#I actually started working on an 18th century dress last year but still have barely finished the underdress rip

[lieutenantselnia]

How long do you want your title to be? Historical non-fiction: y e s

Last year I actually started making a proper list of films, series etc that I want to watch - something I've been wanting to do for a long time but never did. That probably caused me to forget about things more than once😂

I mainly started it for historical movies at first, because my history phase that I had when I was about 14 or 15 came back big time, and there's been some things I've wanted to watch since then already but still didn't! I knew about Downfall since like 2017 or so but didn't watch the full movie until last year😅 I'm having a lot of fun with it though since I've of course grown and developed through these past few years and have now more knowledge in general, more experience on how to do research and also a more reflective and mature thinking. Of course not all historic/history-inspired media is accurate (and I don't think it has to be for every purpose, like Hogan's Heroes is still incredibly funny even if the timeline doesn't always makes sense or ranks and uniforms don't match up). But I think it can be a great starting point for getting interested in a specific person or event and then delving into more detailed research about it.

I've also added some newer ones though that I didn't know about back then, or that didn't even exist yet. The list is really a great help for organising my brain. I've also started to add in things not related to history though (like Arcane - I still haven't watched season 2 rip - or The Dragon Prince). I wasn't sure if I should make a separate list for them but at least for now I just threw everything together in one. It helps a lot especially for series because I try to always write down which season and episode I'm at (I just didn't include that column in the screenshot) because sometimes I get distracted by something else and don't continue for a while and then forget where I was at😭

This was just a bit of random babbling but like this is kinda what I've been up to. I haven't actually continued on that many things in a while because I was too stressed with university, but I hope to continue soon. Also if you have more recommendations you're welcome to let me know👀 I'm currently mostly interested in the World Wars (there's so much to be learned about both but I think I really want to broaden my knowledge on WWI), the Weimar Republic/interwar period in general (also Austrian interwar history of course but to be honest I don't know if there's actually ANY movies on that), but also pre-WWI Austria-Hungary and the German Empire and like generally the 18th/19th/20th century (other countries too of course, but with these two I have many historical sites basically in front of my door, and as a native speaker a lot of primary sources are also relatively easy accessible to me). There is so much interesting stuff in history as a whole (I love watching historical documentaries about like any time period or country, there's always something fascinating to learn), these are just the ones I'm most focused on at the moment and want to study in a bit more detail!

[thexfridax]

Translated interview with Adèle Haenel, heroine of “Portrait of a Lady on Fire”

Performing in order to richly live the now

Tomoko Ogawa, in: Ginza Mag, 3rd of December 2020 Translation by Rose @rosedelosvientos​ 🙏🏾

Set in 18th-century France, the daughter of an aristocrat who refuses marriage and a female painter who makes her portrait  - two people of different social status - meet and fall in an unforgettable love that will last for a lifetime.

In the film “Portrait of a Lady on Fire”, Héloïse, an aristocrat, is played by Adèle Haenel, who, as an actress, always thinks, acts and decides constantly for herself. Late last year, she filed a complaint against the director for sexual abuse during/after her first film debut 18 years ago. At the César Awards, she protested and walked out after Polanski won Best Director, which shook the world of French cinema and is also still fresh from memory.

This film is also the work of Céline Sciamma, the director of Water Lilies, in which Adèle Haenel also appeared. Adèle recounts her thoughts about her current film, and director Sciamma’s “Female Gaze”, who, for many years was also her partner in her private life.

Q: Last year, “Portrait of a Lady on Fire” opened and was screened in Europe, and won Best Screenplay at the 72nd Cannes Film Festival. A year and a half has passed since then. Do you feel the magnitude of this work’s influence on women empowerment?

A: If put this way, people might think that it may be too subjective, but I think that not only this film, but Céline Sciamma’s works have constantly played a role in empowering women. But, it was understood that, surely, there’s also a way - that it’s possible to show the worldview of equal love between women from a different perspective, in a history where there are a lot of films that contained an element of women being controlled unilaterally from men’s point of view.

Q: Not dominance, but the joy of collaborating and creating something with someone, and the love that continues to grow is depicted in this film. What do you think sets it apart from many other films that have depicted love until now?

A: Until now, love has been depicted in ways such as controlling the other person, and in a sensual manner, but in this film, the nature of love is kinda different, I guess. The two women who happen to be in that place - while interacting extemporaneously using language that is characteristic of themselves and figuring each other out - are building up their relationship. While it’s fictional without altering historical facts, it’s a proposal that’s entirely different from what love looks like until now. I think that it’s a film that brings with it a new perspective.

Q: It’s not a one-sided view from the painter’s perspective where the person whose portrait is being painted is the “muse”, but rather of both sides looking at each other, and the connection of being seen is depicted. I think that you’ve also been called a “muse” up to this point, but during those times, do you remember how you felt then?

A: The word “muse” is used against actresses as a stereotype, and there were people who did say that to me that but, even if I were called a “muse”, I’ve come to be aware of not taking that position that’s being asked. That’s because even if it’s the director who’s directing, ultimately it’s up to the actors how they perform something while working together with different actors. So, you’re supposed to actively consider how you build up the character relationships artistically, politically, all aspects. In the first place, it’s not acceptable that in most films it’s the men looking, and the women being looked at, so even for things that aren’t visible on the surface, I constantly think and make decisions for myself.

Q: Tell us about the charm of Céline Sciamma as a director.  

A: She has a very clear perspective, doesn’t she? She’s a person who can raise all sorts of questions and kinda make you rethink various ideas, not about how reality is, simply, but beyond those ideas that are based on the reality that there is. She’s also a visionary, and she understands the wonder of fiction, and has philosophical ideas.

Q: In this film, you were also able to apply the relationship of trust that you’ve built with your partner, at the time, through the course of many years.

A: That’s right. I’ve been friends with her for as long as 15 years, and of course she was also my partner, and that’s because I’ve been collaborating artistically for many years. This time,  in the script, too, the character of Héloïse was written with me in mind. So since we’ve already built that trust with each other, there was no need to talk about every little thing, like, “I’m thinking of doing it this way”.

Q: This film has a mostly female staff, such as director Céline Sciamma, cinematographer Claire Mathon, Hélène Delmaire, the female artist who carried out the painting on-screen, etc. What do you think about its significance?

A: From the very start, this film’s intent  - especially since the relationship between women hasn’t really been presented as something very important - is to focus the spotlight on women across history who weren’t written about. This time, an axis (focal point) has been put together by the film crew for the women who properly understand that importance, so there’s a part  where the production did really well, I think.

Q: Through this film, is there anything that you discovered about yourself?

A: I don’t think in a way like, that there was a discovery or change just because of the role that I played. Basically, I’m the type of person who keeps moving and doesn’t stand still, who constantly asks and answers my own questions, and raises issues. Whichever work it is, I perceive them in one of those processes.

Q: I see. In the midst of constant movement, what is your primary motivation as an actor?

A: Meeting with people with whom I can collaborate with is a big one. Whenever I work with new people, I’m made to realize that there’s also such a different way of depicting (t/n: lit. “drawing”) the world. That there is a way to richly live the now, that is in film and art in general. That also motivates me.

Q: With all this motivation that’s hitherto been given to you by the director, do you think that it’s because you both share a common perspective?

A: Since I take the responsibility myself when I perform, there’s no such thing as being influenced by the director. I’m a person who doesn’t really care (t/n: I’ve a feeling ‘give a shit’ is what she really wanted to say here) about hierarchy, and the people whom I can really respect are those persuasive people who have a clear perspective, and, within the silence, can properly show what they want to talk about. Directors who give hints to the actors on how they can arrive at the reality that they’re thinking they want to depict more. I’m thinking that actors don’t express form, rather, their role is to explore the expounding of their own vocabulary. So a person who has a clear vision of what they want, and what they want to draw is amazing, in my opinion.  

Q: Finally, all the handmade dresses have an impression that they’re being fastened thickly and heavily, but how do you think the costumes influence your acting?

A: When I wear the costumes, I feel like a pilot in the Star Wars series (laughs), so as we handle the costumes that we’re given, I really think about how I’m going to move while in it, you know? The one we had was a basic dress, but at first there was a feeling of nervousness, a tense kind of stiffness. But as the story went on, I try to be aware that the movements of the dress will become a bit softer along with my facial expressions. Even if it’s the same costume, I performed while feeling that change of heart.

“Portrait of a Lady on Fire” Original Title:  Portrait de la jeune fille en feu Director: Céline Sciamma Cast: Noémie Merlant, Adèle Haenel, Luana Bajrami, Valeria Golino Music: Jean-Baptiste de Laubier Distribution: GAGA 2019/France/122 mins./Colour/Vista/5.1 Digital Channel Dec. 4, 2020, TOHO Cinema Chanter, Bunkamura Le Cinéma Nationwide Screening © Lilies Films https://gaga.ne.jp/portrait/

Profile Adèle Haenel Born in January 1, 1989 in Paris, France. Attended theater classes at 13 years old. In 2002, debuted as the heroine Chloe in Les Diables. In 2007, her name became more well-known after being nominated for Most Promising Actress at the César Awards. Furthermore, she was also nominated for her role in House of Tolerance (2011), and for Suzanne (2013), achieved Best Supporting Actress, and won Best Actress for Love at First Sight (2014) – becoming one of the actresses representing the world of French cinema both in name and substance. Her major appearances also include The Unknown Girl (2016) and Bloom of Yesterday (2016), among others.

***

Translated excerpt from ’“Portrait of a Lady on Fire” - Approaching the True Face* of Adèle Haenel’

Atsuko Tatsuta, in: Madame Figaro Japan, 4th of December 2020 Translation by Rose @rosedelosvientos 💜

(*t/n: may also mean the 'true nature’ of AH. Literally it means bare face with no make-up.)

“A woman who has an adventurous spirit, while living under constraints.”

Interviewer: Marianne and Héloïse are depicted as contrasting characters, aren’t they? From the outset, when the canvas falls from the boat, Marianne jumps into the ocean in order to retrieve it. Héloïse, which you performed, has never gone into the sea despite living in the island. How did you interpret the contrast between this free and conservative way of living?

Adèle Haenel: Marianne and Héloïse were indeed depicted contrastingly. Not just marriage, but Héloïse is a person who’s lived within various restrictions. But, as the story progresses,  you’ll understand that actually she’s a character who is highly curious, and also has an adventurous spirit. People tend to think that she’s dull and lacks vigour, but it’s soon understood that up to this point, in reality, her actions are coming from a place of being shackled. Playing the transformation of such a character was very interesting.

[smp-live]

Man in the (Shattered) Mirror Ch. 4

AO3   First   Prev   Next

No TWs for this chapter!

Techno wasn’t too confident in this whole “resurrection” idea.

The writings they were basing themselves on were just so ancient, and vague, that it was hard to have faith in them to be accurate. And Techno, ever the pragmatic, wasn’t too fond of the idea of getting his hopes up over nothing. He’d been burned before, too many times to count.

But Phil had latched onto the idea like a lifeline, and Techno could see how it seemed to reinvigorate him. Wilbur’s death had crushed him, seemingly aged him 50 years, and he gained them all back in an instant at the prospect of being able to see his son again. Techno didn’t have the heart to crush his hopes.

Neither of them were any good at emotions, anyways, Techno being unwilling to express them and Phil dancing around the topic like he did Techno’s sword when they sparred. So he stayed silent, brought Phil meals as he sat engrossed in whatever scripture he was reading, and listened to him ramble on about ideas and theories. Sent him off with a wave and a small smile earlier this morning, despite his own doubts.

They should be going through with it right about now, he mused, glancing away from the historical text he was reading - based on facts and dates, thank you very much - and to the clock. Just past four p.m.

He should go and grab lunch; he hadn’t eaten yet today. The worn hardwood stairs creaked softly as he padded downstairs with the grace of a man who knew exactly where his body started and ended. No use sitting around wondering what was happening in a country miles away. It’s not like he would find out until Phil came back.

So, the last person he was expecting to see seated at his kitchen table was Wilbur.

He stared at Techno like a deer caught in the headlights, doe-brown eyes wide and startled. Skin peachy and flushed, dressed in that tacky 18th-century revolutionary outfit he’d seen hanging on the wall of Tommy’s room in Pogtopia, except this one wasn’t torn and bloody. No, it was crisply ironed, brass buttons gleaming in the sunlight that streamed through the blinds.

“Technoblade?” he asked, shocked, sitting ramrod straight in his chair.

“Wilbur?” Well, he supposed this answered his question about whether the resurrection had worked. Although it didn’t explain the uniform. Or why Wilbur was in the Arctic and not with the rest, in L’Manburg.

“What the fuck are you doing here? No wait,” Wilbur said, scrambling up from his chair and to the window, “where’s here?” He frowned at his surroundings, then whirled on Techno. “This isn’t L’Manberg.”

“No, it-”

“Where’d you take me?” Wilbur accused, hand twitching to his belt for a sword as he stepped towards Techno. He barely faltered when it came up empty. Techno's lips twitched into a quick smile barely tinged with pride. He’d taught him well. “You working with Dream?”

“Nah.” He reconsidered. “Or, wait-”

That was apparently the wrong answer, because Wilbur’s face contorted in rage as he pressed up to Techno. They were the same height, he mused idly, meeting his godson’s smoldering eyes easily. Despite his height and his passion, he wasn’t worried. He could take Wilbur in a fight - he’d done it a hundred times before, after all.

“Where,” Wilbur snarled, seemingly without that same sentiment, “the fuck. Are. The others. I swear, if you’ve touched a single hair on their heads, Blade-”

“Calm down, Wilbur,” Techno said, raising his hands placatingly. Wilbur’s eyes flickered to them then back to his face, squinting. “I haven’t done anything. You’re just a bit confused.”

“I-“

Techno ignored his indignant interjection. “Let’s sit, alright?” he proposed, gesturing to the table. “We can talk. Like civil people.”

Wilbur glowered, but turned and stalked to take his seat. Techno followed, and they simply sat for a few moments, stewing in an awkward silence.

Wilbur looked better than he had, when he’d last seen him. Exhausted, yes, but a more recent, surface-level tiredness, not one that had sunk its way deep into his bones. His hands were calloused, but from guitar playing and gardening rather than weapons.

“Tea?” Techno offered.

“No,” Wilbur snapped. Welp, that was his only conversation starter. What were you supposed to say when your newly-resurrected godson appeared in your kitchen? Scratch that - when he appeared to be from over a year in the past, before he had snapped and destroyed everything he’d worked for?

Luckily for the both of them, Wilbur sighed and sank his head into his hands, rubbing at his temples.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to snap - I... I’ve just been stressed, lately. With the revolution, and all.”

Techno raised an eyebrow at that. “What revolution?” Wilbur looked at him like he was dumb.

“L’Manberg? Didn’t Phil tell you? Or Dream?” he added with a sneer, and that confirmed all of Techno’s suspicions. Gods, they had really somehow managed to bring back Wilbur from over a year ago. How did they even manage that?

“First off,” Techno started, “I’m not working with Dream. I just owe him a favour.” Wilbur opened his mouth to argue but quieted down at Techno’s raised hand in warning.

“Second...” Where did he even start with this? How exactly could he explain... everything that had happened concisely?

Before he could figure out his words, the door slammed open with a gust of wind and a swirl of snow. And in walked Phil, with a hand on his hat and a a bundle clutched in his other arm. Except - that wasn’t a bundle. It was a child, a sleeping child with an all-too familiar shock of brown hair resting on Phil’s shoulder.

Techno’s stomach clenched as he turned around from shutting the door and froze, eyes drifting from Techno himself to his son across from him.

“Phil?” Wilbur - the Wilbur at the table - squeaked, eyes wide in shock. “What are you doing here? Did you- You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Phil just stared at him for a few seconds before looking away to hang his hat. “Hey, Wil.”

“Phil?” Techno interjected, getting up. “What’s happening? Is that... Wilbur?”

“Wait- what the fuck?”

“Yeah,” Phil said, wings slumping. “Look- I’ll explain in a minute. Can you get Wil - this Wil - to bed?” he asked, turning to Techno while running a hand gently through the kid’s hair.

Techno rolled his eyes, (soft old man,) but made to take Wilbur from his father’s arms. The kid shifted as he was transferred from one grip to another, and Techno tried to shush him as he walked up the stairs, as softly as he could. He stayed quiet until he was laid in bed.

“Tec’no?” he mumbled, lifting his head and blinking at him blearily.

“Yeah, kiddo, it’s me. Now go back to sleep or your father’ll have my neck,” Techno said quietly back, tucking a blanket tightly around him - Wilbur didn’t sleep well otherwise. The kid didn’t respond, sinking back into slumber, and that was fine by him.

Now, time for answers.

As Techno padded back down the stairs, voices drifted up.

“What the fuck do you mean, it’s January?” Wilbur asked.

“I mean,” Phil answered calmly and there was a clattering of mugs, “technically you’re in the future. Not for us, but for you.”

“About a year and a half,” Techno added as he walked into the room. Both father and son turned to look at him, exhaustion on Phil’s face and distress on Wilbur’s.

“A year and a half?” he asked, so broken and scared. Then, strengthening himself up from the moment of vulnerability, “did we win? The war, I mean.”

“Yes,” Phil said, sitting down and pushing a mug of steaming tea in front of Wilbur and one for Techno, “you did.” Wilbur’s ecstatic grin was enough to make Techno take a sip of his tea to hide his own smile. His godson’s joy had always been contagious.

