#For the record me and my brother were technically born second generation (though I do feel like a third generation immigrant lol)

[donuts4evry1]

Fo my friends who are children of Asian Immigrants born outside of that country:

I have a lot of Asian friends but they all only have one name as far as I know. However, children born in the third generation of my family have both an English name and Viet name (We're Canadian/US).

I'm just curious to see how widespread this practice is 🤔...

Bonus: Put your country of birth and what generation you're in in the tags :)!

I want to know for sure that this is not just something that happens in English speaking countries... Also I just wanna know if this is a generational thing or if my family just does something funny

[gunterfan1992]

Interview with Half Shy (the songwriter of “Monster”)

For the last few months, I’ve been collecting information for a second edition of Exploring the Land of Ooo that will also cover the production of Distant Lands. This means that I’ve started to look into the new songs that we have been graced with this year, and this of course includes “Monster,” the beautiful track from the masterpiece that is “Obsidian”. And so I reached out to the song’s writer, Half Shy, who was kind enough to chat with me via email about the songwriting process!

(Photo courtesy of Half Shy)

In many ways, Half Shy is living the creative Adventure Time fan’s dream: She got asked by Adam Muto himself to write a song for “Obsidian” after he heard her music through Bandcamp! (I’ve dabbled in fan music before, and the fact that someone from the show might listen to it just blows my mind.) What an opportunity; I am so excited for her!

Since a second edition of my book won’t be coming out until after all the Distant Lands episodes air, I thought it would be best to share my Half Shy interview now. Read on for the fascinating behind the scenes story of how Half Shy and “Monster” came to be..

GunterFan: What is your origin story? How did you get involved in music, and how did the Half Shy project come to be?

Half Shy: I’ve been making music pretty quietly since I was in high school with a keyboard and guitar. I played one or two shows a year after college when I could find a friend or my brother to get up on stage with me, but I don’t really have that performer gene in me naturally. I get too much in my head and forget what the lyrics are to the song I wrote, or what the next chord is. Total brain freeze. So that whole experience is a bit of a mental drain. It’s something I think I’d like to dig into and figure out, but right now I’m really enjoying the time writing.

Even playing a song for my friends I still get pretty nervous. That’s where the name Half Shy comes from. I’ve always been interested in making things that by their nature draw a bit of a spotlight, but at the same time, I am just really quite nervous about the attention.

I recorded my first songs under my old name Hey V Kay in my bedroom and started putting them up online one at a time. When I got enough I thought about packaging it up into an album, but then got really distracted by learning how to fix up motorcycles and going to automotive tech school. When I eventually got back around to it I named the album Gut Wrenching.

After a few years I realized that I didn’t want the day-in-day-out life of a mechanic, I just wanted to know how to fix cars for myself and to have that knowledge in my back pocket. I got back into making music but grew frustrated at the process of writing and recording songs. I felt like I wasn’t able to capture the ideas I had in my head. Like trying to draw on your computer with a mouse. Doable, but it’s not going to come out like you’d hoped.

So these last couple of years I’ve focused more on learning the technical aspect of it, from the initial ideas and lyrics, to the recording and mixing. During that process I put out Bedroom Visionaries, and while writing I happened upon the name Half Shy in an old Thesaurus which felt instantly right. Learning all of that has been fun, I even went as far as to create my own book to solidify a daily writing routine (lyricworkbook.com). All that has been a bit of a tangent from actually making much music though. I should be getting my books in December from the press so I’m really looking forward to getting back into making more music instead of dealing with printing presses, setting up websites, and sourcing ribbon suppliers.

GF: What is the story behind "Monster"? How did the show get in contact with you?

HS: I keep a log of “Song Starters” with neat things I’ve heard in the world, and I would look through it every now and then and notice just how many came from Adventure Time. Eventually I thought well, I have to make a song about this show that just keeps breaking my heart. It was around the time I was nearly done with the first [Adventure Time-inspired] song “In My Element” that I got an email from Bandcamp saying “someone bought your album (Bedroom Visionaries).”

I get maybe one or two of these a month at most so I love to go in and say hi to the person and say thanks, be curious about who they are, [and] what they’re all about. Turns out it was Adam Muto, the executive producer of the show. (I asked and he has no idea how he happened upon my stuff. He guessed that I must have tagged something #adventuretime and he just happened to see it.) So I sent him an email saying, “Hey wow thanks for checking out my tunes. Also... holy crap you’ve made the best show I have ever seen in my life.” [I] played it real cool like. After finishing up writing my second [Adventure Time-inspired] song “Betty” I couldn’t help but fangirl real hard [and I sent him another message saying], “I’m sorry this is probably awkward, but I really love your show and I wrote these songs about it.” He was incredibly kind and shared them with his Twitter Universe, and a while after that I got a random email from him saying basically, “Hey, I’m working on this thing I can’t talk about, would you be interested?” I was like… well you know I’m pretty busy working at a sign shop so I’m gonna have to pass on this once in a lifetime opportunity (J/K. Obviously I fan-girl squealed and said yes immediately).

We chatted a bit about what the project was going to be and the direction. He mentioned there [would be] two Marceline songs in the special, [and he asked if I] would I be interested in giving the love song a try? Trying real hard to suppress my instant imposter syndrome I was like, “Yea, totally I’d be into giving that a shot!” So I read through the story and loved the idea of the dragon mirrored in Marceline, thinking through how they’ve both built up a protective shell, how she grew tough for a reason, but now she can open up and be vulnerable with PB.

From there I wrote the initial demo with the first two verses mostly intact and we went back and forth a few times editing it down into the final version. I recorded the final parts for the show in my little home studio in Seattle.

GS: When you were writing the song, what emotions, thoughts, or ideas were you channeling? Was there any sort of memory of event that you were trying to artistically "catch" or "recreate" with the lyrics or music?

HS: As far as channeling an emotion, generally I’d say just the experience of existing as a human. It can be so hard to open up and be vulnerable. I can remember that feeling even as a young kid—getting really excited about something and having someone completely trash it or look at you like, “Why are you so interested in that? It’s dumb.” [It causes us to grow] a little more weary to share ourselves because we know that hurt and embarrassment. The pain of being misunderstood is something I think a lot of us can relate to. Then having to decide whether to keep sharing those vulnerable parts of yourself or think, “They’re just not going to get it, I’m going to get hurt, so why bother?” and then stop putting yourself out there. You lose a lot with that thick armor though. You might feel protected, but you’re not feeling a whole lot of anything else other than the weight and chafing of it (I had a whole lot of armor-related metaphors that I didn't end up using.).

I struggle with this in songwriting too. I’m not the bolt-of-lightning type. There are pages and pages of cliches, total garbage, bad jokes, and cheesy lines that I have to get through in order to get to something that I am excited to put out there into the world: “Here I did this thing, I know it’s a little (this or that), but I made it... What do you think?” It’s hard to open yourself up to hearing the other end of that question.

I filled about 5 little pocket notebooks just thinking through the story, ideas, and trying to get this song right. I wanted it to feel familiar and honor the past songs of the show ([e.g.,] using the ukulele and referencing a few of the familiar chords from “I’m Just Your Problem”) but also be pretty open and vulnerable and different for [Marceline]. [I wanted to] show that she’s going through some tough emotions but also figuring herself out and growing.

GF: I feel like “Monster” is, at its core, an ode to the “Bubbline” ship. How do you feel about your song being intimately connected to one of the most famous LGBTQ+ relationships in animation? Do you have any general thoughts on Marcy and PB, Bubbline, etc.?

HS: Oh, I’m a total fan girl of Bubbline. The whole story of how Rebecca Sugar and Muto slowly morphed it into this deeper relationship is just great. As a part of the LGBTQ community myself it really means so much to see the representation of characters like yourself portrayed in an intelligent way. Growing up I was too young to fully understand what was going on but I saw Ellen getting cancelled, and [I] heard people around me saying they’d never watch her show again after she came out. That stuff sinks in as a kid and so to have these characters who are not only intelligent, but funny, complex, and unapologetically strong who also happen to be queer is really great. I love that the story here isn’t about their orientation, but that they’re people struggling with how to be open and vulnerable in a relationship.

It feels like something sci-fi and animated shows do so well—to show that ridiculousness of limiting who a person should and shouldn’t love. Marceline is a 1000+ year old half-demon/vampire and PB was born from the Mothergum of an apocalyptic radioactive world, but you’re going to get hung up on them loving each other? It sort of brings it into perspective in a really interesting way.

GF: Do you have any other thoughts about the experience that you'd like to share?

HS: Just how lucky, thankful, and honored I feel to be a part of my favorite show, writing a song for one of my favorite characters. It’s also incredibly cool how the people on the show are so willing to connect and collaborate with their fandom. Everyone [on the production crew] was very open and a real joy to work with.

I’d like to give a huge “Thank you!” to Half Shy for agreeing to participate in this interview; she really was quite amiable! If you’d like to hear more of her music, check out her website and her Bandcamp. You can also follow her on Instragram here and on Twitter here. And of course, here is Half Shy’s awesome video of “Monster”.

[muteashes]

Note: If you have seen this on AO3 I made some edits to cut up paragraph length for mobile viewers

**

“Cody? What in the world?” Obi-Wan stands over the balcony ledge, eyes wide in surprise as he takes in his Commander hanging from the rail.

Cody closed his eyes, wondering how he keeps getting into these situations. “Sir,” He said, as if he hadn’t just been caught climbing into his general’s quarters.

Somewhere either his line of communication or the clones on watch had failed. The other man should have been at a dinner party celebrating some jedi’s recent knighthood. The potential failure would have to be addressed later, in case there is an underlying problem that could show itself while in the field. Obi-Wan moved further in as Cody dragged himself over the ledge.

When he had righted himself, Obi-Wan had folded his arms back into his sleeves and was pulling off ‘disappointed jedi master’ surprisingly well for all that he was in a bathrobe.

“Nice clothes, sir,” Cody remarked. Obi-Wan looked down blankly before readjusting the belt. There was nothing under the bathrobe, Cody realized before his mind blanked for a moment. Your mind is a mirror, he reminded himself fiercely.

Cody brought himself to attention, staring straight ahead. In his peripheral he could just make out the slow shadow that crept into the adjoining antechamber.

“What were you even doing, Cody?” Obi-Wan asked, when he seemed to have decided his approach. Stern and commanding; clearly knowing something is up and if you confess now you maybe able to save yourself. Cody is familiar enough with the act, he has to do it at least once a tenday.

“Good question, sir,” Cody started, ready to drag this out as long as he could. Obi-Wan didn’t seem particularly mad. Cody had been worried. Nat-borns had a peculiar sense of privacy, and he had known he would be treading in it. He had just hoped to be gone before he was caught.

“Recent policy overwrites to GAR protocol calls for the encouragement of outside activities to lead to more stable mental and emotional response,” Obi-Wan expression didn’t change. “Recreational climbing, sir,” he offered at last.

“You only get that technical when your trying to bore your way out of a problem,” Obi-Wan critiqued, not impressed. Cody tipped his head up.

“It works,” Cody acknowledged. He could get General Skywalker’s eyes to go blank in one sentence. Obi-Wan smiled for a short second, before his face smoothed out.

“Be that as it may,” Obi-Wan hid his smile behind his hand, as if stroking his beard in thought. “You haven’t told me why I found you outside my window. Should I be concerned?”

“It’s nothing bad, General,” Cody admitted.

From behind Obi-Wan he could just make out the shape of Rex as he passed through the main hall connecting the kitchen, bedroom and the antechamber. Cody didn’t say anything. Rex, like the brat Cody denies ever having a hand in raising, turned around and finger gunned him as he slid out the door.

Cody must have made a face, or maybe somehow the brattiness seeped through the force, because Obi-Wan glances over and seeing the empty hall glances back. Obi-Wan stared at him curiously, Cody stared back. Let him ask, Cody feels daring in just thinking it.

The general had told him once that jedi can’t read minds. It’s not thoughts, but very strong feelings that give most away. Things that bleed across the force: like quilt and joy and anger.

Which was good because Cody was very good at faking confidence. He had been practicing since he was youngling, and found that faking often led to reality. So he just thought it. Pictured it, a sort of aggressive feeling of presence.

He kept thinking how solid he felt and how nothing could move him, he had no reason to be ashamed to be here in this room. With Obi-Wan. Who is half naked, the back of Cody’s mind helpfully added. Part of his brain found that very interesting.

He liked his general. Had always liked his general. Obi-Wan was one of the first people that hadn’t treated him as just another clone. Cody liked how he listened when Cody had something to say. He also liked the way Obi-Wan looked at him now, sort of like he was a puzzle and sort of like he was fascinated.

“What are you thinking?” Obi-Wan wondered quietly.

“Nothing bad, sir,” Cody said again. Equally quiet. He watched idly as Obi-Wan’s cheeks turned pink. The jedi’s eyes widened, hand pressed against his brow as he half turned away.

“Yes, well,” Obi-Wan coughed. He looked over, briefly meeting Cody’s stare again before flushing again. “It’s late, I think we can come back to this later.”

“As you say, General,” Cody said; then, softly, “Good night, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan, face still pink, smiled fondly. The world seemed so small between them, “Good night, Cody,”

When the door behind him slid closed, Cody glanced back at the empty door way. Not the way he had thought it would go, but that was easier done then he thought. Sliding out of apartment to where Rex was waiting for him, before he managed to think too hard about it.

*

“The Coruscant Temple Practical Approach, forms one to five,” Rex read aloud from the liberated holopad, “I guess it makes sense that Kenobi would have a copy, but I can’t believe Skywalker did too.”

“Are you more surprised he reads?” Cody grinned.

“You’re lucky your driving, vode.” Rex smacked his shoulder with the pilfered pads. Cody shrugged. They had a bet to win.

Commander Thire of the guard had taken up a whole booth at 79s. He gave them a friendly smile when they stomped through the door.

“Vode. I hadn’t expected you to show up so soon.”

“Did we win?” Rex tapped the table with a fist. Cody dropped the holopads in front of them. Thire leaned across the table and scooped them up. Making a show as he examined them.

“Nope,” Thire shook his head in faux sadness, but his lips kept twitching as he fought a smile. Cody scowled when Thire caught his eye. “Wolffe and Ponds beat you by a good hour.”

“How did they beat us?” Rex demanded.

“Apparently they asked the jedi for their holopads.” Thire chuckled. He waved his hand from where it rested on the back of the booth, encouraging them to sit down.

Cody glanced at Rex, who was silently mouth ‘asked?’ to himself.

Cody felt the same. Asking General Koon would have been an easy one, though he was surprised Wolffe would take that route, but picturing them asking Windu for his holopad to win a bet raised his level of respect for his brothers. They had gumption. Maybe he could get a vid recording of it.

“Hey, you beat the others at least,” Thire consoled them cheerfully. “I can buy you drinks for that, and because you won me several bets on General Skywalker having a copy too.”

Rex scowled when Cody nudged him. No one actually thought the General couldn’t read, he just had never been seen with a holopad before so their were theories. Like general dislike of all texts. Or allergies.

“So,” Rex started. Then stopped, staring at the holopads.

“So,” Cody agreed. “Now we got to figure out how to return them.”

“You could mail them?” Thire suggested.

“Then they’ll notice it was taken in the first place.” Cody waved it off.

“Will General Skywalker, though?” Rex argued. “He’s going to think he lost it and someone helpfully returned it.”

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Field of Poppies Part 9

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 9: The subject of family is very fragmented in the Shelby household, but it doesn’t mean it can’t be repaired and maintained. 

             “There he is, grown-up and responsible Tommy. A family man now, aye?” Barney Thompson grabbed Tommy the second he came into the betting shop and put him in a headlock to rile him up. “You ain’t gonna be fun, anymore are ya, Tom?”

            “We’ll have Mel walking up and down the streets of Birmingham all hours of the night looking for him.” Danny laughed. “She’ll drag him home by the ear.”

            Tommy shoved Barney off and punched him in the arm.

            “Eh, Barney’s just jealous ‘cause he could never get a girl to even look his way.” Arthur used the newspaper in his hand to smack the young man.

            “How do the numbers look today?” Tommy asked, leaning over to glance at the ledgers.

            “Going well, Greta’s outside waiting for you though. I told her you’d be down soon.” His brother answered.

            He frowned. “Did she say what it was about?”

            Arthur just shrugged.

            Curious, Tommy stepped outside of the shop where Greta Jurossi was waiting for him. She looked up at him with a polite smile.

            “I heard your son was born last week.”

            Tommy nodded. Despite the inconsistent timelines, it was generally accepted by everyone except close family and friends that Tommy was the biological father of Max. It made things easier and, in a way, it drew attention from Amelia’s past. He wanted to protect her from any ruthless comments, like the ones she got from her parents in London. If he had to take the heat for having a child out of wedlock, then he would do that. But he had a feeling that people in Birmingham were wise enough to know not to bring it up.

            “What did you name him?”

            “Max,” Tommy answered. “After a friend of Amelia’s.”

            “Such a cute name.” She glanced down at the paper in her hand. “Well, I hate to bother you, I know you’re probably busy with him and everything else.” She unfolded the newspaper and handed it to him.

            “What is this?”

            “Information about the revolution that’s going to happen in Russia. They want to overthrow the monarchy, let the government be run by the people, for the people.”

            Tommy wasn’t overly optimistic, even in his younger years. He’d seen enough hardship to know that the world wasn’t fair. “Is that so?” He took the paper from her. It appeared to be somewhat of an organization’s print instead of a national newspaper. He scanned the first few lines. “And you think they’ll be able to pull it off.”

            “They have the people’s support.” Greta shrugged. “I suppose it’s a bit what we’re looking for, isn’t it?”

            He glanced up at her. “We’re looking for better working conditions and labor laws.” He reminded her as if she’d forgotten what she’d dedicated so much time and effort toward.

            “And that can be accomplished by allowing the people to decide what’s best. Not those who are wealthy who’ve never worked a day in the factories. Who’ve never lived in the slums.”

            He nodded. It made sense. His sense of justice and integrity was all for it. “What can I do?” He asked.

            “You’re causing a stir in Birmingham.” She noted. “Everyone’s talking about the betting shop and the caps. The name’s caught on, by the way. The Peaky Blinders.”

            “Are they afraid of us?” Tommy folded up the paper to hand back to her.

            “No. At least, not the people here who need you. I think they’re sick of waiting for the Commons to make things better. They see you as a man of the people. They want you to succeed. Don’t you see, Tom? You’re the right person to make this happen. You have the skills to gain influence.”     

            A soft wailing sound from an open window upstairs carried down to the street. Tommy felt conflicted. He had tried to assure Amelia that he would make things better for everyone. If he gained influence and power was he better than any of the men sitting in the Commons? Would that give his son a better life?

            “I’ll be at the next meeting.” He promised her. “I’ll let you know what I think.”

