chain Letter

Tim Hecker – Living Spa Water

Mag-Amplitude – I Like to Rock and I Love to Roll

Fresh Blueberry Pancake – Clown on a Rope

Sudden Death – The Zoo

Los Kowalski – 323/Tama

London Brew – Nu Sha Ni Sha Nu Oss Ra

FACS – Class Spectre

HOUR 3

YoshimiOizumikiYoshiduO – yO Me

Xylouris White – Witnessed by Angels

Walter Bishop Jr. – Soul Turn Around

Anadol – Casio Havasi

Loose Ends – Slow Down (Slow Jam)

Opium Monks – The Secrets of Africa (instrumental)

April Magazine – Jungle City Beat

The Flowerpot Men – Jo’s So Mean to Josephine

Future Sound of London – You’re Creeping Me Out

Playgroup – No Speed Limit

Bar-Kays – Boogie Body Land

Mute Duo – Landmusik

The Dark – Last Day

[docpiplup]

@asongofstarkandtargaryen There's a triology I recently discovered that I want to read. It's the Banu Qasi triology writtenby Carlos Aurensanz, about the Banu Qasi and Iñiga-Aritza/Jimena families and their surroundings. The books can be downloaded on Internet (I have added the links for the download of each on of the books in esch of the titles if anyone wants to read them)

I. Los Hijos de Casio, 2009 (The Children of Casio)

"The exciting story of the rebel who came to be considered the third king of the Iberian Peninsula"

Musa Ibn Musa was destined from birth to rule and lead his people in the troubled region of the Upper March. His mixed blood (he is the son of a Muslim and a Basque woman) and the traits of his character, proud and refractory to submission, will make his government a unique case.

Musa knows exile, but he recovers and accepts his destiny, taking over the government of his people, a consubstantial ally of his Basque brothers, to seize Tudela from the Cordovan army of Al Ándalus. His decisions as ruler, inspired by a correct sense of justice but also by tolerance and a desire for sovereignty, earn him the respect of neighboring governments and at the same time arouse envy and a desire for revenge.

Elevated to the rank of wali of the city of Zaragoza by the Emir of Córdoba, Musa ibn Musa will live out his years of splendor surrounded by his relatives and seeing how the medinas reach their zenith of their cultural and economic development. But the difficulty in maintaining the political balance in the area will mean that Musa must constantly face an insoluble conflict: maintaining loyalty to his blood ties, which related him to the Basque Christians, or loyalty to the Muslim government of Al Ándalus.

Sample: Year 788, 171 of Hegira. Onneca was breathing heavily, clinging to both edges of the wooden bed, while the kabila leaned over her to speak to her in a calm but forceful voice. His hands, hidden under the folds of a rough linen sheet, revealed determined and precise movements: not in vain had the most experienced midwife in the region been notified. Every few minutes, the woman's face contorted in pain, her knuckles turning white as she felt the contractions. The midwife had ordered a table with two basins of clean, hot water and several cloths to be set up next to the bed. She herself had protected herself with an apron that covered her to her feet.

From time to time she inserted her fingers into a cylindrical clay container that contained a dark and oily substance, and continued his maneuvers. Meanwhile, two maids struggled to carry out his orders, trying tohide their fear and nervousness. They had tried to heat the bedroom with two metal braziers that were replaced periodically, but the wind slipped through the thick curtains that blocked the view from the central patio of the house, in the citadel of Arnit. Zahir ibn Fortun waited impatiently. The woman who was about to give birth in the next room was the widow of his brother, who had died three months ago in Saraqusta. Though she tried to put the tragic moment when the news was delivered from her mind, the memory fought to come back, and a familiar feeling of anguish clenched her stomach. His brother, Mūsa ibn Fortún, had been called to Saraqusta to put down the rebellion that had arisen in the city after the accession to the throne of Qurtuba of Emir Hisham I, led by Said al Husayn. Mūsa managed to master thethe revolt after getting rid of the ringleader, and took control of the city, although he had to remain in it to ensure stability. The danger seemed to have been passed, and Saraqusta returned to her calm. But after three weeks, a freedman from the rebel Said assaulted Mūsa as he left the mosque after Friday prayers and pierced his heart with a dagger, without his guard being able to do anything to stop him. At that very moment, Zahir was unable to push away the image of his lifeless brother, because in the next room the last son of Mūsa came into the world, an orphan.