“We won? We won! That’s bloody fantastic!” He nearly leapt out of his chair in excitement. “Tell me- how was it? How long did it take? Can we go see - actually, scratch that - why are we not in L’Manberg now?”

“Wil, mate,” Phil started, then sighed, wings slumping down, “a- a lot happened between then and now, and...” He trailed off, unwilling to voice it. So Techno decided to make his life a little bit easier.

“You died,” he said simply.

“I- what?”

“You died.”

“All three times?”

“Mm-hm.” Techno nodded, taking another sip from his mug. Wilbur just gaped, speechless for once in his life at the news.

“We tried to resurrect you,” Phil said, finding his voice again. “It... kinda worked? I mean,” he gestured at the Wilbur across the table, “case in point. But... Ghostbur’s still around. And there’s not just you - the Wilbur upstairs came back, too, and,” his voice cracked as he locked eyes with Techno, “Wil right before he died.”

“Oh,” Techno said. That... wasn’t good. Not for the server, finally at peace with L’Manburg gone, and not for Phil.

Wilbur before he died had been a destructive force of chaos, uncaring of who or what he hurt as he spiraled. Sure, it had helped Techno, as their goals at the time had lined up, but now? He just wanted to be at peace in his home in the arctic. Farm a little, maybe read some books.

If he was back, and in that same state of mind, well... Techno shuddered to think of what he might do to that peace.

Wilbur - Wilbur across the table - frowned, eyes flitting from one to the other. “Care to explain?”

“I’d rather not,” Phil said, “Not right now. We have no reason to believe it’s only you three that came back, and I- I don’t want to have to explain everything more than once.”

Wilbur considered that for a few seconds, head tilted like he always did when he was deep in thought. “Fair enough.”

“Besides,” Phil continued, “I’d rather someone else explain. I don’t know the whole story. You were a bit sporadic in your letters, mate.”

Wilbur winced apologetically. “Sorry.”

“Eh,” Phil waved a hand around as if to brush it away, “it’s fine. Anyways, we agreed to meet at Eret’s castle tomorrow to discuss.”

“Wait - castle? Why does Eret have a castle?” Wilbur asked. “Isn’t he a part of L’Manberg?” Oh, this wasn’t good.

“Wil,” Phil started, sympathetic, then seemed to think better of it. “nevermind. For tomorrow.”

“For tomorrow,” Wilbur echoed. “Right.”

He looked lost, hands cupped around his steaming mug of tea that clouded up the brass buttons adorning his uniform, in much the same way his eyes clouded as they stared blankly at the cabinets. Lost as in his whole world had been uprooted in just a few instants.

Which was fair; this was a lot to take in, even for Techno, and he wasn’t the one who found himself in the future where he was supposedly dead.

“Alright,” he said, getting up with a clap of his hands. That was enough emotional conversation for today. “Wilbur, I have a book on historical politics you might be interested in? To distract yourself for now?”

That seemed to jolt his godson out of his state, the life returning to his eyes. “Y-yes, of course,” he stammered out, following Techno to his feet. “You know me so well, Blade.”

Techno rolled his eyes as he clapped Phil on the shoulder. “You’re welcome to come join us,” he told him. Phil just nodded tightly with a wan smile, hands gripping his mug. He wouldn’t be, then.

“Suit yourself,” he said, then led Wilbur upstairs to his room.

-

If someone were to ask Fundy how he was feeling on a scale of 1-10, he’d answer a solid two. Luckily for his pride, though, nobody cared about him enough to ask.

The root of the problem was, of course, Wilbur - when was it not? His father had been the cause of pretty much every bad thing in his life ever since he’d decided to start that Prime-forsaken country. Ever since he’d gone and offed himself on a diamond sword.

He kind of mostly wanted to avoid thinking about Wilbur entirely, if he was completely honest. But both Wilbur’s ghost and Phil wanted him to be resurrected, and so he found himself going along with it. He figured he could make sure his quote-unquote father came back, didn’t immediately ruin everything, and then fuck off and never think about him again.

Except, of course that’s not what happened.

No, of course Wilbur had to fuck up something as simple as coming back to life. He just had to somehow split into different versions of himself. Because of course.

And now, there was an all-too-familiar-looking shape huddled at the end of his docks, the one place he felt at home.

He was wearing a clean white tee with a familiar-looking black cardigan thrown overtop. His feet dangled just above the water, boots shucked onto the planks next to him. Fingers tapped out a rhythm at his side as he stared out over the horizon.

Fundy recognized the melody, of course he did. An old sea shanty his father had twisted into a lullaby he’d sang every night until Fundy protested with a whined, “I’m too old, dad, stop.” He sometimes still found himself humming it, though most of the words had slipped his mind over time, replaced with more important things such as swordfighting stances, cyphers, and how to make sure a drunk man didn’t die choking on his own vomit.

Gravel crunched under Fundy’s boot as he took an involuntary step forward. The tapping stopped. Wilbur slowly turned around, both freezing as they locked eyes.

“Fundy?” his father choked out with glistening eyes. Fundy sighed.

“Hi, Wil.”

“You’re- you’re so big!” Wilbur got to his feet, a beaming smile on his face, and stumbled towards Fundy. He wanted nothing more than to run, to scream get the fuck away from me, to collapse and cry into his father’s arms. Instead, he stayed stock still.

Wilbur took his face in his hands, cradling it gently as he always did. His hand was soft and warm, gentle calluses from hours spent holding a pen or a guitar instead of a sword. Fundy had to swallow down a lump in his throat; it had been easier to ignore how much he missed this when he wasn’t staring it in the face.

But he couldn’t have this, this softness with his once-family. He’d disowned Wilbur, and his ex-father had disowned him back. Had looked his son-in-no-more-than-blood in the eyes and said, with complete honesty, “I despise you.”

That wasn’t this Wilbur, though, so maybe he could allow himself to pretend, for a bit. This Wilbur looked younger. Face rounder, limbs ganglier, eyebags less deep. Stress lines and signs of early greying gone. Little details Fundy wouldn’t even have noticed had he not just seen an older version of him.

He pulled away suddenly, eyes burning with tears, and Wilbur let him go, a concerned expression on his face. Always so fucking concerned. Until it didn’t benefit him anymore.

“Fundy? What- what’s wrong?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Fuck off,” he muttered, rubbing furiously at his eyes with his sleeve. “’m fine.”

“You’re crying-”

“I said I’m fine.” Why wouldn’t he drop it?

“Son-”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Fundy snapped, and Wilbur took a shocked step back. “You lost the right to call me that a long time ago.”

“Fundy...” Wilbur stared at him, studying, clearly trying to piece together what he could’ve done from the look on his fox-face. Joke’s on him, he’d have to actually know Fundy in order to read him, and nobody bothered to care enough to get to that point. Wilbur of all people definitely didn’t. “What happened?”

"You died,” Fundy said bluntly. He sure as fuck wouldn’t try and soften the blow for his father. “We tried to resurrect you, and you fucked it up. Now, you’re here.” He waved his arm around them. “Welcome back, I guess.”

Wilbur gaped at him. “I- I died?” he asked, breathless.

Fundy nodded sharply. “Yup. Few months ago. Now, if you don’t mind me, I’ll be off.”

“Fundy, wait-” Frantic footsteps sounded on the dock behind him.

“Fuck off." Fundy kept stalking away.

“No, Fundy, please-”

“What?” He whirled around, snarling. “What do you want, old man?”

“Old man?” Wilbur paused, amused smile on his face. “Fundy, I’m barely nineteen.”

Fundy’s blood froze, (his father was the same age as him,) but he whirled back around and kept walking. “Not to me, you aren’t.”

“I don’t have anywhere to stay,” Wilbur all-but-whispered. Fundy didn’t even turn around, this time.

“Sucks to be you. Now stay the fuck away from me.”

[equisetumspn]

A Different Kind of Profound Bond

Dean is in that wonderful state between being asleep and awake. For once he feels like he’s had a good night’s sleep, not waking up from nightmares and horrible memories of people dying does wonders for the mood and your energy levels. He is still sleep soft and it’s warm in the bed. It seems to be even warmer on the other side of the bed, so Dean turns over and snuggles closer to the source of the warmth.

“Dean wake up,” the heat source says.

The voice is deep and very familiar, it feels safe. But it’s so insistent and Dean doesn’t want to do what it says, he wants to go back to sleep and see if he can find that blue color he saw in his dream again. He protests and tries to bury even closer to the warmth.

“I understand that you are comfortable, Dean, but you have to wake up. We need to fix this.”

Dean finally gives in and stirs, his face is half smushed into his pillow and half pressed against a body. A body in his bed? What? That can’t be right, he doesn’t bring anyone home to the bunker, that’s way too dangerous, and besides it’s been an eternity since someone caught his eye at a bar or anywhere else for that matter. Dean lifts his head. Cas. That’s why the voice was so familiar even though he was basically still asleep. He groans and lets his head fall back down on the pillow, forcing himself to move away from Cas. Just a little bit, he doesn’t seem to be able to go very far away from Cas.

“Cas. Why the hell are you in my bed?”

“My apologies Dean, but I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? How can you not know what you’re doing here?”

“That’s not what you asked. I know what I’m doing. I’m sitting. I’ve been sitting here for the last two and half hours, almost three hours now, waiting for you to wake up.”

“Potato, potato,” Dean frowns into the pillow, praying to any higher power that listens to give him the patience to deal with this before he’s had his coffee. “Okay then. Why are you in my bed?”

“I told you, I don’t know. I was in Madagascar watching the ring-tailed lemurs, you know how I like when lemurs jump sideways like that, and then all of a sudden I wasn’t there anymore. I had been transported here and was sitting on your bed. Tied to you.”

Cas lifts his left hand; a pink ribbon is attached to his wrist. It curls in a few loops on the mattress before it disappears under Dean’s pillow. Dean sits up very quickly. The other end of it is looped around his own right wrist.

“Son of a bitch! What the hell is this?!” He pulls at it, but it won’t budge. When Dean inspects it closer after turning on the bedside lamp, there are no knots or fastenings of any kind. It’s just there, almost like it’s been welded on to their arms. As for the ribbon itself, Dean looks at it and almost shudders. It’s one of the most aggressively froufrou things he’s ever seen, and he’s seen some weird shit in his life. It has a light pink base, and what he first thought was dots turns out to be hearts in several shades of darker pink, red, and purple. Some are even covered in glitter.

Dean almost suspects the start of a new prank war, but then he remembers that Sam’s spending the weekend with Eileen and that Cas had just popped down next to him like he’d been summoned, so he stashes that idea back where it came from.

“All right. That’s it, let’s go cut this eyesore off before we turn into freakin My Little Pony or something. Then we can figure out what happened.”  

Out of old habit, Dean turns to his left to get off the bed on what he considers to be his side. It hits him that it’s kind of strange that he has a side in the bed that is his, when in reality all of the bed is his, and he should be able to roll out of bed on either side of it without it feeling weird. The thought disappears when he’s yanked backwards back onto the bed and his half naked body collides with Cas’ fully clothed body. They both wince at the impact, and Dean is actually thankful for the pain in his head where it bumped into Cas’ as they try to detangle themselves from each other. He really doesn’t need to think about his own limbs entwined with Cas’. Especially not in bed. Not now. Not when he’s only dressed in boxers and a t-shirt.

“It would seem that the ribbon is too short for us to dismount the bed at different sides.”

“Yeah thanks for that input Captain Obvious. I kinda noticed that myself,” Dean huffs and rubs at the sore spot at his temple. “And don’t use the word ‘dismount’. Just don’t.”

Dean sighs and submits himself to the undignified feeling of having to crawl across the bed to the foot end at the other side so they can get to their feet without any more painful incidents. He leads them over to his dresser where he picks up yesterday’s folded jeans and pulls them on, he opens a drawer and puts on a pair of socks before he shoves his feet into his boots, not bothering with tying them, he just pushes the strings down under his feet. On the top of the dresser is a flannel shirt, he tries to put it on but since he and Cas are bound together, only his left arm is able to make it through its sleeve. He lets it go and it hangs from his left wrist. Great, now it feels like both his arms are stuck.

“Damn it! Come on, kitchen time!” Dean says and pulls Cas after him while taking off the flannel that’s dragging behind him on the floor.

 When they get to the kitchen, Dean tugs Cas to one of the drawers where he takes out the scissors and in one quick motion, he cuts the ribbon off.

“Yes. It’s very strange. Do you think it’s dangerous?” Cas frowns down at the ribbon, eyebrows knitted together.

“Aha! See, that wasn’t so complicated. Problem solv…” Dean swallows the second half of the word as the ribbon swiftly heals itself and he is yet again bound to Cas. “What the hell just happened? Did you see that?”

“I don’t know, I just want it gone.” Dean lifts the scissors again and cuts it off once more. And again. And again. “Damn it!” He tries with a knife instead; the edges of the ribbon aren’t as neatly severed as with the scissors, but he barely has time to lift the knife before the ribbon is back together. He cuts it off again and this time he takes a big leap backwards, away from Cas, just as he cuts through the shiny fabric that ties them together. His hope of freedom shatters immediately when Cas is shoved closer to him at such a speed that they go tumbling down on the floor, tangled together again. Nearly all of Cas’ weight is pressed down on Dean, Cas lifts his head and looks down on him. Dean feels Cas’ breathing on his face and his eyes dart down to Cas’ parted lips. Dean’s eyes close and after forcing himself to take a steadying breath, he manages to get out “What if we try your angel blade?” His voice still sounds shaky to his own ears, but he hopes that Cas’ll put that to their combined fall and not to the proximity. He keeps his eyes shut as Cas struggles to sit up, determinedly thinking about things that aren’t his best friend’s squirming body against his own. When he looks up, he sees Cas’ face screwed up in that concentrated look he always gets when he summons his blade. Cas cuts off the ribbon and they share a bemused look when it magically glues itself back together.

“Do it again.”

“No Dean. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not? It’s gotta work sooner or later.”

“Perhaps. But it seems like it’s gotten much shorter. I think it’s shrinking a bit every time it gets cut off and then heals.” Cas holds up his left hand. Now that Dean looks at it, he sees that Cas is right; the ribbon started out being four feet something and now there’s just three feet of sparkly material separating their hands. And that is if you’re generous with your measuring.  

“Oh fuck. Yeah. Okay, yeah, let’s not do that anymore.” Dean buries his face in his hand.

“What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know Cas.” He peeks out between his fingers, wincing. “But I really need to pee.”

  Dean decides to take them to the smallest bathroom in the entire bunker. He hopes that if he does that, he can go in and Cas can stay outside. They manage to do that, but it’s a very close call. Cas has to stay pressed against the door frame, and when Dean has closed the door behind him, he can just about reach the toilet to do his business. On the other side of the door he can still hear Cas muttering about the fact that it’s really very unnecessary to close the door and that urinating is a completely natural process and all mammals do it as a way to get rid of metabolic waste products from the body and why should Dean be ashamed of it and force Cas to stand so uncomfortably close to the door? Dean tunes him out as much as he can. Cas still needs come in for him to be able to reach the sink to wash his hands. It is one of the most excruciatingly embarrassing bathroom experiences Dean’s had in a very long time, which really is saying something considering all his years on the road with dingy gas stations and shared motel rooms.

Dean dries his hands and turns to Cas. “Okay, let’s go back to the kitchen and make some coffee. And then I think we’ll call Rowena up for a little chat.”

“Rowena?”

“Yeah. I think she’ll be our best shot at trying to figure out what’s going on here, since you know she’s a centuries old witch and there seems to be some kinda magic shit going on with this girly leash thingy.”

“Dean, from what I’ve seen throughout history, pink doesn’t need to be a feminine color. In fact, artists often depict baby Jesus dressed in red or pink and Mary in blue in paintings, and in the 18th century it was worn by both men and women of the European aristocracies, and boys were often dressed in pink because people saw it as a lighter red, which was a military color, and in Northern India pink turbans are very common, and” Cas draws in another breath to continue his lecture on the apparently so fascinating history of color. Dean cuts in before he can start talking again.

“Yeah yeah, I’m sure that’s very interesting but it doesn’t matter right now. Come on, coffee.”

“Are you sure we should call Rowena? Wouldn’t it be better to start with Sam? He has a vast knowledge of spells and enchantments; he might know what we should do.”

“No. I ain’t calling Sam about this. Firstly, he’s having a cozy weekend with Eileen, and I don’t even want to think about what they’re doing but I know that we shouldn’t interrupt them,” Dean shudders and hands Cas a cup of coffee as he looks sternly at him, trying to get Cas to realize that they can never reveal this to Sam. “Secondly, if we were to tell him about this, that you showed up in my bed and that we’re tied together by a shrinking pink band with glitter on it? Sam’d laugh until he got a hernia, and we’d never ever hear the end of it. So, no Cas, we ain’t telling Sammy about this. Never ever, got it?” He holds Cas’ gaze until he nods back at Dean.

“Good,” he pours himself a cup of coffee. Dean drags Cas after him to the fridge and takes out what’s left of the apple pie he baked yesterday, he moves to cut a piece and put it on a plate but decides against it. Screw manners, he’s got more pressing things to think about. He takes a fork and shoves pie directly from the tin into his mouth. As he chews, he pulls out his phone and flips through the phonebook, and when waiting for Rowena to pick up he scoops in more pie.

 As they are waiting for the coffee to brew, Cas turns to Dean.