            She smiled hopefully. “Thanks, Tommy. And good luck with the baby.” She stepped back from the betting shop. As she went to walk away, she coughed into a handkerchief.

~~~~~~~~~ 

            Tommy returned to the betting shop and found Amelia had come downstairs. Arthur was holding Max looking like a proud uncle. The baby boy had stopped crying and looked content in his arms. It made sense. Arthur had basically raised all of his siblings.

            Amelia had a smile on her face but it looked partly forced. When she saw Tommy walk in, it faded slightly. Tommy was worried she had overheard his conversation with Greta.

            “Can I talk to you for a moment?” She asked.

            “Uh…sure.” Tommy ignored the snickering from the rest of the men as he followed Amelia into the kitchen. He closed the curtain shut. “You trust them with Max?”

            “You don’t?”

            Tommy shrugged and sat down at the table. “They can be thick.”

            Amelia didn’t respond. “Were you ever going to tell me Polly had children? Or that they were taken away?” She asked in a hushed voice.

            He grimaced. The topic was a particularly sore one in the family. Polly refused to talk about it and would not listen to anyone talk about it. Even though it was unresolved, it was best to not speak about it. “She told you?”

            “No, a neighbor told me while I was out walking with Max.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why wouldn’t she tell me? Why wouldn’t anyone tell me?”

            “Because no one in the house talks about it, Mel.” He ran a hand over his face. “It happened just last year. Michael was born the year you left. Anna was born a year later.” He explained.

            Amelia’s brow was wrinkled with worry. “What happened?”

            “The police took them. They had no fucking reason; Polly was a great mother. They just targeted her because we’re gypsies.”

            She slowly sat down next to him; a bit taken aback by the story.

            “They said she could get them back. We’ve tried everything. They won’t tell us where they are, where they were brought. One police officer even said there was no record of them anywhere.”

            “If I had known. I should-”

            Tommy shook his head. “Don’t mention any of it to Pol. She can’t handle it. She copes by not speaking about it.”

            Amelia chewed on her lip. She couldn’t imagine raising Max for a couple of years only to have him ripped away from her.

            And it seemed like Tommy could see that fear in her eyes. “It’s not going to happen again.” He promised her, gently taking her hand in his. “No one will ever take Max from us. And I’m going to bring Michael and Anna back home.”

            She nodded, too concerned to speak. She just leaned forward to let Tommy kiss her knuckles and pull her into his arms.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

            “You’re doing so well with him.”

            On the first snow of the winter, Polly and Tommy were up early, sitting together in the kitchen. Max was in Tommy’s arms, having woken up the whole house at the crack of dawn. Everyone else had grumbled, turned over and shoved a pillow over their heads to block out the noise.

            But Tommy was up to grab his month-old-son. Max nursed while Amelia was half awake, leaning against the headboard. Meanwhile, Tommy got dressed in the small space and took his son after Amelia was finished. The new mother went right back to sleep, too exhausted to get up.

            Polly was already in the kitchen, preparing to go to an early mass before she worked on the accounts in the betting shop.

            Tommy smiled. “He’s easy, don’t ya think? Much easier than Ada was.”

            Polly sighed at the memory of Ada being colicky so often as an infant. “Much easier.” She agreed. “But still, I’m very proud of you. You’ve stepped up and have been very good to both of them.”

            “Thanks, Pol.” Tommy let Max grab a hold of his index finger.

            “So,” His aunt sipped her tea. “When are you going to marry her?”

            “Pol!” Tommy’s eyes widened in shock. “What are you on about?”

            “Thomas, you cannot hide things from me very easily. You lie the exact same way your mother did. Terribly. Now, I’m only asking because I’d like your union to be witnessed by God. Don’t want you two eloping behind my back.”

            It was too early to argue about God with Polly. But Tommy had a feeling she wouldn’t drop the subject of marriage so easily. “She’s just had Max; I think she deserves a bit of time before she has to make another big decision.” He said defensively.

            “But you’d be willing.”

            “W-I…why are you bringing this up now? I don’t care what people think.”

            “It’s not about what other people think. It’s about you, Tommy.” Polly gently touched his arm. “I know you’re in love with her. I know she’s in love with you. This flat is too fucking small not to notice the way you two are together. But I think you’re denying yourself this commitment because you’re afraid.”

            Tommy looked down at Max. The newborn was slowly starting to fall asleep, his eyelids fluttering a few times before sliding shut. “We’re raising him together, Pol, I think that’s enough of a commitment.”

            “Then marriage shouldn’t be a big deal.” She shrugged.

            He hesitated because he knew she was trying to snag him on a technicality. “I suppose it isn’t. But it’s about what she wants. Pol, she’s been through a lot since she left. The pregnancy, how it happened…” He knew he couldn’t tell his aunt because he’d swore to Amelia he wouldn’t tell anyone what happened. “She’s not overly trusting right now. I think…y’know maybe she’s relying on trust we had before. When we were just kids. But it’s different now. I want to make things work but I think we have different ideas for the future.” He admitted. Max let go of his finger, lifting his little fist up with a yawn before settling again in his swaddle. “She said I should work with horses and just…forget about the betting shop. She’s worried I’ll get hurt.”

            Polly could understand the young woman’s dilemma. It was the same issue she had with the start of the shop. But she’d begun to realize that they were Shelby boys, not choir boys. They would get into trouble no matter what. A pretty face couldn’t sway them from that. So, Polly figured that, if they had structure, a proper operation, maybe it would help them. Maybe it would keep them safer if they were let loose. She wasn’t perfect either. “Then maybe you two ought to figure out how to settle these differences. I know no one could ask you to change, Tommy. They’d only be wasting their breath. You have a plan and you want to see it through to the end. I suppose the only thing I can do is ask you to think about your family first. That family includes her and the baby now.” She reminded him gently.

            Tommy nodded. “I know. Family comes first.” He echoed in agreement. “Always.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~           

            It was a tentative arrangement and happened very slowly, to begin with. But when Max was born, Tommy and Amelia found it was difficult sleeping in two separate bedrooms. He wanted to help out as best he could even if it was the middle of the night. As time went on, Amelia got comfortable with having him in her space. When initially she was wary. It started out with Tommy coming in from down the hall when he heard Max cry. Sometimes Amelia would assure him everything was okay, or she’d ask for some help. Tommy would either go back to bed in John’s room or sit in the rocking chair by Max’s cot. When things were quiet again, he’d return to bed down the hall.

            Then, the nights became longer and sometimes he’d fall asleep in the rocking chair with Max in his arms. Sometimes he’d sit up on the floor near the cot, watching Max fall asleep. And oftentimes, watching the newborn fall asleep would make him doze off too.

            Eventually, Amelia noticed Tommy started to complain about his neck or back in the morning. She knew it was because the majority of the night he wasn’t sleeping in a bed. She felt bad but allowed herself the time to get comfortable with him.

            One night, when Max had settled down, Tommy had started to nod off in the rocking chair. Amelia got up and scooped Max out of Tommy’s arms so she could lay him in his cot.

            “Tom.” She nudged him gently.

            “Hm? Yeah?” He stirred and opened his eyes with a yawn.

            “Come to bed.”

            “Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” He stood up and stretched. He reached into the cot to affectionately touch Max’s cheek before heading to the door.

            “No, just…” Amelia grabbed his hand before he left.

            He looked back at her, a bit too tired to read between the lines. “Hm?”

            “Just stay here.” She didn’t want to sound like she was begging for him to stay, but she really was. After reassuring herself that Tommy would never harm her, she understood her deep need for his affection. A chaste kiss or holding her hand every once and a while wasn’t enough. Now that they were settled with Max, she wanted to grow their relationship.

            Tommy’s eyes flicked to the bed. “Are you sure?” He asked. It had been months since they were huddled up together in the vardo that summer at the fair. He had longed to be close to her again for longer periods of time in the day. But it was such a small flat and he knew his siblings could be merciless with their teasing. He didn’t want Amelia to be self-conscious about their relationship. So, he kept his distance and waited patiently for her to allow him closer.

            She nodded. “Yeah. I think I need you to stay.”

            “Alright.” He held a hand out to the bed, allowing her to lay down first so she could get comfortable first.

            But she didn’t let go of his hand, pulling him with her to the bed. He followed her lead, laying down beside her, his chest pressed to her back. She adjusted his arm, making sure it was locked around her waist and their hands were intertwined.

            It felt perfect. Tommy was suddenly wide awake, his heart beating too quickly to fall asleep.  

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe

Tag list: @shelbyblinded

Masterpost

PB Masterlist

[ofanya]

STATS / PINTEREST / CONNECTIONS / CLASSES

⌠ NATALIA DYER, 21, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, ANYA CASIRAGHI! according to their records, they’re a SECOND year, specializing in AWARENESS TRAINING, BREATH CONTROL, HAND TO HAND COMBAT + RESEARCH & DEVELOPMENT; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (embroidery on lace, waking up early to catch the sunset, the scent of fresh strawberries, perfect balance on tiptoes). when it’s the (libra)’s birthday on 9/24/99, they always request their ARANCINI DI RISO from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ kati, 24, she/her, est ⍀ @gallagherintro

INSPIRATION.

cho chang – harry potter 

grace blood – skins

esme cullen – twilight 

yue – avatar the last airbender

lexi howard – euphoria

laurel castillo – how to get away with murder

jane bennett – pride and predjudice 

ann perkins – parks & rec

kwon sun-hwa – lost

BACKGROUND + CLICK FOR BIO.

anya is the third-born casiraghi child after salvatore (oldest) and nico (second-oldest) and the first girl. she’s labeled extremely bright from a young age, but she doesn’t start speaking until she’s almost five years old. the casiraghi parents aren’t even concerned, they don’t think speech is an important quality for a girl. 

the first thing she ever says is a full sentence: “i want to go out with the boys.” it’s almost as if she could have spoken this whole time, she’d just been waiting. but of course, she’s told no, and she wants to be part of the lives that nico and salvatore lead but she’s pushed the side and told to be something else, something more ornamental. 

goes to ballet and etiquette classes instead ( the casiraghis are taught in their own home, much too good for even the best of private schools ) and often feels like she has to make up or carry things in lieu of the behavior of her younger sister. cecilia is reckless and insolent, does what she likes, and anya is jealous, but not jealous enough to do the same. anya is held to a higher standard as she’s meant to set an example and there’s a bit of bitterness that grows in her because of that. 

anya teaches herself as much about finance and business as salvatore and nico, but instead of her business or career prospects, her parents talk only of marriage proposals and future prospects. the education in espionage is a placeholder, she learns things so she’ll be able to make intelligent small talk at dinner parties or be a good companion for a man someday, not because she can run an empire. it’s very frustrating, but she takes this quietly, as always.

(DRUG ABUSE/OPIOIDS TW) anya breaks her ankle in dance practice when she’s 16, a compound fracture. it’ll heal, but she will never be able to dance in the same way again. there’s a numbness inside of her that only seems to be assuaged by the pills prescribed by her doctor that are intended to ease the pain. the pills ease the tightness in your chest every time she sits at the dinner table and long after her ankle heals, anya continues to use the pills like a crutch.

(OVERDOSE TW) she overdoses at 17 and is sent to a rehab facility. the entire ordeal is done very quietly, made to seem like a pleasant vacation – a dirty secret, something to be ashamed of, and it’s emphasized that anya should be so grateful to her family for taking care of her when she’s such a disappointment. she spends the summer at the best facility that money can by, and she returns clean, determined not to be such a disappointment, but the numbness doesn’t seem to quite fade. 

she heads to gallagher academy at 19, following her brother nico to school in america. she has no idea of the legal proceedings going on under her nose because she’s just so excited to get out of the house, unaware why her parents are so quick to send her away. nico hates it, finds it unpleasant and uncouth and a lot of the students are slovenly, but anya loves it, thrives under the guise of freedom and the ability to speak in a classroom where her voice matters.

naturally, the casiraghi family loses everything, as you might recall. her parents say that anya’s lucky she’s pretty because she could still marry nicely, and if it’s soon then the casiraghi name might still mean something. they remind anya of how much she owes them, how good they were to her when she attempted to sour the family name.

PERSONALITY.

DIPLOMATIC. is really good at choosing her words in a way that keeps the peace and is very intentional about the language that she chooses to use. she believes a lot in 'fairness’ and everyone getting a fair chance at things, so on, and she’s good at controlling difficult situations without upsetting ppl. 

NURTURING. has a very caring personality and always wants to look after others. she’s this way with plants and animals as well, and i think she’s really good at encouraging people to achieve their goals or advocate for themselves, she just can’t...do that for herself. but she will take care of u and smother u but in a loving way. 

RELIABLE. will show up at your doorstep in the rain with an umbrella, the first person to complete everything in the group project, if she makes you a promise she will follow through and then some. u can say some shit about anya, but she is fucking dependable and will come through for you whenever you need her most or you don’t think you need her at all, she’s still there. 

NON-CONFRONTATIONAL. will go out of her way to avoid a fight or try to keep the peace, she will also do this with others, putting herself in the middle of things to keep other people from fighting – she just will do ANYTHING to avoid a confrontation. annoying tbh. 

NAIVE. she really doesn’t know much about the world at large and will always find herself believing the best in people or hoping for the best case scenario when it isn’t always true. this could be seen as a good thing, but i think pretty much anyone has the ability to take advantage of her, it’s not hard. 

TIMID. anya has always had trouble advocating for herself and what she really wants, she has a lack of courage when it comes to fighting for her own passions and will easily take a backseat for others to take the spotlight. one direction vc: u don’t know ur beautiful

HEADCANONS.

idk why my brain was like . try to make this char into modern commentary on the 50s housewife but here we are 

i had no idea what i was doing with her late-talking thing except trying to somehow manifest how oppressive her home was, but rowan sent me some article about einstein syndrome and how late talkers like anya are highly analytical thinkers so we’re going with that ! 

was jumped on by a very big dog when she was very small and her face got scratched, so she has a bit of a fear of large dogs...it’s not that she doesn’t like them in theory, they just scare her and she hasn’t seemed to outgrow it. 

still loves to dance even though she’s well aware that she could never really do it professionally or on stage because of the way her ankle won’t bend, but you can usually catch her...somewhere on gallagher’s campus where she could practice privately ? 

also does a lot of yoga to center herself, she loves early mornings and generally her routine is to get up, make a cup of tea, watch the sunrise and then do a little bit of yoga. routine makes her feel in control so she has a habit of sticking to it.

loves to bake and is really good at it ! happy to binge great british bakeoff with anyone but then she will want to try all of the recipes and challenges herself. she likes the exact science of it and it’s another one of her hobbies that helps her feel like she maintains a sort of balance within herself. if you do it right, it all works out – baking makes sense.

she’s had one certain relationship when she was pretty young and definitely is not a person for one night stands, so...she’s a virgin ! 

in general she is baby but she is also mom. 

does not like most green vegetables but especially brussel sprouts. 

will wince when other people curse, has a tendency to speak very proper herself because of the way that she was raised. has extremely good manners, table or otherwise.  

gets really easily overwhelmed at big parties or functions with crowds of people and will generally find some excuse in order to, well, excuse herself. she just feels like she has to be ON all the time and it’s very exhausting to her, would much rather curl up and watch movies or something. 

is very straight edge, doesn’t drink/smoke/etc as a result of her past, she stays away from anything that could increase temptation and make her fall back into past habits. 

had/has a cat at home named gio, technically the family cat but it always felt the most like anya’s and it would sleep with her and everything however since the house was seized, no one has been able to find gio </3

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

best friend – i know, it’s hard to just plot this, but ! i would love someone who maybe was her roommate last year, the first person that anya met on campus and they just clicked right away and made anya feel really at home. i would love if this character was a foil for anya’s nurturing, softspoken nature, so a girl who is a bit louder and more confident. 

childhood crush – idk someone who could have known the casiraghi family for years or operated in that scene, maybe from a wealthy family and anya has a long-time unrequited crush on them. anya’s really kind, but she probably acts a bit standoffish or rude toward this character, so they probably think she hates them.  

bad influence – a character who’s a bit on the wild side who’s turned anya into their project – they want to get her out of her shell, help anya let loose and get out more, but maybe this is also some bad temptation for her since she has some...old bad habits. 

good influence (on) – anya is PEAK mom friend, so i’m looking for a connection that really displays that, someone she looks after. she’s the first person they call when they’re too fucked up and she’s always texting them the homework (and maybe the answers too).

ex-family friends – maybe your character’s family testified against the casiraghi family in the court case and helped send anya’s parents to prison. so, anya and your character used to be close friends but now she avoids your character out of familial obligation. 

fake dating? anya’s parents would like to pressure her into an engagement or see her with someone well-off, so if your character is from a rich asf family, perhaps they’ve done anya a solid. they’re not actually fake dating around campus or lying to their friends, but they’re close friends with anya and might go home with her to perpetrate the lie on a holiday when she goes to see sal and maybe they have taken a few cute selfies together for anya to send home – it would probably be YOUR character that suggests this to anya and encourages her to have a bit of freedom, so i imagine our chars would be friends. 

first love/ex – someone that anya might have known or met when she was younger, probably through family connections. they would’ve been around 15 at the time, so a genuine first relationship (like probably first kiss for her), but at this age her mental health was really bad and they probably broke up as a result of going to rehab. perhaps they feel guilty about not being more supportive or perhaps they did all they could but it was too heavy? we can discuss, but either way, super angsty.

protector – idk i would just love if someone saw how much of herself she puts into taking care of others and wanted to take care of her/look out for her instead and they’re just that friend who is really protective of her and reminds her to look after herself too

crush – i just want her to have a little bit of a crush/affinity for a girl that helps her realize that she’s not straight because she’s too repressed and never considered anything except heterosexuality til this point idk i just like when girls.

enemy – probably an ex-friend or something like that. maybe anya trusted them with a secret and they betrayed her or they tried to throw her under the bus to gain something. or maybe anya just got on your character’s bad side by being too much of a goody-two-shoes.

idk give me someone that relentlessly flirts with her because they think it’s hilarious that she gets so shy and doesn’t really know what to do about it, and she really does not know what to do about it ! 

also am down to brainstorm since i know the casiraghis already have a bit of a reputation so...i’m blessed taking a sibling connection and perhaps we can just bounce off of things you’ve already plotted with deanna and/or kit ( cecilia & n*co ) !

[strawberrysoup]

Let’s Review || Chapter 1

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-con/dub-con elements, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, very dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

This story is, as advertised, fucked up. It’s inspired by the recent influx of Dark!Steve and Dark!Tony fics and there is a lot of potentially triggering material so please read with caution. Our heroes are not heroes in this story; they’re criminals with limited to no consciences. 

There weren’t many things that Penny Parker could really rely on. Her paychecks fluctuated unfathomably every two weeks, the electricity bill was never consistent, and for some reason even when she drove her car dry it never took the same amount of gas to fill the tank. Peter’s class schedule seemed to change every time she asked about it, his after-school club activities were never on the same day, and why did she have to sign this report card but not last quarter’s, Pete? Consistency was something she’d learned not to hope for. Mostly she kept her fingers crossed that things would somehow work out to her advantage, day by day.

For the most part, it did. She’d dropped out of high school when uncle Ben died to start working, to help support aunt May and Peter. It had taken three years to get her GED between the three jobs she worked, but she managed. GED accomplished, she checked off that box on her mental list and signed up for night classes at the local community college. It was hard, but she could make it work. Then aunt May had died.

Custody of 14 year old Peter Parker had been hotly contested, as Penny had only been 21 at the time of aunt May’s death. Technically, she was an adult. She had two jobs, a steady income, an apartment, a decent credit score. Somehow, like most things in her life, it had just kind of worked out and she was granted sole custody of her younger brother. She’d dropped her night classes, picked up a third job overnight, and kept her fingers crossed that social services never asked why her “two bedroom apartment” only had one bedroom.

Semi-decent luck was the only thing that really kept her life running, and by extension Peter’s. She knew it would wear off someday, she’d been granted the lion’s share of good fortune in Queens when it came to looking after her brother and it wasn’t super fair. She just didn’t think it would end so spectacularly. The end of the luck was supposed to be a low, painful fizzle.

Instead, it was a flashbang that started with Peter acting like a cokehead. Peter had never been a particularly twitchy kid; Penny had leeched all the chaotic energy from their mother’s womb and left the intelligence behind for her kid brother. Over the course of several months though, he’d begun jumping at the drop of a hat. Penny would turn the corner into the kitchen and startle him so badly he’d have an asthma attack. If she even glanced at his phone when a notification lit up the screen he’d lose his mind, accusing her of not respecting his privacy and dart away into his room. Asking if he needed anything from the store was suddenly the Spanish Inquisition and god forbid she offer him a ride to school.

Because she’d graciously left all the IQ points for Peter, Penny had a tendency to do stupid things. Like assume Peter’s behavior was because he had gotten a girlfriend or was just going through usual teenage boy hormones that made him act like a jackass. Luckily the dumbass wasn’t actually a cokehead, considering he still blanched whenever she had weed in the house, but fuck if he wasn’t acting like a freak. It came to a head when she happened to be coming home from her second job at the same time he was getting home from one of his after-school club meetings.

She hadn’t been sure what she was seeing at first. It was definitely Peter, he’d hit a growth spurt finally and started to put on some height and muscle mass but was still a lanky little shit, and he was arguing with a man in a suit who was walking next to him. Both were being followed by a slow-moving car with blacked out windows and no front license plate. Peter’s body language was uncomfortable, arms crossed over his chest, shoulders angled away from the man and tucked in, eyes down.