Onneca was a strong woman, like all of her Basque race, originally from the Pyrenean valleys. She had married Mūsa for the second time, after the death of her first husband, the Basque leader Enneco Jimeno, with whom she had had her first two children: Enneco and Fortuño, who were already eighteen and seventeen years old. After Jimeno's death, Onneca moved to Arnit with her new husband, but her children remained in their native valley, to grow up in contact with the town that one day they were destined to lead. Although the separation was painful for Onneca, he was aware of the important role that the men of his lineage had played among the Basques for generations.

Hearing the sounds from the next room, Zahir's thoughts returned to Onneca, widowed for the second time and about to give birth to a son who would never know his father. The voices of the kabila became imperious, confused with the moans of the mother. For a moment there was silence, broken at last by the crying of a child. The midwife had cut the umbilical cord and opened the child's orifices with her fingers. Then she began to wash it, while the mother watched from the bed. The kabila was an experienced woman, and she knew that that blank stare was caused by the exhaustion of childbirth. But in the case of Onneca something else was guessed: a sadness that arose from the depths. The midwife took long strips of linen that she had ordered the maids to cut, and began to wrap the small body, swaddling it until it was practically immobilized. Then she lifted the newborn in her arms and brought him closer to the bed, inviting the mother to take him into her lap. For a moment Onneca seemed not to understand, but finally she reached out her hands and settled the child against her chest. "A precious child, strong, healthy and well formed," said the kabila. "Like his father," Onneca answered with a small voice.

The midwife pretended not to notice the tears that slipped down the mother's face and continued with an animated voice: —Now I'm going to finish you off, we'll clean all this up and let you rest. I have chosen a trustworthy nurse who will be there when you arrive and will take care of the little one.

Onneca nodded slowly and let the woman do it, who took the child again and placed it carefully in a small wicker cradle prepared next to the bed. Finished with her work, she allowed the two maids, calmer now, to take care of removing the bedclothes. "It's the cradle that all my children have used," Onneca said in a whisper to the girls, outlining a smile. Zahir jumped to his feet as the door to the next room opened. He had no experience as a father, because his only marriage had not been blessed with the arrival of children. His wife had died years ago, and he hadn't taken another, so the birth he'd just attended was the closest thing to parenthood he'd ever experienced. The midwife, who was leaving the house, informed her: it had been a boy, and both mother and son were fine. He turned his head in the direction of the Qibla and gave thanks to Allah. "The mother wants to see you, and I must say goodbye." Do not hesitate to send a message if any setback arises. "We won't hesitate," he replied, at the same time he deposited a small leather bag in her hand. We appreciate the work you have done. Zahir entered the bedroom, and looked at his brother's wife, who opened her eyes when she felt his presence. The man approached the bed, and Onneca took his hand. "He is a child, whole and healthy," she announced. "I know, Onneca. At least this has gone according to your wishes. Onneca nodded gently, though her eyes had blundered again. "Now that the child is here, you must put into practice everything we have planned together." My children…” “Rest now,” Zahir interrupted. Time will have to take care of that when you recover. "Just one thing: I've thought about the name I'm going to give the child." His name will be Mūsa, like his father: Mūsa, son of Mūsa. “Sounds good, Mūsa ibn Mūsa…” “You know? I have a good feeling,” he confided. I'm sure he's going to do great things. It's not easy for me to explain it, but it's as if a star had gone out in our lives and with it another one lit up. Zahir agreed withwith a smile and, sitting on the edge of the bed, he squeezed the woman's hand until he noticed that her breathing became regular and slow. Then he got up carefully and left the bedroom.

He entered the room where Mutarrif was waiting and found the boy sitting on the stone bench near the fire, his eyes lost in the flames that heated the room. Noticing his uncle's presence, he gave him a questioning look, but managed to hold his ground in an effort to hide the uneasiness he felt. Zahir saw the worry in his too-bright eyes and smiled reassuringly before speaking, “Everything went well, Mutarrif. You have a new brother... a boy. Your mother is well, although very tired. The boy nodded and smiled but remained silent. His uncle sat next to him. On the bench on the opposite wall, little Fortún was sleeping soundly, judging by his regular breathing. The two brothers usually slept there, on light mattresses stuffed with straw that served as seats during the day. "Your mother is resting now, but tomorrow you can see both of them." -Thank you. Zahir leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees, her hands cupping her face as she suppressed a slight yawn. The day had been long and exhausting. "Mutarrif," he said, sitting up, "I want you to know that I've been talking to your mother...The last few months have been very hard on you and your siblings, I know. Your father's death has affected all of us greatly. He paused to take a deep breath, calculating how to continue, "You are fourteen now, Mutarrif, almost a man, and now we must face the future." Allah Almighty has allowed the death of my brother, but in his mercy he has only wanted it to happen when you and Fortún are not children anymore. The boy made a gesture that indicated that this did not comfort him too much. “I have promised your mother,” Zahir continued, “that I will take care of you as long as it is necessary. Not only in terms of your maintenance, which we have secured due to the position we occupy, Allah be praised! What should concern us the most from now on is your training. As I know my brother had in mind, you must devote all your effort to study and training in the military. My father had already discussed it with me.