“Well well, if it isn’t Dean Winchester.”

“Hey Rowena. How are you doing? Good? Good. I kinda need a favor.”

“A favor? My, what could I do for you, my second favorite hunter?”

“I’m your second favorite? Who’s first?”

“Why, that would be Samuel of course. He shows a much greater propensity for the magical arts than you do Dean, surely you must know that.”

“Uh… Yeah, sure. I’m actually calling you to ask about magic stuff. You see,” he says and launches into an explanation of the things they’ve been through during the morning. He’s not even a quarter through, before he needs switch over to speaker phone since Cas keeps interrupting to add things or to explain them in other words.

“I see,” Rowena says when they’re done. “Castiel, when you say you were transported, did you feel anything out of the ordinary? Something you’re not used to? Anything unusual at all?”

Cas tilts his head and squints as he thinks, and Dean has to dig his fingernails into the palm of his hands to not reach out and do something stupid.

“No, I don’t think so. It felt like it does when I’m flying.”

“Precisely my point. It may be magical but I do not believe that there’s anything particularly malign about this ribbon you speak of, rather that it’s some sort of practical joke.”

“A prank? But who would do that?” Cas asks, head still tilted to one side.

“Oh, come now, boys, you can do better than that. Have a proper think about it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do. Do let me know how it goes. Toodles.” She hangs up.

Cas looks at Dean. “Do you really think it’s a prank?”

“Maybe.”

“Who do you think would do this to us?”

“I’m starting to get an inkling. I think Rowena might be on to something with the whole you not feeling anything strange when plopped down into my bed.” Dean feels himself flush at the possible implication of his last words and tries to hide it by downing the last of his coffee. He sees Cas process the information and the moment it clicks for him he makes an oh-face.

“Gabriel.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Dean has barely gotten the words out before the kitchen is filled with the sound of fluttering wings and Gabriel pops into the room, grinning around a lollipop.

“I thought I heard the sweet sound of my beautiful name! Hey guys, Happy Valentine’s Day!” He pulls the lollipop out of his mouth. It’s bright red and shaped like a heart, Dean can smell the artificial cherry of it from where he’s standing seven feet away.

“Gabriel, this is not funny!” Cas scowls at his brother.

“Au contraire Cassie boy, I think this is hilarious! Naaaw, I see that it’s shrunken a bit, hasn’t it? I guess that’s your doing Dean-o, cutting it off so many times? T-t-t-t-t. I was so generous with the length of my pretty ribbon, almost five feet is a lot further than the normal distance between the two of you. But of course you couldn’t help yourselves and had to get closer to each other. That’s actually kind of sweet, but I must say, I’m a little disappointed that you figured it out so quickly. It would’ve been so much fun if it had shrunk more…”

“Listen here you smug little fucker! If you don’t remove this girly shit -”

“Dean.”

“Yeah, I know Cas, I know. If you don’t remove this pink shit right now, I’m gonna banish you to the fucking moon using every damn sigil I know!”

“Oh Deanie, don’t be such a meanie! Come on, that’s no way to speak to someone on this day of love. I think it’s time to… Hmm, yes it definitely is.” Gabriel gives the lollipop a few kitten licks before he puts it back into his mouth. He smirks and snaps his fingers. The length of the ribbon shrinks so much that it’s just the loops around their wrists left of it. Dean’s right arm is now pressed flush against Cas’ left and Dean feels the soft skin of the back of Cas’ hand rubbing against his own when Cas moves. Shit. This is not good. “There we are. Much better!” Gabriel smirks again.

“Gabriel, release us now!”

“Nopes, lil bro. Shan’t do that, won’t do that. I’m just trying to help, to give you two a final little push. All that pining is starting to get on my nerves. On all our nerves, I think. It was fun in the beginning but now it’s just tedious and in fact a bit pathetic, so I figured it was time to do something about it. Hey, why don’t you see the ribbon as a different kind of profound bond!”

Dean gapes at the arch angel, feeling himself go beet red. When he glances at Cas, there’s a soft dusting of pink at the top of his high cheekbones.

“As pleasant as this has been, I can’t hang around here all day. I’ve got Valentine’s Day plans of my own, you know.” Gabriel wiggles his eyebrows before giving them a pointed look. “I think that the two of you know deep down how to get rid of the last of the ribbon. I’ve peeked in on you a couple of times this morning and you’ve been reeeaaal close. So I guess it’s up to you now, if you’re gonna do anything about it or if you’re gonna stay stuck together. Not that there’s that much of a difference to how it usually is…” He shrugs. “Well, I really must be off, clock’s ticking, places to be and people to do and all that jazz. Good luck kiddos! Have fun and remember to use protection!” Gabriel winks at them and plops away, the last thing they hear of him is his cackling laughter.

All of the anger and frustration Dean has felt throughout the morning has suddenly left him. He doesn’t really know what to feel right now. Confusion, mostly. Gabriel may be a smarmy little bastard who generally does things just for shits and giggles, but even if he messes with people, he’s not evil. Dean sighs. Shit, why is everyone so insightful today? But what if Gabriel’s right though? Maybe it’s time to finally do something about this thing that’s been between him and Cas since… since when really? Dean loses himself in thought, reflecting back on everything they’ve been through. Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. Angels and demons. Gods and humans. Working together and working against each other. Dying and coming back to life. Lost memories and having been torn apart. But, he thinks, no matter how many times they’ve lost each other they have always, always found each other again. Him and Cas. Cas and him. If Dean would live a million lives, he’d never meet anyone who could mean as much to him than Cas does, who could affect him as much as Cas does. They have been so much for each other. Allies. Friends. Enemies. Family. And yeah, there’s something else too. Something’s that’s been there for a very long time. If Dean’s honest with himself - and why shouldn’t he at this point, he’s sick and tired of lying to himself, of denying and suppressing things – he has other feelings for Cas. Not a crush, that sounds too childish and besides it’s not enough. Not even being in love is strong enough, he knows that he loves Cas, but what they have is something else. Something completely different. And yeah, he knows that all couples are different from each other and that all couples probably think that their story is the greatest love story ever, but Dean knows for a fact that their story has every other beat. It’s time for them to take the final step now. No one is dead or dying. No one is going through any kind of trials or being a demon or a god. No one is trying to rebel against something and there are no big bads to defeat and no apocalypse to stop. It’s finally time. And if they need a new word to be able to describe what they are to each other, then that’ll come in due time. Otherwise, him and Cas, they have always been good at defying all labels. The timing is finally right, and all Dean feels is the rightness of it.

 After Gabriel has disappeared, they stand there, side by side, in the quiet kitchen. The only sound is the hum of the fridge and the occasional creaking from the bunker’s old heating system.

“Dean?”

“Hmmm?”

He turns to look at Cas and when he sees into his blue eyes, he’s absolutely certain that this is it. A life defining moment. He knows that during the last few minutes, Cas has gone through a similar thought process to his own. He can see it in his eyes. Dean is met with so much love and warmth and adoration that his breath catches in his throat.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

And that’s all that Cas needs. He lifts his free hand to Dean’s cheek and when his thumb strokes Dean’s cheekbone the look in his eyes soften even more. Dean’s own free hand, his left one, goes to Cas’s hip, and when he sees Cas lean in, he moves it to the small of his back to pull him closer. Dean’s eyes don’t close until their lips meet and he knows that he was right. This is a life defining moment. Dean doesn’t understand how he has gone so many years without kissing Cas and now that he has started, he feels like he never wants to stop doing it. It gets even better once Cas open his mouth when Dean licks at his full bottom lip and their tongues touch for the first time. Dean swallows Cas’ moan and lifts his right hand to bury his fingers in Cas’ dark hair and he feels Cas’ both arms wind around his waist to get even closer. Wait. Both his arms?  

At the sound of a fanfare, they reluctantly pull away from each other. Not far away, just far enough to be able to look around the room and see the banner that folds out along the entire wall over the table. It says ‘Congrats on finally getting your heads out of your asses!!!’ in bright cursive letters. They also see the confetti that starts falling from the ceiling. Heart shaped confetti in shades of pink, red, and purple. But what else could they expect from Gabriel when he tied them together with that pink ribbon?

  (The confetti keeps falling for several hours. It’s like some kind of Barbie-snow, but thankfully it’s only in the kitchen. They sweep it up later, wanting to get rid of it before Sam comes back home. And if Dean scoops up some of the hearts to put in a drawer and keep as a memory of the final push they needed to get together at last? Well, then that’s between him and Cas…)

 (They don’t tell Sam how they finally got together. Gabriel tells him. And yeah, Dean was right. Sam laughs so hard he falls off the chair he’s sitting on and then he keeps erupting into giggles at random times over the next few weeks. Dean’s revenge for the constant teasing that follows is to make out with Cas on every single surface in the bunker. Every. Single. Surface. Including Sam’s bed. Revenge is sweet. 

Especially when it tastes like Cas.)

[onebourbon-oneshot-onetear]

Aquatica

Chapter 1-Evie

Hello everyone. This is the beginning of my series featuring my own OC and Bruce Wayne, specifically from the animated Justice League series. Each chapter is based off of an episode in the series. This is actually the first work I ever started, so the first chapters are a little rough, but they get better through the end. This is also on my Ao3 (Volleygirl13). Please let me know if you enjoy!

I do not own D.C Comics, and I only own my OC and my versions of the plots.

I'm not a superhero. At least, I never thought of myself as one. I just always tried to do the right thing and hoped that it would all work out. I knew of plenty of people who would try and do the right things in life like I did, and they were never considered as superheroes. Of course, not everyone has the abilities like I do. I guess my abilities put the super in superhero. But whatever. Either way, I didn't think I was so super.

Before I start going into a philosophical rant about what makes a hero, I should probably explain who I am. My name is Evelyn Lowry. I never liked being called by my full first name. I mean seriously, Evelyn? What kind of a name is that? It sounds like some 18th century snobby aristocrat. No, I was always called Eves, at least by my parents, they were the only ones who were allowed to call me that. My sister and my friends always called me Evie. At first I didn't like that as much. Evie still sounded too sweet like a little girl in a bubble gum pink dress and pigtails. Ew. As I got older I realized that the name wasn't so bad. It was a lot like me, feminine but simple.

I suppose I look alright, that is, I never saw myself as drop dead gorgeous or anything. I was pretty tall for a girl, at about 5'9 (and no for you really rude people, I have never played basketball a day in my life. Gosh I am so tired of hearing that). I actually look a lot like my mother, with really dark brown hair that almost looks black, and bright dark blue eyes. My eyes weren't always this bright, but they changed after my, uh, accident. With the information I had now I never referred to this event as an 'accident' but for now I'll call it an accident.

I had a pretty normal childhood. We lived in suburban Gotham my whole life. I can tell what you're thinking, and yes, there is a suburban part of Gotham, it isn't all just dark and creepy big city setting with places like the Narrows. There is a happier side to it. Anyway, I lived about 20 minutes outside of the city in a big blue house complete with dog and a picket fence. Most people would say my life was perfect, and it was. Until I turned 12. It was actually my 12th birthday. That was the day my life changed. You see, I didn't want to go anywhere for my birthday… but my parents, well, they just had to try and do something special.

Don't get me wrong I love my parents, I really do. But aside from my mother's looks and my father's sense of humor we were nothing alike. I'm talking polar opposites, day and night, fire and water, those kinds of opposites. They had grown up as the elite class of Gotham. That 1 percent of people who never had to worry about money, and who always had the newest technology and gadgets before they even hit the public market. Now please don't think of them as these snobby old rich people, because they weren't that either. They ran a respectable business and always treated their employees with respect and gave them extra pay and vacation days, which is a lot considering some companies in this city barely pay their employers with minimum wage. A lot of people loved and respected my parents.

Anyway, back to what I was saying. I remember that day so clearly even when I try to forget it ever happened at all. A terrible storm had rolled in during the afternoon and it hadn't left by dinnertime. The thunder and lightning was so loud it shook the house. My little sister, Caitlyn, was terrified. She was hiding under my bed with our dog because they both were scared. That seemed to be the spot both of them went to whenever they were scared. At first I was annoyed by it because they would always come in my room, but I realized that I didn't mind protecting them. I was the older sister after all. It was my job to take care of them and make sure they were safe.

"Mom," I whined, "I really don't want to go anywhere tonight. Let's just stay home and watch movies and eat junk food. That's really all I want!"

"Eves sweetie, you know your father and I had to spend so much money to get the tickets for the art museum exhibit tonight. And we had to pull some strings to get into the restaurant as well." my mother told me. I looked down into my lap feeling really guilty. This whole art museum and dinner thing was my idea a couple weeks ago. I hadn't realized just how much my parents had to spend in order to make it happen for me.

I looked up at my mom's face as lightning lit up my room and thunder shook the walls. She looked so excited to go, I didn't want to ruin the night for her. "You know what, I changed my mind. I think we should go. It'll be fun." My mom immediately perked up and got that really excited look in her eyes, the look that made her eyes seem to glow a bright blue and her smile was infectious. I saw just how excited she was for all of us to go out. Mom loves going out and seeing the town, shopping, buying make up, typical girl things. In many ways I always felt like I was more mature than my mother. I was more down to earth and she was more childlike than I ever had been.

"I'm so glad you changed your mind sweetheart! Now, go get dressed, we have to leave in an hour." My mom bent over and whispered something to my sister. My sister squealed with delight, running out of my room and my mom laughing and chasing after her. My dog climbed out from under my bed and looked up at me. "Well, I guess we are going out then."

After the fifteen minutes it took me to go get ready I waited in the parlor of our house. I looked outside at the thunder and lightning and noticed that the rain had started. What started out as a few drops turned into a torrential down-pour. I could barely hear my sister sneak up behind me over the rain hitting the glass, but I could sense she was there. She thinks she's a super sneaky ninja, but I think that she doesn't know how to be quiet under any circumstance. "Cait, what do you think you're doing?"

Cait looked at me with her big brown eyes and a mischievous grin that I knew very well. She was planning something. And that was usually bad news for me. My sister was three years younger than me, and she was the exact spitting image of my dad. Blonde hair, brown eyes, and that little bump on the bridge of her nose. Also like my dad, Cait was a total prankster. Numerous times had I walked into my room and she had put a rubber snake on the floor in order to scare me, or she hid under my bed and grabbed my ankle when I woke up in the morning, or her latest prank, she put toothpaste all over the toilet seat so when I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night I sat down in it. I never retaliated because I knew she was just having some fun. I didn't want to ruin it.

Cait didn't answer me, she just kept grinning. That's bad news. That meant she had already gotten her prank ready, she just had to wait for me to walk into it. I rolled my eyes, but smiled a little bit. I turned to watch the rain, not knowing that soon enough whatever prank she was going to pull on me wouldn't matter.

Half an hour later we were all gathered in the car and on our way to Gotham to the art museum. My sister was complaining about the music my mom wanted to listen to, my mom was arguing with my dad about how fast the windshield wipers should be going, and I just sat there looking out the window. Eventually I just tuned them all out. I didn't want to listen to arguing on my birthday.

As I was looking out the window at the down pour, our car started jerking and swerving. We were gaining speed and my dad couldn't stop the car. My sister was screaming in the back because she was scared, my mom was urgently telling my dad to try and use the brakes, and my dad was yelling back that the brakes weren't working. I sat there frozen, there was nothing I could do. With a roar of thunder and a flash of lightning, our car stopped suddenly and I was jerked forward so hard my face hit the back of the drivers' seat. In all the commotion and panic my dad didn't see the tree lying in the middle of the road. The tree we collided into. It was so quiet after the deafening impact of the crash that had happened only moments before. The last thing I remember was looking over at my sister and saw that she wasn't moving. There was another flash of lightning, my eyes started to close and then everything went dark.

When I woke up, I saw hands trying to pry open my car door. They finally got the car open and the paramedics started working on me, putting my neck in a brace and making sure there was no glass sticking into my arms. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that nobody was anywhere near my parents or my sister. I wanted to ask them why they weren't doing anything to help them. Why they were so still? Why weren't they waking up yet? Then in my haze I realized why.

The truth came down on me like a ton of bricks. They weren't walking away from this. They weren't going home. I started thrashing and trying to get back to the car but I was already strapped down to the stretcher. I couldn't understand what the people were trying to tell me but I heard them all yelling. I felt a prick in my neck and everything went dark again.

The following months and years following the car accident was a blur. I had gone from having a loving family and a perfect life to being an orphan and bouncing around foster homes. I never stayed with a family longer than 5 weeks. I just couldn't get comfortable with random strangers who I was supposed to make my family. I felt a stab of guilt every time I started to feel comfortable with a new family. This went on for a while, until I was seventeen. Then I enlisted in the Navy. I figured I couldn't afford to go to college since I couldn't touch my bank accounts until I was 18, and I wouldn't have known what to do after college anyway. At least in the military I would have three meals a day and a roof over my head.

I pushed and forced myself to work through the ranks and in four years I was asked to be in a specific group of soldiers. We were trained in advanced hand to hand combat, and weapons training. Not to brag or anything, but I was the top of our group. Apparently when you have nowhere else to go and nothing else to do it is pretty easy to give all of your focus into your work. My work just happened to be learning how to kill someone with something as insignificant as a safety pin. As good as I was at the training, I never thought I would ever be able to actually kill someone. But still, I trained so that if I had to, I would be able to protect myself.