When Penny called out to Peter, the man had gotten into the backseat of the black car which promptly drove away. Her brother had gone red in the face and ran up the steps to their apartment complex without waiting for her to catch up, locking himself in the bedroom and refusing to come out when she followed him in. She’d given up on being the casual guardian, the cool big sister who let him live his life. Penny had begged him to come out, to tell her what was going on. She just wanted to help, how could she help him if he wouldn’t talk to her?

It had started with simple answers, after Penny had started to cry, through the door.

Who was that man? Tony Stark.

What did he want with Peter? To offer him a job.

Why were they arguing? Because Peter rejected the offer.

He was lying. Penny knew what it sounded like, the way his voice changed. She’d been glued to his side since their parents died when she was 13 and it had only gotten worse with uncle Ben’s passing. Peter was lying through his teeth and Penny had no idea why, no idea what to do. Helplessness had settled over her shoulders like a lead blanket, her chest tightening. If Peter was willing to lie to her, then whatever was happening with Tony Stark was really, really bad. And she had no fucking idea what to do.

***

“JARVIS, bring up Peter’s file.”

The voice cut through the silence of the car like a shot, Happy glancing at the man in the backseat through the rearview mirror questioningly. Usually his boss was in a pretty good mood after having harassed the high school kid he’d become obsessed with over the last several months, but the tone of his voice said otherwise.

“Of course, sir,” the AI responded dutifully from the Stark phone, a document appearing on the screen, “anything in particular, sir?”

“Peter told me he was emancipated after his aunt’s death and that he lived alone. I think my boy’s lying to me, J,” Tony’s voice was lower than usual, irritation apparent in his stony expression.

“Straight home, boss?” Happy asked quietly, humming in response when the man in the backseat nodded.

“Records show that Peter Parker is under the guardianship of one Penelope Parker, 24 years of age, relation: sister.”

“So he did lie to me,” Tony ran a hand over his goatee, sighing through the motion in disappointment before anger overcame him again, “You mean he lives in that shithole with someone? She’s supposed to be taking care of him, that place is a fucking drug den!”

“The police have indeed responded to 23 calls involving illicit drug use in that apartment complex in the last 10 days, sir. Another 10 calls were answered in response to domestic violence, 5 calls in regards to loitering, 7 calls in—”

“Thank you, JARVIS,” he waved his hand impatiently before the AI could recite every reason his boy shouldn’t be living in such a fucking pigsty, “tell me more about Penelope.”

The name was said with enough venom that Happy’s eyebrows went up, glancing once again at his boss in the rearview mirror as he navigated through the congested New York City streets.

“Penelope Parker, 24 years of age, born in New York City, New York. Dropped out of high school at 16, accomplished a GED at 19. Currently employed at Little Hands Daycare, Starbucks Coffee, and Kroger’s. Owner of a 2001 Toyota Camry, license plate 605-CEG, rents a one-bedroom apartment in Queens for $1,200 a month, credit score of 713, 1 speeding ticket, no medical insurance—”

“Stop,” Tony grit his teeth, tilting his head from side to side to crack his neck, “a one-bedroom apartment. No medical insurance. Didn’t even graduate from fucking high school. How the hell did she get custody of my boy?”

“Custody of Peter Parker went to his closest living relative, with the stipulation that social services kept up regular visits on account of the young age of the guardian. Records show that visits kept up for roughly 3 months before ending.”

“3 fucking months, those useless fucks,” it came out as a snarl, “look up the case workers, I want their names. And their heads. On a platter. Get a lock on their wifi signal, I want to know what they’re doing at all times. I already have a tracker on Peter, hack into the GPS on Penelope’s phone and keep track of her too.”

“The phone number listed on Ms. Parker’s work forms is a prepaid burner with no GPS capabilities. I can use triangulation to pick up on her general location when she connects to cell phone towers.”

“Seriously, a burner phone? Is she a drug dealer?” Tony’s eyes shot up to meet Happy’s in the mirror, “Oh my god is my baby’s guardian a drug dealer?”

“There is no evidence of any misconduct on the part of Ms. Parker, sir,” JARVIS stated calmly, despite the edge of infuriated panic from Tony, “she has no arrest record or suspicious activity.”

“That doesn’t mean anything and you know it JARVIS,” Tony pressed his head back into the cushion behind him, squeezing his eyes shut, “I’ve got to get him out of there, sooner rather than later. Happy, once we get home, start coordinating with Rhodey for extraction plans. JARVIS, keep an eye on any activity on their WiFi network.”

“Shall I connect to the webcam on the laptop computer, sir?”

“And the camera on my baby boy’s phone,” on his own phone, Tony opened his picture gallery to swipe through the images he already had of Peter, a small smile taking over his mouth in the process, “Keep any recorded video for at least 24 hours, let me know if anything interesting happens.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Happy, let’s get everyone ready for my boy’s homecoming,” Tony stated, shifting in his seat as they pulled into the private garage beneath Stark Tower, “its coming up sooner than we anticipated.”

***

Penny had started googling Tony Stark the moment she realized Peter wasn’t going to part with anymore information. The longer she sat in front of the laptop, the more panic began to grow in her chest.

Tony Stark was a bad man. A very, very bad man who made very, very dangerous weapons and had lots of very, very important and powerful people in his back pocket. There was no real evidence, of course. None of his misdeeds could be proven in court, none of the weapons he invented could be traced to his company, none of the people he practically owned would even admit to knowing the man. He was incredibly powerful and so fucking dangerous that Penny’s teeth ached at the thought of him even being near her baby brother.

“Fuck,” she muttered dragging both hands through her dark brown hair, “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

There was no reason for a man like Tony Stark to be offering Peter a job. Sure, Peter was smarter than anyone she’d ever met. The kid’s IQ had to be off the charts, he’d gotten into that insanely expensive private science school in Midtown. But there was no reason for Tony Stark to recruit a high school senior, even if he was a budding genius.

“What are you doing Pen?” Peter’s voice was raspy from crying and the sound made Penny jump, turning in her seat to look at the teenager behind her.

“I’m…,” she glanced guiltily at the laptop before sighing, “I didn’t know who Tony Stark was off the top of my head. I had to look him up.”

Peter quickly reached out and closed the internet browser before shutting the lid of the laptop, running his hand through his hair in a way rather reminiscent of his sister, “You shouldn’t google him, he’s got enough of an ego that he probably gets an alert every time his name comes up.”

Penny bit her lip, rubbing her hands together in her lap before gathering as much courage as she could and pushing out the chair at the table next to her, “we need to talk, Pete. I need you to tell me the truth about why he was talking to you, no bullshit. I can’t help you if I don’t know the situation.”

The teenager hesitated for all of 30 seconds before dropping into the chair, his expression one of dismay, “I can’t tell you anything, Penny. Its too dangerous, he could hurt you—”

“I’m not worried about me, Peter,” she cut him off, hand rising when he started to open his mouth again, “Stop. Listen. Its my job to take care of you, to keep you safe. Start from the top, how did you meet Tony Stark?”

Another hesitation, eyes darting away from her face before he answered, “on accident. He saw me on the street, I was looking for a job at one of the coffee shops near school.”

Penny held her tongue, refusing to lecture him on getting a job and derailing the current conversation, “and he approached you?”

“Yeah,” Peter rubbed a hand over the back of his head, “Asked me my name, about my uniform. Asked me if I liked science since I went to a special school. I thought it was cool, he runs a research and development laboratory. Then he started… showing up in different places.”

“You think he was in those places deliberately?” The question was a quiet prompt when Peter seemed to clam up and he nodded in response.

“It was weird, but I… I liked the attention,” it was whispered, tears gathering in his eyes as shame built in his chest, “He told me how, how smart I was and how impressed he was by me. Talked to me about science and then just… about me. He wanted to know what kinds of things I liked to do for fun, what kind of movies I liked. I kind of thought we were friends but then…”

“Its okay, Peter,” Penny reached out and grabbed both of his hands in hers carefully, tears in her eyes as well, “what happened then?”

“He started getting handsy,” he murmured, a shiver going down his spine, “at first it was just, just like him putting his hand on my back when we walked through a door. Or he’d put his arm over the back of my chair and touch my shoulder. It was weird because he was an adult but… he’s handsome, Pen. He’s really, really handsome and I was excited because he was interested in me for some reason but now I realize that it wasn’t good and it’s not good and I shouldn’t have let him and I’m so sorr—”

“Don’t say sorry, Pete,” a quiet sob escaped Penny’s mouth and she covered it with her hand, the other still clutching at his, “Don’t apologize, you have done nothing wrong. Oh God, Peter, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I noticed that you’d started acting differently but I passed it off. Oh my God, I should’ve talked to you so much sooner. I should’ve asked what was going on. How long has this been going on, Peter?”

He was quiet for so long that another sob was ripped from Penny’s lips and she shot forward, dragging her little brother into a nearly suffocating hug. Fuck, fuck how long had that piece of shit been conditioning her little brother. That fucking pedophile how long had he been stalking her little brother. Fuck the age of consent in New York, fuck the law, Peter was a baby—he was a fucking child.

“You don’t have to answer, Peter, its okay,” it was a soft whisper, her hand carding through his hair while he cried against her, “I’m going to figure something out, okay? I don’t know what yet, but I’m going to make sure that he leaves you alone. I’m going to take care of this, I’m going to take care of you.”

“You can’t, Penny,” his cries were breathy and quiet, “you can’t take care of me this time, he’ll hurt you—”

Penny couldn’t say it out loud, because Peter would lose his mind, but Penny would let Tony Stark murder her in front of an audience if it meant he’d leave Peter alone. Every promise she’d ever made, to her mother on her deathbed, to aunt May on hers, was to keep Peter safe. To make sure he had every opportunity. Peter was so smart, he had so much potential, if she could just give him the chance, if she could just get him to the point where he could make something of himself—then she would consider her life perfect. She’d die knowing she had done her job, she’d opened the gates for her brother’s success.

“I’ll figure it out Peter, one way or another.”

[grapevynerendezvous]

KFRC’s 21 Golden Rocks, Volume 1 - Various Artists

This was my first rock/r&b song collection album. How I got it is kind of vague. It certainly has the feel of listening to radio with just a few slight differences. There’s no DJ introducing the songs as they started and/or talking over the songs as they faded out, no commercials between songs, and I could choose when I wanted to hear them, how often, which ones, in what order…okay, so the songs were on the radio and now they could be on my record player. All the better. It also familiarized me with some songs I hadn’t heard, or heard very little. Since the majority of the songs were hits in 1966, with earlier ones going as far back as 1963, and one in 1967, the chances were that I heard most of them throughout ’66 & ’67 - when I really started paying more attention. It took me awhile to warm up to rhythm and blues music, I suppose one could say black music in general. I look back to some of the 45s that we had over time, courtesy of my sister and my mom. There actually are some songs that I had always enjoyed in that genre, but I just hadn’t gotten used to the newer ones yet. Sam Cooke comes to mind, but I think my sister kept that one even though I have most of those 45s now. As time went by I started appreciating the r&b songs on this album, as well as others that I was hearing more and more. It is evident that at this early stage it was reasonably important that I had this collection of music. Only three of the 21 songs are on albums I ended up owning. At the time I got it I already had albums with  Hello Hello by Sopwith Camel and Laugh Laugh by The Beau Brummels, while later obtaining the Love album with My Little Red Book as the opening track.

Side one

Hello Hello - Sopwith Camel

1967 No.26 Billboard * recorded 1966

Album Sopwith Camel • origin San Francisco CA

The only song from the year of this album’s release. It was the first hit single by any band in the San Francisco Psychedelic era. There is more about the band in my posting about LP25.

Psychotic Reaction - Count Five

1966 No.5 Billboard * recorded 1965

Album Psychotic Reaction * origin in San Jose CA

The Count Five were the first San Jose band to have success in the “garage band era”. Psychotic Reaction was discovered by KLIV DJ Brian Lord. I saw Count Five with some original members including vocalist Kenn Elnerr perform Psychotic Reaction at Longstock XXI in 2013 in the Santa Cruz Mountains CA.

The Duck - Jackie Lee

1965 No.14 1966 Top 100 No.8 R&B Billboard * recorded 1965

Album The Duck 1966 * origin Los Angeles CA

His real name is Earl Nelson and he had been in The Hollywood Flames in the ‘50s and was lead vocalist on Buzz Buzz Buzz. He had been in the duo Bob & Earl with Bobby Boyd, who later recorded Rockin’ Robin as Bobby Day. Nelson united with Bob Relf for a further Bob & Earl period. Jackie was his wife’s name, and Lee his middle name.

Little Girl - Syndicate of Sound

1966 No.8 Billboard * recorded 1966

Album Little Girl * origin in San Jose CA

Little Girl was originally issued on Hush Records in San Francisco.and became a regional hit with help from KLIV radio. Bell Records picked it up and issued it nationally. In the early’70s Syndicate of Sound played at a DeMolay event I was at. I got to know co-writer Bob Gonzalez in the 2010s. He still performs in the South Bay Area as of this writing. Syndicate of Sound performed a few shows after I met Bob and I saw one of them at the Santa Clara Fairgrounds. Original guitarist, and lead singer of Little Girl Don Baskin, was there, but since passed away in 2019.

Dirty Water - The Standells

1966 No.11 Billboard * recorded 1965

Album Dirty Water * origin in Los Angeles CA

The song was written by producer Ed Cobb who had lived in Boston, and which explains references to that city in Dirty Water. Drummer Dick Dodd, who at one time was on The Mouseketeers, sang lead vocal on this and most Standell songs. Boston sports teams regularly play Dirty Water at their events. The Standells have played at Fenway Park five times including at the 2nd game of the 2004 World Series.

Little Latin Lupe Lu - The Righteous Brothers

1963 No.49 Billboard * recorded 1963

Album Right Now! * origin Orange County/Los Angeles CA

Their first single, this song was a moderate hit for The Righteous Brothers before their first major smash You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling the next year. Bill Medley said that he dated a “Lupe Laguna” in high school. I saw Medley perform solo at Circle Star Theater in the ‘70s.

Laugh Laugh - The Beau Brummels

1964 No.15 Billboard * recorded 1964

Album Introducing The Beau Brummels * origin San Francisco CA

This was their first hit single. It was written by guitarist Ron Elliott and sung by lead vocalist Sal Valentino. I saw Valentino perform as a guest with Jackie Greene in 2005 at The Catalyst in Santa Cruz CA. There is more about the band in my posting about LP29.

Hey Joe (Where You Gonna Go) - The Leaves

1966 No. 31 Billboard * recorded 1966 (3rd version)

Album Hey Joe * origin San Fernando Valley-Los Angeles CA

A popular regional number, the Leaves recorded this song three times, with the final success of the third after new guitarist Bob Arlin, who used a fuzztone, had joined the band. They originally heard the song done by The Byrds at a club called Ciro’s. Johnny Echols of Love claims that The Leaves first heard Love’s version as well. The Leaves ended up releasing it before the Byrds version was released on their Fifth Dimension LP. The second version by The Leaves was released before the Love version came out on their first album, but was not successful as a single. Other notable versions were by Tim Rose, and Jimi Hendrix, plus LA’s Standells, Music Machine and Surfaries had also recorded it.

Baby Scratch My Back - Slim Harpo

1966 No.16 Top 100/No.1 R&B Billboard * recorded 1965

Album Baby Scratch My Back * origin Baton Rouge LA

Born James Isaac Moore in Lobdell LA, Slim Harpo was a leading exponent of Swamp Blues. His stage name was derived from his mastery of the blues “harp” harmonica. It was his most successful single, others of which included I’m a King Bee (’57) and Shake Your Hips (’66).

Pushin’ Too Hard - The Seeds

1966 No.36 (1967) Billboard * recorded 1965 reissued 1966

Album The Seeds 1966 * origin Los Angeles CA

Originally released as You’re Pushin’ Too Hard in 1965 when it became a regional hit and started being played extensively by an LA DJ after the album was released. After a new single of it was issued in November ’66 as Pushin’ Too Hard, it lead to it reaching national charts. Some radio stations banned it in the belief it was about a pusher of illegal drugs. Rather strange since it would have actually been an anti-drug song. The song is often cited as an example of garage rock in both celebratory and denigrating manners. I have seen keyboardist Darryl Hooper play with a recent version of the Seeds, and with Chocolate Watch Band in 2015 and 2019 all at at The Chapel in San Francisco CA.

Good Lovin' - The Young Rascals

1966 No.1 Billboard * recorded 1966

Album The Young Rascals * origin Garfield NJ

This song was originally recorded by Lemme B. Good (Limme Shell), and a month later by The Olympics with revised lyrics, which was a moderate hit for them. It is said that Young Rascal Felix Cavallere first heard The Olympics version and it was added to the Young Rascals’ repertoire, using those same lyrics and basic arrangement as The Olympics. It was the band’s first real hit, being only their second released single. They went on to have five other top 10 hits including two more No.1’s, in the meantime changing their name to The Rascals.

Side 2

You Turn Me On (Turn On Song) - Ian Whitcomb (and Bluesville)

1965 No.8 Billboard * recorded 1965

Album You Turn Me On * origin Dublin IE/from Woking Surrey Eng.

This is one of the only two British Invasion songs included in the collection, the other being technically Irish. (the Irish Invasion?) It was self-penned by Whitcomb and was the only one of his four Billboard songs over the years to reach hit status. He went on to be a record producer, author, and occasional actor. He eventually moved permanently to the U.S. and still performs as of this writing.

Sweet Talkin' Guy - The Chiffons

1966 No.10 Billboard * recorded 1966

Album Sweet Talkin’ Guy * origin The Bronx New York, NY

This was the group’s third Top 10 hit single. They ended up touring in Germany, and in England where members of the Beatles and Rollings Stones were in the audience on one club date.

Along Comes Mary - The Association

1966 No. 7 Billboard * recorded 1966

Album And Then…Along Comes The Association * origin LA CA

The band is famous for their rich vocal harmonies which lead to some major successes for the group in the ‘60s. This was their third single, but the first one to become a hit on Billboard. The next single, Cherish, hit No.1 the same year, as did Windy in 1967 with Never My Love at No.2 that year. The song refers to a once-disillusioned man’s tribulations being comforted by Mary and improving his life. It’s also been said that “Mary” refers to marijuana. It’s unclear whether composer Tandyn Almer ever confirmed that one way or the other. Over the years The Association has had an enormous amount of singers perform in the group over the years. They are still active, with the founder Jules Gary Alexander still on board, as of this writing.

Baby Do The Philly Dog - The Olympics

1966 No.63 R&B No.20 Billboard * recorded 1966

Album Something Old, Something New * origin Los Angeles CA

The Olympics started out as a doo-wop group in the late fifties, having their only big hit, Western Movies, make No.8 Top 100 and No.7 R&B on Billboard with one other top 10 song on Billboard R&B. They released a number of other singles until their last one Do the Philly Dog. They made no further singles following this. Charles Fizer died from a bullet wound in The Watts Riots of ’65. Not long after Melvin King left after his sister died in an accidental shooting. With line up changes the group continued after the mid-60s but with little success. They continued performing in the ‘70s on the oldies circuit in the U.S. and elsewhere.

Hang On Sloopy - The McCoys

1965 No. 1 Billboard * recorded 1965

Album Hang On Sloopy * origin Celina OH, Union City IN

Originally titled My Girl Sloopy when written by Wes Farrell & Bert Berns it was an R&B hit for The Vibrations in 1964. Before changing their name to The McCoys, they were called Rick & The Raiders. Rick & the band backed the Strangeloves, who were actually three writer/producers, at their last performance of a tour. The Strangeloves then recruited 17-year old Rick Zehringer (later Derringer) and his band to record Hang On Sloopy in New York. It later became the official song of the State of Ohio, unofficial fight song of Ohio State University, a signature song of the Cleveland Indians, and played regularly at Cleveland Cavalier games.

Hello Stranger - Barbara Lewis

1963 No.3 Top 100 No.1 R&B Billboard * recorded 1963

Album Hello Stranger * origin Detroit MI

Barbara Lewis wrote all the songs on her first album, Hello Stranger. She had eight other songs chart in the Billboard Top 100 through 1967, two of them which she had not written, peaking at No.11 in 1965. She was out of sight for awhile the next decade but resurfaced in 1977. She retired from singing in 2017 for health reasons.

My Little Red Book - Love

1966 No.52 Billboard * recorded 1966

Album Love * origin Los Angeles CA

This was Love’s first single on the Billboard chart and was a moderate hit. I remember it being played quite a bit on Bay Area stations. It was their version of the Burt Bacharach/Hal David song. Bacharach criticized the altered chord changes in Love version, but the song “became a garage rock standard, per Mason Stewart in his AllMusic song biography. It has also “been credited for its "punk" quality” by Stewart and others. I got to see My Little Red Book, among other songs, performed live by Arthur Lee & Love at Great American Music Hall on January 16, 2004, while Lee was still alive.

Solitary Man - Neil Diamond

1966 No.55 Billboard * recorded 1966

Album The Feel of Neil Diamond * origin Brooklyn NY

This, Neil Diamonds’ first single to chart, was a moderate success on Billboard and remains one of his personal favorite songs. He had written some other successful songs that were covered by others up to that time. It had already been thought by some, but in the 2000s Diamond finally realized, that Solitary Man was about himself while he was trying to write and sell songs up to the point when he went to work in the Brill Building. It was followed by the higher charing single, Cherry Cherry the same year. Neil Diamond has gone on to be one of the the most popular, best selling music artists of all-time. He still performs to sold-out audiences.

5 O'Clock World - The Vogues

1965 No.4 Billboard * recorded 1965

Album Five O’Clock World * origin Turtle Creek/Pittsburg PA

This was the second of back-to-back No.4 singles on Billboard, the band’s best success as The Vogues. They had one non-charting single (released twice) prior to that as The Valaires. The only other time of Top Ten success was in 1968 when they had back-to-back No. 7 singles. Their last studio album was released in 1971, followed by several unsuccessful singles through 1974. Although they continued performing by 1983 there was one original member left. Their manager in the meantime had trademarked the name and assets of the band. What followed was a classic case of many multiple bands using the name The Vogues, resulting in legal actions, and even Congressional testimony regarding the Truth in Music Act by that original member Chuck Blasco.

Gloria - Them

1965 No.71 Billboard * recorded 1964

Album The Angry Young Them * origin Belfast IE

This is the other non-American single on the album, the band being Irish. It landed in the U/S. during the British Invasion period. This garage song staple, written by Van Morrison, was the B-side of Baby Please Don’t Go in the U.K. and as such, was not included on the UK Singles Chart on it’s own. It was only moderately successful in the U.S. as a single while the Shadows of Knight (SOK) version issued later in the year rose to No.10 on Billboard. Them’s version topped that SOK version only in places it could be played. One of my earlier memories as a teenager involved hushed whispers about songs like Gloria and Louie Louie. One could listen to the American band’s version of Gloria and think, so what. It turns out that many radio stations would not play Them’s version because of the line “She comes to my room”: Oh my. The SOK version went, “She calls out my name.” In either case, Gloria is a classic. Van Morrison left the band in 1966 and has gone on to be a beloved songwriter and performer. I saw him on a double-bill with Bob Dylan at Shoreline Amphitheatre in Mountain View CA in the 2000s.

                  ——————————————————-