He wanted me to start accompanying him on some of his expeditions. He just had to wait until he was fifteen. Zahir noted the effort the boy was making to keep his voice steady. 'Yes, I suppose so, Mutarrif. However, we will have to modify those plans somewhat. I know your taste for the militia, and I have arranged with the officers of the garrison your transfer to their dependencies. You will live with them while you are introduced to the use of weapons and military arts. For a moment Mutarrif's face lit up. "But you must not neglect your learning at the mosque school with the other boys your age." I don't mean to scare you, but the imām is ready to work hard for you,” he said in a nonchalant tone, trying to break the tension. "I have to learn to ride well." My father said that to be a good army general you have to know how to handle weapons on horseback. "Ah, I think I can help you with that, it's my specialty," he replied briskly. This time Mutarrif looked at his uncle and smiled slightly. A moment later they had melted into an embrace. "Don't worry, boy… it's going to be all right," Zahir managed to say. We are going to understand each other.

Year 799, 183 of Hijra. The instability in Saraqusta continued after the death of Mūsa ibn Fortún. Revolts and attempts to seize power by different Arab factions followed one another, and the emir of Qurtuba, Hisham I, was forced to send his armies to quell the riots in what was considered the most important square in Uādi Ibru.

However, Saraqusta was not the only problem that kept Emir Hisham I busy. Since his accession to the Cordovan throne, he had had to face rebellions within Al Ándalus itself, in addition to successive campaigns against the northern border territories. His father, Abd al Rahman I, the first Emir of Qurtuba, had had three sons, but had not appointed his eldest son, Sulayman, to succeed him, but rather the second son, Hisham. At the time of the emir's death, Hisham, who was in Marida, hurried back to Qurtuba to take possession of the throne, but when Sulayman heard of his brother's proclamation, he rose up in arms and set out to conquer. of Qurtuba. The third brother, Abd Allah, who had not welcomed Hisham's elevation to the emirate, joined the eldest. Thus, one of the emir's first tasks was to fight for the throne against his two brothers. He had to mobilize the army to repel Sulayman's attack and encircle Tulaytula. After a year of conflict, the two brothers offered submission to Hisham and, after receiving from him seventy thousand gold dinars, went into exile in the Maghreb. The support given by the Banū Qasī family to the emir in Saraqusta, which had cost Mūsa ibn Fortún his life, was not forgotten. Mutarrif had just turned twenty-one when he was summoned to the capital by the governor of the march. Since his father's death, the boy, along with his brother Fortún, had dedicated every minute of their time preparing to assume the leadership of the family that would one day correspond to him, under the control and support of his uncle Zahir. When Mutarrif set out from Arnit in the direction of Saraqusta, following the route that skirted the river, little did he know the reason for the call. Eighty years ago, when the Muslims reached the lands of the Ibru under the command of Tariq, they were under the rule of Mutarrif's great-grandfather, the Visigothic count Casio, who did not hesitate to sign a pact with the newcomers and become the caliph's maula of Damascus. But the leaders of Banbaluna, as in many other Visigothic cities, opted for a different relationship: they maintained their control of the area in exchange for an annual tribute for the Qurtuba coffers. Non-payment of said tribute was a frequent reason for the emir's armed intervention, as had happened precisely in Banbaluna, which was under the control of the Baskunish, whose leaders dominated the area of ​​the western Pyrenees.