I can't really discuss any more of my training. I still have contracts with the military that I am still required to follow. What I can tell you is, I was very good at my job. One day I was testing out some new weapons when I got a call to go to one of the labs. I didn't really question it, I had been called down before to try and test some different formulas for field work (again, more stuff I can't really talk about).

I had walked into the lab and I saw that it was empty. At first I thought that I was late, but when I looked at my watch, I realized that I was right on time. I stood there for another moment before I heard a noise. It sounded like something was sparking. Like a live wire had been put into a puddle of water and it was still sizzling. It was probably a really stupid move, but my instincts told me to walk over to where I heard the noise. It was the in furthest corner of the lab, a white machine that had a bottle of blue liquid in it. I walked closer to it; the noise continued to grow louder. I looked around me to see if there was anyone in a white lab coat who would have even an inkling of what to do in this situation. I looked back at the machine and saw that it was spinning and sparking at an alarming rate. A high pitched noise started coming from it, growing higher and higher in frequency. A small voice in my head told me to get out of there. For once I listened to that voice. I started backing away, but I was too late. There was a bright white light, an explosion, and then everything went dark.

I woke up in a hospital bed. The doctors came in and told me there was an accident, and that I now had special 'abilities'. At first I thought they were crazy, but then I stopped and realized that I did feel different. I didn't look over to see the cup of water on the table next to my bed, but I knew it was there and I could feel the water inside the cup. Each little water molecule that was bouncing around inside the cup, I could feel all of them, as if the water itself was present in my mind. It's hard to explain, but there was no other explanation for it. I could sense the water molecules that were inside the doctors and nurses in the room, as the blood pulsed through them I could sense the water as well. I could even tell that it had rained earlier in the day because of a few drops of water on the window sill. I was scared. I mean, being a really cool bad ass soldier was one thing, but sensing water? That was something else entirely. The doctors gave me some more medicine since I had bruised myself up pretty badly in the explosion. The morphine made me tired and I was in and out of consciousness for hours at a time.

I spent a couple days in the hospital. Different doctors and scientists wanted to know what I could do with these new abilities. I found that I could move around and manipulate the water in whatever way I thought of. Spheres, squares, octagons, dodecagons…well I think you get the point. If I concentrated hard enough, I could stop the molecules in the cups of water from moving and it would freeze solid. Eventually I could do it on instinct, without even thinking about the molecules and just wishing that the water turned to ice. As cool as it was, it was tiring. For days on end I would sit in bed and demonstrate my new powers to everyone who would walk into my room. The doctors even put me into a machine that could look at my brain as I used my powers. They never told me everything that the scan showed, they just said that it had become a natural instinct for me, whatever that meant. I was too tired most of the time to think about it.

On the fourth day of sitting in the hospital I was well enough to walk again. I decided that I had had enough of being a performing monkey for all of these doctors and scientists and I wanted to go for a walk. I got up to walk out the door, but I noticed that it wasn't closed all the way. I could hear hushed voices talking outside, a male and a female.

"…she could be the greatest weapon the military has ever seen. Even without training she is still powerful. Imagine what she could do with even more combat training." the male voice said.

"Yes, but is she going to be willing to comply when she realizes we will use her to hurt people?" the female asked.

"I don't think she has a choice. She is an asset now, we can't just let her go."

My eyes widened and I didn't want to hear any more, I slowly retreated back to my bed and sat down. They want to use me as a weapon? I didn't want to be forced to hurt people. The very thought made me angry. How dare they think they can just use me to do their dirty work. I knew I couldn't stay there anymore. I found my clothes, got dressed and waited for the shift change for the doctors and nurses and I snuck out. I didn't know where I was going, but I knew that I couldn't stay and be a human weapon.

After my "accident" I had to lay low. Like, really low. Everywhere I turned I was afraid there would be someone from the hospital watching me, or someone sent to capture me and take me back to the military to be a weapon. These were pretty stressful times for me, at least for the first couple of months until I was able to hitch my way back to Gotham. I had no money, no new clothes, and nowhere to go. I hadn't bathed in ages and I looked like a homeless person. I decided that I had to go somewhere familiar, so I went to the library that I had frequented as a kid.

I went in to get out of the rain one night and saw that the place was empty. I logged onto one of the computers and searched my name. I wanted to see if I had been wanted by the government or something, but I only found some old articles from when my parents and sister died. I had an idea and logged onto the website for the bank my parents used. I remembered the old usernames and passwords in order to get into my parent's information. It turns out that when my parents died I was left behind a decent amount of money. I decided that I didn't really need all of the money, just enough to buy or rent a small place so I would at least be off the streets. If I take the money, that would be an easy way for the government to track me, I thought.

I needed to find a way to get the cash so there would be no money trail behind me. At least the Navy taught me some hacking skills. With my limited computer skills, I managed to get into the banking system and wire all of the money through to an offshore account that I had setup. It was completely untraceable and now I could use my money however I needed to. It had only taken a few minutes and I looked around to make sure that nobody saw me. I waited until morning and I went to an ATM to withdraw some cash and I bought a tiny apartment in a sketchy looking apartment building in the middle of Gotham. It was a small one bedroom place, but it was plenty of room for me.

As time went on, I had to make a decision on what to do with these new powers. I had been working with them every day and I had gotten stronger. I also continued my morning runs and exercise regime that I had been doing in the Navy. To be honest, I was in the best shape that I had ever been in. I was confident in my new abilities, and I was sure that I wouldn't lose control and hurt others. This power seemed to do whatever I wanted it to, no questions asked, almost like the water was a part of me. There were some major perks, but there was also some disadvantages, like when the apartment next to me had a leaky faucet and I could hear the water drip. All. Night. Long. That was annoying.

One day I was watching the news on the tiny little T.V that sat in the corner of my kitchen. There had been a break in at a bank in Metropolis, the neighboring city. I sat there amazed as I watched Superman and Green Lantern take out the robbers with ease. They were real heroes. They didn't use their abilities for selfish reasons, and they certainly didn't hide them. In that moment I decided that I wanted to be like them. I wanted to use my powers to help people, to make them feel safe. And lord knows Gotham could always use some help. I made a call to a contact I still had in the Navy. His name was Hank and he was a sweet older gentleman. He worked in the research and development section and he always gave my unit new gear before anyone else could even set their eyes on it. I called in a favor and asked if he could hook me up with some stuff for 'recreational purposes'. At least that is what I told him I would be doing. I didn't think running around Gotham in jeans and a sweatshirt would be a good idea. After talking to Hank he said we could meet at some of the docks in Gotham.

Later that night I made my way over to the docks. I decided I couldn't draw attention to myself and I wore a dark sweatshirt with skinny jeans and some sneakers. I met Hank exactly where he said he would be, in a corner of the docks where a dull orange light cast shadows onto the surrounding crates. "Hey Hank, how's it going?"

Hank looked up at me and for the first time since I had known him I saw a grin on his face. Usually he was surly and gruff, but the more you got to know him the sweeter he became. Despite this sweetness, he never really smiled. In his defense though, whenever we really spoke at work we talked about weapons and how much damage it could do to people and places. Not necessarily the kind of stuff you smile over. But there Hank stood, smiling at me like I was a million bucks.

"Nice to see you kid. It's been too long." Hank said.

"Yeah, you too Hank. Look, I really hate to bother you and all, especially since you could get in a lot of trouble for just talking to me. It's a big risk for you, and I appreciate it."

"It's no problem at all. I've missed you, you were my favorite out of your unit. You always respected everything I showed you and treated it properly. Those other idiots would always mess around, nearly killing themselves. So, what is it that you've called me for? I figured you would be staying underground due to your…circumstances." I didn't even want to know how Hank new about my accident. I thought that the Navy would be keeping it as quiet as they could.

"I was. I mean, I am for right now, but I don't think I can any longer. It's been months Hank. I need to go out and do something. I can't just sit around with these powers I have and not use them. I feel like now I have a responsibility to help people and keep them safe." I said all of that in one breath I stopped and took a deep one. It was nice to finally talk to someone, to let out everything that had been stirring up inside of me for weeks and months. This isn't something you can just talk to anyone about. If I told people that I had water powers they would think I was insane. I looked up at Hank, and for the second time that night Hank was smiling.

"Well, it's about time. I thought I would get a call from you ages ago. I already started making stuff for you to use. I just had to wait for your call in order to give it to you." I looked at him in disbelief. How could he know what I was going to do when even I wasn't sure what I wanted to do? "So, do you want to continue this therapy session, or do you want to see what I made you?" Hank smugly asked me.

I kept looking at him in disbelief. "You're amazing, you know that?" He just nodded. "Well, let's show me what you've got."

Hank pulled out a duffel bag. "First things first kid. You need an outfit." He pulled out what looked like a dark leotard. "This is the body of your outfit. Dark blue, to match your water powers. The material is thin and very breathable. It's also resistant to cuts and scrapes. You could have a knife go across your chest and it won't leave a mark. It is also waterproof so when you use your powers you won't be running around soaking wet." Then he pulled out some black leggings. "These are made of the same material as the top piece. I'm assuming you still have your combat boots. Those will work fine." He laid everything out on the crate that sat between us. "This is the most important item here." He pulled out a dark grey rod that was leaning against the crate. "This material is very rare and very special. As far as I know it's the only piece that has ever been recovered."

"But what exactly is it?" I asked.

"This is Aquam Petram. It's Latin for Water Rock. This rock is basically made of water, but has the feel of rock. This will allow you to use your water even if there is no water near you. You can slowly extract water from the rod and then put it back." I picked up the rod and could immediately feel the water inside. I twirled it around my fingers. The staff was about 5 feet long and very sturdy; I could probably hit one of these crates with it and it wouldn't even get a crack in it. I looked closer at the staff and saw that it had carvings of waves going around it. It was simple and subtle, and I loved it. "That's everything kid. You should have whatever else you need."

"Umm Hank, what about a mask? Shouldn't I keep my identity a secret?" Hank looked at me with a curious look on his face. Actually, curious isn't exactly the right word; his face was practically screaming 'how exactly are you so dumb?' "What?" I asked him.

"Evie, you don't really need to hide from anyone. You don't have a family to protect and the only people that know you have powers aren't going to call you out on it. I would only get them in trouble with human experimentation. I don't think you are going to need a mask." He said. "Besides, how else will all the men see your face? You're getting old, you need to start looking for someone." Hank teasingly said. I could feel my face turn bright red. Like BRIGHT red. I could probably fry an egg on my face, that's how much heat was coming off of it.

"Thanks Hank," I said. "Cause that's what I'm worried about, finding a husband." Pssh yeah, like I'm going to find someone who would be okay with dating a girl who can control water and catches criminals. 'Oh sorry honey, I can't go on a date right now, I have a world to save and bad guys to stop!' Cause that will go over really well with the men. Hank interrupted my thoughts.

"Well, I think it's time we went our separate ways, kid." I looked up at Hank and was surprised to see he had a sad look in his eyes. Almost like he didn't want me to go. I realized now that there was no turning back. I was going on my own to stop the bad guys, I couldn't have the Navy backing me up anymore. I had to do this by myself. I suddenly became unsure of my idea. How could I do this?

Hank must have understood what I was thinking and he grabbed my shoulder. "Evie, you are one of the strongest people I know. You have lost so much, and you have been given a responsibility that most people cannot even imagine. Through all of this you have still been an amazing person and your entire life you have wanted to help people. This is just another chapter in your life, and you will be just fine." I didn't realize that I had tears welled up in my eyes until they started falling. It had been so long since I had somebody tell me they believed in me and was proud of me. I hadn't hear that my parents died. I gave Hank a watery smile and attempted to say thank you, but my throat was too tight and the words wouldn't come out. Hank gave me a pat on the shoulder, another rare smile, and he walked back towards the parking lot. I stayed on the dock looking down at the outfit that was still lying on the crate. I took a deep breath, packed all of it away, grabbed my new staff, and walked towards the city lights. Let the new chapter of my life begin.

[honeymoonjin]

Chapter Nine

Summary: When you hear that your recently deceased grandmother left you her property in her will, at first you think that a dinky old cottage in the middle of nowhere isn’t going to mean much for you. But after spending a night there, you discover something far more valuable than the house itself: a hidden door that leads to another time, the same place but over 200 years in the past. In the late 18th Century, there is a king who will die before his 21st birthday unless you can save him. Will you help him, even if it means leaving your own life behind?

-

“I spy with my little eye something beginning with… C.”

The tired sigh behind you tickles the back of your neck slightly. “Clouds.”

You pout and slump against the solid chest behind you. “Dammit, you’re good at this.”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, you’ve been playing this childish game for over two hours now. This is the third time you’ve chosen clouds.”

You twist around to try and face the Royal Guard, but he reaches up with a leather-gloved hand and turns your chin back to face ahead of you. “Well, maybe, but they were different clouds than last time. So it’s different. Anyway, I’m bored. Are we there yet?”

“Judging by the fact that my horse is still in gallop, surely you can work out that my answer is no.”

“Come on, Hacky Sack, live a little.” The constant motion of the horse between your legs is starting to hurt, and you want nothing more than to curl up in a warm bed and enjoy being stationary for a while.

“My name is Hoseok and you know that.” The guard has entertained your boredom-riddled attempts at conversation since you started off on this trek, but you didn’t know how long that would last. “Besides, if you had been trained like a proper lady, you would’ve been able to ride your own horse and we would’ve caught up to the others by now. Worry not,” he adds quickly, “I believe I can see the riding party making camp just around this next bend.”

“Oh, thank fu- thankful, I’m so thankful that we’re almost there. ‘Cause I really need to pee.” A thought occurs to you and you let out a dreary moan. “Oh no, I’m gonna have to pee in the bushes. I hate camping.”

But the man behind you is no longer listening, instead he speeds up the horse beneath you and you latch on even tighter to the handle on the front of the saddle. “Your Highness,” he calls out in relief, “we’ve arrived at last!”

As you turn the corner and the trees part into a clearing, your breath is taken away. Hoseok was right, there are three other men down there, two of them dressed similarly to Hoseok, tying up and feeding their three horses, and then the King himself, looking particularly radiant in the glow of the rising sun.

Beyond him, a fairly vast lake glitters in the light, remarkably clear. Of course, you note, there’s no water pollution back in the 1700s. King Jeon turns to face the two of you as you approach, and the backlighting of the sun casts an orange halo around him, leaving his silhouette almost black. You squint as he waves, wanting to catch a glimpse of his face, but you’re forced to shield your eyes.

“My dear friend,” the King replies jovially, “and his companion, the lovely healer. We’ve been anxiously awaiting your arrival.” As you finally catch up to the party and Hoseok slows the horse to a halt, you make out an infectious grin on the young leader’s face. “Do join us. It’s perfect weather for a swim.”

Your joy at finally having reached your destination vanishes when you remember your purpose in being here: don’t let the King drown so that your present day boyfriend won’t fade away like in Back to the Future. Is that how these things really worked? You didn’t know, but you knew you needed to avoid it at all costs. “You’re crazy, the water will be freezing!”

You suck in a pained breath when a pointed finger jabs you in your ribs. The Royal Guard bends down to hiss in your ear. “Do not speak to your King that way.”

Jeon himself seems less bothered. “Ah, my loyal subject, so concerned for my health. Why don’t you get in first and tell me if it’s warm enough or not? Then I might believe you.”

You eye the still lake with distaste. As much as it’s an ulterior motive, you weren’t lying about the water being cold. The sun was only just rising as you made your way here, and you were certain it wouldn’t have warmed the water already. “Fine. But when I catch a cold, I’ll expect royal compensation for my services.”

Hoseok pokes you roughly again as King Jeon laughs incredulously. “Insolent little thing, aren’t you?” he comments rhetorically. “Hoseok, help her off your steed.”

The guard unceremoniously complies, making no effort to have your descent be a steady one. You stumble a little on the solid ground, knees wobbling beneath you, and stretch out your back, feeling the vertebrae in your spine shift and groan. You crouch down to begin untying the leather laces of your boots. “I’ll dip my toe in and let you know, how about that?”

Suddenly his voice goes dangerously flat. “Your jibes are charming, but you fail to realise I’m not joking. If you’re so determined I don’t go swimming – the entire reason I came here today – then I expect you to get in that lake and prove to me it’s too cold. Would you like to see what happens when you disobey an order from the King, Y/n?”

You swallow hard, and look up. He’s standing directly in front of you now, casting a cool shade over you, and he looks more intimidating than you think you’ve ever seen him, eyebrows narrowed. “O-of course, Your Highness, it’s just… I didn’t bring any other clothes, and I don’t want these to get wet.”

“Then don’t wear them in the water, Y/n,” he answers immediately in a matter-of-fact tone. He holds your startled gaze for a moment, then breaks out into a teeth-baring grin. “I’m just messing with you, sweet healer, you don’t have to worry about your clothes getting wet. This is a swimming trip; my servants have prepared towels and additional clothing for us.” He waves a hand in the general direction of the other two guards, which are unpacking the bags they had brought with them. “You can go for a swim in your underclothes like the rest of us, and then you can duck behind those trees there to get changed into some fresh ones. I’m sure what my servants have packed will be far beyond the quality of any clothes you’re used to. Go on, then. Get in.”

You glance once more at the burly men laying a folded pile of white cotton clothing on a blanket. He was, at the very least, telling the truth. Even though the situation wasn’t ideal, you had gotten yourself into this mess, so you reluctantly continued to undress yourself, thanking your lucky stars you had actually chosen to wear the petticoat under your tunic and leggings. Once you were done, you crossed your arms over your chest defensively. White cotton and the lack of a bra didn’t go well in cold weather.