KFRC 610 “The Big 610” and “Boss Radio” was a Top 40 rock and roll AM radio station in San Francisco CA. Prior to that it was purchased by RKO-General in 1949 and had an MOR (middle of the road) music format. The station was originally licensed at 1110 kHz in 1924, then 660 kHz a three years later, and finally 610kHz in 1928. The change in 1966 blended into “The Summer of Love” era and KFRC became the dominant station in the Bay Area through the 1970s. The station was responsible for two important events that occurred during that period. One was The Beach Boys Summer Spectacular, which included many bands, held in 1966 at the Cow Palace in Daly City. The following year, on June 10 and 11, they hosted the very first rock festival ever held, Fantasy Fair and Magic Mountain Music Festival at Sidney B. Cushing Amphitheatre on Mount Tamalpais in Marin County. It preceded the Monterey Pop Festival by one week. The only band on this album that played Magic Mountain was The Seeds, although there were many great upcoming local and national acts there. KYA 1260 was their chief rival in San Francisco. Another station I listened to a lot in the Bay Area was KLIV 1590 in San Jose. The fact is I listened to those stations more than KFRC overallI. Both of those stations preceded KFRC in the Top 40 format although KFRC held its’ own once it entered that arena. Of course any top forty station was fair game if they were playing the right song while I was cruising around. All these stations are gone now; sold, changed frequency and/or call letters, and of course, formats. It was a “golden” time to be listening to music radio though.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/KFRC_(defunct)

https://rateyourmusic.com/release/comp/various-artists/kfrc-the-big-610-21-golden-rocks-volume-1/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/KLIV

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sopwith_Camel_(band)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Count_Five

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Earl_Nelson_(singer)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Syndicate_of_Sound

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Standells

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Righteous_Brothers

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Beau_Brummels

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Leaves

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Slim_Harpo

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Seeds

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rascals 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ian_Whitcomb

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Chiffons

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Association

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Olympics_(band)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_McCoys

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barbara_Lewis

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Love_(band)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neil_Diamond

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Vogues

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Them_(band)

LP32

[rpctts]

MADS did it, and i’m nothing if not a little bitch who wants plots, so i wrote up my own connections list for my kiddos over at nex. WHICH HAS been around for five years and is still going strong, baby ! anyways, i play five bitches over there right now, and you’ll find my blog in the source link. anyways, WITHOUT FUTHER ADO !

if any of this appeals to you, or you want to join but not with any of my connections and you still want to plot ? feel free to hit me up on DISCORD : 𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓#1978. or shoot me a dm !

general trigger warnings : abuse, death, alcoholism, rape, murder.

CAROLINE SARAH CRANE. nurse, thirty - two.

the lowdown :  she’s too sweet for her own good, and she’s often letting people walk all over her. she had a SHITTY ex - fiance who was abusive, so she’s taking her time getting back into the dating game      ————      there’s this guy, though, but she keeps trying to SELF - SABOTAGE to keep them apart since she thinks she’s the reason people leave. her parents died when she was pretty young and she and her sister moved to fort elms to live with their aunt. she was brought up like a traditional southern gal, born and raised in mississippi until she moved to with her sister claire.

WANTED CONNECTIONS :

sister. they have a relatively close relationship, but her sister was always liked a little - bit - more than caroline was, solely based on the fact that she was more outspoken. which is surprising, since they were raised in the south in mississippi. their parents died when caroline was fourteen, and they moved in with their aunt in washington, which is where they both live now (: requirements : mid - to - late thirties. 1/4 black and louisiana creole, unless adopted    ————      however, preferably still a poc. would have a connection with brandon ( played by mads ), who is her ex - husband’s brother.

coworkers. as you’ll see later, i play two nurses. i’m like, 90% of the hospital staff right now, and i’d love to see more people who work there ! be it doctors, nurses, techs, whatever. i’d love for her to have a mentor or someone to look up to. requirements : none, besides being able to work in a hospital. would also be connected to nat ( played by alex ), and probably malachai ( played by me <3 ).

friends. everyone needs friends, and caroline’s no exception. right now she’s kind of limited on being friends with the guy she’s kind of dating and her sister’s ex’s brother. requirements : in their thirties. would possibly be connected to jack ( played by tasha ) or brandon ( still played by mads ), who’re the aforementioned characters.

CHELSEA ELISE CZERNY. college junior, music store clerk, twenty - one.

the lowdown : she has her own love life issues, and is a store clerk at camelot’s music. the shop across is where her best guy friend and long - time crush julian works, and she’s stupid and in love with him. recently she found out one of her best friends hooked up with him at a party, and that’s really put a damper on their friendship. :zany: anywho, chelsea didn’t have a great life. she was born in louisiana, but her folks moved to washington when she was four. she’s the youngest of five girls, and her parents wanted a boy, so she was chucked to the side unless she was being her dad’s punching bag. her mom was an alcoholic like her dad, and while her mom never laid a hand on her, she didn’t do anything to stop her dad and so of course chelsea resents her. her sisters tried their best to shield her, but she’s five years younger than the next sister, and thus they weren’t always around. she had a stint in a mental hospital, but then cps let her go home to the family because they’re big dumb. she also had an awful experience at a party her freshman year of college, where she was drugged and date - raped, so she’s very selective with who she allows physical contact from. she’s my saddest and most damaged character and honestly she deserves better !

WANTED CONNECTIONS :

sister. she already has one around, but there’s three more to go, baby ! i feel like the czerny girls very much have a relationship like the march girls, with chelsea being very much like amy outside of being a little shit ( love you amy ). they’ve always been very close, and while she’s not closest with the oldest, who’s in her late thirties, she has a very good relationship with the other three. requirements : mid - twenties to late - thirties. the youngest would be twenty - six, and the oldest can be whatever, just under fourty. should be blonde, which makes it pretty easy. would also be connected to christina ( played by mary ), who’s the second oldest, and julian ( played by mads ), who’s been chelsea’s best friend since he moved to fort elms, and is also their neighbor.

potential love interest. chelsea’s bisexual, even if she’s not fully aware of it yet. she’s spent the last five years of her life hung up on her best friend      ————      very much a betty and archie situation, and now she’s crushed that he not only slept with her bff, but also that he probably doesn’t return her feelings. so she really needs someone to come in and swoop her off her feet. requirements : in their twenties. could be connected to kevin ( played by mads ) and pippa ( played by meredith ).

coworkers. chelsea works at camelot’s, which is the record store in fort elms’ mall. right now, she’s the sole employee     ————      which is dangerous considering she’s a klutz and has already fallen off a chair once ! so please give her people to keep her company at work. requirements : none.

STEVEN MICHAEL KINNEY. chemistry teacher, twenty - six.

the lowdown : middle child, perpetual grump. his parents died when he was sixteen, and his baby sister was the only survivor. steven was left with a lot of anger that he didn’t know how to control or get rid of, so in college he joined the boxing team and eventually joined an underground fight club type of thing. he was good at it, and ended up being a crowd favorite and pretty popular with the crowd too. that changed when he hit a guy so hard he passed out, and the guy ended up dying in the hospital. steven wasn’t left without injuries, but his guilt is what’s really done him in. he’s pretty much ruining his relationship with his sisters because he’s punishing himself for the guy’s death by pretty much throwing himself into fights recklessly, hoping to get beat up and d*e. pretty dark and DEPRESSING, if you ask me !

WANTED CONNECTIONS :

cousin(s). after their parents died, the kinney trio were adopted by their uncle and moved in with him. well, steven and sawyer did. sienna had already yeeted herself away. steven would’ve been relatively close to any cousins his age, and they probably would’ve pranked sawyer and any younger siblings. probably would’ve grown apart when steven moved out for college and started withdrawing. requirements : it’d be nice for someone around his age, though maybe a little younger, so early - to - mid twenties. we never specified in canon whether it’s their mom or dad that was japanese, so it would be up to you on whether it’s the side of the family that their uncle’s on ! would also be connected to sienna ( formerly played by meredith, now dead in a ditch somwhere ), who’s the oldest, and sawyer ( played by mads ), who’s the baby.

ex - boyfriend. COLLEGE. a time for learning yourself, and reinvention. steven’s pansexual and he had a secret boyfriend in college. i say secret because it’s the 80s and sawyer is uber - religious. they dated their sophomore year into their junior year, and ultimately the other boy broke things off because, unfortunately, the guy that steven accidentally killed was in fact his best friend. and now that steven’s on the road to love, it’d be fun if someone came in and fucked with that a little bit. requirements : twenty - six / twenty - seven, to be in line with steven’s age. preferably a poc, but not a necessity.

coworkers. give me more TEACHERS ! who will teach the children math in the apocalypse ? it could be you ! requirements : if they’re a teacher, they gotta have a teaching degree sorry babie ! no fifteen year olds allowed.

MALACHAI COLSON KNOX. nurse, thirty - four.

the lowdown : he’s also a nurse, and he ALSO has romance troubles     ————       that appears to be a common trend. he’s in love with his best friend of over twenty years who’s daughter he also raised. they have a complicated history, it’s fine. grew up in chino, they moved to washington after ava was born, and they’ve been living there since. everyone calls kai a simp, which i GUESS he technically is, because he’d do anything for odette. BUT THAT’S BECAUSE HE LOVES HER. gross. there was a time in his mid - twenties where they weren’t living together ( he was living with his ex - girlfriend, who wasn’t an ex at the time ), but THAT was a whole mess. homegirl was emotionally manipulative and a fucking bitch, which wasn’t great. he eventually got out of the situation and moved back in with odette, who he’s now dating     ————      even though no one knows. honestly, he doesn’t even know, because odette’s scared of labels. they make her cry.

WANTED CONNECTIONS :

ex - girlfriend. she's crazy, and a bitch. she manipulated kai throughout their entire relationship, and it really fucked with his mind and is part of the reason he was so hesitant on things with odette. there was probably a lot of gaslighting in that relationship. he did love her, however, and if she showed back up in fort elms that would certainly make things difficult for him ! so of course i love it. requirements : mid - thirties, looks like a bitch. would also be connected to odette ( played by mads ), who she probably hates.

friends. kai needs some buds. mads has a wanted connection for a childhood friendof theirs, which would be great, but i’d also just love some new friends as well. people he can go grab drinks with, or do other friend things with ! requirements : in their thirties, probably, but no specifics. 

coworkers. see above, in caroline’s wanted connection. requirements : should be old enough to work in a hospital.

NOAH HASTUR WRIGHT. contractor, twenty - four.

the lowdown : former football star and resident player. UNFORTUNATELY. for me, anyways. he had lots of relationships in high school, but his most frequent was sawyer, with whom he was very on - again - off - again with. at the end of the football season in his senior year, he tore his acl, which ruined any shot of a football scholarship to a big university. so instead he went to trade school, joined his cousin julian’s band, and now he also deals pot to the town of fort elms. it’s very opposite of who he was in high school, though he’s still a big player. has a shitty relationship with his dad, because who doesn’t ? and also doesn’t believe in LOVE. though he’s pretty sure he might be in love with sawyer, so that’s real rough on him.

WANTED CONNECTIONS :

ex - girlfriend(s). like i said, in high school he was a player. he was also attractive and popular, so he was a good target for flirtaionships. if he wasn’t dating SAWYER, he was hooking up or dating some other girl, and i’m sure he probably strung some girls along. give him some evil exes that someone has to fight, or girls still really hung up on him. requirements : twenties, between 20 - 28, i guess, since he definitely would’ve dated older girls as a freshman / sophomore. would also be connected to julian ( still played by mads ), who’s his cousin.

friends. a clear trend with my characters is that they need more casual friends / acquaintances. he’s buds with the boys in the band, but he really needs people outside of it to hang out with too. requirements : in their twenties.

buyer(s). he’s a pot dealer, and i’m sure that lots of people in fort elms buy ! it’d be cool to have a relationship that’s like a i’ll text my dealer, he’s cool kind of deal. he’d definitely come by and play video games, maybe even give you a discount on prices if you kicked his ass. requirements : none.

hookup. he’s pansexual and very sexually active. like said, he’s a player, so he’d definitely still be sleeping around with people, but it’d be nice to have a consistent person he can turn to. the kind of person he can call at 3am and they meet in a parking lot, or something. the kind he can count on. requirements : no minors.

his mom. he has a great mom    ————     she’d rival juli’s, if i were strong enough to go against mads. but i don’t. she is a great mom, though, and she raised both noah and his teen sister to the best of her abilities. she’s been a single parent since his sister was born, and she’s now fourteen, so their mom’s had a little bit of learning to do. she forced her kids to learn polish, even though she’s not as in touch with her heritage as her sister is, but it’s there    ————     paczki every saturday morning with breakfast. she’s not very overbearing, but she is a little nosy, and she gives noah grief for dealing out of her house, but he pays rent so she lets it slide. requirements : early forties, can be any white lady, though preferably jewish. would be connected to julian ( yep, still played by mads ) as his maternal aunt.  

[btsybrkr]

You’re Hired

I love The Apprentice. I look forward to it every single year. It’s the one reality series that too-smart-for-you TV snobs won’t look down on you for watching, despite the fact that The Apprentice is really just Big Brother in suits. Think about it: larger-than-life contestants, living together in a big house, completing tasks where they will always be destined to fail (because it makes for much better conflict), all while being watched closely by an omnipotent figure, who calls all the shots.

In fact, Alan Sugar is a much scarier man-in-charge than the titular Big Brother. For one thing, he looks the contestants in the eyes when he’s destroying them emotionally - Big Brother hides away in a little recording booth somewhere, where he’s safe from any angry housemates, who’ve snapped after the pointlessness of what they’re doing has finally dawned on them. What a coward. Also, Alan Sugar is really bloody rich. Alan Sugar is so rich that he could probably buy you, and sell you back to yourself at a much higher price, and that’s pretty scary, if you ask me.

But, I digress. The thing that’s so great about The Apprentice is that it’s so low-stakes. Not to the contestants, of course, but to the viewer. See, it’s the only reality show where I never care who stays or who goes, and that’s because the contestants are usually, without exception, cocks - and this year hasn’t been much different.

Obviously, the stand-out recipient of the ‘Jesus Christ, You Really Are Absolutely Awful’ award this year has to be librarian and general irritant Lottie Lion, whose name alone makes her sound like the archetypal spoiled brat character from a Roald Dahl novel. It suits her so well, it’s almost as though her parents just sensed from birth that she was going to turn out that way. Or maybe she came out of the womb riding side-saddle on a horse and waxing lyrical about how much better she is than everyone else. I can’t know for sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised.

When she wasn’t shooting a piece-to-camera to repeat her mantra “I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to win”, she was busy coming up with increasingly ridiculous reasons why she was the ideal candidate for the top job in each task. She started out strong in Week 1 by announcing she was the best choice for sub-team leader in a tourism task, because “I know that the population of South Africa is 51 million”, and yet, amazingly, still managed to out-BS herself week after week. Perhaps the finest example was Week 9, in which she described having viola lessons when she was four as having been “in the music industry for 15 years”. By that logic, I’ve been in dentistry for 23 years, because I can navigate my own mouth with a toothbrush without taking out six of my teeth in the process.

Oh, and let’s not forget the remark she allegedly made in a contestants’ group chat, in which she told Pakistani candidate Lubna to “shut up, Ghandi”, before allegedly threatening “I’ll fucking knock you out at our press training”. Obviously, this is horrendously racist and absolutely out of order, and with any luck, Lubna might knock her out first, since, as a person born with arms, she has technically been in the boxing industry for 33 years.

On a much lighter note, this series might have introduced us to one of the most genuinely likeable contestants The Apprentice has ever seen in the form of Thomas Skinner, a self-described “full-time geezer”. Obviously, that’s not his day job - geezering does not pay very well, especially in this difficult economic climate. He’s a salesman, and a bloody good one - he’s so ridiculously charismatic that he could sell me the very concept of breathing itself and I’d probably pay over the odds for it.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t very good at much else, and was fired by a reluctant Alan Sugar after losing eight out of the nine tasks he’d been involved in. I got thinking, though… couldn’t Alan Sugar just take him on anyway? Considering the lack of success that previous winners have experienced, he honestly might as well. I’m not sure exactly what he would hire him to do, but if anyone can help Thomas realise his dream of actually making a living as a full-time geezer, then I’m sure it’s him.

Personally, I think he deserves all of the money and maybe a knighthood, purely on the basis he’s the first candidate in a long time that hasn’t once described himself as ‘cutthroat’ or ‘brutal’, or made some ridiculous statement about how money is so important to him that he’d probably murder his entire family for a fiver. You know, like they usually do.

This year’s final saw headhunter Scarlett Allen-Horton and artisan bakery owner Carina Lepore go head-to-head for the opportunity to work alongside The Ultimate Sugar Daddy, with the final task being to create a hypothetical launch for their respective businesses.

Step one was to pick a new brand name. Carina and co. decided on Lepore’s, because - as Thomas put it - “people will go for the bread, but they’ll go for you, too”. It’s a nice enough point, but if she’s opening a chain of bakeries, she won’t always be in there, will she? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been disappointed to go into a Blackpool branch of Gregg’s, only to be told that, once again, I’m unable to speak to King Gregg himself. He’s probably hiding in one of his fancy London stores, the big elitist. Scarlett had slightly more trouble with rebranding her recruitment company, which aims to place more women and minorities into top level engineering positions. Marianne helpfully suggested naming it after “those animals that build their own homes”. Beavers. She means beavers. Beaver Recruitment? Really? Not exactly suited to a top level headhunting agency, but on the bright side, she may have just stumbled on a great new way for men to describe going out on the pull.

Next on the agenda was to come up with a billboard and a TV advert. The billboards were both surprisingly good, at least in comparison to anything else filmed against a cheap green screen in this year’s series (the now infamous soundbite “who took my unicorn, Sparkle Stars??” from Toy Week immediately springs to mind). The TV advert task was a different story for Scarlett, who was surprised to find that her ‘vision’ of Lewis, Lottie and Marianne driving an imagery car in an empty warehouse wasn’t absolute advertising golddust. “It’s cheesier than I imagined”, she said, upon seeing it for the first time. How? I genuinely can’t understand how she came up with that and thought it was ever going to look like anything other than part of a hastily-planned GCSE Drama performance. But then I would say that, because as someone who has seen a TV advert before, I’ve technically been in marketing since 1996. On Carina’s team, their prison-themed advert for her artisan bread (no, I’m not sure how they arrived at this idea, either) was far more impressive - prefect from a 1960s comic book Ryan-Mark even managed to put in a convincing performance as a hungry jailbird, which wasn’t something any of us were expecting to see this year.

After this, and the all important pitches - which I’m not going to go into, since it’s consistently the least entertaining part of the finale, where I imagine most people, including me, take a toilet break - it was time for the final boardroom. In all seriousness, the tension in the final boardroom is mad. I can only imagine it’s like you and another person are staring down the barrel of a madman’s gun, except the madman is Alan Sugar, and you want to be shot because, instead of bullets, it’s money. Actually, it’s not like that at all, is it? But it must be absolute squeaky bum time for the candidates, is what I’m trying to say.

After a few minutes of back and forth, and a couple more minutes of Carina and Scarlett turning on each other at the last second - which I’m absolutely, one hundred-percent, completely sure the producers definitely didn’t encourage in any way - The Sugarman arrived at a conclusion, and crowned Carina the winner, with a statement that I’m sure we can all agree with: “I do like the idea of more bread.” Well, don’t we all?

Anyway, deserving winner found - as well as plenty of memorable moments and ridiculous characters along the way - that’s it for another year. The only thing I’m left wondering is why it’s called The Apprentice, since the prize is a £250,000 investment, and since most real life apprentice jobs pay about £3.90 an hour. But then I wonder that every year, and to be honest, I’m all fired out.

[anonthenullifier]

Do you think Tommy and Billy would ever given a tour of Stark Industries? I mean their Dad did technically help run it in a previous life.

Thanks for the ask!  I don’t think this is what you were looking for, but it is the first thing that came to my mind after reading your ask. I do apologize if the characterization is off at all, I don’t usually write from either of the twin’s perspectives but it was the only way to do this story . Hope you enjoy!

“And now we move into what many consider the true heart of the tour,” a peppy smile goes with a peppy wave of her arms and the impressively uniformed pep in the tour guide’s step, “the hall of heroes.”

“Kill me now,” Tommy groans next to him, mood perpetually spiraling downward for the last hour, “please just blink me out of this reality.”

The field trip isn’t that bad. Well, it’s not great, but it could be worse, like the time they went to the wastewater plant and there was a leak. “This is the last room.” It is also, admittedly, the worst room to be in as children of Avengers. Being in a shrine devoted to worshipping your parents and family while surrounded by peers that already view you differently kind of sucks.

“We’re at Stark Industries,” Billy waits for his brother to make some sort of point, shrugging off the aggravation in his voice and inspecting the first generation uniforms of their parents. The plaque has an asterisk that leads the eye down to a note stating all uniforms on display are originals, graciously donated by the heroes except for The Vision’s (Billy frowns at the unneeded The) which is a replica due to the still unexplained power he has to shift molecules.

Tommy begrudgingly joins in staring at the uniforms, “This crap is not what we should be seeing. We’re not fucking tourists.”

“Language.”  

Dad has been trying, and failing miserably, to curb impolite language, so when he is not around, Billy takes joy in turn-coating his allegiance and policing it. “Oh bugger off, traitor.” They both laugh at the loophole they discovered early on. If dad doesn’t realize they’re cussing, then they can do it freely, until mom stares them down, anyway. “I’m serious, I want to see the top secret stuff, not,” he flings his hands out at the post-Thanos uniforms, “this.”