A new attempt to break away from the commitment had forced the governor of the March to intervene, and to guarantee the continuity in the payment of the tribute, he decided to leave a wālī at the head of the garrison representing the power of Qurtuba. The interview at Saraqusta was brief, for the governor was not a man of many words. He exchanged proper greetings with Mutarrif and praised his father's role. Precisely in recognition of this role of the Banū Qasī, he said, he had decided to call the young muladí to his presence: he would be the new worth of Banbaluna. He had to move to the city without wasting time and assume his new duties. After being informed by a high official of the details of the situation in the land of the Basques, and after receiving the appropriate instructions, Mutarrif left Saraqusta at the head of a large entourage. Since then, four years had passed in which things had changed a lot for the Banū Qasī.

After Mutarrif's departure, Fortún had grown into a strong and proud young man who had managed to earn the respect and consideration of his comrades in arms in the Arnit garrison. Gradually, he had seen how all the inhabitants of the area recognized his condition as a natural leader, just as it had happened with his father and before with his grandfather. Mutarrif had been at the helm of the Banbaluna government for a year when news of Hisham I's untimely death arrived in Qurtuba, who had been succeeded to the throne by his son Al Hakam I, who was only twenty-six years old. Since Mutarrif arrived in the city, relations had been strengthened with his brothers on the mother's side, Enneco and Fortuño, who were still on their lands in the Pyrenean valley of Salazar, two days away.

On several occasions Zahir had accompanied Onneca there to visit her older children. Little Mūsa traveled enthusiastically, eager to see his stepbrothers again, for whom he professed boundless admiration. During the first years of Mūsa's life, the stays in Isaba, where Enneco had his residence, were rather short, and they were limited to the summer season, when the good weather allowed the boy to enjoy playing in the green and endless meadows, bathe in the icy waters of the river, scare the sheep and milk the cows. However, over the years, the visits were prolonged, and Mūsa began to spend some time in the care of his brothers, especially the eldest son, who was amused by the little one's bright and spontaneous character and allowed him to share some of his memories with him. activities. During those summers, Enneco became the father Mūsa had never known. There were also many occasions when Fortún, from Arnit, went to visit his brother Mutarrif in Banbaluna. Zahir attended these interviews with satisfaction, and felt proud of these two young people in their early twenties who, perhaps forced by circumstances, acted with a maturity almost beyond their age. In such meetings they dealt with the political situation in the area, mainly in Saraqusta, where instability once again reigned. But the situation was not calm in Banbaluna either: a large group of Pamploneses, led by Balask al Yalaski, opposed the emir's authority over the city, and some attempts at confrontation had arisen. News reached Mutarrif that Balask and his followers were in favor of establishing relations with Charlemagne, the Carolingian monarch whose vast territory extended beyond the Pyrenees. The two brothers knew that the leadership role of their family in the lands of Uādi Ibru, after the hiatus imposed by the death of their father, would sooner or later lead them to intervene in the events that were taking place in the March, mainly in Saraqusta.

For this reason, according to Zahir, both decided to leave Arnit and move with the bulk of the military garrison to Tutila, located a shorter distance from Saraqusta and better communicated. Tutila was then a small town located at the confluence of the Uādi Qalash with the Uādi Ibru, at the foot of an elevation crowned by a modest defensive fortress. The existence of a bridge over the mighty riverbed made the enclave a strategic point in communications throughout the valley. Many of its inhabitants still recounted to the younger ones the passage through the city, twenty years ago, of the imposing army of Charlemagne on his return from Saraqusta, on the way to Roncesvalles.

II. La Guerra de Al Ándalus, 2013 (The War of Al Andalus)

The Upper Border of the Ebro, where the descendants of the great Mūsa ibn Mūsa resumed the path of revolt, ceded part of its leadership to the emirate's Córdoba, the nascent kingdom of Pamplona, ​​the mighty King Alfonso III in his new court in León and Bobastro, "the eagle's nest", refuge in the Malaga mountains of Umar ibn Hafsún, the muladí rebel who would end up jeopardizing the very survival of Al Ándalus. With surprising historical rigor and clear language free of artifice, Aurensanz masterfully intertwines the adventures of the protagonists in this diversity of settings, and offers an ambitious and complex story that will once again captivate the reader.

Fascinating second part of the saga already started with Banu Qasi: Los hijos de Casio that takes up the narration of the events carried out by the muladí clan that gives its name to this story.