His eyes darted down, a hint of pink poking out between his lips, and then the King began approaching the water’s edge. You follow dutifully, toes immediately going numb under the freezing damp dirt of the bank. Cringing as you waded in, feeling the frigid water rising up your legs, and mud squidging between your toes, you stopped when the lick of the slight ripples hits your lower back, and turned around to face the four men, now far enough away that you had to raise your voice slightly.

“Yeah, you won’t want to come in here, King Jeon,” you call out, “you’ll catch your death in here! It’s too cold!”

He raises a hand to shield his eyes from the sun behind you. “Why, thank you for the advice, kind maiden! Fear not, I prefer swimming in cold water!” And without further words, he bends down and shucks his pants off, kicking his boots away towards the camp.

You gape open-mouthed at the rapidly undressing patriarch. “Hey!” you yell angrily. “You said you wouldn’t come in if I told you it was cold!”

“I said I would believe that the water is cold should you test it out for me. And I believe you! I just don’t particularly care.”

Kicking up your legs, you splash your way to shore, protesting loudly as he continued to strip down. Stopping when all that remained was baggy white pantaloons, Jeon practically skipped in, meeting you halfway.

Once you come to a sudden halt in front of him, panting slightly, you’re greeted with the welcome sight of a near naked King Jeon. His skin is more golden than you remember; the pale wash of post-stabbing now faded away. There’s still a scar on his side, but it’s surprisingly thin and flat considering the lack of proper medical equipment here. The water is lapping at his thighs, and it’s all you can do not to drool over them. “Uh, okay,” you start nervously, “maybe just stay out to this far. Don’t wanna go too deep, you know.”

He quirks an eyebrow in amusement, staring down at you. “That won’t do. I always go deep.”

You blink, unsure if that was meant to be an innuendo or not. Nevertheless, you feel your cheeks heating up, even as the rest of you begins to shiver. “A-as your personal healer, I have to recommend that you avoid swimming today, Your Majesty. Please.”

His smirk falters a little as he takes in your serious countenance. “I suppose it would be in my best interests to listen to the expert, then,” he says softly, before his grin returns to full beam. “I’ll need a little more convincing, though. Some incentive. Are you going to make me an offer I can’t refuse?”

You recoil slightly at the weirdly familiar quote. “What?”

King Jeon laughs. “Jin, my other healer, always says that. When he’s haggling for herbs in the market. ‘Your Highness, don’t you worry. I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse.’ I just meant that-”

“I know what you meant,” you interrupt. That quote, you recognise it. How could you not? That iconic line in the Godfather, a movie that wouldn’t be released for over a hundred years. “Your Majesty, if I wasn’t here, would you have brought Jin with you to the lake?”

He shrugs. “Of course. I go nowhere without at least one healer by my side.”

Things are beginning to make a weird kind of sense. You don’t know the why, but you’re starting to realize the what. King Jeon’s life didn’t seem to be in danger from drowning today, but perhaps it was because it was you here beside him, and not the healer who was apparently familiar with movie trivia from the 1970s.

Perhaps you weren’t the only person out of time here.

-

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[thequeenoffish]

Moulded into a Proper Omega

Warning: Rape/ Non Con - (Non-explicit Sexual Assult)

Summary:

Tony Stark, is an omega, as such his life is controlled by the alphas that own him, and even past his death, Howard Stark is determined to control his son. At 21 if he is unmated he must attend 'The Primrose Omega Finishing School’ till he finds a mate. At 21 he finds himself sans mate or way out and has to go. He regrets not picking an alpha after less than a week.

At 31 Tony is still there, still without an alpha, now practically unwantable, just how he wants it, at 35 they will let him go. But then one Alpha comes to find an omega, 18-year-old Peter Parker. Perhaps there is an alternative too waiting four years more.

Read on Ao3

Tony wants to cry. He looks up at the 18th-century mansion and hates his life. He’d spent four years trying to find a loophole, four years trying to find an alternative, and he’d come up empty-handed. He had found no legal loopholes, and he’d found no alpha who he was willing to mate with, he has no choice but to submit to the guidelines in his father’s will. His Father’s will had been clear, if his omega son Tony had no alpha mate by age 21 he was to attend the best finishing school for omegas in the country till he had a mate. Only once he had a mate could he inherit the company. So Tony stands in front of the doors having just got out of the taxi, he looks at the building that contains ‘The Primrose Omega Finishing School’, and thinks that from the outside it doesn’t look so bad. The first week is terrible. The staff had known he’d be a ‘problem’ case and so as soon as he arrived they’d set about breaking his will. As soon as he had he knocked on the door and it opened, they sprung into motion. His bags are taken from him, and he is ushered in to see the headmaster, who sits him down and reads his last school report and testimonials from his college professors about his personality. Despite their scathing comments, this barely affects Tony, nor does the alphas rant about how they will ‘fix’ him into a ‘proper omega’.

Tony will not allow them to change him, his father can force him here, even after death, but he will not submit to societies expectations, especially not the schools even more traditional ones. The headmaster tells him he is being taken to have a bath to wash away ‘the sins of the world’. Tony’s eyes roll so far back in his head he almost goes blind. The staff insist on helping him bath, scrubbing him and touching him, he doesn’t enjoy it, he especially doesn’t enjoy them attempting to wash his genitals for him. He slaps their hands away, “Don’t fucking touch me there, I can do it myself,” he hisses. The servants glare, and no doubt he’ll be told off but he doesn’t care. The insist on helping Tony dry too, he hates how they are trying to infantilise him. The staff give him a robe and lead him to his room, they explain that he has two hours of free time until dinner, and then leave him. After a minute he realises his bags aren’t in the room, he goes to the wardrobe and find it full of only lacy nightwear and lingerie, his eyes widen and he searches for his bags but they aren’t anywhere. He attempts to open the door and finds it locked, he bangs on it demanding to be let out but there is no response. He wants to cry again. He squares his shoulders, this is what they want. He can just stay in the robe, he doesn’t care. They have given him any of his personal items either, but he does not care about that, there is drawing pads for art and pencils and rulers. Tony sits are starts improving the design of his SI gun prototype. Screw them, all he needs is his mind and something to draw with. Two hours later four staff enter and scold him for not dressing. “I want my clothes,” he demands, looking at them coldly. One of the betas sighs softly, “They are practically alpha clothes, you will not be getting them back, and to ensure you remember your designation, you will be just wearing what is in that wardrobe for the foreseeable future,” she tells him sharply. Tony’s eyes flash, “I’d rather be naked,” he growls. The beta’s ignore him and go to the wardrobe, discussing what he should wear and ignoring him. “Take of your robe,” one orders, “It will be easier to decide if we can see your body shape,” they must be crazy if they think Tony would comply with that. He keeps it on. The woman in the middle sighs, and gestures with a hand, the other three descend on Tony and roughly grab him and force the robe off. He fights back and tries to get out of their grasp as they hold him between them for inspection. The woman looks him over like he’s livestock before picking out baby pink baby doll whose top is almost completely sheer. Tony hates pink, but luckily doesn’t give a fuck about who sees his nipples. “Now Tony, will you be good and put this on, or do we have to,” Tony glares and considers his options. He doesn’t want them touching him. “I will,” he snaps. They let him go and stare as he dresses. Once he is the lead woman inspects him and tugs at it to have it all laying ‘right’. Tony thinks that he should have run away rather than deal with this. After she is done she gives him pink heeled slippers. They are very low heels so Tony has no problem walking in them. “Now dinner with everyone else,” she announces. Tony looks at her like she's stupid, “I am not going to dinner like this,” “Yes you are, now, do we need to carry you like a little boy?” Tony goes under his own power. He even goes up onto the stage and tolerates how the headteacher introduces him as a,   “Disobedient omega you all must set a good example for”. He eats in silence and does not engage with the other omegas around him. He just wishes he was anywhere else. In bed that evening he stares up at the ceiling and in a quiet act of rebellion fingers himself to climax. The pleasure is good and he falls asleep feeling better. The next morning an alpha is the first person to enter his room and it freaks him out, throwing him off balance when he opens his eyes are there is an alpha stands in his bedroom sniffing. The man’s eyes narrow and he yanks the covers off Tony who shrieks, “He touched himself,” the man announces to the betas in the room. Tony snatches back the sheet to cover himself. “So what?” he snaps. The man laughs, “That’s not allowed here omega, you are in a lot of trouble,” he taunts. He looks at Tony at then says, “One week with no hands, full baths every day, with spreader bars if they are needed,” he orders. Tony has no idea what the man means but he feels intense dread. The betas force him into leather gloves that completely take away any use his hands have, he struggles and fights as they put them on and as they drag him to the bathroom, his own private one this time. They bath him again, locking the gloves to points on the bathtub itself. He hates it even more than before, once again they attempt to touch him between his legs and he kicks them. Two more betas are called in and they grab his legs cuffing them to a bar which is extended spreading his legs, they attach this to the bath and he is helpless to do anything but scream as and shout as they wash between his legs, taking their time as they calmly remind him that good omegas do not touch themselves here, ever.

After they dress him in the stupid underwear and make him go down to breakfast. He’s been crying, and everyone can tell. They can probably tell why he has got the gloves on. One of the staff go to feed him, and he refused to eat, the beta sighs and leaves him to sit in silence. Breakfasts ends and classes start. Someone shows Tony to his first class. He sits in the back and pays 10% attention while in his head he draws the idea he had for a new plane wing, “Omega Stark!” Tony blinks, and looks up at the stern woman at the front of the classroom, “What piece of equipment is needed for finishing garments?” she snaps. Tony realises she is testing to see if he was paying attention, he rewinds what she said in his mind and, “An interlocker Ma’am,” he responds. She gives him a long look before saying, “Good,” She is clearly annoyed that she hasn’t caught him out. Throughout the day several teachers try this, none of them catch him out. Each time he easily remembers what they had been saying. After class, they are allowed back to their rooms, study, or socialise. Tony goes to the reception desk, there is a young beta woman working it, he smiles charmingly, hands hidden behind his back as he says, “Excuse me Miss, but I was wondering if you could tell me where my bag has been put, I never received it in my room yesterday,” he says smiling winningly. She smiles back, “I’m sorry omega, but if you didn’t get your bag, it has been decided that you can’t have it,” she answers a tad apologetically, Tony decides to try to use his omega charms to his advantage. It is easy to let his eyes fill with tears when he is actually already upset. “Please Miss, the photo of my mother is in there, this is place is so strange and scary, and I miss her more than ever,” he says voice trembling. The woman blinks sympathy filling her face, “Visiting day is in a few days, don’t worry omega,” she soothes. Tony lets out a sob, “She’s dead Miss, she can’t come,” he sniffs. The woman looks taken aback, “I, omega, I’ll see what can be done if you tell me your name,” she says a little panicked, probably not wanting to be seen making an omega cry. He sniffs and smiles at her a little, “Tony Stark, thank you so much Miss,” he says smiling. She smiles back, “Go do something to take your mind off it,” he nods. Later he does get a visitor, it is the alpha from this morning. Tony glares at him as soon as he enters, the man smiles, “I didn’t introduce myself earlier Omega, I am the alpha assigned to your care, you may address me as Alpha Hammer,” he says. The name is so ridiculous Tony snickers, the alpha's face darkens. “Now I am here to discipline you for your offence this morning, touching yourself is absolutely banned here, even in the bath you are not to touch yourself, you belong to your alpha, clear?” he asks. Tony shrugs casually, “I’ve been fucked before, knotted, and I have been touching myself since I was 13, so I think my cunt belongs to me, okay? Alpha Hammer,” he says stretching the man's name out mockingly. The Alpha’s eyes flash, and he strides over to Tony, “So you are a slut omega? Don’t worry, before you meet your future alpha we will have beaten that out of you, hopefully, we can work you into something that despite your loose cunt you will be sweet enough and rich enough to attract someone,” the man sneers as he yanks him over to a chair. Hammer bends Tony across his lap, Tony yells and struggles as the man pins him and the hand comes down with a resounding crack. Hammer spanks him till his ass is on fire and he is crying. He leaves him in a crumpled mess on the floor. As he leaves he says, “Don’t try and use those charms of your on the receptionist again Omega, you will get your suitcase when I say so and not before,” Tony hates this. Hates himself. He cries himself to sleep.

--------------------------------------------

Three months of the hell that is Primrose Finishing fucking School. Tony hates it. He hates the lingerie and lack of real clothes. He hates the classes and the way at every turn they try and make him believe that he is below alphas. He hates not being allowed to touch himself, having no choice over his own body. He isn’t even allowed to decide where and if he shaves, it’s chosen for him, and they make him smooth all over, he hates it. Now three months of not touching himself and his cycle are driving him up the wall. Tony takes heat suppressants, however despite this, his body still has a strong natural rhythm, and in the periods where he should have heats, he becomes very horny. This has never been a problem before, touching himself once or twice a day makes him feel so much better. But now he isn’t allowed anything. He makes it two days before touching himself after waking up from a wet dream. His ‘care’ alpha Hammer smells it of course and he is put in leather gloves and later spanked till he can’t sit. But he doesn’t even make it a day before he tries to get off despite them. He should be baking for alpha guests when a staff member comes him and finds himself grinding against the arm of a chair, desperate and panting. Hammer arrives and growls when he hears the smell, he talks in low voices to the other staff, and then grabs Tony’s arm, yanking him up and out of his bedroom. “Ow!” Tony exclaims, “Alpha Hammer you are hurting me!” he exclaims trying to pull free. Hammer slaps him, and his head snaps back. “Shut up, I am going to show you what happens to bratty, slutty, omegas,” he growls.

Hammer drags Tony outside in front of the school. The staff bring out something, his two suitcases, Tony watches with growing dread as they open them. Another staff member brings out, a petrol can? “Look omega, use those ever so smart brains of yours to understand this,” Hammer pauses and puts his lips to Tony’s ear, “If you ever, ever, touch yourself again, I will have them pour petrol over those, and set them on fire,” he says voice low and angry. Fear seizes Tony’s heart. The photo of him and his mother with her writing on the back is there, the book of fairytales she gave him, the sweater she made for him. “No, no please, please you can’t burn them,” he gasps voice panicked and cracked. Hammer squeezes his shoulder. “I think you finally understand omega, that I can burn them, and I will if you ever touch yourself again,” he snaps. “Do you understand?” he demands. Tony nods, feeling like something has been taken from already, “I-I understand Alpha Hammer,” he whispers.

The suitcases are shut and taken away and Tony feels himself cry. He wants his mother, wishes she was here to hold him so badly.

Tony never touches himself again.

-----

Tony had always thought of himself as a strong person, able to take whatever the world threw at him. But it has been 6 months, he’s tired. Tired of fighting the staff every second of the day, tired of being spanked, tired of being paraded around in lingerie no matter the temperature. He is tired of worrying that one day Hammer will just decide to burn his suitcases and his mother with them. He is tired and he wonders if resistance was ever the way to go. He feels like with every beating they take a piece of him, of the real him. He promised that he wouldn’t change, wouldn’t lose himself, would never submit. But he can’t have all three, he doesn’t think it’s possible. Maybe if he fell into line, externally submitted, but never internally. If he pretended that he had given up and fully submitted, but locked his real self away, he could save himself. So that’s what he does. No more answering back, no resisting during bath time, no insulting his care alpha, no outbursts in class. Submissive and quiet. He hates it so much, but it worth it to just be mostly left alone. Slowly but surely they give him privileges. Proper clothing. The photo of his mother. His books. His drawing things. His suitcases with all his old clothing, he’s even allowed to wear it in the evenings. He then gets a proper drawing table. If he is good, follows the rules, then he is mostly left alone and allowed to do as he wishes. It is so much easier, even if sometimes it makes him want to cry to bow his head.

[butterflydm]

The Magicians Revisited: 1x06 Impractical Applications

Significant moments: Q is freaking out over Penny having actually been to Fillory; Penny is frustrated over Q’s nerdiness and doesn’t really believe he actually was in Fillory. Q confirms that Fillory has talking animals but no hobbits. Alice and Kady back up Q’s credentials when Penny starts to walk out, but Penny is annoyed when Q says the Beast isn’t in the books and leaves with Kady. Q lets himself be vulnerable with Alice about how the Beast coming from Fillory bothers him, but there’s still a disconnect there, as she doesn’t understand (and he doesn’t correct her) that Fillory is still a current coping mechanism and not just one from his childhood.

Julia goes back to the safe house; after confirming that the guy running it ratted her out to Marina, he does give her another location to try for a safe house. She’s being watched by a hedge witch named Hannah, but doesn’t notice until she reaches the new safe house she’s checking out (which is empty and has an eviction notice on the door). Julia takes Hannah back to her own safe house and they do cooperative spells together. Once they run out, Julia suggests they steal spells from Marina.

Kady gives Penny the anti-traveling tattoo. She did ink spells in high school with a friend. Penny asks her about her past and she lies about her parents. Or at least her mom, I guess we don’t know about her dad for sure. Penny mentions that he’s still hearing Victoria calling for him. The Beast hasn’t been talking to him since their encounter last time.

Q is kidnapped for The Trials. Margo plays it up as a virgin sacrifice, Q mentions he’s not a virgin, and Margo and the other student flip up their masks and take Q along to the rest of the first-year students. Eliot makes a big production about how this is a difficult challenge that ‘thins the herd’ and that students who fail will flunk out. I’m not sure if this gets confirmed or not later on, since our main first-years all pass. Margo does say that the Dean is the one who created the trials.