They’ve listened to their grandpa wax poetically about his innovations, sat dumbfounded at the technical questions from both their dad and their other science minded relatives. There is so much more than old Iron Man uniforms and the ten different shields good ole Captain America has used to protect freedom. “Mom and dad are meeting us at the end, we could just ask-“

Tommy recoils at the comment, side-eying him the same way you would a person espousing mind control through frozen corn kernels on the street corner (though that actually ended up partially correct and led to a few months without corn in the house and deep, empty looks on their parents’ faces). “You trying to steal the funkiller crown from dad?” Hands turn Billy toward a small, gray door with a white and red sign stating Authorized Personnel Only. “You know the good stuff is back there.”

“No,” even if they can easily distract the chaperones and slip away from their classmates, it’s not worth it. “In less than a day, I get to go with Teddy on a houseboat.”

Tommy’s unempathetic stare is typical when matters of his relationship come up, “And…?”

“And I’m not risking it.”

Billy moves on to the current day display (all replicas), fingers tapping through the buttons on a screen introducing him to the training rooms and the Stark tech that is changing not just the world but universes too. Unfortunately the twin devil on his shoulder follows. “We won’t get caught.”

“We get caught 91.35% of the time,” a stat so graciously computed by dad three weeks ago when Tommy ran (literally) out and got them Taco Bell for lunch and then proceeded to proudly eat his chalupa in front of the teacher monitoring the lunchroom.

A scoff signals this fight is nowhere near done, “One, even dad admits his computation is flawed,” a margin of error assumed of plus or minus five percent for instances of misconduct that went fully undetected, “and two, that means we have a ten percent shot at success.” This is said as if ten percent is equatable to seventy five.

“Or we don’t and I have a hundred percent shot at a weekend without mom and dad.”

“Traitor.” Tommy shoves him out of the way, taking over control of the interactive display. “Yo display lady.”

A pleasant, lightly accented voice streams from the luminescent screen, “How may I help you?”

“Where are these rooms?”

A three second lag exists between the question and response, “Official training rooms are located at the Avengers compound, while beta-testing and highly complex simulations are housed here at Stark industries.”

Tommy stares at him, assuming this is somehow convincing. “No.”

“How many records are held by Vision?”

More silence and then the screen displays a table of dates and times, “Vision,” no The this time, likely because it was programmed by grandpa, “has eight time trial records across the two facilities.”

Another look from his brother implies this is all they need to know. Billy shakes his head. “And Scarlet Witch?”

The screen dissolves before providing new information. “Scarlet Witch has five records for time and three for amount of damage caused.”

“Go, mom!” Tommy is always more impressed by damage than time, something Steve has issues handling in their own training with the Young Avenger Initiative. “What about as a team?”

It’s to the credit of Tony’s programming that the AI understands the request in relation to the prior two questions. “Scarlet Witch and Vision, as a team, hold ten time records and eight damage records, including a combined record on training course Twenty Three, level of difficulty Wish You Were Never Born that has gone unchallenged for over eleven years.”

“Unchallenged.”

A smarmy confidence rests in Tommy’s eyes and finally the logic of his questioning clicks.  “No way.”

Tommy glares at him before returning to the screen, “Where’s that course?”

“Course Twenty Three is located here at Stark Industries.”

There’s something infuriatingly infectious about his brother’s need to rebel as a means of satisfying his drive to surpass others. It’s so tempting to say yes, but Billy digs his heels in, refusing to go along yet again with one of Tommy’s plans that, though always fun, never have fun consequences and dammit, he wants to spend the weekend with Teddy. “Not a chance.”

Exasperation fills every inch of Tommy’s flail. They move on and the silence is nice, if not a bit unsettling. “Question.”

Billy makes sure his annoyance is firmly on display. “What?”

“Would you rather try and break their record or,” a lightning fast push spins Billy around, “watch Cody manhandle mom?” Mortification gnaws at his resolve, their classmate groping the mannequin from the brief time the Scarlet Witch wore a leotard and tights. It’s when Cody makes direct eye contact with them and starts pantomiming his intentions that Billy’s hands snap shut, blue energy tingling under his skin. “You take him down, guarantee that houseboat is gone.” An arm loops amicably around his shoulder, pivoting him towards the authorized access door. “We go see the good stuff and you have slightly better odds.” Billy is turned back to Cody, who has only grown more vigorous in his lewd gesticulating, “No houseboat,” and then back to the door as if there are only two options, “or a shit ton of fun and possibly a houseboat.”

Billy sighs and Tommy’s mouth tips into a beaming smile. “Fine.” Immediately his mind starts justifying the decision, an 8.65% chance not the worst odds in the world, plus, if they aren’t in the room when the prototype of the next-gen Iron Man happens to fall on Cody, then no one can point at him as the culprit.

Wordlessly they carry out the escape, Billy always taking on the role of distraction through subtle manipulations of perceived reality and Tommy gleefully vibrating his molecules to slip through the wall and open the door. “Let’s go.”

For some reason, he had assumed walking through the door would be like that one movie they watched, with the oompa-loompas, a door opening and a world beyond imagination appearing before them -flying suits, disappearing materials, explosions, scientists in white coats and blue gloves. Instead it’s just a hallway with beige walls and linoleum floors and doors lining the way. “So, what’s the plan?”

A thrilled, unconcerned lift of his brother’s shoulders drops their chances of success at least a percent, “Walk like we own the place and see what we find.” It’s sadly not his worst plan.

And walk they do, Tommy’s chest puffed out and arms swinging in casual authority. Technically, they sort of own some of the place, via dad’s stake in the company, so it’s not like they are being overly deceptive. Each hallway looks the same, making it difficult to track exactly where they are going, until they find another door stating Credentials Required and a face scanner affixed to the wall. Tommy doesn’t even hesitate in shimmying through the wall, so Billy follows, hands parting the space in front of him so he can walk through, closing reality behind him with some hesitation, certain there have to be cameras somewhere tracking them.

That concern is tossed aside because now they find the cinematic reveal, an open hangar in front of them with some sort of alien-esque ship on the ground and four floors of glass doored, luminescent laboratories spanning the reach of their eyes. “The good stuff.” This is far better than replica uniforms. “Let’s go find the simulation.”

“But look at this stuff!”

The self-confidence he had admired earlier also goes hand-in-hand with a tendency for fixation. “Yeah, I see it.”

Billy does his best to keep pace with his twin, who has a habit of speeding up his walk when excited while forgetting other people can’t move nearly as fast. That combined with Billy’s desire to peer into every lab space and marvel at the work, makes their trip stream by incomprehensibly. He thinks he saw a phasing suit, maybe a new particle generator, some sort of extraterrestrial looking staff, a portal to a mountain side, what he thinks might be a baby raptor, and also their grandma, who he usually loves seeing but pulled Tommy out of view before she could spot them. “Do you have any idea where you’re going?”

“Nope.”

“Fantastic.”

“Where are you going?”

The voice is instantly recognizable, one they’ve grown up hearing and it’s a little judgmental and a little bit amused. Tommy swings around and puts on the fakest innocent smile the world has ever seen. “Hey, Grandpa!”

Tony smirks, unconvinced by the tone of the greeting, but he isn’t angry, which is a good start. “How are my favorite rebels doing?”

“Great, on a field trip.” Billy is in awe of people like Tommy and Tony who can act so natural, can just ooze bravado and a sense of entitlement on a whim.

There is a nod and a contemplative droop of his goatee. “Seems you got lost.”

Tommy nods along, “Yeah, been trying to find our classmates, have you seen them?”

Now Tony chuckles, slapping his hands together, giddy at the lie but still showing no signs of annoyance or reprimand. “I have not, but I imagine they can’t phase through walls like you two can.” Billy, personally, wilts at the calling out, while Tommy shrugs again, matching Tony’s stance and attitude. “What do you two want to see?”

“What?” It comes out before Billy can catch it, surprised at the quick approval of their misdeeds.

“I asked what you wanted to see,” Tony stares at them, concerned he has somehow slipped into another language, “There has to be a reason you barged through my walls.” Learning to function in both the superhero world and just being a teenager with parents who have rules you don’t agree with, requires an ability to spot entrapment, certain phrases purposely worded as openings for waltzing right into admonishment. When neither of them take the bait, Tony acts hurt, a shake of his head and a pained, expertly acted, clutched chest. “I thought I was the cool, eccentric grandfather,” a smile threatens to wash away Billy’s anxiety as Tony continues in pantomimed betrayal. “Is it Thor? Would you tell Thor what you want? I mean, I don’t blame you, those gorgeous, puppy dog eyes are a killer.” A snigger from Tommy and all apprehension leaves the atmosphere, Tony’s toothy grin absolving all guilt of their sneaking around. “Seriously, what do you want to see? I’ve got a brand spanking new interdimensional travel lab, some Skrull-based camouflage trials, there’s a spaceship downstairs, Helen has an updated, palm-sized cradle.”

All of it, every last one is what Billy wants to see, but Tommy beats him to the request, “We want to do simulation twenty three, Wish You Were Never Born.”

Understanding dawns on Tony’s face, “Want to show the parental units up, huh?”

“Yep.” Tommy is close to vibrating through the floor.

“It’s really dangerous,” the mood darkens until Tony presents them a masterclass, uncaring shrug they’ve seen numerous times in his press conferences and Senate hearings, “but I’m not your parents and so it is my duty to aid and abet your delinquency.”

An ecstatic arm closes around Billy’s shoulder as they follow their grandpa down four different hallways and three staircases, emerging into a vast, utterly empty warehouse. “You all have suits?” Tommy whips off his sweatshirt to reveal the Stark crafted, green and white suit he always wears under his clothes, yanking his goggles from his back pocket and pulling them down over his face. Since this seems to actually be happening, Billy waves his hands, materializing his own caped suit in place of his jeans and t-shirt. “All right then, let me go upstairs real fast.”

The climb into the observation booth is agonizing under Tommy’s uncontainable excitement, his feet a blur as he warms up, running in place. “Quick disclaimer, boys,” they look up at Stark’s face through the window, “there are numerous things that can seriously maim you in this course, kind of why your parents hold the record, the whole made of vibranium slant your dad’s got going makes him uniquely qualified to handle a lot of this and your mom is terrifying as well, so together, magic.” A seed of doubt sprouts in Billy’s mind, yet it is not given time to be nurtured a, “Anyway, best of luck!” and then the room comes alive around them.

To say the difficulty level name is apt is a bit of an understatement. At any given time there are over a dozen different foes, and for each type of challenge, there are at least a dozen individuals within it. It ranges from laser guns, incendiary robots that look an awful lot like Ultron, replicas of the Black Order, phasing, flame wielding alien things, and Billy’s least favorite right now, microscopic, swarming jellyfish that blister the skin on contact. In amongst the chaos of fighting, he can hear Tommy cycle between “Shit, shit, shit,” “Oh my God!”, “What the fuck is that,” and maniacal glee. Slowly, and painfully, they take down the threats, sometimes combining forces to remove a particularly difficult foe, and sometimes splitting up to decimate the weaker challenges.  

Looming over them is a very large clock, ticking away at their time and next to it, is the record of their parents. Their own clock continues, the numbers growing more similar to the goal and Billy assesses the surroundings, only taser faced bear-like creatures and giant bouncing orbs made of some sort of sticky, burning compound left. “Tommy!” His brother skids into view, mouth in a perennial smile and lungs heaving as he waits for the next strategy. “We have ten seconds, I say we vaporize.”

What seemed impossible is proven wrong, Tommy’s lips curving even higher as he fiddles with his goggles. “You hold them steady.”

“Will do.”

It’s a technique they birthed from their mistakes, the possibilities of their powers unknown and often discovered in embarrassing and unintentional ways. Like vaporizing soccer fields during gym class. Billy winds his powers around the last group of adversaries, wincing at the weight of their resistance as he adds more and more force to his hold. While he does this, Tommy runs a large circle around the bound creatures, legs pumping faster and faster with each lap until even Billy can’t track his position. That’s when it happens, a sonic boom that spreads through the warehouse, shoving Billy to the ground, puffs of smoke making the air murky, and then there is a “Hell yeah!” and the telltale sound of the buzzer their own training uses to signal success.

Tommy collapses on the ground next to Billy, “That was amazing.” All Billy can manage is a nod, lungs and body aching. “Do you think we did it?”

“Though impressive, unfortunately you were 8.65 seconds over.” Disappointing, but not bad. Far more worrisome is the unmistakably even English accent informing them of their failure.

Billy strains to sit up, glancing over his shoulder at the deep scowls of disappointment on his parents’ faces, next to the apologetic wince of Tony. “Fuck.”

“Language, William.” Tommy snorts and is met with a jab of blue to his chest. 

Two strikes in less than three seconds and the houseboat is most definitely floating away, “Sorry, dad.”

“What are you two doing here?” This time it’s their mom, her accent thicker when she’s angry and currently it sounds like she just moved here from Sokovia.

A hand pats Billy’s arm, a reassurance that really isn’t helping. “The field trip was just so boring.” Nor is Tommy’s attempt at defending their choice providing any hope of bringing the boat back. “We just wanted to see stuff.”

The intercom clicks and they are presented with a predictably logical alternative, “You could have asked us after the field trip. You had shown interest in a more detailed tour the other night, hence the reason why your mother and I were meeting you here instead of at home.”

Billy flops his head to stare deep into his twin’s goggled eyes, “I suggested that.”

“Shut up.”

Another click and mom is back on the microphone, “We’ve been speaking with the Altman’s,” any last, clinging hope withers away, “they were really looking forward to having you with them this weekend,” the feeling is mutual, “they suggested a nice compromise.” He waits to learn what this is, worried if he asks it will harm any goodwill left. “They invited all of us along on the trip.” 

Despair is far heavier than the physical toll of the course, and isn’t helped at all by the thumbs up next to him and the out-of-breath, “Yes, I love houseboats!”

[sobdasha]

01 - just furubana things

This is not so much headcanons as it is that--much like I can't do mental math because the numbers don't remain pinned in place if they aren't literally, y'know, pinned in place with pencil on paper--I can't keep track of details and have zero concept of the passage of time without an actual timeline of events for myself.

So instead of using 20 scraps of paper I'm just dumping what I've accumulated here and calling it fic-adjacent and maybe adding in some headcanons as I go.

–

How the heck old is everybody anyway

?? - Hinata (according to my Fruits Basket timeline, she was born in March 2000, no clue how old she is now) ??? - Hibika (I have……...no clue……...I mean, since she was able to just run off to Paris at the drop of a hat, I'm assuming that means she's graduated high school??? But also she is the child of Ayame and Mine and is a Souma so like………….anything………..is possible……… I assume Hibika and Kinu are close-ish in age because they are good friends) In college - Kinu (what year though?? I'm guessing, since her plans aren't finalized, that it's still early. IDK if Michi asking her if college is fun is strictly for exposition, or implies that Kinu has just started her first year of college) 12th grade - Hajime, Michi 11th grade - Mutsuki 10th grade - Sawa, Sora, Riku 9th grade - Rio? Leo? I don't…...have my hands on volume 2 yet…….I don't know what they went with……… 8th grade - Chizuru 7th grade - Shiki (also these three are apparently all good friends and in the Go club together, I'm going to picture Akito having to have set up play-dates with Saki and Ayame when the kids were younger. I know technically Shigure could have done it since Aya is his bff but it's funnier if Akito has to) - somewhere in 9th to 7th grade are also Kou and Hajime's nameless little bro which is killing me, but idk what years ?? - Mina also ?? - Hajime's nameless and faceless little sis which is also killing me

Also! Who! Is that! With Sora in the New Year's bonus chapter of volume 1??? Is it someone we have met? Is it someone we haven't met? Is it some random person??? I don't think they particularly look like anyone listed above… (A part of me is kinda hoping…I mean, it looks kinda like Kakeru…I think it would be great if that was Kou. Michi looks like Komaki but acts like Kakeru, so if Kou acts like Michi he must look like Kakeru right??? THE POINT IS I want Kou to be at the fancy Souma New Year's because I want it to be true that Kakeru just becomes an honorary Souma attached to Yuki because it's inevitable and Akito just gives in and accepts it)

When I actually started writing down what was happening as I read…

sometime when people are bitty - the stairs incident

Day 1 of FBA - It's probably April 1st, it's the very first day of the school year and Sawa's actual first day of high school (although they've already had the entrance ceremony) - Sawa meets Mutsuki - Sawa takes her lunch outside before Amane can talk to her - Sawa meet-cutes Hajime by stepping on his face lol - Sawa doesn't get to talk to Mutuski (idk I guess he was gonna ask about her life and sneakily work around the topic about if she remembered the Souma family???) - Sawa runs over Hajime's little bro because she's so freaked out, and the little bro picks up the I.D. and gives it to Hajime, although like Hajime lives out of town and that's why he's living in the Souma house without his parents??? Because he lives too far out of town to attend that school??? So how did Sawa run over Hajime's little brother who is in middle school presumably out of town??? Did Hajime just grow up out of town and they moved back to Tokyo to inherit the dojo and Hajime was like "…….it's too far to walk to school I'm moving out" like Mutsuki did who is implied to live in town but just can't be arsed to walk that far???????

Day 2 of FBA - Sawa's second day of school - Hajime returns Sawa's I.D. on the way to school - Mutsuki appoints Sawa to the student council before she even arrives that morning - Ruriko comes in before classes start to confront Sawa about it and interrupts Amane's chance to ask Sawa out to lunch - Mutsuki is already texting Shiki - I guess the interludes might be that day??

Some time passes???

- Sawa flashes back to being introduced to the student council, and Mutsuki isn't wearing his sweater vest, so I assume this means it's a different day from Day 2, although it could be a typo

- The day that Ruriko has come to have lunch with Sawa to ~educate her~ that prompts Sawa to have the flashback, when Sawa later goes to student council we see Mutsuki in his sweater vest again so I assume this is once again a different day. That means it's been at least 4 days that Amane's been trying to ask Sawa out to lunch when Riku gets pissed about it.

The next day - Sawa is properly introduced to Riku and Sora, and then Sawa asks Amane out to lunch, yes I'm purposefully saying "asks out" every time, because I originally thought "Short black hair = Akito's child" and "I WANT TO SHIP THESE GAYS" and I want to treasure that feeling okay - Sawa punches out a cooler and meets Michi - SUKIYAKI PARTY - Sawa meets Kinu

The next day - Sawa was so happy about the sukiyaki party and her upcoming lunch date that she gets a fever and has to miss it noooo

And then after that Volume 2 jumps to early summer and I stopped keeping track

Miscellaneous stuff I wanted to keep in mind

I feel it's heavily implied that Shiki hasn't attended a family New Year's since The Knife Incident specifically. Which...really sucks for Shiki, that Akito has so strongly embraced the high road of "you can't pick your family you just have to deal, head of the family is my responsibility and I just have to deal", and even into the next generation a lot of the Souma family remains really toxic and that's the environment Shiki's growing up in. I assume Shiki's immediate household is not bad, but unfortunately it's right in the middle of a neighborhood of toxic assholes. Which is why, Mutsuki says, he wanted to get Shiki out beyond that environment and Sawa was super convenient for that among other reasons.

Hajime apparently grew up out of town, when Kyou and Tohru moved away so he could learn the dojo business from one of Kazuma's friends. This means Hajime and Mutsuki did not grow up together, which is sad, but according to Kinu they're still thick as thieves whenever they are together so that's really damn cute. The past year they've lived together is the longest visit they've ever had and like, Hajime helps out Mutsuki in the garden, Hajime--although insulting Mutsuki's lack of cooking ability--kind of implies that he does actually let Mutsuki help with the cooking when it's just them? Even when the results are probably worse than any time his little siblings tried to show Hajime they could totally help in the kitchen? Ughhhhh they're too cute.

I am presuming that both Mutsuki and Shiki live in town, and that's probably a large part of why they seem to be pretty close (closer than Shiki would like lol) despite the four-year age gap. I like to think it's also because Yuki also seemed pretty determined to Salvage Relationships, like with his mom, and so I like to presume that after the incidents of Fruits Basket Yuki informed Akito that they were going to reconnect as childhood bffs whether Akito liked it or not lol. So if Yuki and Akito are close, probably Mutsuki and Shiki are close too. And thus why Mutsuki is so concerned for Shiki's well-being and pushes really hard to set Fruits Basket Another in motion lol, like he's happy he's improving Sawa's life but his most immediate objective is Shiki's health and happiness. Like Shigure, only not an asshole and his plan is for everyone to win.

Yuki loves his son dearly and supports him so much but even so he's banned himself from Kaibara High School because he can't take Takei being so extra loooool I hope he sucks it up at least to come to graduation. Even though. Takei will--instead of talking about the graduates--okay he'll have talked a little about the graduates, namely Mutsuki--spend the entire graduation giving a speech to celebrate and congratulate and honor Yuki instead. As Yuki just sits there. Being stared at by all the other parents. With a long-dead smile on his "why is this happening to me" face. You know why this is happening, sir. But you came anyway to support your son. You are a good dad. Ganbatte. Have a drink afterward. (pray to anything you hold dear that your beloved child hasn't recorded this entire thing and sent it all the family including Akito who, surprise surprise, is also dying of secondhand embarrassment and doesn't appreciate this at all. Maybe Akito can take you drinking afterward.)

I will never be over the fact that the people closest to Yuki are all having multiple kids and there's Yuki and Machi like "ONE AND DONE." Why do they need to have another child after Mustuki? Mutsuki already has an older sibling in Michi, and possibly Hibika as well. And then Mutsuki even gets a little brother, Kou! And maybe Chizuru counts too! Like thanks for doing all the work for them of making Mutsuki not an only child. (They just…..didn't know what they'd get out of the Souma genetics grab-bag, and the idea of having to [have the housekeeper] clean up more sparkles was just…)

I'm revising my headcanon such that Hajime was the one who thought it would be cool to go to the same high school his parents did (because it's a theme, in FBA, about how it's cool to love your parents assuming they're, y'know, good parents who love you back, and thus how cute it is when kids are pleased to be like their parents), but unlike Mutsuki Hajime did not realize that as a ridiculously conventionally attractive Souma he would be a famous legacy student and if he had known this from the start he might have said "screw it" and just gone to school locally lol. Mutsuki on the other hand was fully aware of the shit he was getting into when Hajime first ventured the idea and Mutsuki embraced it. And then it all worked out perfect because it turned out Sawa would attend there too!

[blackkudos]

Eddie Kendricks

Edward James Kendrick (December 17, 1939 – October 5, 1992), best known by the stage name Eddie Kendricks, was an American singer and songwriter. Noted for his distinctive falsetto singing style, Kendricks co-founded the Motown singing group The Temptations, and was one of their lead singers from 1960 until 1971. His was the lead voice on such famous songs as "The Way You Do The Things You Do", "Get Ready", and "Just My Imagination (Running Away with Me)". As a solo artist, Kendricks recorded several hits of his own during the 1970s, including the number-one single "Keep On Truckin'".

Biography

Early years