Sample: Year 863, Hegira 249, Qurtuba. Sunset was undoubtedly the time of day that Onneca preferred. Although this was the third summer that she would spend in the capital, she had not managed to get used to the intense heat of the Córdoba summer and, if he missed something from his native land, there in the north, in Basque lands, it was the sunny but cool days of the mountains, which allowed him to maintain activity even during the hottest hours of midday. Not so in Qurtuba, of course. When the sun reached its zenith, both she and Fortún, her father, used to already find themselves sheltering in their comfortable rooms in the Dar al Rahn, the magnificent building destined to house the numerous political hostages of the emirate. The House of Hostages occupied a privileged space between the aljama mosque and the wall that separated the madinat from Uādi al Kabir. The main access to the building was next to the Puerta del Puente, a place of continuous movement of people and merchandise that delighted the young Onneca. At fifteen, she was a jovial and alert girl, in her father's opinion perhaps too much for a society like that, in which women had perfectly defined limits that they should not cross. The first weeks of his stay in Qurtuba had been hard: he still kept on his retina the images of the destruction of Pampilona and all the Basque villages that Muhammad I's army had had devastated in its path. She remembered her anxiety during the negotiation in which Fortún had to agree to be transferred to the capital as a hostage, and how she threw herself at her father's feet to beg him to take her with him. Those images returned to her again and again wrapped in a cloud of unreality, which lasted in the three interminable weeks that they used to cross the entire territory of Al Ándalus from north to south. Three years. Only three years, but for Onneca it seemed like an entire existence had passed. In Qurtuba she had discovered a completely new way of life, of which she had only had references through the stories of her Muslim relatives from the Ebro. But then she was a girl, and for her all those stories of emirs and concubines, lavish palaces and enormous mosques they did not differ at all from the rest of the stories they used to hear during the cold nights in old Pampilona, ​​comforted by the warmth of the fire.

Their treatment from day one had come as a surprise to both her father and her. Even during their transfer, they had been provided with unthinkable comforts in the rear of a huge army such as that of Muhammad I. It is true that the haymah they occupied during short nightly rests was permanently guarded by four members of the emir's personal guard, but the The mounts they rode on were excellent, the food they were offered was more than dignified, and they did not lack a pitcher of fresh water while they crossed the endless plains of the center of the Peninsula.

With her mother dead, the separation from her father, whom she adored, would have been unbearable. Having him by her side, being able to accompany him during his captivity, had made her feel strangely lucky from the start. The House of Hostages was a spacious and well-preserved two-story building whose rooms opened onto a patio that even had a singing fountain in the center. Fortún and Onneca occupied a lodging made up of three rooms attached to the southern wall, a location that allowed it to receive the first rays of the morning sun and kept it in the shade during the hot hours of the afternoon. The girl was one of the few women who lived in the building, whose inhabitants were mostly men, younger than old, belonging mostly to part to lineages of high birth.

Despite the diversity of origins and religions, the captivity had established strong bonds of friendship between them, and they had adopted the lively Basque as the daughter or sister that everyone would have wanted by their side. From the beginning, Onneca had worked hard to make her father's life as easy as possible. He would get up at dawn, to devote the coolest hours of the day to domestic chores that might involve some effort, and before the sun warmed they would go out together to the nearby market, where they would be greeted by the familiar bustle that so pleased him. At that early hour, the stalls were overflowing with merchandise from the nearby orchards and farms, and soon the basket that hung from her arm contained what was necessary to supply the small pantry. In In recent months, the person in charge of carrying that load had been Abdel.

In the first interview they had with the chamberlain, they were offered the possibility of having one or two slaves to attend to their needs, and Fortún was grateful and willing to accept the proposal. As soon as they were alone, however, Onneca made another suggestion to her father. She would take care of the simple household chores, and in return Fortún would ask for something on the quarterdeck. Ever since she learned her fate, Onneca had decided not to waste time during her captivity, and the first goal she set for herself was to speak the Arabic language correctly. Although it was true that he already knew its rudiments, thanks to contact with his relatives and with the many Muslim merchants who visited Pampilona, ​​he did not intend to miss the opportunity offered by his forced stay in that splendid city, the capital of the emirate. But he needed someone with enough knowledge at his side.