The teams for the first round of the trials are assigned - Penny and Q are on a team together with one extra person, Alice and Kady are each solo on teams with people we don’t know. Each team has to decrypt and cast a spell by 9am. Q and Penny's team is having a hard time, so Q suggests cheating (off Alice) and Penny is all on board. It works and he and Penny make it to round two.

Kady has presumably made it through the first trial? We didn’t see where she was placed or how she did, but we do see her meet up with Julia and Hannah (who is Kady's mom). Kady is not thrilled to see Julia, after what happened last time. Hannah asks Kady to help them create a new safe house and Kady is very dubious and untrusting of the idea. She takes the ‘invisible safe house’ spell that Julia made and leaves (though it’s actually the ‘fishhook’ that Julia plans to use to steal the filing cabinet of spells from Marina). Kady gives the spell to Marina along with items she’s stolen from Brakebills in the last week.

Ah, it’s the episode where we find out Margo is a stealth nerd (and Fillory fan)! After the first round of the Trials are done, Margo comes into Q’s room and teases him about reading a Fillory book while there’s a party going. He tells her that Fillory is real and that the Beast that attacked his class and the Dean was from there. She agrees with him that this is not tonally consistent with the book series, but tells him to stop beating himself up over another world being awful and “celebrate the world you’re in” (which, again, goes back to that “live your life here” theme that gets thrown at Q a lot, which feels. bitterly ironic these days, but. okay). Anyway, she gave him a drink that was (magically?) drugged to get him into the second trial.

Q “wakes up” in a forest, without magic, and Eliot is sitting at a table drinking wine and eating cucumber sandwiches. He’s told to get Eliot one of the fish from the river and it’s implied he should use a bow and arrow to do so, which fails when he tries alone. Kady was given a net and told to get a pheasant; Alice was given rope and told to chop down a tree; and Penny was given an axe and told to get a horse for Margo. Penny runs into Kady in the woods and he sees how upset she is. After he asks about her trial, he’s the one that volunteers that they should find the other students in the woods. He’s figured out that the second trial involves them cooperating, sharing their tools and skillsets, and helping each other out. Penny will use Kady’s net to catch a fish for Q; Q will use Alice’s rope to catch a horse for Penny; Alice will shoot a pheasant for Kady with Q’s bow and arrow; and Kady will chop down a tree for Alice with Penny’s axe.

Meanwhile, Julia is casting the ‘fishhook’ spell to nab the cabinet of spells from Marina when Hannah comes into her safe house. She unpicked the wards on the door. She convinces Julia to let her do the spell together. They bring the filing cabinet, but it’s a trap. Hannah is killed in a very bloody way and Julia calls 911 but then runs away.

The last trial is to bare your ‘governing circumstance’/‘utmost truth’ to another magical adept. After they face their truth, they turn into geese and all fly off together. Q and Alice share their truths with each other; Kady and Penny share theirs with each other.

Penny’s truths: he’s scared to tell Kady this because it’s true he’s falling in love with Kady

Kady’s truths: she’s a liar she flirted with him at the start because he looked useful she’s been using him this entire time it was all a lie

Alice’s truths: she tries not to be the best because she feels like it would make her even more unpopular than she already is if she let herself be as good as she feels like she could be she’s worried about dying alone she has no idea what she’s capable of, because she’s trying so hard to be normal

Q’s truths: he’s been institutionalized more than once he always runs away even with magic in his life, he still hates himself

Trial one: results matter more than rules Trial two: cooperation and communication is essential Trial three: trust at least one person with your secrets

Magic: 1. The anti-traveling ink spell. 2. Kady has an ink spell that gives her 20/20 vision in the dark. 3. The Brethren encrypted hundreds of spells in 18th century England to hide them from the church. 4. Julia and Hannah do cooperative spells together. 5. Hannah uses a bespelled piece of glass to look at the wards on Marina’s safe house. 6. Penny astral-projects behind Alice and cheats off her work. 7. The fire spell for the first trial. 8. A cooperative illusion/dream spell of some kind that is the second of the trials. 9. Q tries to do the ‘detect magic’ spell but it doesn’t work in the location of the second trial. 10. Julia tries to cast her ‘fishhook’ spell to steal the cabinet of spells from 11. Marina but is interrupted by Hannah. 12. Hannah ‘unpicked’ Julia’s ward. 13. Margo and El do a spell to bring them all back to the physical cottage. 14. Hannah and Julia do the ‘fishhook’ spell together. 15. One of Marina’s hedges starts a spell to stop the cabinet from being stolen but she interrupts him. 16. Kady and Penny do the ‘secrets’ spell together; Alice and Q do the ‘secrets’ spell together. 17. Hannah examines the cabinets with her magic detect glass. 18. Marina’s trap spell kills Hannah. 19. The secrets spell ends with the students getting turned into birds.

Relationships: Quentin & Julia: estranged friends Quentin & Eliot: friends, confidantes, romantic undertones Quentin & Penny: …actual friends? with a snarky undertone Quentin & Alice: friends, magically-prompted confidantes, romantic undertones Penny & Kady: romantic & sexual relationship -> manipulation revealed Marina & Julia: burned bridges Marina -> Kady: blackmail/extortion Quentin & Kady: friendly but don’t really interact Eliot & Margo: best friends Margo & Quentin: friends, confidantes Alice->Kady & Penny: allies Penny->Alice: allies Kady & Julia: burned bridges

Physical contact: Kady touches Penny’s stomach. The guy from the safe house Julia rejected grabs her hand briefly. Kady tattoos the anti-traveling mark onto Penny’s arm. He touches her wrist. Margo and another student put a bag over Q's head and grab him to take him to the trials. Eliot puts a hand on Q’s shoulder when he congratulates Q and Penny for moving past the first trial. Hannah holds Kady by the shoulders when they meet up with her. She also holds Kady’s wrist while getting her to sit down next to her. She touches Kady’s hair while trying to convincer her to help her and Julia to create a new safe house. She grabs onto Kady’s arm again to try to keep her from leaving at the end of the conversation. Margo smacks Q’s leg lightly while she's encouraging him to go back to the party. Hannah grabs Julia to break her concentration on her spell. Penny grabs Kady’s arm while he’s trying to get her to talk to him in the woods during the second trial, she’s panicking and, after a brief, confused struggle, she hits him in the nose. She cups his face to check on his injury. He touches her gently on the arm when she tells him it’s “life or death” for her to be at Brakebills. She grabs his shirt and hugs him as she cries. He touches her back after he gives her back her net. Eliot and Margo sit pressed against each other as they congratulate our group of four on passing the second trial. Kady touches Penny’s bare chest to apply the paste for the third trial; Penny returns the favor. Alice holds onto Q’s shoulder as she undresses for the spell. Q helps Alice take her dress off. Q applies the paste to Alice’s face and shoulders; she applies the paste to his face and shoulders. They bind each other’s wrists. She touches his arm after he tells her he hates himself.

Character Notes: Quentin: not a virgin. Went to junior cowboy camp (hated it). Penny: grew up in Florida and knows how to catch fish. Kady: her birthday was seven months ago. Margo: loved the Fillory books; would pretend she was ambassador to the Fillorian Outer Islands. Her favorite sandwich is possibly liver. Eliot: calls himself ‘daddy’. His favorite sandwich is possibly cucumber. Alice: lost her virginity with all her clothes on.

Students: Third-years: Victoria Second-years: Margo, Eliot First-years: Alice (team fishpunchers), Penny (team horny chupacabras), Quentin (team horny chupacabras), Kady (team ???)

Timeline Notes: Starts immediately from the end of 1x05.

[southeastasianists]

For years in Myanmar, if Kyaw Hla Maung, a historian, were to roll up his sleeves and bare his arms he might have been arrested. His arms are tattooed with an unusual a script with vertical, horizontal and diagonal lines and clusters of dots, the ancient Brahmi language of the Rakhine or Arakanese people from Myanmar's Rakhine State.

"I had to wear shirts with long sleeves," he said. "Even if it was a hot day I still wore a long shirt so I wouldn't get caught."

The Rakhine people, one of the 135 officially recognised ethnic minority groups that live in Myanmar, were forbidden from speaking their language or studying their history from 1962 under a forced assimilation policy. However, since 2015 some schools have allowed the teaching of mother-tongue languages as a second language.

So, Kyaw Hla Maung chose not to record his teachings on paper but instead tattooed the consonants and vowels of one of the ancient Brahmi script on his skin.

Last year, Rakhine State made headlines around the world because of a military crackdown, which forced more than 600,000 Rohingya into neighbouring Bangladesh. The Rakhine consider the Rohingya outsiders from Bangladesh, and in some cases, have participated in the violence against them.

What is less known is that the Rakhine people also have a history of being oppressed - by the Burmese military, which enforced a rule of 'Burmanisation' or forcing the culture of the Burmese people on the country's various ethnic groups, many of whom have been at war with the central government since Myanmar's independence from the British.

Policy of 'Burmanisation'

Kyaw Hla Maung wants to revive the teaching of the state's history and study of the Rakhine language.

The 64-year-old believes that learning about the history of different ethnic and religious groups in the state is important to rebuilding peace, especially with the Rohingya.

Kyaw Hla Maung, 64, looks more like a rock star than a historian. Dressed in a navy fitted top and flared pants, he now works as a tour guide trainer in Mrauk U, the ancient seat of the Rakhine kingdom.

While the Rakhine language is now openly used and widely spoken, teachers usually volunteer to teach language classes after hours in schools. Government schools and colleges still only allow the Burmese language to be taught.

Under the military rule, a policy of "Burmanisation" resulted in the adoption of Burmese as the official language and schools across the country were forced to implement it. Ethnic language teaching was banned in public schools for four decades.

Kyaw Hla Maung said he was taught Rakhine language and history by his father, grandfather and local historian, Oo Tha Htun, whom he proudly calls his 'grand master'.

"I did my learning deep in the forest because if soldiers or police came, there was lots of problems for us," he said.

In the jungle, not far from the ruins of Mrauk U, they taught him how to read stone inscriptions telling the history of the different periods of Rakhine history - Dhanyawadi, Vesali, Le Mro and Mrauk U - as well as traditional songs such as "Buddha pujarniya", about previous reigning kings.

The lessons came to an abrupt halt when Oo Tha Htun was arrested in 1990 and later died in prison in Sittwe, the capital of Rakhine. Kyaw Hla Maung believes his teacher was arrested for a speech he made about Rakhine oppression under the Burmese government.

Brahmi script

After Oo Tha Htun's death, Kyaw Hla Maung, afraid of forgetting his grandfather's teachings, tattooed the Brahmi script on his arms.

The script is key to reading the stone inscriptions around the Mrauk U archaeological zone as it was used by the first of the four dynastic eras of Rakhine State, the Dhanyawadi dynasty, around the mid 4th-century.

The Mrauk U kingdom was known as the golden age of Rakhine. It was a thriving multi-ethnic and multi-faith court that ruled over Rakhine from the 14th to the 18th century. The capital, Mrauk U, was once an important trading hub frequented by Portuguese, Dutch, Armenian, Arab and Persian traders.

From across the sea, the influence of Bengal also resulted in a distinct Muslim influence in Buddhist architecture, and Mrauk U rulers minted coins in both Arabic and Arakanese.

The people of Rakhine enjoyed prosperity up until the late 18th century when the Mrauk U empire was annexed by the Burmese Konbaung Dynasty, and many Rakhine people were taken prisoner.

The British arrived in Burma in the 19th century, bringing with them tens of thousands of migrant labourers from Bengal to work in paddy fields, creating tension with the local population in the Rakhine state. Historians, however, say the Rohingya's history goes as far back as the eighth century.

Mrauk U has remained a relatively peaceful city compared with the rest of Rakhine State with majority Buddhists co-existing with people from other faiths and ethnicities.

Apart from the Rakhine and Rohingya, Mro, Chin, Dynet and Thet ethnic minorities have lived in Rakhine State for centuries.

In today's Myanmar, Rakhine State is one of the poorest regions in the country, riven by ethnic tensions and several conflicts, including one by the Arakan Army, a Rakhine armed group at war with the military for "self-determination of the multi-ethnic Arakanese population".

'Genocide'

Local Rakhine communities and politicians continue to be excluded from the planning and execution of large-scale investment projects such as the gargantuan oil and gas project at Kyawkpyuh. Arakan Watch, a campaign group, has objected, claiming that the profits are going to the central government rather than local communities.

Some in the Rohingya community, who are denied citizenship and barred from accessing healthcare and education, took up arms following years of persecution at the hands of the army.

Burmese security forces, in response to attacks by Rohingya fighters in August, have killed at least 6,700 Rohingya and set fire to entire villages. Doctors have also treated injuries consistent with violent attacks, recording several incidents of rape of Rohingya women and girls as they fled to Bangladesh.

Zeid Ra'ad al-Hussein, the UN human rights chief, said the persecution of the Rohingya may amount to genocide.

Myanmar's government, led by Nobel laureate Aung San Suu Kyi, has so far ignored widespread international calls for an impartial and independent investigation.

Kyaw Hla Maung is sad to see his state mired in such a brutal conflict.

"I do accept the Rohingya as human beings who deserve to live peacefully in Myanmar because they have been living together with Myanmar nationalities peacefully for a long time," he said.

"I am sorry to see this [violence against the Rohingya]...this is the doing of the Burma security forces, who won't let peace return in Rakhine State," he said, noting the army continues to suppress Rakhine residents as well.

Most recently, on January 16, soldiers fired on a protest held in Mrauk U to mark the end of the Rakhine kingdom in 1784, killing seven demonstrators.

Kyaw Hla Maung believes that recent bloody attack is an assault on Rakhine culture and history. He says that the Rakhine ethnic people can't speak freely about their culture, history and issues that Rakhine people face.

"We need to rediscover our history," he said.

He has just finished drafting a book merging his family's oral traditions with studies of stone inscriptions. His hope is that he can at least start a conversation within his community about uncovering local history and acknowledging the plural interpretations that exist among different minority groups.

"It [local history] is not forgotten, it's not lost, but actually it is 'hidden,' because the government hides it."

[theonewiththefanfics]

A Pirate’s Soul (part 1)

Synopsis: Pirates of the Carribean/ The Avengers mashup! 

The Reader, a skilfull Avenger had gone on a mission with a few fellow members, one of them being Stephen Strange. The mission turns for the worst as the Reader gets trapped with a no way out, but instead of Doctor Strange opening up a portal for Y/N to escape to New York or even just the woods outside, she gets transported to the 18th century Caribbean sea, where she meets a group of people that will forever change her world. Especially a certain son of a pirate with the sweetest heart.

Pairing: Will Turner x Avenger!Reader

Warnings: swearing but that’s a given with me

Genre: idk anymore

Word count: 2151

The thing about being an Avenger is that you’ll meet very different and weird people throughout your life. The thing about fighting alongside them is that not everything goes as planned. Ever. Especially when one of the people is a sorcerer with the power to open up portals and bend time and space.    That is what happened while Y/N, Stephen Strange, Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes and Wanda Maximoff had gone out on a mission. What was supposed to be a simple in and out turned into a full-blown battle with not only Hydra agents, but enhanced aliens running around and shooting at them.    “Strange, I need you to open up a portal for me!” the girl shouted, comms filled with gunfire. “Like now! Right this second! I don’t wanna die today!”    “A bit busy over here!”    “Yeah, well the building is about to collapse and I have no way out!”    She punched a six-armed alien and whipping her knives around she slashed a deep gash over its chest, organs and green blood spilling out. There was nowhere to go. Y/N was down in the lowest basement level and she was being ambushed. The rumble of explosions up above shook the ground beneath her feet and the stone walls, making it her own little tomb.    Her Y/E/C eyes were wide with fear, the terror so huge she could barely hear Tony calling for Strange to do something, could barely decipher Bucky’s yells of anger and Wanda’s tearful sobs.    She closed her eyes as the ceiling above her shook more and more, the last three creatures ready to pounce. Before the cold blocks collapsed on top of the girl, the alien’s hands grabbed onto her shoulders, waist and thighs. But instead of feeling the wind knocked out of her by a wall, she fell… and fell through it, greeted by an echo-y thud off a wooden surface.