Kendricks was born in Union Springs, Alabama on December 17, 1939, the son of Johnny and Lee Bell Kendrick. He had one sister, Patricia, and three brothers, Charles, Robert, and Clarence. His family moved to the Ensley neighborhood of Birmingham, where he met and began singing with his best friend Paul Williams in their church choir in the late 1940s. In 1955, Kendricks, Williams, and friends Kell Osborne and Jerome Averette formed a doo-wop group called The Cavaliers, and began performing around Birmingham. The group decided to move for better opportunities in their musical careers, and in 1957 the group moved to Cleveland, Ohio on E 123rd and Kinsman. In Cleveland, they met manager Milton Jenkins, and soon moved with Jenkins to Detroit, Michigan, where the Cavaliers renamed themselves "The Primes." Under Jenkins' management, the Primes were successful in the Detroit area, eventually creating a female spin-off group called The Primettes (later The Supremes). In 1961, Osbourne moved to California, and the Primes disbanded. Kendricks and Paul Williams joined forces with members Otis Williams and Melvin "Blue" Franklin of Otis Williams and the Distants after three members quit and became The Elgins, who on the same day changed their name to "The Temptations" and signed to Motown.

With the Temptations

The Temptations began singing background for Mary Wells. After an initial dry period, The Temptations quickly became the most successful male vocal group of the 1960s. Although technically Kendricks was first tenor in the group's harmony, he predominately sang in a falsetto voice. Among the Temptations songs Kendricks sang lead on were "Dream Come True" (1962), the group's first charting single; "The Way You Do the Things You Do" (1964), the group's first US Top 20 hit; "I'll Be in Trouble" (1964); "The Girl's Alright With Me" (1964), a popular b-side that Kendricks co-wrote; "Girl (Why You Wanna Make Me Blue)" (1964); "Get Ready" (1966); "Please Return Your Love to Me" (1968); and "Just My Imagination" (1971). He was also allowed to sing a few leads in his natural voice such as "May I Have This Dance" (1962). He shares lead vocal duty on other records, including "You're My Everything (The Temptations song)" (1967) (shared with David Ruffin), and a long string of Norman Whitfield produced psychedelic soul records where all five Temptations sang lead, such as the Grammy winner "Cloud Nine" (1968), "I Can't Get Next to You" (1969), and "Ball of Confusion" (1970). He also leads on "I'm Gonna Make You Love Me" (1968), a popular duet with Diana Ross and the Supremes, and on the Temptations' famous version of the Christmas classic "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" (1968).

In the Temptations, Kendricks was responsible for creating most of the group's vocal arrangements, and also served as wardrobe manager, including the now famous purple suits the group wore for one performance. Though Whitfield had chief responsibility for writing, Kendricks co-wrote and received credit for several Temptations songs apart from "The Girl's Alright With Me" including "Isn't She Pretty" (1961) and "Don't Send Me Away" (1967). His favorite food was cornbread, and as a result he was nicknamed "Cornbread" (or "Corn" for short) by his groupmates. According to Otis Williams, Kendricks romantically pursued Diana Ross, lead singer of the Supremes, and he was said to have been close friends with Martha Reeves of the Vandellas. In her second book, Supreme Faith, Supremes singer Mary Wilson writes that she and Kendricks were lovers "briefly," but remained close friends.

Kendricks remained in the group through the rest of the decade, but a number of issues began to push him away from it in the late 1960s and early 1970s. He was uncomfortable with singing the psychedelic style that Whitfield was now crafting for the group as opposed to the romantic ballads they had sung under the direction of Smokey Robinson; his friend Paul Williams was often too ill to perform with the group; and Kendricks often found himself at odds with bandmates Otis Williams and Melvin Franklin. As he grew away from the group, Kendricks began to rekindle his friendship with ex-Temptation David Ruffin, who convinced him to leave the group.

In a 1991 interview with a Chicago television series called Urban Street, Kendricks said he had actually considered leaving the group as early as 1965, even though that was when the band was finally starting to take off, because of things that "weren't quite proper." He explained that they were working with people that "didn't have their best interests at heart." Kendricks, however, initially decided to stay in the group because he was worried he would not get the support he needed if he left the group. Kendricks also expressed the fact that his relationship with Berry Gordy was less than cordial. "Berry Gordy is a man I don't know, I only met him about three times," he said, but "I know he didn't particularly care for me." Kendricks stated that he did not agree with many decisions that were made.

Following one final altercation with Williams and Franklin during a run at the Copacabana nightclub in November 1970, Kendricks walked off after the first night and didn't return, and it was mutually decided he would leave the group. While working on his first solo album, Kendricks recorded one last hit single with the Temptations, 1971's "Just My Imagination (Running Away with Me)". By the time the record reached #1 on the US pop charts in April 1971, Kendricks had signed a solo deal with Motown's Tamla imprint and was preparing the release of his first solo album, All By Myself. However, many of his problems with Motown would reoccur.

Solo career and later years

Kendricks' solo career began slowly; he endured two years of singles that missed the Top 40, while The Temptations continued with their string of Norman Whitfield-helmed hits (one of which, "Superstar (Remember How You Got Where You Are)", was written as a jab towards Kendricks and Ruffin). Despite enjoying only a modicum of commercial success and radio airplay, Kendricks's 1972 album People... Hold On (recorded with his touring group, The Young Senators, composed of Jimi Dougans, Frank Hooker, LeRoy Fleming, Wornell Jones, David Lecraft, James Drummer Johnson and John Engram) was a cornerstone of DJ playlists in downtown New York's nascent disco scene. The expansive, eight-minute take on "Girl, You Need A Change Of Mind", which peaked at number thirteen on the soul chart, was a particular favorite at David Mancuso's Loft. The single was later remade by R&B singer D'Angelo for the Get on the Bus Soundtrack. As the dance craze seeped through into other cities, Kendricks scored a #1 pop hit in 1973 with the Frank Wilson-produced "Keep on Truckin'". As well as reaching #18 in the UK, it sold over one million copies, and was awarded a gold disc. Further hits included 1974's "Boogie Down" (US #2, UK #39) and another million selling release, "Son of Sagittarius" (US #28) from the same year, 1975's "Shoeshine Boy" (US #18), and 1976's "He's a Friend" (US #36). Another notable song is "Intimate Friends" (1977), which was sampled for the Alicia Keys song "Unbreakable", "A Penny for My Thoughts" by Common, Sparkle's "Time to Move on" on her self-titled first studio album, and for Sweet Sable's "Old Time's Sake" from the soundtrack for the 1994 2pac film, Above the Rim. Erykah Badu also sampled "Intimate Friends" for her song "Fall in Love (Your Funeral)", as well as his song "My People... Hold on" for her song "My People" on her album New Amerykah Part One (4th World War).

Exasperated by a lack of creative and financial control, Kendricks left Motown in 1978, with the requirement of signing away the rights to his royalties. He moved first to Arista Records, and later to Atlantic Records. By this time, his popularity had waned, and he was also gradually losing his voice as a result of chain smoking.

He and David Ruffin briefly re-joined the Temptations for a 1982 reunion tour. In an interview with Tom Meros, Dennis Edwards, Kendricks's former Temptations band mate, claimed that Kendricks had issues hitting his falsetto notes during recording sessions for the reunion album. Because of his singing difficulty, Edwards said that Kendricks went to a physician to examine his vocal ability. The physician discovered a "pin drop" of cancer on one of his lungs. However, Kendricks reportedly refused to undergo chemotherapy at the time because of fear that he would lose his hair.

Ruffin and Kendrick (Kendricks dropped the "s" from his stage name during the 1980s) reportedly met up one night when Ruffin went to watch Kendrick perform in a nightclub; Kendrick spotted Ruffin in the crowd, pointed him out, and invited him to come up on stage and perform with him. Afterward they talked about touring on their own and recorded an album as a duo for RCA in 1988.

Earlier, in 1985, they participated in the Hall & Oates live album Live at The Apollo recorded at a benefit at New York City's Apollo Theater; and sang with the duo at Live Aid in Philadelphia and the MTV Video Music Awards in New York. Hall & Oates have cited Kendrick and Ruffin specifically, and the Temptations in general, as a major influence.

In 1989, Kendrick, Ruffin, and their Temptations bandmates were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. There, Kendrick and Ruffin made plans with fellow former Temptation Dennis Edwards to tour and record as "Ruffin/Kendrick/Edwards, Former Leads of The Temptations." The Ruffin/Kendrick/ Edwards project was cut short in 1991, when Kendrick was diagnosed with lung cancer and David Ruffin died of a drug overdose, although Kendrick and Edwards continued to tour for the remainder of 1991.

Death

In late 1991, Kendricks, by now living in his native Birmingham, Alabama, underwent surgery to have one of his lungs removed in hopes of preventing the spread of the cancer. He continued to tour through the summer of 1992, when he fell ill again and was hospitalized. Kendricks died of lung cancer in Birmingham on October 5, 1992 at age 52. He was survived by his three children: Parris, Aika, and Paul Kendricks. He was buried in Elmwood Cemetery, Birmingham, Jefferson County, Alabama.

Legacy

In 1998, NBC aired The Temptations, a four-hour television miniseries based upon an autobiographical book by Otis Williams. Kendricks was portrayed by actor Terron Brooks.

On October 16, 1999, Eddie Kendrick Memorial Park, located on the corner of 18th Street and 4th Avenue North, was dedicated to Birmingham native Eddie Kendricks of the Temptations. The park uses Kendricks' family name sans the "s", which was added early in his career. The memorial features a bronze sculpture of Kendricks by local artist Ron McDowell, as well as sculptures of the other Temptations, set into a granite wall. Inscribed on the granite are the names of Temptation's hit songs. Recorded music can be heard throughout the park, featuring songs by Kendricks and the Temptations.

Solo discography

Albums

as Eddie Kendricks

Tamla (Motown) releases

1971: All By Myself

1972: People ... Hold On

1973: Eddie Kendricks

1974: Boogie Down!

1974: For You

1975: The Hit Man

1975: He's A Friend

1976: Goin' Up In Smoke

1977: Slick

Arista releases

1978: Vintage '78

1979: Something More

Atlantic release

1981: Love Keys

Ms. Dixie release

1983: I've Got My Eyes on You

as Daryl Hall & John Oates with David Ruffin and Eddie Kendrick

RCA release

1985: Live at the Apollo

as Ruffin and Kendrick

RCA release

1988: Ruffin & Kendrick

SinglesTamla (Motown) releases

Arista releases

1978: "Ain't No Smoke Without Fire" (US R&B #13)

1978: "The Best of Strangers Now" (US R&B #49)

1980: "I Just Want To Be the One In Your Life" (US R&B #87)

Atlantic release

1981: "(Oh I) Need Your Loving" (US R&B #41)

Corner Stone release

1984: Surprise Attack (US R&B #87)

RCA release

1985: "A Night At The Apollo Live!" (US R&B #40, US POP #20, US AC #12, UK #58) (Daryl Hall and John Oates featuring David Ruffin and Eddie Kendrick)

1987: "I Couldn't Believe It" (Ruffin & Kendrick) (US R&B #14, US AC #48)

1988: "One More For The Lonely Hearts Club" (Ruffin & Kendrick) (US R&B #43)

Wikipedia

[the-busy-ghost]

Agnes Stewart- some random notes on her career and a bit of a rant about her relationship with Margaret Tudor

I have to make yet another correction of a minor but common mistake littered in accounts of Margaret Tudor’s career, and though this isn’t a particularly coherent post I had to set some things straight anyway.

Agnes Stewart, was the last of James IV’s definite known mistresses, not ‘Isabel’. It was Agnes who was the mother of Janet Stewart, Lady Fleming, later governess to Mary Queen of Scots and mistress of Henri II of France, who, btws, was likely born no earlier than 1508 and probably much later, not on 17th July 1502 as wikipedia incorrectly has it (that’s probably Janet Kennedy’s second kid). She was the only one of James IV’s mistresses to begin her relationship with the king after his marriage (though his relationship with Janet Kennedy had continued after August 1503, it’s unclear if she became pregnant by him again after giving birth to her third child later that year).

Agnes was, however, still a daughter of James Stewart, Earl of Buchan, and thus granddaughter to Joan Beaufort- this made her first cousin once removed to James IV, and second cousin of Margaret Tudor’s father Henry VII. She was illegitimate, but Agnes and her siblings were children of Buchan’s long-term recognised mistress Margaret Murray, and had certain inheritance rights and status.

(A later sixteenth century depiction of Joan Beaufort, queen of Scots, Agnes Stewart’s paternal grandmother)

Because the Treasurer’s Accounts cut out at an inconvenient point in 1508 till 1510, we don’t have much direct information about her relationship with the king, and her presence at court is very sparsely documented, except for a few early mentions of Agnes and her sisters at court in 1507-8. However, in the record of cloth given out as gifts at New Year, Agnes appears among several of the queen’s household, notably just after Margaret Tudor’s loyal attendant Mistress Denton, and though it might be a tad ambiguous I’d say she was probably one of the ladies of the queen, and quite a prominent attendant at that. We don’t know how Margaret reacted to her husband’s relationship with Agnes, though it wasn’t wholly private. There was a spate of royal grants to members of Agnes’ family throughout 1510 and 1511, and on 24th April 1511 Agnes herself was granted ward of all the possessions that had passed into the king’s hands after the death of her half-brother the Earl of Buchan, while she was also granted the surplus of the Crown’s rents in the barony of Auchterhouse the same year. She does not appear back at court when the accounts resume in 1511, but it would probably have been difficult to fully disguise James’ relationship with her, given the level of favour shown to her family members, and her previous position in attendance on the queen. Their child is not recorded as being raised at court though- aside from the fact that Janet was probably born in 1510 or 1511 and therefore was only a toddler when her father died, all of James’ other illegitimate daughters seem to have remained in the care of their mothers (though their father took responsibility for things like arranging marriages)- except Margaret, whose mother had died, and who was therefore raised in luxury at court. 

Agnes’, relationship with the king likely ended by late August 1511, when she was married off to Adam Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, by whom she had one son, young Patrick. Patrick Hepburn became 3rd Earl of Bothwell after Agnes’ husband died at Flodden only two years into their marriage- so there’s yet another correction, contrary to what it says in the Letters and Papers of Henry VIII (and copied by Maria Perry), the earl of Bothwell was NOT Agnes’ uncle, but her young son, and Janet Stewart’s younger half-brother.

(Portrait of a man often identified as James IV- but if so it’s probably his most flattering portrayal)

There is another note to be had here the title of earl or countess of Bothwell is SEPARATE to that of ‘lady Bothwell’, which was the way that another of James IV’s mistresses, Janet Kennedy, was commonly addressed. This is because some decades back the Hepburns, who became earls of Bothwell, had given up the actual Bothwell castle to the Earl of Angus, Janet Kennedy’s former lover, who granted it to her, and James IV confirmed this when she became his mistress. So Janet Kennedy was ‘lady Bothwell’ by possession of castle of that name, but Agnes was Countess of Bothwell as she had married the man who held the title earl. But sometimes English commentators got mixed up so the sources can be confusing if you don’t have any context- and that will be covered more in a moment.

After Flodden, Agnes soon married again, rather hastily to Alexander, Lord Hume in June of 1514 at Crichton Castle, (fun note, the Earl of Angus’ second countess Katherine Stirling had had an illegitimate child with Hume a couple of years before- it really was a very small society). After this marriage- and her two subsequent marriages- however, she was still usually referred to as Agnes Stewart, Countess of Bothwell. 

(Crichton Castle, seat of the earls of Bothwell and scene of Agnes Stewart’s second marriage to Lord Hume. Not my picture)

This means that yes, the ‘Lady Bothwell’ who was with Margaret Tudor in Morpeth during that particularly straitened Christmas of 1515, a few months after the queen had fled across the border, was Agnes Stewart, probably her former lady-in-waiting, and definitely her husband’s ex-mistress. Not Janet Kennedy, another of James IV’s mistresses and the actual Lady Bothwell- as I said, English commentators sometimes used Scottish titles wrong. She was most likely there since her husband, Lord Hume, was also in exile for having fallen out with Albany, and they were also accompanied by Margaret Tudor’s husband Angus (the younger one, not the one discussed above), and the English Lord Ogle and Lady Musgrave. This may therefore have been a gathering that was as much politically necessary as personally congenial, but there’s really no evidence that Margaret was interested in spiting the Countess of Bothwell when she had so few allies as it was, and certainly I can’t imagine why Patricia Buchanan has her rubbing Agnes’ face in it by parading around in the dresses recently sent to her by Henry VIII. Overall we seriously don’t KNOW enough about the emotions involved in Margaret and Agnes’ relationship- or even Margaret’s thoughts on her first husband’s extramarital relations in general- to come to any kind of conclusion, so it seems a bit stupid to me that Margaret’s biographers assume that she would go out of her way to spite the wife of one of her major allies (who was also a substantial landowner in her own right)...

(This got longer than I expected so more below the cut)

(If anything the one mistress we know Margaret DID kick up a fuss over was the earl of Angus’ relationship with Jane Stewart of Traquair. Conveniently she was Agnes’ niece and also descended from the Beauforts- as I say it was a small society. Either way though, that was a few years in the future).  

Some months before this Christmas meeting, when Margaret Tudor was handing over the keys of Stirling to Albany in 1515, Hume had been busy fortifying Fastcastle. At this point it appears that Agnes still had possession of her son the earl of Bothwell, despite her remarriage (though she was not tutor). This state of affairs didn’t last for long- in 1517, Albany made her give up Bothwell to la Bastie, and he was later taken to France after la Bastie’s murder. Agnes later complained bitterly about this to the privy council- again she had technically remarried so it’s debatable over whether she should have had control of her five year old son anyway, but it does seem clear that she was not exactly trusted by Albany to have possession of an important earl. By this point Agnes had also lost her second husband, again after only two years of marriage, Alexander, Lord Hume having been executed by Albany in 1516. Agnes had had one daughter by Hume, another Janet, bringing her up to a total of three children in all.

(Probably the most famous portrayal of Margaret Tudor, from the seventeenth century portrait by Daniel Mytens)

She still continued to bear the title Countess of Bothwell, and would do so for decades. In the early 1520s she married again, to Robert, Lord Maxwell (she is not to be confused with his father’s wife, Agnes Stewart of Garlies). In 1520 Margaret Tudor granted a lease of various lands in the Ettrick Forest to ‘our well-beloved cousiness, Agnes Stewart, Countess of Bothwell’ (with the pemission of her husband Angus). This looks to have been a private act, rather than Margaret acting for her son the king, so while it may just have been another example of the ordinary traffic in lands among the Scottish nobility, it must remain interesting as one of Margaret’s recorded private actions. Maxwell would increasingly lean towards Margaret’s faction in the 1520s but it it was a period of complex politics and shifting allegiances so I hesitate to read too much into this. For her own part, Agnes had made a third marriage to a prominent and powerful nobleman on the Borders, and in her person- and through her children- she stood at the centre of several important family networks in the region, as the dowager Countess of Bothwell and mother to the current Earl; as the widow of Lord Hume; as the sister of several other lesser nobles in the Borders such as James Stewart of Traquair and Elizabeth, Lady Hume of Cowdenknowes; as the wife of Lord Maxwell, warden of the West March; and, from 1523, as mother-in-law to Lord Fleming through the marriage of her daughter Janet Stewart (half-sister herself to King James V).

Agnes was primarily responsible for arranging the match between her daughter Janet and Malcolm Fleming, the new chamberlain, and in later years a favoured counsellor of his brother-in-law James V. Agnes is also mentioned alongside her husband in quite a few grants under the great seal, and in later years both Maxwell and Agnes seem to have remained high in James V’s favour even when Agnes’ son Patrick, Earl of Bothwell, was definitely in the bad books (one thing I’m not sure gets enough attention is that when Maxwell and Fleming later took control of the earl of Bothwell’s lands on the king’s orders, they weren’t just any nobles, but Bothwell’s stepfather and brother-in-law respectively). Agnes didn’t officially receive letters of legitimation until the minority of Mary Queen of Scots though, in the year 1552, when she must have been at least around sixty (this was also a year after her elder daughter had a son by the French king and was sent home by the way). She also, in her later years, made a fourth marriage, to Cuthbert Ramsay, the captain of Crichton Castle, which had been in her possession since the reign of James IV forty years earlier, and had been the scene of her second marriage to Hume.

(This is just a brief sketch, there are other references to her. One of my favourite glimpses of Agnes in her later years is when a letter to her son-in-law Lord Fleming in 1543, during the complex politics of Mary Queen of Scots’ early minority, mentions in passing that “...my lady Bothwell your good mother and the good wives of Edinburgh are all good Scots women and say stoutly that they shall supply you [Fleming] so far as they may…”. Which is a slightly frightening prospect if you ask me and I would not like to have been Fleming’s enemies if Agnes Stewart and all the good wives of Edinburgh were assisting the other side.)

This is not meant to be a comprehensive overview of Agnes’ career, but just a bit of a rant about yet another bunch of details that are wrong or overexaggerated in the mixed bag of biographies of Margaret Tudor that have been half-heartedly produced over the decades. What we do basically know about Agnes is that she apparently played a very active role in family politics, marriage negotiations, and land transactions, that she bore three children by different fathers- two of whom were apparently ‘fair’ and had pretty adventurous careers- that she was accorded a considerable degree of respect among the noblewomen of Scotland, and that she does come to have come into contact with Margaret Tudor at several key points in her life. Which is still fascinating, if extremely under-documented- we just don’t need to assume anything about the emotions of the people involved and can still extract some interesting information from the few sources we have.

I’ve not referenced this because, as I say, this isn’t actually giving the full run-down of Agnes’ career, just a rant based on some (though not all) of the things I came across in my dissertation. But if there’s anything anyone’s confused about or wants the particular source for, ask.

[plumoh]

[HaiKise] Bright meeting

Word count: 2415

Summary: Shougo and his family are invited for dinner at the Kise’s.

Note: AO3 link. Originally written for haikiseweek16 for the prompts family & food.

One-shot: Bright meeting

There is something awkward in being invited over for a dinner that is probably twice as expensive as the food they normally eat at home. Shougo is incredibly nervous. And Kenta's behavior isn't smoothing things over with the way he's smiling and acting like a sweet and charming man. Not that he isn't kind in general, but he's too stiff and if Kenta is stiff, Shougo is bound to be as well. Only their mother seems perfectly at ease, chatting with Ryouta's parents, radiant and happy and making such a good impression on them Shougo is surprised that Ryouta hasn't made a comment yet. Maybe because he already knows that his mother is too nice for her own good.

“I've always known our Ryou-chan had a thing for bad boys,” the younger sister sings. “He's playing like a good boy but deep down he likes an adventurous life!”

“Chika-nee!” Ryouta whines. “Stop saying stuff like that!”

Apparently this isn't the first time it happened, and strangely enough it doesn't surprise Shougo despite the fact he has just met his boyfriend's sisters. The younger, Chika, seems closer to Ryouta's personality than the older one, Akemi. Well. At least they all share beautiful physical features, with perfect and smooth hair of a blonde hue that would make the sun jealous. Why is this family so pretty?

Akemi chuckles and pats her brother's head. She's sitting on his left, while Shougo sits on the right, and Chika faces directly Akemi. The table is still full of food, as if everyone is way too engrossed in their conversations to properly eat what is on their plate, even though it looks delicious as hell. Somehow Shougo can't see his boyfriend cook all this.

“Well, he has good tastes,” Akemi says. “And Shougo is very respectful. Too bad we couldn't meet him sooner.”

At this Shougo can't repress the snort that escapes his throat, because they really don't want to see how he was a few years ago. He likes to think he's changed for the better, or at least matured a bit, and his teenage tantrums as well as his very quick temper (quicker than now) probably wouldn't have agreed with Ryouta's sisters. Or the other way around. Whatever.