Abdel entered the Dar al Rahn only two weeks after Onneca's arrival. He was a seventeen-year-old boy, tall, thin, and dark-haired, whose gaze barely lifted from the ground, and whose company became habitual since he introduced himself to both of them with a low voice. Every day, in the hottest hours, Fortún retired to his bedroom, and it was not surprising that he fell asleep hearing his daughter repeat old Arabic sentences over and over again, occasionally corrected by the masculine voice of her young teacher. Little by little, his visits became more frequent and extended to the central hours of the morning. With a studied gesture of surprise, He would pretend to bump into Onneca in the market, offer to carry her basket, and accompany her to the House of Hostages. Once there, they both looked for any excuse to prolong the meeting, and with Fortún's acquiescence, the boy ended up accompanying them in their frugal lunch, before beginning the daily lessons. In the middle of the afternoon, after a brief rest, Fortún would return to make an appearance in the spacious room, and then Abdel would get up and with a slight bow he would say goodbye to both of them. That was the moment when Fortún, taking advantage of the shadow of the buildings and without ceasing to admire the superb southern wall of the main mosque, used to cross the square in the direction of the fortress.

He had discovered what for him it constituted the greatest treasure in the palace of Muhammad, a treasure of which he had already had complete news through the abbot of Leyre, there in the distant foothills of the Pyrenees: the magnificent library of the fortress housed thousands of volumes, and a part nothing insignificant of these was translated into Latin. It had not cost him any effort to obtain the necessary permits to access its premises, and in those years he had established a relationship of frank friendship with the senior official to whom the emir personally delegated his authority as responsible for the conservation and expansion of that center of knowing. Although the hours for Fortún passed quickly there, his desire to enjoy his daughter's company did not diminish, so he soon began to borrow scrolls and volumes with which to fill his time without having to leave the Dar al Rahn. His Christian faith had taken root firmly under the influence of both his father and the Bishop of Pampilona, ​​Willesindo, confessor and friend of the family, so his first readings had been directed to the works of the fathers of the Church, who with great surprise had found in those immense shelves. There he had discovered De civitate Dei, by Agustín of Hipona, and had even had the opportunity to enjoy some of the twenty volumes of the Etymologies of the old bishop of Ishbiliya, Isidoro. The deep meditations of the old masters were a balm for him, as they somehow compensated for the impossibility of practicing worship in the city's churches, something that the sovereign had prohibited at the beginning of his reign, after the serious events carried out by christian martyrs who, led by Bishop Eulogio, had defied the religious laws of the emirate until they ended up executed. That afternoon at the end of summer, in the middle of the month of Rajab, the city was abuzz with rumors, as the return of the victorious Cordovan army, under the command of Prince Abd al Rahman, was imminent. Apparently, Alaba's campaign against King Ordoño of Asturias had been a real success. No inhabitant of Qurtuba expected anything different, since, last spring, they had seen with their own eyes the enormous display of men from all the groups of southern Al Ándalus who had gathered on foot and on horseback on the esplanade of the musara, ready to leave. The narrators who walked the streets and squares of Qurtuba spared no praise for a sovereign that had led them to a new victory against the infidels of the north: twenty Christian counts had bitten the dust according to the stories that circulated by word of mouth, and King Ordoño's own brother had been killed during the battle. Onneca had expressed concern about the fate of her relatives, but Fortún was able to reassure her after confirming in the fortress that on this occasion the people of Pamplona had not taken part in the conflict. Undoubtedly the vanguard of the army was approaching the city, for the Bab al Qantara, the nearest gate to the river, was wide open, and a high-ranking procession from the quarterdeck was heading towards it flanked by the crowd, there was also expectation in the Dar al Rahn.

The men were preparing to leave, and Onneca, after trying to glimpse something of what was happening outside above their shoulders and heads, headed determinedly to her lodging, where she found Fortún devoted to reading a heavy volume. "Father, the army is coming!" They are already coming out to receive them. Fortún looked up and regarded the girl with a slight smile. "Ah, youth…" he said with a sigh. You want to go out and you want me to come with you…” “Perhaps it won't be necessary, Father. Abdel can do it, he's still by the door, I can see him from here. Fortun studied the pages before him. - Be it, my daughter. However, you must not go far from the building. And be back before nightfall. Onneca's face lit up, she kissed her father on the cheek and left the room, hiding her hair under a light scarf. He ran across the courtyard, not giving much thought to the decorum that a girl of her position was supposed to hold, she slipped through the people grouped under the lintel of the gate and, once outside, looked around for Abdel. He did not find it immediately, since the boy did not count on his presence and had tried to approach the entourage, but due to his height his head stood out above the rest. Onneca managed to almost push his way through, and laughed heartily at the shocked face of the young man as he stood beside him. "Onneca!" You should have warned me! It's not safe for a girl…” “Shhh! he snapped. Who are they? he asked, his eyes fixed on the two superb horsemen approaching from the opposite end of the esplanade. “They are the sons of Muhammad. The first is the crown prince, Al Mundhir. The one who advances behind the guard is Abd Allah.