   In an instant her eyes were open, bright sunlight shocking her system as a beautiful salty breeze of the sea invaded her senses. There was no time to relish in the feeling as the monster was still on top of her chest, seemingly just as surprised to be in their new surroundings. Y/N took it as her cue and sliced off the arms that held her thighs, eliciting a shrieking scream from the thing. Her second blade struck in its shoulder of the one that held down her hip. Y/N wiggled around a bit, hooking her leg over its tail and flipping them over, so that the girl was now on top of it and with a hard thrust she pushed the blade through its neck, pinning it to the wooden floorboards underneath them and killing the thing.    Her combat suit was ripped open, basically leaving it in shreds. Her chest was heaving as her palms grabbed onto what seemed to be a timber railing. Y/N let her eyes adjust to the scene beforehand, and if she wasn’t as exhausted, the adrenaline wearing off leaving a leaden feeling in her legs, she’d almost believe what was in front of her.    A tallish man with dark dreadlocks, a red bandana, a triangular hat and God only knows how many trinkets tied into the strands stood before her. His brown eyes were lined with charcoal and a hand with a ring on every finger was holding a sword up to her. A tiny goatee with beads hanging off of it swished around in the wind, but what drew Y/N’s attention more was the young man standing beside him.    Clad in a white cotton tunic, the buttons open revealing a muscular chest, his chocolate eyes bore into Y/N’s Y/E/C ones. His shoulder length hair was half up pulled away from his face revealing sharp cheekbones and jawline.    “I’m dead aren’t I?” she asked to no one in particular, noting that there were more men on the ship, each looking scruffier than the previous, all of them weirdly enough dressed like they were from the 17th hundreds. “Or did you transport me to a fucking amusement park, Stephen?” she chuckled turning away from the men.    There was no reply.    “Stephen?” she tapped the little black device still securely tucked in the shell of her ear. Again nothing.    Y/N’s voice shook as her eyes soaked in the scene. “Tony?” Nothing but blue water, the emerald and turquoise hues glinting in the sunlight. No land. No Hydra or New York. Nothing but the open sea.    She spun around, panic settling in her stomach. The man with the dreadlocks looked over at the man with the tied up hair giving a glance of confusion as his sword lowered down.    “No,” Y/N choked out, “no, no, no, no.” Her palms met the wooden floor of what she now knew to be a ship. “This can’t be happening! Wanda!” Y/N’s scream echoed in the open air. “Bucky!”    At this point, her back was pressed against the side of the ship and a palm going to her throat. Y/N couldn’t properly breathe, her head was spinning from hyperventilating. Suddenly a hand was placed on her shoulder. She could feel the skin-to-skin contact, courtesy of a giant rip in her suit.    “Miss, I need you to breathe, okay?” it was the one wearing the white shirt. His voice was soothing, like the waves the ship was lulling on.    “Where,” Y/N heaved out, “where am I?”    The man who had his sword pointed at her before, answered the question. “The Caribbean sea, love. Right in the heart of it.”    Fine. She could work with a place. A place was good. But then came the question Y/N didn’t really know if she wanted to get an answer to. “When am I?”    Her Y/E/C met the white-tunic-mans. They were soft, consoling, she didn’t want to look away, but then again, neither did she want to hear what his lips had to say. “18th century.”    Y/N took a deep breath. 18th century. She was in the fucking 18th century. Man, had Stephen fucked up. Her attention was taken away from the man by a woman, she hadn’t previously noticed. The blonde was just about to touch the alien but Y/N was faster, jumping up and wrapping her arms around the petite girl, shielding her body with her own.    “Don’t touch it! Unless you want the whole ship to go up, I suggest you back away.” Her eyes were a lighter shade of brown, golden specks glinting in the sunlight, plump lips open in an unheard question.    Hydra had scientifically grown the alien species in test tubes and then genetically engineered them to explode after dying if someone or something touched the skin, to cause the maximum effect of destruction. Back in the base that had actually helped her out in the mission, at one point setting off a chain reaction and taking a whole block out. Now, given the fact that there wasn’t land anywhere on the horizon, Y/N couldn’t risk anything.    A tall and lanky man, one eye darting around, clearly made from wood scooted closer to the strange creature. “You touch it and it’ll explode. The ship will go down and so will everyone else,” Y/N warned him, hoping the rest would take it to heart too.    The girl was barely keeping it together, opting for command mode to stay sane. She needed something to do, so a plan had to be devised to safely dispose or at least relocate the carcass before another curious mind came a bit too close and boom! went the dynamite.    “Well, what do you suggest then? Leave it out in the open? Where it’ll rot and then a seagull will flock down, sit on it and make my Pearl drown that way?” The guy with the deadlocks had approached Y/N and the girl, the Avenger still sorta shielding the other woman’s body with her own.    Back while fighting with Hydra, the bodies had exploded because of harsh movements, like rubble hitting it, a stray bullet or a graze of a knife. In an instant the green blood started to turn orange and then red, the dead flesh heating up before exploding, the shrapnel of bones and the sheer force of kinetic energy bringing down stone walls. But what if nothing did touch it?    Y/N had magic in her veins, but she was untrained, nothing like Stephen. ’Damn, it Wanda, I need you,’ she thought to herself before looking at the gathered crowd. The girl was terrified of what ran through her blood more specifically because one time as a kid she had accidentally set a house on fire, just because of her emotions and ever since then she had locked that part of her mind.    “Stand back.”    The girl immediately detached herself form Y/N taking a few steps away.    “What?” it was dreadlocks.    “I said stand back. I don’t know what’s gonna happen so you might want to keep yourself at a safe distance.”    He levelled a gaze. “And what is a safe distance?”    Y/N had no answer to that. “Preferably somewhere off the boat, but since that ain’t possible- as far away as you can.”    The girl steadied her mind, slowly feeling her heart rate come back to the normal thud-thud-thud. ‘Don’t fuck it up, don’t fuck it up, don’t fuck it up’ was a mantra ringing through her head. Wanda and Stephen had had years of training whereas Y/N had none, so freeing that part of her mind was terrifying. To allow the power she didn’t know how to control ooze out of her every pore was the scariest thing that had ever happen to her.    The girl concentrated, letting the tendrils seep out and feel the air. It was a shock to her system. She could feel every molecule around her, the tiniest ripple under the sea, where a crab left an indent in the sand or a fish moved its muscles to propel itself forwards. Y/N could fell everything, and as much as she wanted to revel in this newfound world, she had to focus.    Air. She could use air. Something warm trickled down her nose, the sticky substance worming past her lips and down her chin. Y/N had no time to wipe away what she knew to be blood. She extended a hand towards the dead alien and mentally pushed the air underneath it up, trying to picture it as a solid material the body could be laying on. She imagined it lift above the floor and it did. Green blood was spilling out from the places where its limbs were missing as well as through the giant neck wound.    “A bit more, a bit higher, a bit further,” Y/N muttered underneath her breath as she moved her palm toward the open sea, the body floating in the air immediately following that direction.    Red droplets from her nose splattered against the wood. “Just a bit more.” A huge headache was forming, ripping her skull apart. “Just a tiny bit more.” It was over the railing, hovering above the sea, yet it was still too close, what had dreadlocks called it- Pearl? It was still too close to the Pearl.    From somewhere behind her a voice kept calling. It was saying for her to stop. Or at least that’s what Y/N thought. The only thing she could hear was her own blood pounding in her ears. Her hand shook with the force the girl was exerting.    “A tiny bit more,” it came out like a strangled breath before she released the alien, it’s body splatting down into the sea, exploding in a matter of three seconds.    Y/N’s lips pulled up in an exhausted smile. “There,” she heaved out, “done.”     And suddenly she lost balance. Y/N would’ve smashed her forehead against the black railing if it hadn’t been for two strong arms that caught her just in time.    His mouth moved, yet Y/N couldn’t hear the words. Lick-the-bed? What no, that couldn’t be right. The woman she had shielded from the alien’s body reappeared in Y/N’s vision. She was carrying a cloth, a damp one that she gently pressed against Y/N’s flushed skin. No, Elizabeth, not lick-a-bed. That was the girl’s name.    The woman’s mouth moved as well, Y/N’s hearing catching onto one single word before falling into the blissful darkness where nothing hurt.    “Will…”

Tags: @fandamad

A/N: I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m a mess :D

please tell me what you think :)

P.S. if you have any requests or wanna be tagged drop a message 

P.S.S. please don’t repost without credit

[redditnosleep]

Has Anyone Else Seen This Strange Infomercial?

by crystakat. Warning for child abuse.

February 11th

Let me tell you the secret of the century: being a single parent is hard. Yeah, of course it’s worth it and all, but I’m not sure how anyone does this for eighteen years. Shift at the hospital, hurry home and check on Tommy, four hours of shut-eye tops, then another eight hours working retail, rinse and repeat. It’s awesome.

With a schedule that tight, you think I’d froth at the mouth for the chance to get some extra sleep, but lately my insomnia’s getting real bad. The circles under my eyes are starting to look like a permanent fixture. When Tommy’s crying is ringing in my ears and I feel like I’m about to shatter into little pieces, there’s only one outlet: late-night TV. Infomercials, to be exact. More infomercials than you can count.

Sitting in front of the ghostly blue glow of the screen is just about the only thing that helps distract from a one-year-old’s incessant wailing. Yeah, yeah, before you revoke my “good parenting” card, I’ll have you know Tommy cries over nothing. The kid’s fed and watered, but he’ll scream like it’s the end of the world.

There’s no feeling quite like slipping into a near-fugue state at two in the morning with the words buy now, and we’ll throw in a free pack of refills! ringing around in your head, like ping-pong balls ricocheting in an empty room. At some point, if you’re lucky, you’ll slip into unconsciousness and wake up with your face mashed into the couch.

I’ve pretty much seen them all by now. Catalogued in them head. There’s the blender that promises to make meal prep 5000% more efficient, the hairdryer from heaven, the neck-cushioner that’ll cure your arthritis, the vacuum cleaner that connects to Bluetooth and probably can sleep with your wife. A hundred perky men and women going on about weight loss pills and makeup and kitchen knives and towels that’ll revolutionize your life, no really, we promise or your money back.

Well, all except one. Last night, I saw a new infomercial that I’m still not quite sure if I hallucinated or not. It was maybe 3AM, and my mind was throbbing, pulsing inside my skull. I’d all but given up on sleep. The blonde woman on the screen had just finished her spiel about cubic zirconia jewelry, and then this way-too-catchy jingle was blaring from the TV:

Spleeno! Spleeno all your worries away! Spleeno! Spleeno makes a better today!

It was a chorus of high-pitched voices, I think, something childish like you’d hear in a toy commercial. The lyrics to the jingle flashed across the screen in fat, cartoonish letters.

Next, there was one of those “before” montages. You know, the clips of people cracking eggs onto the floor or groaning about their bad back, before the miracle product swoops in to save them. It was pretty standard: a black-and-white shot of a young woman applying mascara in the mirror, making an exaggerated mess of it by smudging it all over her eyelids. She frowned at the finished result. The camera zoomed in on her clumped-together lashes. The whole time, this glum, almost comically sad tune played in the background.

It transitioned into a full-color scene of the woman beaming into the mirror. The words SPLEENO! hung above her head, and the music was now generically upbeat. Look. I hadn’t slept in around thirty-six hours, and I’d started to feel like my brain was melting out of my ears, so I don’t know what I saw. But it sure as hell looked like this pretty girl brought a pair of tweezers up to her eyelids and began plucking out her lashes, one by one, all with a TV-ready smile splayed across her face. No time lapse or anything. It might have gone on for five minutes or fifteen. When it was finished, she almost looked normal, but if you looked close, you could see her completely bare lids.

The infomercial ended with the SPLEENO! jingle playing again while the woman beamed into the camera. She picked up a tube of mascara, looked at it, then tossed it aside. It was so strange that I figured it had to be a parody, complete with an “after” montage of overacting and smiling. I know this sounds crazy, but afterwards, I felt almost relieved. Like some small weight I didn’t even know was there had been taken off my shoulders.

Then Tommy’s crying started up again, and the feeling was lost.

February 13th

I saw it again last night. Honest to god. I actually did pass out for around an hour before waking up, feeling like absolute crap. I peeled myself off the couch to check on Tommy. He was sleeping for once, and I promptly returned to the living room to tune in to my favorite channel.

I watched the same toaster infomercial twice before it came on again. When the jingle started, my heart sped up: Spleeno! Spleeno all your worries away! Spleeno! Spleeno makes a better today! Whatever this was, it had one hell of a catchy tune. The kind that crops up in your mind at the worst of moments.

Call it morbid curiosity. I wanted to see what was going to play this time. It was too early to be an April Fool’s prank, but maybe it was all a joke by someone with a seriously weird sense of humor, or promo for an upcoming movie.

The jingle ended, and the colors quickly faded to black and white. I watched as a middle-aged man came on screen. He was dressed in his pajamas, his hair tousled in a TV version of a messy bedhead. He stood in front of the mirror and cupped his cheek with a grimace, then opened his mouth to inspect his teeth: they were yellow and crooked, some of them sitting at angles that looked downright painful. I could see black spots of rot on his molars. He poured a cupful of mouthwash and gargled, but his face creased as if he was in agony and he quickly spit it all down the drain.

The scene shifted, and the now-technicolored man was dressed smartly in work clothes, his hair slicked down with gel. SPLEENO! danced across the screen in burning pink letters. The counter was littered with teeth. He looked into his mirror and smiled, revealing a completely toothless mouth with raw, bloody gums. I should have been disgusted, but that reaction never came. Instead I was... fascinated. The man didn’t look to be in pain. He seemed almost elated. And why shouldn’t he be? His pain was gone. I wondered how he felt—light, carefree. I felt a little scared for feeling the way I did, but I couldn’t deny it, either.

Afterwards, I stuck around to watch a mattress commercial, but found that my eyes closed of their own volition, and I finally fell into shallow, dreamless sleep. I woke up feeling unsatisfied, like I’d had some unfinished business in a dream, but couldn’t remember what.

February 17th

I’ve stayed up every night since Tuesday and it hasn’t come on a single time. I know what I saw, but at the same time I’m starting to doubt myself. Maybe I dreamed it all up. Either way, I haven’t slept a minute in three nights.

I almost crashed the car during a milk run for formula and diapers this morning. Tommy is driving me up the wall. I could swear he wakes up and starts sounding off the minute I get home, and shuts up once I’m at work. God, I wish I had the money for a sitter. Just one night of peace and quiet might be enough. Nothing around me seems solid, anymore. It’s like the world is slipping away, and there’s only me, a sack of blood and bones dragging itself to places that feel like hollow imprints. I know I look like shit, but I’m finding it hard to care.

I wonder if this is how people lost in the desert feel, when they see that last mirage of cool water.

February 18th

It came on at 1AM. I can’t explain it, but the moment I heard the first notes to the jingle, I felt a wave of relief crashing down on me. The world felt real again.

I kept my eyes glued to the screen. There was an elderly woman this time, walking down a set of stairs to that same sad tune. With her coiffed gray hair and red sweater, she looked like a character out of a Christmas movie, the sweet old lady about to serve her grandkids chocolate-chip cookies with a smile. She wasn’t smiling now, though. Each time her right foot made contact with the steps, she winced, quickly shifting her weight to her left. Bad knee. Once she got to the bottom, she rested on the banister and caught her breath. The next few clips showed her hobbling around the house—I realized it was the same one the others were shot in—and clutching at her kneecap every few seconds.

Right then, it was as if I could feel the pain shooting up my leg, too. I wanted her to be free of it. I wanted to feel light again. I watched as the TV cut to a close-up shot of the old woman sleeping in bed. Her gray hair was spread out on the pillow like a halo. The camera slowly pulled out, revealing the rest of her nightgown-clad body and the smooth, round stump of her right leg. I noticed it’d been severed just above the knee, and it looked to have healed completely, the skin intact except for a line of white scarring. I examined her face. With her mouth curled into a smile, she was the picture of tranquility. I couldn’t help but smile myself. Her pain was gone now, discarded with the unbearable weight of all that putrid flesh. For the first time in a long time, I felt at ease, perfectly content, even. I kept smiling as the jingle ran again.

Spleeno! Spleeno all your worries away! Spleeno! Spleeno makes a better today!

I didn’t sleep for the rest of the night, but I kept grinning anyway, enjoying the way those words rolled off my tongue.

February 20th

Yesterday was the best one yet! I didn’t go to work, just in case I’d miss it while I was gone. Tommy was crying as usual, and he was annoying as ever, but I didn’t let him distract me.

I kept my attention on the TV. The infomercial came on around midnight—earlier than usual. It featured a man and his dog. A golden retriever. Even with the grainy quality, I could see that it was a beautiful specimen, its coat sleek and its eyes bright. Too bad it just wouldn’t shut up. Its barking went on and on, all through the night, and my heart clenched with sympathy as the man groaned and clapped his hands over his ears. The barks seemed to grow in volume until it was unbearable. I shook my head as the man tried a pair of earplugs to block out the noise. I knew all too well those didn’t work. Tommy’s cries could penetrate through anything.

I was on the edge of my seat waiting for what came next. The black-and-white gave way to color, and the man went from tired and groggy to well-rested. He got up from bed and stretched, then went to the kitchen to fix himself a cup of coffee, humming the whole time. As a stream of coffee poured into his mug, I noticed a large yellowish mass lying on the kitchen floor. The dog’s body looked broken, and its head was stained with a bloom of red, but the man’s newfound happiness was so infectious that I hardly paid it any attention. The now-familiar SPLEENO! hung above the pair. I realized my face was wet with tears of joy. The man had gotten what he wanted: silence. The tears kept coming even after the screen went black.

Spleeno. It’s a wonderful sound. A wonderful word. It takes all your worries away. It makes you realize you have to hold on, and if something’s standing in the way, then you have to get rid of it.

That night, I slept like a baby.

[laythornmuse]

Where We Begin:  Chapter 8 (Part 1)

Previous Chapter 

 The car arrived precisely at 6 PM as Claire was walking down the steps of her complex.  Jamie stepped out of the car to help her in, but as she approached he felt an awe fall over him.  

Her curls were pinned delicately in place, swept back and off her neck in delicate ringlets. Her skin glowed with just a hint of cosmetics,  her eyes smoky and alluring.  Her dress, though modest, hit mid thigh and made her opal, soft legs appear endless.  

“Jamie. You’re staring,” She smirked as she stopped in front of him.