Both sisters raise an eyebrow while Ryouta rolls his eyes, and Kenta joins in by softly laughing behind his glass of water. Even his brother agrees on this, tsk.

“He was a brat, I'm glad you meet him now,” Kenta chuckles.

“Worse than a brat, you wouldn't have stood him,” Ryouta adds. “I didn't stand him.”

“The feeling was mutual,” Shougo grumbles.

Chika gasps and clasps her hands together, and Shougo can see the fucking stars in her eyes.

“A love born from dislike! Oh my god, it's like a movie! Ryou-chan you're such a cliché!”

“A cliché? What does that mean?! At least it's not love at first sight!”

Shougo honestly doesn't know if he should be offended by this comment, but considering he hated Ryouta's guts at the beginning he can't really complain. But he had a good reason to.

“I bet you're not the one cooking,” Chika continues with a smug face. “You've always been the worst at cooking among us. Do you remember that time you mistook the dishwashing liquid for—”

“Aaand that's not a necessary story!” Ryouta interrupts with a wave of his hands—he almost smacked Shougo. “You're the worst, Nee-chan!”

“What are older siblings for, do you think?”

“I can second this,” Kenta pipes up.

Shougo shoots a glare at his brother (sitting next to him), who in turn sweetly smiles at him. The bastard. Kenta seems to become more comfortable in the Kise household, and soon he's going to get sassy and tease the life out of Shougo just because he can, and then his mother will catch wind of this and join him in what will be dubbed 'the Delightful Embarrassing Records of Little Shougo' (and gods know how much of a troublesome kid he was). He really doesn't like the way the conversation is turning. He clears his throat, maybe a bit too loudly, and gestures to the food.

“I may be the one cooking at home, but I sure can't prepare all that. I know basic stuff.”

“Oh, you know, even though food can win hearts, I'm sure that meals cooked with love are the best!” Chika squeals.

Does she ever stop?

“Chika, be nice,” Akemi reprimands, but her voice lacks any kind of actual scolding.

Chika tries to look sheepish, but her excitement is way too overwhelming for her to conceal completely, and even Ryouta starts to get really annoyed at all the teasing, if Shougo can read his pout correctly. Families meeting for the first time seem to be lively but also really painful if you don't steer the conversation in the right direction. But Shougo is relieved, or jealous, or both, he doesn't quite know what he's feeling, because he's glad Ryouta's family doesn't hate him and gets along with his mother and his brother. Then he thinks that the same scenery could have been depicted in his own house if his father has stuck around. He quickly represses the thought, though, because he's not here to contemplate the what ifs of a life that clearly wasn't his, and he eats a piece of tofu to distract himself.

“Well, I'm just happy we get to meet the boyfriend our baby brother has been dating for the last eight months,” Chika clarifies. “Take care of him, Shou-chan, alright? Ryou-chan can be a little hopeless at times, so bear with him.”

“Technically, I'm the one who looks after Shougo-kun,” Ryouta interjects with a—is that a smirk?

“I'm not the disaster who can't even remember where I put my make-up,” Shougo mutters.

“That's because you're messy and my stuff gets buried under yours!”

“I'm the messy one? Get your facts fucking straight, Ryouta.”

Kenta elbows him in the side with a quiet warning and Shougo groans. This is stupid, Ryouta's sisters aren't delicate damsels who are going to get offended by a swear word. So he elbows his brother back. Honestly, at this point it seems like everyone is trying to one-up each other with teasing and embarrassing stories from forever ago, and it started getting old thirty minutes ago.

Ryouta catches on the little interaction and chuckles, his eyes telling Shougo that this is highly amusing to him. Shougo doesn't see why but he doesn't care.

“I think we've known each other long enough to know what is annoying and what we have to bear with.”

“Ha, you admit you can be impossible to live with.”

“Well, you aren't perfect either!”

As childish as it is, Ryouta sticks his tongue out while Shougo snorts, and just like this they show what kind of relationship they have—if someone had told him he'd be bantering with Ryouta in front of their families so naturally, he would have laughed at their face and labeled them as dumb. He can't see Kenta's expression but he's pretty sure he's smiling like an idiot, and Ryouta's sisters are displaying equally disgusting happy faces, like they just witnessed the cutest shit ever. That's why he doesn't like family meetings.

“In all seriousness, it's nice to be able to have this dinner together,” Akemi says. “Let's hope we can keep doing it in the future, alright?”

“Yeah, Shou-chan, you can even call us nee-chan!” Chika chirps, and Ryouta chokes. So does Shougo.

“You can't say that to my boyfriend you just met!” he screams.

“And why not? Aren't you calling Kenta 'nii-chan'?”

“No!”

Listening to Ryouta and Chika talking to each other is exhausting.

Shougo turns to his brother, who flashes him a thumbs up. In Kenta language, it can mean everything and nothing, but in this particular case, it's probably reassurance, because his brother is weird and has a sixth sense for detecting Shougo's moods, telling him that this dinner is going on the right path and that they shouldn't have worried.

“You were the one who looked constipated at the beginning,” Shougo points out.

“Like you can talk,” Kenta replies with a smile.

***

After two more hours of eating and bonding over all kinds of stories, Shougo can finally breathe and get away from the incessant chatting of Chika (she's worse than Ryouta and that is something he didn't think possible at all). He is sitting on the couch, considering asking his mother if she wanted to leave since she looked tired, but suddenly the space next to him sinks and when he glances at it, he meets Ryouta's radiant face.

“Did you like the dinner?” he asks softly.

Shougo shrugs. “It wasn't bad. The food was good. Your sister is fucking annoying though.”

“Yeah, she can be... overwhelming.”

“And you're the one who says it, I can't believe there is someone worse than you.”

Ryouta rolls his eyes and scoots closer to Shougo, who grumbles but doesn't move away. For a few seconds they don't say anything, the faint voices of their siblings carrying over from the kitchen, while their parents are still seated at the table talking. Shougo thinks he didn't show much of his true self during the evening, too occupied with how comfortable the Kise household is; it will certainly bite him in the ass in the future, and he doesn't know if he should care or not, but right now he decides there are no consequences.

“To be honest I wasn't expecting it to go that well,” Ryouta chuckles.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Exactly that, I was afraid you'd spout out some crap and my family would think you're some asshole or something.”

Shougo stares at Ryouta, face blank.

“Have you met me?” he deadpans.

What kind of question is that? It was extremely stupid and borderline smack-worthy, but Shougo figures that he should restrain himself if he doesn't want to see Ryouta's fucking smug face.

Ryouta's lips curl into a smile, nothing telling him that he's mad or satisfied, there's just this ridiculous content air around him.

“They saw our matches in high school.”

Shougo doesn't know what he was expecting. It's a given families watch the games, because basketball, as far back as he can remember, has always been a constant in their lives, even more so for someone like Ryouta who barged into this world without being invited. Shougo isn't surprised, nor is he particularly upset, so he looks at Ryouta, waiting for an explanation.

“I did tell them you somewhat changed, and that we fixed things. Doesn't mean they weren't worried. But I guess that eight months are enough to show them we're getting along, now.”

Ryouta doesn't wait for Shougo to say anything back, and pokes him on the nose like the child he is, which earns him yet another grumble from Shougo accompanied by a low “what the fuck”.

“Chika-nee wanted to give you the shovel talk, just so you know” he laughs.

“As if I couldn't handle some shovel talks, give me some credit Ryouta,” Shougo mutters.

“I know you can handle it!”

As if on cue, Chika comes back in the living room, pretends she wasn't eavesdropping (Shougo recognizes the look of someone trying to act innocent and miserably failing), and grins at them.

“Since you're Ryou-chan's boyfriend, don't hesitate to come to us if you need help with anything, alright Shou-chan?”

“Yeah,” Shougo answers as flatly as possible. “Even if I don't ask people for their help.”

“You'd be surprised to know that one day you're going to need ours!”

That sounds very ominous, judging by the expression Chika wears, so Shougo mumbles a “whatever” to drop the subject. In all seriousness, he knows that Chika is the kind of woman who doesn't let anyone walk all over her and means every word she says; Akemi looks more subdued, but she without a doubt shares the same determination as her siblings. A Kise thing, probably.

“Time to go,” Kenta announces, shooting a knowing look towards their mother.

Shougo nods, and gets up, with Ryouta following suit. They head directly to the entrance, letting Shougo's mother and Kenta saying goodbye first. Akemi though stops them, quietly drawing their attention while Chika and the parents are occupied. She smiles softly at Shougo, while Ryouta just shrugs (did a fucking silent conversation occur in the span of two seconds).

“Chika has said everything that needed to be said, I think,” she begins. “But I'm still the big sister, and I know what happened a few years ago. So Shougo, I hope you know full well what you're getting into.”

And at last, Shougo loses it and bursts out laughing, to both Ryouta's and Akemi's confusion. This isn't the quiet type of laugh that fades after the initial reaction, this is the one that makes the stomach hurt and the throat close up at each intake of breath because it's just so unexpected, or too expected, and somehow Shougo can't help but think the situation is hilarious.

“Holy shit,” he wheezes. “The sisters are scarier than the brother.”

Shougo, of course, doesn't take their threats lightly because he'd be a dumbass for doing so, but having the two sisters telling him to be on his best behavior strikes him as kind of amusing, and maybe a bit ironic.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” he says, still laughing. “I doubt you'd need to make an intervention.”

“Well, I hope so,” Akemi replies, a bit perplexed, but she doesn't make further remarks.

“Shougo-kun can be rude, but don't mind him, that's how he is,” Ryouta pipes up.

“Shut up.”

Akemi shakes her head at the exchange, and though Shougo can now see the doubts that are still plaguing her mind, he thinks that perahps it's best she doesn't trust him right from the start, given his history. He will be able to prove her wrong, that way.

His mother and Kenta join him in the hallway, both sporting smiles. There is a promise of a next time, at the Haizaki's though, and that makes Shougo quietly guffaw because like hell Kenta is going to step into the kitchen to prepare any dishes—the only thing he'll be allowed  to do is wash the vegetables.

They leave the house, the image of a bright home burned into Shougo's mind. Well, he won't be opposed to the idea of getting used to so much light.

[inkyardpress]

Excerpt: All Right Reserved

SPETH: 9¢

We had just started over the bridge, toward my party, when the famously cheerful “Don’t Jump” Ad clicked on. This had never happened to me before. The billboard’s advertising systems scanned me—analyzing my age, my style, even my pulse—and calculated I was in need of a friendly reminder not to kill myself. Colorful, hopping bunnies sang at my feet, on a waist-high screen that arced the full length of the bridge wall. Traffic roared along eighty feet below. Above, the city dome was lit a diffuse, fading gray by the evening sky beyond.

I felt a little queasy. Jumpers had been growing increasingly common, but I’m sure a higher railing would have been more effective than a glib cartoon. I wasn’t planning to kill myself. I had other things to concentrate on.

Mrs. Harris, my guardian, was still talking.

“You will get used to budgeting, Speth,” she chirped, but faltered slightly at my name, as if it wasn’t good enough for her mouth. My name was cheap and ugly. Speth. I hated it. It sounded like someone spitting. My parents chose it from a list of discounted girls’ names. When my brother was born, they vowed not to repeat that mistake and paid for a good premium name: Sam.

I wished Sam was nearby to distract me. Sam always made me laugh. But Mrs. Harris had shooed him off to help set up my party in the park, so she would have my complete attention.

Mrs. Harris was a little bird of a woman with restless hands and a tense, wrinkled little smile. She’d been lecturing me for the better part of an hour on what to expect on my big day.

I stopped walking and looked down at the shiny new Cuff she had clamped around my forearm that morning. It was a marvel of engineering—a cool processor, a rock-steady tether to WiFi and a smooth glossy surface impervious to scratches, dirt and smudges. It was rimmed in a burnished lightweight Altenium™ composite. The Cuff was nearly indestructible, unless the NanoLion™ battery went haywire and melted your Cuff and your arm off. The Cuff’s main purpose was to record everything I said and did, so I could pay the Rights Holders their fees.

“It’s beautiful,” my sister assured me. She patted my shoulder. The words she spoke scrolled up her Cuff as she was charged for each.

Saretha Jime—word: It’s: $1.99.

Saretha Jime—word: Beautiful: $8.99.

Then she was charged for patting me.

Saretha Jime—gesture: pat to shoulder—2 seconds: $1.98

Every word is Trademarked™, Restricted® or Copyrighted©. The companies and people who own these rights let people use them, but once you turn fifteen, you have to pay. Saretha had turned fifteen more than two years before. I was wearing the same bright orange dress she had, but not nearly as well. Everything else I owned was dull, gray and from a limited selection of public domain clothes Mrs. Harris allowed us to have printed at the UnderGap™.

At 6:36 p.m., it would be my turn; I would pay for every word I spoke for the rest of my life. Foolishly, I had believed it would be fun.

My Cuff felt tight. I tried to fit a finger between it and my flesh. There was no gap.

“In the unlikely event it needs to be removed,” Mrs. Harris said, “the proper authorities can do so. However, if your Cuff is removed for any reason, you will not be allowed to speak. Any utterance will result in a painful shock to the eyes.”

I closed my eyes. My lids slid down just a bit more slowly than before. As part of my transition, in addition to the Cuff, Mrs. Harris had roughly thumbed a corneal implant into each of my eyes. The implants were, at that moment, slowly fusing to my corneas. She said I would have terrible eyesight without them.

I’m almost certain this was a lie.

“You’ve read the Terms of Service?” she asked, but she knew I hadn’t. No one read the ToS. They were boring—hundreds of pages of intimidating, brain-melting Legalese. What did it matter? I had to agree. We couldn’t change them, and while technically I could “opt out,” I was required by Law to have the implants before I turned fifteen.

“Optic shocks may cause nausea,” Mrs. Harris said flatly, “dizziness, redness of the eyes, swelling, headaches, shortness of breath, seizures, confusion, heart palpitations, vision changes and, of course, blindness.”

“Rarely,” Saretha assured me. Her Cuff buzzed and charged her $1.75. I missed when we used to really talk. She was always so positive and joyful. I supposed she still was, inside, but I mostly talked with Sam after her transition. We didn’t have the kind of money that would let us talk freely once we were paying for our words.

“Traditionally, one arrives at one’s celebration at exactly the moment one turns fifteen.” Mrs. Harris’s thin smile pulled tight. I think she had timed our walk out to the park. Slowing down was not part of that plan.

I wished I didn’t have to have a Custodian. I wished my parents could have been here, but when I was little, our family was sued for an illegal music download traced back five generations to a great-great-aunt somewhere. We owed the Musical Rights Association of America® more than six million dollars in damages. Debt Services took our parents and placed them somewhere down in Carolina, pollinating crops with an eyedropper and brush until our debts were paid. My heart ached thinking of them so far away.

Mrs. Harris noted my sadness and moved on.

On the far side of the bridge, my celebration was crowded onto a small, manicured strip of green called Falxo Park. It sat at the very edge of the city, in the heart of the Onzième, where the dome curves down to the city wall. All the faux-Parisian-style shops crowded around the park, stretching off into the distance in a plastic approximation of Franco quaintness.

The outer shopping district and the park it flanked were beautiful if I squinted at it, awash and aglow in Moon Mints™ Ads. There was scarcely a surface in the city that couldn’t throw up an Ad. I liked the colors—sometimes. I just wished there was less going on all at once. It made my head feel fuzzy to try to take it all in—though Mrs. Harris said I had to try.

I could hear the party from across the bridge. All the younger kids were laughing and singing. I’ll bet there was dancing, too. The kids over fifteen would only join in after my speech, when the real celebration began.

I had really been looking forward to the party—seeing all my friends, what the Product Placers had brought and what my Branding would be. I was finally going to be a contributing member of society. Mrs. Harris said so. But suddenly, I didn’t want to cross the bridge. I didn’t want a party. I didn’t want a Brand. I didn’t care if I got lifelong discounts on Keene Inc. candies in return for unwavering loyalty to their family of products, or a small monthly allowance to speak encouragingly about Pamvax® Feminine Vaccines™. Now that I could really feel the change about to take place, I wanted to run. Why was this something to celebrate? How would I get used to measuring the cost of my words?

I had a strange urge to do or say something meaningful before the clock ticked over, but such behavior was frowned upon. I was supposed to wait until the moment after I turned. Then I would read the speech I had crafted with Mrs. Harris. I was contractually obligated to read it, from start to finish, as my first paid words.

The speech was in my hand, printed by Mrs. Harris on a thick sheet of real paper. My sponsors had approved it and subsidized my costs in return for peppering the speech with positive statements about their products. Keene Inc. even offered to have it framed afterward, so I could remember my Last Day, but I’d refused that offer; I didn’t want to be responsible for keeping a sheet of paper safe any longer than I had to.

I didn’t really care for the speech. I had thought it was funny to cram in as many endorsements as I could, giggling with my friend Nancee Mphinyane-Smil for weeks about how to work in something about Mrs. Harris’s favorite brand of industrial-strength suppositories.

I suddenly wished the speech said something more. More about me, my thoughts...my future.

“We should really get moving,” Mrs. Harris said.

I nodded, swallowing hard, and began to move. My eyes ached.

“I understand it can be difficult. Reducing your chat so precipitously, after fourteen years of free speech.” Mrs. Harris let the word precipitously slip out between her teeth with delight. The government paid for her words, and she relished them. There was a reason a woman like Mrs. Harris became a Custodian and took on guardianship of so many children.

It wasn’t compassion.

“Undoubtedly you have been speaking more than normal lately,” Mrs. Harris said, waving at me to hurry.

I hated that she was right. I had been talking more. I had also been dancing and singing and practicing gymnastics. That was all finished. Every dance move, every gymnastic flourish and every note of every song was Trademarked and priced outside what my family could afford. None of this was Mrs. Harris’s fault, but I still wanted to blame her. I had always disliked her. I glared at her horrible, insincere face.

“What?” she asked, taken aback. I took a deep breath.

“Is it normal to be able to see through people’s clothes?” I asked, squinting through my new corneal overlays.

Mrs. Harris flinched and moved to cover herself, until I snorted out a laugh.

“Sorry,” Saretha said for me. Sorry was a fixed-price word at $10, and a legal admission of guilt. She should have let me say it. I still had a minute left. I just wanted to have a little fun.

Mrs. Harris shook her head, tapping at her own Cuff a few times until a micro-suit showed up. The first thing to appear on my Cuff’s screen was $30 worth of Mrs. Harris’s “pain and suffering.” She sued us all the time like this for petty grievances. Saretha just tapped PAY.

“I have helped thousands of boys and girls transition, and trust me, you aren’t any different,” Mrs. Harris sniffed.

The clock was ticking down. In a few seconds, I would officially turn fifteen. I wanted to think of something meaningful to say, but what? My heart was pounding. My tongue felt like a solid lump in my mouth. Mrs. Harris sighed.

“It is very easy to slip up and speak, or shrug or scream, before you read your speech. This would void your contract, which would be disastrous. I must remind you of your obligation to read it first.” She lifted the hand that held the speech and shook it around, like I was a puppet. “These need to be your first paid words, Speth.”

I pulled away from her. I knew what my responsibilities were.

Mrs. Harris watched the time tick over on her Cuff. “You are an adult now,” she said, her eyes fixed on the podium in a way that highlighted the fact that we had not yet reached it.

The bunnies sang more loudly at the apex of the bridge. “Don’t jump, puh-leeze.”

Saretha beamed at me. Smiling was still free. How bad could things be if she seemed so happy? Her smile was wide and bright and friendly. It made you feel warm. She looked like she belonged in movies. A step behind us, her Ads sang a different tune across the glossy LCDs.

Saretha’s Ads were full of romance, perfume, alcohol and shoes. She didn’t come close to a jumper’s algorithm: she was too pretty, too graceful and too well-dressed. When she chose her Branding, Saretha got to choose between twenty-three different corporate brands. I would be lucky to pick from three. Saretha was a Facer, which meant that when she drank a soda in public or ate some chips, she was expected to face the product label out so people could see it. The systems almost treated her like an Affluent, although they never digitized her into the Ads. Truly wealthy people often had their likeness scanned, recreated and enhanced to look a little more beautiful and happy in a commercial.

Mrs. Harris thought Saretha’s looks were our family’s best chance at a better life. She didn’t just look like a movie star—she looked a lot like a particular star named Carol Amanda Harving. Carol Amanda Harving’s smile was more perfect and white, but somehow Saretha’s was more comforting and real. As Mrs. Harris liked to point out, my sister and the actress looked more alike than Saretha and I did. My heart sunk every time she declared it, usually in a tone she reserved for crueler moments.

Saretha and I looked enough like sisters, but whatever people might have said about her, they said less enthusiastically about me. Saretha was beautiful with an almost golden complexion. With work, I could be pretty, but my skin never shone the way Saretha’s did. Saretha had dark, welcoming eyes, the color of chocolate. Mine were just dark and sharp. Saretha had long, amazing, black wavy hair that rode over her shoulders like a shampoo Ad. I kept mine short, fashioned in a pixie cut Mrs. Micharnd, my gymnastics teacher, found for me in the public domain. When she was my age, Saretha already had curves, and now she had more. I had next to none. I was small, sinewy and perfect for gymnastics.

Saretha went on dates with gorgeous boys who paid for her words and expected affection in return. I went walking with Beecher Stokes, a skinny boy with messy hair who lived with his grandmother. He wasn’t terribly cute, but he made me laugh—or at least he did, until his fifteenth birthday. Then his mood soured. His jokes vanished. He would just stare at me, wordless. To fill the awkward silences, I let him kiss me—as much as he could afford. He could not afford much.

I find it creepy that the system can tell how long or hard a kiss is. I don’t know exactly what the system monitors, but Beecher would pay something like 17¢ for each second. That’s supposed to feel normal. It’s been like this longer than I’ve been alive, but something still felt wrong about it.

Mrs. Harris didn’t think it was appropriate for me to be with him, given what she called his “circumstances.”

When Beecher was ten, his father tried circumventing the programming of a food printer. He wanted to make more nutritious meals. It was in blatant violation of Copyright, Patent and Terms of Service—the Three Major Fields of Intellectual Property. Mr. Stokes disconnected from the network, but he was caught anyway. Debt Services took Beecher’s parents into Collection immediately. They would have taken Beecher, too, but Collection must let you finish school.

Beecher could have had another two years, but he dropped out of school a few weeks after his fifteenth. I couldn’t believe it. I asked him why. He shrugged like it was no big deal—50¢ to act casual. I kind of loved that he did that, even though it seemed so foolish.

“Beecher...” Mrs. Harris said, shaking her head. It was like she knew I was thinking about him. She really didn’t like him, which was part of the reason I kept seeing him.

Mrs. Harris hadn’t read my mind, however. Beecher was at the foot of the bridge opposite us, waiting, like he wanted to catch me before the party. My heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t love or a crush. The way he looked at that moment worried me.

Bunnies surrounded him, too, but in darker colors like green and midnight blue, because these were supposed to be “boy” colors. His eyes were red. Had he been crying?

“Don’t jump, don’t jump,” the bunnies sang cheerfully to us both as Beecher drew up.

“Speth,” Beecher said. His face winced. Mrs. Harris grabbed my arm and pulled me away.