No doubt they are going to receive their brother Prince Abd al Rahman right here, who is returning to lead the troops. —How can they be brothers being so different? Al Mundhir is dark and has curly hair, but look at Abd Allah: his skin is fair, his hair is blond... and those blue eyes. 'Both are sons of the emir, but certainly conceived by different wives. I understand they were born the same year. But Abd Allah is much more like his father. "How many children does Muhammad have?" Onneka asked. —At least twenty males and fifteen females... But look at their clothes, and their mounts... they are magnificent! "Let's get closer," Onneca said as she tried to push through, curious. The crowd barely allowed us to walk. Whole families went to the streets to see the heirs to the throne up close, a spectacle that was not repeated often. Onneca advanced sideways and, at the cost of enduring some complaints, made a place for herself in the front row, next to a woman with a young child who was looking at the procession with astonished eyes. Al Mundhir was passing in front of them, and Onneca took in his face, beautiful but pockmarked. He also observed that a dog was running naturally among the riders, as if wanting to take part in the party. The boy also saw it and separated from his mother to approach him, but the animal backed away in fear, until it was just a few elbows from Abd Allah's horse, which was waving to the crowd gathered on the sides. Onneca sensed the danger immediately. The mount reared, raising its front legs into the air.

The mother gave a warning cry, but it was Onneca who rushed towards the little boy, took his arm and, with a jerk that landed both on the ground, prevented the horse's hooves from crushing his body at the last moment. tiny. When the boy was already cared for by his mother and Abdel was advancing towards her, the girl looked up and discovered that the prince was trying to control his mount without taking his blue eyes from her face. The scarf that covered her head had fallen off, and she suddenly felt exposed to all eyes. Unable to control the situation, he pushed through the crowd and disappeared in the direction of the Hostage House. Abdel tried to follow her, but a voice behind him stopped him. -You! Do you know the girl? asked Abd Allah gravely. Abdel stopped and adjusted his posture to address the prince respectfully. “I know her, my lord. It is the daughter of one of your guests, Fortún, heir to the kingdom of Banbaluna. He is staying with his father at the Dar al Rahn, and I myself have been assigned to improve his knowledge of our language. The prince narrowed his eyes and seemed to smile. He waved the boy away with one hand, so Abdel, with a slight nod, stepped back to follow Onneca's steps. He had to report on the conversation he had just had. When a footman from the keep entered the Dar al Rahn's quarters the next morning with a scroll in his hand, Fortune took it with a trembling hand. He was sure he knew its contents.

III. La Hora del Califa, 2015 (The hour of the khalifa)

At the dawn of the 10th century, the Iberian Peninsula was divided between the Christian kingdoms in the north and the emirate of Córdoba in the south, places where this story takes place. Caught between the two, the Banu Qasī clan, already in low hours, defends with blood and fire their most precious possession, the city of Tudela. However, the domains they have held for two centuries now find themselves in no man's land, where the inevitable clash between two irreconcilable civilizations will take place. With the historical rigor that has characterized him since the first installment of the trilogy, Aurensanz delights us once again with his enormous ability to turn documents into a narrated story and transport the reader, through detailed descriptions, to another time and another place. In this latest installment, he makes it clear that he has a formidable narrative talent that seems to have reached its absolute maturity.

Sample: The emir remained standing in the middle of the silence, broken only by the whistling of the wind through the branches and the screeches of the birds of prey that flew over the cliffs, until he looked back at his son and, with a gesture, asked him to it will come closer. “Remember while you live this moment, Al Hakam. The road to get here is drenched in the blood of tens of thousands of good believers. Fifty years and the tenacity of four emirs have been necessary to break the resistance of this nest of perdition. When I was born, the Umayyad state as you have known it, the same one that seems so immutable to you now, was about to give up under the pressure of the rebels who had their refuge in this place. You know, because I have told you, that the chief who governed in Burbaster came to set fire with his projectiles in the aljama mosque of Qurtuba. The efforts of many men have been necessary so that you and I can tread these paths. Open your eyes and ears wide, because the stories you are going to hear and what you are going to experience in these days are the foundations on which we have to build the future of our dynasty. Today is the first day, listen to me carefully, of a new era for the Umayyads. A day that has taken longer to arrive than the person responsible for all this could ever suppose

Characters II Locations II Words & Etymologies