Jamie blinked several times before a sheepish expression crossed his face.  He took the small overnight tote from her hand and pulled her close for a kiss.  The smell of jasmine on her neck made him groan aloud.

“I was wondering how long Jenny would let me live if we skipped the benefit and I took you home now,” he murmured, sending a bolt of heat right between her legs.

She grinned. “I did not spend hours on these curls to have no one see them, Fraser.”

He smiled, closed his eyes a moment and shook his head. “Aye. You’re right.” 

He backed up a step and offered her his hand. “After you.”

Jamie shut the door behind her, placed her tote in the trunk and circled round to the opposite door, all while trying to wipe the grin off his face.  A woman he was crazy about was about to meet his family before spending the night.  He mumbled a soft prayer that he didn’t screw it up.

Claire felt her breathing stop as they pulled up to the venue. They had laughed together during the car ride, but now that she saw the crowd gathered around the door and the cameras, her palms felt damp and her heart raced.  A strong arm wound around her to still her hands, as a warm breath hummed by her ear.

“Let them snap their photos. Smile and breathe and dinna let go of my hand.” 

“Like I intended to,” She muttered dryly.

“I’ll walk around to your door and help ye out. Ready?” 

“No,” Claire whispered. 

Jamie pressed a kiss to her neck and let his hand drop from her hand to her thigh. He squeezed the skin above her knee and slowly let his fingers crawl upward, inching under the hem of her dress.

“Weel, I suppose we could find something else to do…”

“This is not motivating me out of the car.” She whispered, leaning her head back to grant more access to her neck. 

A knock on the window startled them apart,  and Jamie grimaced as his sister leaned on the tinted windows.

“Jenny.” He sighed and motioned her away. “She’s always had terrible timing,” he muttered.  He gripped her hands. “Now?” 

Claire nodded and smiled. “Just don’t let go.”

Jamie led her through the dense crowd in under 5 minutes, stopping in 10-second intervals to either keep an eye on Jenny, shake hands with a guest being interviewed (smart move, I thought) or to pose for a brief picture where he pulled her close and motioned discretely where to look. 

Claire was shocked when they cleared the glass doors of the gala’s foyer, and tugged Jamie to a halt.

“Impressive.  I see you’ve navigated seas of people before.”

He smirked and looped her hand through his arm. “The trick is to not stop moving.  They can smell weakness, ye ken.” 

Claire hid a grin behind her hand as Jamie lead her into the main ballroom, stopping only to hug his sister when she and her husband caught up.

Jenny did not intimidate Claire,  but it was clear that Jenny was a great force of opinion, stubbornness, and guile.  She glowed in a cream and gold one-shoulder cocktail dress, beautifully tailored to her petite frame.  She commanded the ballroom, catching the eye of attendants to refill beverages while eying the hors-d'oeuvres to ensure their presence.  She did this while briefing Jamie on the last minute cancellations and giving him a murderous glare if his attention wavered.

After Jamie left the previous night,  Claire’s phone erupted with messages from Jenny. With barely an introduction, Jenny jumped right into the business of preparation.  The gala was benefiting the City’s Recreation Centers,  starting new after-school programs in discovery and science, ranging from ages 12-16.  

Jenny texted her a 20-page document on the at-risk statistics of children 12-16,  the major donor names of the evening,  and talking points in case she was surrounded and cornered.

Always a good student,  Claire studied the materials provided and was not at all surprised when Jenny turned her attention to her.

“Very good, Claire,” Jenny nodded approvingly after the fifth correct answer. 

“Jenny, please, will ye no’ relax?” Jamie pleaded.

“Well, I kno’ ye didn’t review the packet I sent ye, Brother, Given where your head's been.” Jenny gave me a pointed look. “But, at least this one laughs and has a head filled with more than smoke.”

“Janet!” Jamie growled.

Claire smirked and patted Jamie’s arm. “I’m flattered, Jenny. Your good opinion seems hard earned, but I’ll do my best.”

“See?  We understand each other already,” Jenny teased,  as Ian came around her left and handed her a drink. 

“Causing mayhem already, mo ghraidh?” Ian said with a wink.  “Cheers, Claire, to your first battle with a Fraser.  May you survive more.”

“Hush, you,” Jenny scowled, before leaning in to kiss his cheek. “And I’m sure it’s not her first.”

“Guilty.” Jamie clinked his glass to Claire’s, grinning at her before scanning the room. “Just about time Jenny?”

“Aye, it is. Come away, brother.” Jenny said, tipping back the last drops of her drink.

“A wee speech,” Jamie said softly to Claire. “Ian, behave now. None of those college shinty stories.”

“I wouldn’t dream of telling her those,” Ian laughed, offering Claire his arm.  Claire beamed at him as she wound her arm through his.

“And why not?”

“Because he plays a part in most of them,” Jamie muttered and squeezed her hand before he followed Jenny.

Claire was delighted with Ian’s company, more so when she discovered he was a fellow art lover. 

“Did you study art?” She asked.

“No, but Jenny did,” He grinned. “We met in an art class and…well,” Ian chuckled, “I took a few more art classes than necessary to get close to her, ye ken.”

“How terribly romantic,” Claire quipped as he led her to the next installation. They had only just reached the piece when one of the event coordinators approached them. 

“Excuse me, sir.  Mrs. Murray has requested you.”   Ian hesitated a moment before Claire pressed.

“I can manage just fine, Ian.  Please, go ahead.”  

“All right, but I won’t be long.”

Claire playfully shooed him away, as she turned back to the display.  This one was a sepia photograph of raked fields, following a harvest.  The ground was ripped apart, roots and branches scattered over the once neatly lined wheat field, but in the foreground, a male hand extended out to landscape,  and within the cupped hand,  the land's soil.  As she leaned closer she felt a set of eyes lock on her back.  She dropped her eyes to her clenched hands and forced herself to relax them as she felt a presence walk up alongside her.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” said the young woman.  Claire glanced at her,  taking in her dark curls and the ruby-lipped smile.

“Yes.  I never thought a harvest could appear so violent.” Claire admitted. “Do you know the artist?”

The woman tilted her head. “Don’t you?  You were just standing with her husband, after all.”

Claire’s eyes flew to the artist plaque and felt a blush start to creep up her neck. “Oh!  I didn’t realize…Are you a friend of the family?”

“My uncle has worked for the Frasers for years. This was taken at the Lallybroch estate two summers ago. Janet usually donates a few stills to these types of events.  She hasn’t sold privately in years, despite everyone urging her to.”  The woman turned fully to Claire and extended her hand.  

“Geneva Dunsany.”  

Claire felt her throat go dry.  “Dunsany,  as in Lord Provost of Edinburgh?”

“My Father.”  Geneva tilted her head and waived over a server. “And you are?”

“Dr. Claire Beauchamp.”

“Doctor! How extraordinary!” Geneva declared.  “What field did you receive your doctorate?”

Claire pressed her lips together and took a glass of champagne from the server. 

 “Medicine actually.  I’ll be a certified surgeon before the end of the year.”

“Oh.  Well, that’s wonderful.” Geneva’s eyes sank to her drink, taking a sip before beaming at her again. “Goodness, that must have taken a lot of time.  I’ll finish my BS in Philosophy this spring.”

“Do you know what you wish to do after college then?” Claire asked,  grateful to be back in familiar territory. 

“Oh, no.  No plans yet.  I’m sure I’ll work for one of my mother’s philanthropies before long,  but the main goal after college will be getting established.”

“Established?” Claire quirked an eyebrow.

“Married, of course. I’m turning 22 soon.  I can’t very well wait much longer.” She chuckled.  

"I see."  Claire felt as if she’d stepped back into the 18th century. Not knowing whether to pity the young girl or declare her delusional,  Claire decided to play along with her madness. “Who's the lucky fellow?”

“No decided winners yet.  Though I have one in mind.” Geneva’s eyes turned slowly back on Claire. “Men can never be rushed into these things. My mother says they're like temperate horses.  Sometimes, if you want them to behave and follow you,  you need to let go of their bridle and let them run free a bit.” 

“Very sound advice,” Claire muttered. 

“Yes.  Though,  I do wish he’d hurry up sowing his seed amongst the wild mares.” Claire watched Geneva’s eyes turn cold, as a tremor ran down her spine. “You’ll return James in good working order, I trust?”

Claire was grateful for the shadows in this part of the room,  hiding the redness creeping up her neck and her hands clawing into her elbows.

"Excuse me?" Clare spat.

“Oh listen to me. I meant to reassure you there were no hard feelings.”  Geneva tipped her head and bit her bottom lip. “Be sure to enjoy him while you have him, Claire. He’s an awfully good ride.”

Chapter 8 Part 2

[teamkaiforever]

FIRST TIME

(requested by anon)

[drtanstravels]

I just realised I hadn’t published anything for the entire month of March, mainly due to the fact that we haven’t traveled anywhere in the last couple of weeks. Today has been a slow news day, thus I’ve finished all of my work, and I’m waiting to pick the dog up from the vet from being spayed so I thought I’d have a look through the photos in my phone and try to piece together the final days of a journey that took place almost nine months ago. It will be pretty brief because I’m just relying solely on photos and the results of looking for something similar on Google. I’ll get Anna to have a look through this piece too before I publish it to see if she can shed any additional light, but I am really just tying up the loose ends of our South American adventure.

Thursday, June 30 We got up on time to catch our flight from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, in order to return to Lima, Peru, did the stinky drive past the favelas to the airport, but when we went to check in they had no record of us being on that flight. The woman at the counter apologised profusely, said it must’ve been a booking error, however, there were some business class seats available on the flight we were trying to board that morning, so she gave us a free upgrade as compensation for the hassle. Man, I wish that would happen on long-haul flights. We made the most of our luxurious five-hour flight and touched down in Lima. It was definitely nice to be back. We loved it in São Paulo, enjoyed Rio, but we definitely felt a lot safer in Peru.

Anna really loved the tiles at our new hotel

We caught a cab from the airport to our new hotel in Lima. Rio is three hours ahead of Lima so it wasn’t time to check into our room yet, but we thought we would try our luck anyway. We approached the desk and asked, but when the man looked up our reservation it turned out they weren’t expecting us until the next day. What a strange coincidence! To make up for their little boo-boo the hotel upgraded our room, but we would have to wait an hour or so for it to be ready. That wouldn’t be a problem, we left our luggage at the hotel and went to get a bite to eat. On our way I started thinking about what had happened with both the plane ticket and the hotel room and how both occurrences had been way too much of a coincidence to be possible. “Anna, you don’t think we accidentally left Rio a day early, do you?” She checked all of the bookings and confirmation emails and it tuned out we were still supposed to be in Brazil for another night and weren’t really deserving of those upgrades and improvements. I guess anything is possible if you believe strongly enough in what you are saying. That definitely explains Trump’s election, anyway.

The weather wasn’t particularly great, but it was still nice to walk around, checking out the neighbourhood, so that’s how we spent most of our first day back in town:

An abandoned house near where we were staying

Anna wants a gramophone now

Peruvian Food is so good

These birds were everywhere and getting up close wasn’t a problem

Anna HATED the crow statues

Nothing much, just walking the pig….

Not sure where that parachutist is going to land…

Dinner

…with a traditional, Peruvian band

Friday, July 1 We were staying in the Miraflores region of Peru, an area known for having cool shops along with great bars and restaurants, but it is also close to Pueblo Libre, home to the Larco Museum, described by Wikipedia thusly:

The Larco Museum (Spanish: Museo Arqueológico Rafael Larco Herrera) is a privately owned museum of pre-Columbian art, located in the Pueblo Libre District of Lima, Peru. The museum is housed in an 18th-century vice-royal building built over a 7th-century pre-Columbian pyramid. It showcases chronological galleries that provide a thorough overview of 4,000 years of Peruvian pre-Columbian history. It is well known for its gallery of pre-Columbian erotic pottery.

There are several permanent exhibitions at the Larco Museum, such as The Gold and Silver Gallery, a collection of crowns, earrings, nose ornaments, garments, masks and vases, wrought in gold and decorated with semi-precious stones. But that’s not what we were there for —  Spending a Friday afternoon in Peru looking at erotic pottery could be both interesting and amusing so we went to see what all the fuss was about. They weren’t kidding either, the pre-Columbian civilisations of Peru were pretty damn explicit when it comes to their crockery.

Sorry the side is cut off, but you get the general gist

Don’t worry, this is not of what “erotic pottery” consists

Just sitting here, thinking of dick things…

Next on the agenda was Iglesia de San Pedro (Church of St. Peter) one of the more famous of Lima’s landmarks. We hadn’t actually planned to go there initially, but we were nearby and recognised it when we saw it. We attempted to enter past all of the heavily-armed guards, but it was too much of a hassle, so we decided to take a look at another cathedral across the road. Neither of us can recall the name of the place, but it was pretty cool, lot’s of carved wooden sculptures and a bunch of tiny caskets inside. These things were really small! From there we took a walk around the area until it was time to grab a drink and something to eat so we pulled up a seat in a bar where you sit in wheelbarrows.

Sights like this almost bring a tear to my eye, I always wanted a beetle!

Anna inside the church

One of the carvings inside

These caskets look a lot bigger from a distance

Barely as long as my arm

Looking at Iglesia de San Pedro

In the town square

Iglesia de San Pedro

Town square again

Beers in a barrow

Anna drinking something green

After a couple of wheelbarrow-bound drinks it was time for dinner, which meant going to ámaZ for Amazonian food. Ranked as one of the 50 Best Restaurants in the World, ámaZ is described on theworlds50best.com like this:

Amaz head chef Pedro Miguel Schiaffino may have learned his craft abroad but this menu is pure Peruvian pizzazz. With extensive knowledge of the Amazonian region and a tireless approach to fresh, traditional forest ingredients, the US-Italian chef adds wild jungle touches to classic Latin American dishes such as ceviche, tacacho (fried mashed green bananas) and cecina (dried pork).

This second 120-cover restaurant pitches such hearty gems as chorizo oil-drizzled snails, lime and raw fish, and garlic Amazon peppers. Drinks are not forgotten either, with the cocktail menu also featuring rare and unfamiliar fruits from the Amazonian larder. At once colourful, intriguing and democratic , Amaz wholeheartedly celebrates its food’s rainforest roots.

That sounded pretty damn good, especially those snails, so they were among several dishes we order and the snails, which were of the river variety, were huge! The ones we received came with some sort of roe and the egg we ordered was of some specific Amazonian bird served on a particular bark, but unfortunately I can’t remember what species either was. The menu changes all the time so I am unable to find out what they were. Anyway, it all tasted pretty spectacular:

River snails

Mmmmm…..

Maybe it was snails in those caskets earlier. I’m just glad there was no dress code

Egg

After dinner we walked around to find another bar for some Friday night drinks. All we really came across was a dodgy looking reggae-themed bar that was relatively empty. Still we made the most of it, but we couldn’t have a big night; we were flying out tomorrow.

Bob Marley statue with a real joint in its mouth

Don’t worry, they gave us the pen to do it

Saturday, July 2 It was our last day in Lima, it’s not a particularly big city and we had seen most of it, both over the last couple of days and when we were first here two weeks previous, so we decided just to spend the day wandering around, trying to find new areas we hadn’t stumbled across already. We also wanted to return to some of the places we liked the first time around. First stop — lunch.

I can’t recall the name of the restaurant, but the place where we went to eat did meat in an exceptionally big way, as well as bunch of local fare and we decided to make our final non-airplane-food meal count so we grabbed a bite to eat. Most of the dishes they served, especially the meat dishes, were obviously intended for sharing. We got some sandwiches, as well as some mixed pig intestines and vegetables. Always goes down well.

I wasn’t kidding about the meat

Part of our lunch

Anna and her meditating monkey coaster

For the rest of the day we just walked around, unsuccessfully trying to find new areas to splurge in and also for Anna to find a ring, just like she buys in every country we go to. She managed to find one, however, unfortunately for her it broke not long after. We also saw some cool street art and even cooler cars.

I had never seen a kombi-ute before

A beetle in slightly better condition than the yellow one

Smokey and the Bandit have fallen upon hard times

You know you’re getting old when this looks appealing

Before long it was time to return to Jorge Chávez International Airport and make our way back to New York City. We had had a great trip and some interesting experiences over our two weeks in South America, such as eating guinea pigs and shitting in shopping bags. I also managed to grow an excruciatingly painful pimple on the side of my nose that even hurt when my t-shirt brushed against it as I got dressed each morning and was still there with a head toward the end of September, regardless of how often or how hard I squeezed it! It may not have been necessary to stay overnight in the Andes in order to arrive at Machu Picchu, but it was worth any hassle to get there and take in that view. We already knew that trek through the Andes would be painful at the time but would turn out to be something we would appreciate in hindsight and that is most definitely the case. We loved São Paulo and didn’t mind Rio de Janeiro either, but I would definitely suggest that everyone go to Lima at some stage if they’re ever in South America, even if it’s just for the ceviche. Seriously, it doesn’t matter if you’re allergic to seafood, that would be the way I’d like to go. Still, we have so much more of Central and South America that we haven’t explored yet, so we’ll definitely be back.

Now all we had to do was to make our way through all of these wheelchairs to get on our flight back to the United States and hopefully scam some more free upgrades…

South America, Pt. 5: The Scam I just realised I hadn't published anything for the entire month of March, mainly due to the fact that we haven't traveled anywhere in the last couple of weeks.