He closed the space between us, quick, and kissed me. I felt a sharp jolt. This wasn’t like his other kisses. My lips stung. My body tingled. I realized, with horror, that his eyes were being shocked for kissing with insufficient credit.

“Beecher Stokes!” Mrs. Harris warned.

My pastel bunnies and his dark ones mingled in the Ad, harmonizing, “Don’t jump, pleeeeezeey weeezeey.”

My cheek twitched. I put a hand there to feel the spasm. Warmth spread through my face. Somehow, my Cuff’s software knew I hadn’t kissed back. It really unnerved me to realize my Cuff had such weird access to my lips and intentions. How did it know? Suddenly this whole system seemed too, too real.

Beecher abruptly stalked off, head down, hands jammed in the pockets of his dumpy brown public domain longcoat. Black, gray and blood-red bunnies, glowing from the Ads at his feet, kept singing that he shouldn’t jump. But Beecher didn’t take advice from bunnies. That had been one of his jokes, back before he turned fifteen. I’d always thought it was really funny—until he mounted the rail and took a great leap into the traffic eighty feet below.

The bunnies stopped singing.

TWO SECONDS OF SCREAMING: $1.98

Once, I loved to talk. What did I say with all those words? It seems like nothing now. I honestly can’t remember much: a conversation with Nancee about how birds make it into the city, an argument with Sera Croate about my hair (she said I looked like a boy with it short, but the style was free), a discussion with Beecher about how I liked the feeling of certain words in my mouth.

Luscious, Effervescent, Surreptitious, Cruft. I wasn’t thinking about expressing myself. Beecher had warned me: “Expressive words cost more.” He’d said it as if I should already be careful. He looked down at his Cuff’s thin amber glow.

Beecher Stokes—sentence: Expressive words cost more: $31.96.

His face was all gloomy. He could have spent that money on kissing, or saying something nice. He could have told me how he felt—he could have asked me anything, or at least warned me about how it really felt to pay for every word. Maybe that’s what he was trying to do. That was our last conversation.

I raced to where he had jumped, then stopped myself short. I couldn’t look down. I shut my eyes tight. The leaden thump, screeching tires and clatter of twisted metal had spared me nothing. I reeled back and doubled over. What did he just do?

A shattering wail filled the air anyway—Beecher’s name as a question. My eyes stung with tears, burning the fresh overlays in my eyes. It took me a second to realize I wasn’t the one screaming. It was Saretha.

I let nothing escape, not a scream, not a gasp, not a breath of air. I had stopped breathing, like it wouldn’t be real until I drew breath.

The howling stopped. Saretha’s Cuff buzzed.

Her shriek was legally considered a primitive call for comfort, aid and/or sympathy. The charge was 99¢ per second. Mrs. Harris twisted a bony, aggrieved finger in her ear and shook her head. She picked up my left arm and looked at my Cuff in disgust, but then her sharp, disapproving face broke into a ghoulish smile.

“Speth,” she said, wide blue eyes piercing me, “there may be hope for you yet!”

There was no concern for Beecher in her. She exhibited no revulsion. She was simply pleased I had not made a sound.

I swallowed. I was breathing again. Long, panicked breaths passed in and out.

From below, an intense, white, molten light flickered. The NanoLion™ battery in Beecher’s Cuff had ruptured. And then I knew that he was truly gone.

Saretha looked at Mrs. Harris, wild-eyed. Mrs. Harris put on a look of concern and patted her shoulder three times, did the math on what it cost and calculated Saretha warranted two final pats. The government didn’t cover Mrs. Harris’s gestures. She had once quoted a statute to us about how gestures were an inexact means of communication.

“Personally, I find them coarse,” she had told us. “A poor use of funds.”

I could not look at the woman. I stared blankly up over the bridge’s rail, to the expanse where cars were slowing in the distance, backed up by the accident. Cars began to honk at the delay, a dollar per honk, even though the bright white glow of the ruptured battery told them there was nothing anyone could do.

They hated us, those wealthy people, driving the ring for pleasure. Beecher, whom I’d cared for—maybe not the way he’d wanted, and not as much as he’d cared for or needed me—he was dead, and all they felt was irritation at the inconvenience.

Around me, there were other noises. My party filled with gasps and cries, then trailed off into a timorous murmur.

Timorous, I wanted to say, but I did not speak it.

Cuffs buzzed like an insect swarm. Sam came running out of the crowd, his mouth open, his round, usually playful face squinting in confusion.

“Why?” he asked in a rasp, looking over the edge at a scene I could not bring myself to witness. How could I answer?

I pulled him back from the edge. I wanted to tell him what I knew, but it was too late. I looked at my Cuff. The clock had run out. I pinched my fingers closed and ran them across my mouth. The sign of the zippered lips was a rare gesture still in the public domain. It was meant to allow people without means a method to communicate their lowly state, so Affluents wouldn’t have to waste their time. I wasn’t really supposed to use it with people who weren’t wealthy.

Mrs. Harris winced. “This isn’t the proper circumstance.” Her tone was somewhere between compassionate and annoyed.

“What else is she supposed to do?” Sam asked, his face red with rising anger.

Mrs. Harris put a hand on Sam’s chest to settle him down. He batted it away.

“She is supposed to read her speech and have her party,” Mrs. Harris said, as if nothing else was possible.

“Mom doesn’t approve of that gesture,” Saretha said, a step behind, waving her hand vaguely in front of her lips.

Our mother felt like it was groveling. She used the word supplication, which cost $32 that day. Mom said the only reason the zippered lips gesture was free was so we could humiliate ourselves. I had never seen her do it, not even when we were broke, not even when she was supposed to. I suddenly felt like I had let her down.

I wanted to put a hand on Sam’s shoulder, but Mrs. Harris had warned me about comforting gestures. I bit the knuckle of my cuffed hand instead.

A low, strained chatter resounded from Falxo Park, first from the younger kids, then from everyone else, as they tried to work out who had jumped and why. I thought of Beecher, and I felt airless.

* * *

Mrs. Harris led me to the edge of the stage. Ads crawled blithely along the city wall behind, a blur to my wet eyes.

“The Placers did a fine job,” she said, gesturing to my product tables. Product Placers had slipped into the park and set up an array of snacks and product samples. I had truly been looking forward to seeing what they brought, but now I felt disgusted looking at it all.

Mrs. Harris took a Keene Squire-Lace™ Chip—an elegant, intricately printed, crisped potato disk with my name and the number 15 laser-etched into the center. The Placers had left bowlfuls of them.

Mrs. Harris popped the chip in her mouth. As she chewed, she pretended to be upset.

“No Huny®,” she commented, looking around with a wrinkled nose. Huny® was Saretha’s Brand. I didn’t expect they would be my Brand—usually it’s your sponsor—but it was a little unusual they hadn’t put out a few packets.

“Well,” Mrs. Harris said, “I guess you should go ahead and read your speech.” She wiped her hands clean of the chip’s Flavor Dust™.

My body shivered. I felt weak. Maybe she was right. I had my contract to think of. If I broke it, there was no telling what my sponsor might do. No one was paying attention. Maybe I could read it quick and get it over with.

Sirens wailed in the distance. A news dropter appeared out of nowhere and hovered over the highway, where Beecher and the mangled cars were splayed. Then another dropter appeared, then more. They jockeyed for position and, failing to find a good spot to film the body, they spread out to the crowd and then to me.

“She can’t make a statement,” Mrs. Harris said, shooing them away while smirking at the attention. She lifted my hand to show them. The beautiful paper of my speech was distressed—creased and wrinkled from the tension of my grip. Mrs. Harris clucked and moved my thumb. “Let them see the Keene logo,” she whispered, even though I wasn’t a Facer.

“You do know someone’s dead, right?” Sam muttered. Mrs. Harris’s face twisted into what she thought was an appropriate expression of concern.

Saretha gently pulled Sam back, and every lens turned to her.

On the highway, a dark line of cars threaded through the clot of traffic. The other vehicles parted to let the Lawyers through. They arced around us, taking the long curve up the exit to the green. News, police and cleanup crews trailed them, ready to deal with the wreckage Beecher had wrought.

A distinctive Ebony Meiboch™ Triumph snaked its way to the front. Everyone knew that car, and they all gave it a wide berth. The Law Firm of Butchers & Rog had arrived.

 SILENCE: $2.99

Butchers & Rog was the city’s most prestigious firm. Silas Rog himself had drafted countless pieces of legislation for the city, and some, it was said, for the entire nation. It was hard to know how powerful he was, because one piece of his legislation barred what he designated “undesirable news and information from outside the city.” Other people said he ran the city, though Rog himself denied it.

I was nine years old when Butchers & Rog delivered a bright yellow envelope to our apartment door. My father peeled the thing open and dropped a thin, torn slip of yellow to the ground. Sam tried to keep it. He was too young then to know you need a license to keep paper. The Paralegal slid it out of his hand, then held out his Cuff for my father to plead. My parents never read the terms. There was little choice but to agree. No one could disprove an ancestral download. Fighting would only cost more money. Silas Rog never lost. My father tapped AGREE with a hard knuckle, my mother with a trembling thumb. We had seven days with my parents while they set affairs in order and packed the few possessions they were allowed. My father tried to give us what advice he could, with what words he could afford. My mother said nothing; she didn’t want the Rights Holders to make another cent.

I wanted to know what song was so important that our parents had to leave because of it, but Saretha said that was childish; we had to take responsibility for what our family had done.

Within just a few months, the same thing happened to Nancee. Her parents were plunged into debt by a similar discovery: her great-grandparents had once been in possession of a silvery, rainbow-colored disc that was said to contain twelve beautiful pieces of music sung by insects. They had smashed it to pieces long before Nancee’s parents were born, hoping to avoid trouble, but trouble found her family anyway.

There weren’t many kids at my party who hadn’t been affected by the National Inherited Debt Act, and its Historical Reparations Agency. Night and day, algorithms scoured every piece of data the Rights Holders could scrape up. Mrs. Harris was guardian to at least a half-dozen of my closest friends, Nancee included. We usually steered well clear of her, as best we could.

My Last Day celebration meant Mrs. Harris was all mine for the day. They would be spared.

Mrs. Harris took me by the shoulders with her strong little hands and made sure I was facing the glossy black Butchers & Rog Meiboch™ Triumph.

The Lawyer began to speak almost as soon as the driver had his door open. He knew he had everyone’s attention. Sam glared like he was the devil himself. The Lawyer kept talking until he reached me.

“On behalf of Butchers & Rog, and senior partner Silas Rog, Esquire, I, Attorney Derrick Finster, Esquire, advise the party hereforth provisionally referred to as the Provisionally Counseled Party, that you, Speth Jime, the Provisionally Counseled Party, may reasonably anticipate compensatory damages should you, Speth Jime, the Provisionally Counseled Party, choose to engage the services of Butchers & Rog and its Attorneys thereof against the actions of one Beecher Bartholomew Stokes, alleged Jumper.”

Finster jerked a thumb back to where the road was being cleared and smiled. My stomach turned. I knew enough Legalese to understand he was offering to sue Beecher Stokes and his family on my behalf, but the cold-blooded, litigious sound of his words made me recoil.

I didn’t see how it would work. Who was there to sue? Beecher’s grandmother? What would they do with her? She was so old, it wasn’t even worth it for Debt Services to take her.

“Silas Rog himself has taken an interest,” Finster added, polishing a legal medal with a pinky. He was tall and square-faced and wore a broad chest full of legal medals on his clean, perfectly cut charcoal-gray suit. His eyes were covered by matte sunglasses, gray and pebbled, which gave him a disturbingly eyeless appearance.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Harris groveled. It wasn’t her place to thank him, and I didn’t share her awe.

Finster stood before me politely, letting me think.

Traffic on the road began moving again. Beecher’s body had been cleared, and the road scrubbed of him. The thought of it made me sick. The speeding cars began to roar in the distance.

Finster tallied some costs on his Cuff and licked his lips. His Ebony Meiboch™ Triumph was parked askew on the sidewalk, its driver waiting expressionless for his return. Lined up behind him were other Lawyers, eyeing my guests, waiting to see what bones they might pick. Finster continued.

“Our preliminary, and by no means complete or binding, estimates suggest compensation should be sufficient to abrogate your existing family debt and thus relinquish all claims, public and private, against your assets, material and otherwise, including, but not limited to, time, labor and servitude imposed upon those members of your household in debt bondage.”

I worked out what he said, and my heart leapt with hope.

“Our parents could go free?” Saretha asked.

Finster’s face broke into an eager, gap-mouthed smile. He nodded reassuringly. “All you need to do is agree,” he said. He held out his Cuff for me to tap AGREE.

Was it really possible that my parents’ servitude could finally be over? Was a simple tap all it would take to bring them home?

Mrs. Harris blinked, and her brain tried to work out what this would mean for her.

“She hasn’t read her speech,” she said quickly. Her face was bright red. “She does have a contract.” She could not look Finster in the eyes. Finster cleared his throat and smiled, like we had passed some test. He lowered his Cuff and looked down at me.

“Butchers & Rog recognizes your preexisting obligation to read, as your first and primary paid words, the sanctioned a priori speech approved by the entities of Keene Inc. and its subsidiaries, including but not limited to those endorsements and declarations of intent to purchase products and services from your guarantor. I hereby defer communication concerning Lawsuits and damages levied against Beecher Stokes, his corpse, his family and/or his assigns until such time as the allegedly aggrieved Provisionally Counseled Party, Speth Jime, has fulfilled her preexisting obligation of allocution of said speech, and can freely affirm her intention to retain Butchers & Rog for legal representation pursuant to actions against Beecher Stokes, his corpse, his family and/or his assigns.”

“The hell you say?” Sam asked.

“He is agreeing,” Mrs. Harris explained calmly, “to allow Speth to read her speech before giving a response.” She smiled like this was a great favor.

How generous, I thought.

“How generous,” Sam said flatly. I loved Sam.

“You may read your speech,” Finster said to me, waving a magnanimous arm toward the microphone. He took a step back to give me space.

“Thank you,” Saretha mouthed to him. Her Cuff buzzed with the fee, plus a 15 percent surcharge for speaking without sound.

The crowd of partygoers watched, wide-eyed. Even the younger kids were silent. I stepped to the podium. The Ads behind my celebration muted. I lowered my head and covered my eyes. Nothing made sense. Why would Silas Rog care? If I could have our parents back, surely it meant a worse fate for someone else.

Cars roared nonstop on the road where Beecher had been. They had returned to full speed, as if nothing had happened. On the bridge, two police officers were pointing, marking the trajectory where Beecher had leapt. Between them was a small, bent woman in a rough long-sleeved public domain dress: Beecher’s grandmother. Her misery was apparent, even at a distance. What would become of her? Dropters buzzed around her like a cloud of flies, small, dark lenses flicking between Beecher’s grandmother, Finster, the traffic and me. We would surely make the news tonight.

The police pointed at me. Did they tell her he’d kissed me? She looked bereft. I suddenly felt embarrassed to be onstage. Did she think it would be wrong for me to continue?

“Read your speech,” Mrs. Harris said.

Saretha nodded. Her Cuff buzzed in the eerie quiet. Sam looked away, arms crossed, eyes blinking.

My breathing grew fast and labored, like I couldn’t get enough air. How could I read the speech? How could I accept Butchers & Rog’s terms?

How could I refuse?

Finster stood placidly by. He knew exactly how everything would play out. I didn’t have any real options. I had to read the speech. I had to tap AGREE. I had to do what everyone expected. Silas Rog would sue Beecher’s grandmother or Beecher’s mangled body, or whatever his vile plan was, and he would grow richer from it. In the bargain, I would get our parents back.

The small quaint buildings on either side of the park seemed to close me in. I saw worry on faces in the crowd. Norflo Juarze met my eyes and shouted, “Feliz Quinceañera!” $25.99 spent on Spanish words he couldn’t afford. Sera Croate smirked, her eyebrows raised. I was taking too long to speak. She wanted me to fail, of course. Your friends come to your Last Day, but so do your enemies.

I thought I might throw up, and then thought, if I did, at least something would come out of my mouth. Sam would have laughed if he heard that thought. He would have understood. I wanted to show him with my eyes that everything would be okay, but instead, I started crying.

Beecher’s grandmother was watching from the bridge, stunned and expressionless. I wish she had been angry, or sneered. I wish she had walked away. I wish she had told me it was okay. The speech in my hand had no words of comfort or mention of Beecher. It was nothing more than typical generic nonsense about consumer responsibility, Moon Mints™, Buonicon Tea™ and Keene’s Kelp Gum™ (all owned by Keene Inc.).

I held the speech up. I couldn’t say how I felt about it. I wasn’t allowed to speak other words. Suddenly, a tide of rage coursed through me. My hands seemed to burn. I crumpled the speech into a ball. I threw it as hard as I could toward the highway. It fell uselessly into the astonished crowd, not even a quarter as far as I’d imagined it would go. Gasps rose all around. Mrs. Harris actually started to cry. The news dropters raced to film it like a pack of dogs chasing a bone. They got their shot and turned back to me.

Everyone knew what came next. I would be one of those few pathetic kids you see on the news who squeak out a few words of protest before being carted off. Finster waited for it, smiling, as though he expected me to break contract. It would ruin me. It would ruin my family, and for what? Whatever I might say would change nothing. He eyed Saretha and smiled a little more.

On the bridge, Beecher’s grandmother didn’t move, or acknowledge that I had done anything. She stared blankly toward my stage, flanked by two gaping police officers.

Then, suddenly, another option blossomed in my mind. I seized it, because it was a choice—my choice—and one I’d never heard anyone suggest or seen anyone do. I put a shaking thumb and finger to the corner of my mouth and drew my hand slowly across. I made the sign of the zippered lips, and I silently vowed I would never speak again.

[two-friends-read-hp]

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

CHAPTER ELEVEN: The Duelling Club

Aww poor Harry, he was all excited to meet his friends to tell them the juicy deets and he thinks they don’t care about him because he can’t find em

He earned fifty points yesterday? Besides for winning the match I mean… a match for which he should’ve won them a hundred and fifty points, if that’s what Percy was talking about. Maybe they gave Harry an extra fifty points because he got severely injured by a rogue bludger that they should’ve cancelled the match for, to figure out who was behind it.

Oh yeah they’re in the girl’s bathroom

Ok they don’t know how long ago the Chamber was opened, because if they did then they’d know that it doesn’t make sense, unless Lucius Malfoy is like, over sixty years old, which I highly doubt

‘...If he doesn’t stop trying to save your life, he’s going to kill you.’

Yeah the poor first-years are going to be traumatised for their entire school career probably

It honestly never occurred to me how many times Jo’s mentioned Ginny’s behaviour in here, it’s so obvious now lol

It’s also interesting how everyone’s able to write off her misery by making another connection to the victim, like how she was a ‘cat-lover’ and that’s why she was sad about Mrs. Norris, or the fact that she sat next to Colin Creevey in Charms, instead of straight up assuming that she’s just guilty of both the crimes

I supposed Ginny would be the most traumatised by this

Lol Fred and George, how is jumping out at Ginny from behind statues, covered in fur or boils, going to cheer her up, you idiots

Did you hear that guys? Ginny’s having nightmares now

Aw Neville, you aren’t almost a Squib, you just haven’t realised your potential yet because you don’t believe in yourself yet… wait until fifth and seventh year when you find your courage and you get a wand that actually works for you, respectively

Wow they’re all giving up their Christmases because they think that Malfoy staying behind is suspicious. Don’t they realise that not a lot of people are going to be staying back, probably even more so for the muggle-borns because of the Chamber of Secrets? So he wouldn’t be able to attack anyone

I guess they would all have time to be able to carry out their plan during the Christmas holidays, so I will accept that as a better reason to stay

‘Harry privately felt he’d rather face Slytherin’s legendary monster than have Snape catch him robbing his office.’ Guess what, I have news for you Harry

Aw Hermione is potentially sacrificing her clean record for this polyjuice plan

Good God he straight up threw a firework into someone’s cauldron, I thought he was just going to knock over someone’s cauldron accidentally or something, cause a domino-effect-type scenario so that no evidence gets left behind

So in addition to being a good seeker, Harry could also be a chaser, good

I guess this did the trick, there was way more confusion

Lol, for once in his life, Snape was right about Harry being responsible, but alas, there is no proof, and there were no witnesses, except for Ron and Hermione of course

If Harry had known that Lockhart would be there, he probably wouldn’t have been ‘all for it’

Lockhart is still going to duel Snape, despite Snape’s dangerous expression, because he’s an idiot, Harry

Hey, he may be an idiot, but he’s still a human who could get hurt. I get that he got himself into this mess, but still.

I mean, when isn’t Snape looking murderous

Snape had mercy with Ron by partnering him up with Seamus, but Harry and Hermione weren’t so lucky

So finally we get to see Harry and Malfoy duel

Also don’t be rude to Millicent, Harry. Don’t judge people by their looks.

I like how ‘everything seemed to be working’ was good enough for Harry to retaliate after being hit

What did Malfoy hit Harry with? Was it expelliarmus? He didn’t say anything though… unless they just didn’t mention what he said for some reason

I mean, what did these teachers think was going to happen? I get that Snape is sadistic and knew everyone would hurt each other, and I suppose I shouldn’t expect Lockhart to have any critical thinking skills, so I suppose there’s nothing left to be said lol

“‘Scared?’... ... ‘You wish.’” Iconic.

Also “‘Just do what I did Harry!’ ‘What, Drop my wand?’”

When is Lockhart ever listening

Imagine what Snape’s thinking, he’s like what the hell is wrong with Lily Potter’s son and what the hell are we going to do about it

“‘A boa constrictor told you it had never seen Brazil?’ Ron repeated faintly.” LOL

I mean, technically, we know that Voldemort and Harry are kind of related because they each had gifts from the Peverell brothers, the stone and the cloak that were definitely passed down generation to generation, so if Voldemort was once related to Slytherin, then Harry was also probably once related to Slytherin, which is wild because Harry’s family is probably from a long line of Gryffindors… I suppose you don’t have to have everyone in the family be in the same house too, like Sirius and his family

Wow this is a pretty long chapter

Oooh I like this part, he overhears the Hufflepuffs talking about him

‘...hidden in the Invisibility section.’ lol I never noticed that before, so unnecessary but I love it, good one

Oh Ernie, how could Harry possibly be a dark wizard? He’s twelve! He barely knows anything! Like you! Also, you’re a child and I forget you don’t realise things sometimes, so, carry on I guess?

Yes Ernie, a literal baby, could have the capacity to be a dark wizard. I know, I know. He’s a child. STILL.

I like that Harry didn’t bother to confront them when he stepped out, he confirmed their worst fears instead

HOW DO YOU GIVE A MANDRAKE DRAUGHT TO A GHOST? HOW DID THEY DO IT? WHY HAVE I NEVER THOUGHT OF THIS BEFORE?

ALSO I loooooove this scene, he stumbles upon Justin’s petrified body and is so freaked out, but also what could possibly do that to something that’s already dead? The plot thickens!

Oh he noticed the spiders too

PEEVES WAS RIGHT IN THE NEXT ROOM WHEN THIS HAPPENED

I like that Harry’s first thought was to run, understandably, but then he realised he had to get help… this is the one of a few instances we see Harry actually frozen in panic

Does Dumbledore actually live in his office?

Also I wonder what McGonagall thinks of Harry in this moment. Last year she caught him defeating a troll, walking around the castle at night, trying to monitor the forbidden third floor room after they’d told her they knew about the thing that no student was supposed to know about and then she probably heard that he’d succeeded in stopping Voldemort right under her nose. This year he flew a car to the school, was caught when the first attack happened, was connected to the second attack, and now there’s been another attack and he’s here again. She’s caught him getting into so much trouble and it’s only been a year and a half.

Chapter 12