#I am notorious for stealing people's genders

[cartoonalt-reblogs]

Horridly gay self portrait under the cut.

Reblog & put in the tags traits you have that would make you a fun fictional character/traits you have that feel very character-y :3

[mrsbrekkers]

Hi! How are you?

Could I get a Kaz Brekker imagine where he opens up to the reader after a job about his past and the next day he tells her it was a mistake and a lapse of judgement, quite harshly. And then the reader gets hurt after a heist and he realises how much he actually needs her.

Thank you <3

i’m doing pretty good! first kaz fic tehe, i’ve been waiting to do kaz brekker one-shots since i read the books. he is v much a comfort character. i understand his aversion to physical touch ( i have panic attacks at times because of so ), his humor, and inner dialogue so he is v dear and near to my heart yeeee

i switched up the next day bit and did it as the same time since it made more sense to me?? i’m not sure how to explain it haha

pairings! kaz x reader / jesper x wylan + nina x matthias ( with inej third wheeling because she’d so do so. ) 

reader is female in this, but i can make it non-gender specific if one would like me too! just let me know i’m very flexible in my writing!

warnings! talking about jordie, ptsd, trauma, talk of death, loss of a brother + mother, swear words, kaz being sad, panic attacks, blood, near death experience, pekka a-hole rollins,

word count; 2610 ( proud again haha )

one-shot under cut!

COMPANIONABLE SILENCE

The Slat had become uncharacteristically quiet. A successful heist on part of the Crows made for easy celebration amongst the Dregs. Most sat gambling at the Crow Club, drinking the night away. Jesper had been having a weirdly lucky night, the money in front of him displaying such. Wylan had been on Jesper’s leg the entire night, and the occasional ‘This is my lucky charm’ could be heard from Jesper. Inej and Nina sat drinking together, Matthias looking like an unwilling bystander to the girls' fun. And yet, Y/N found herself back at the Slat after the long day. Her back screamed at her to call it a night, but instead, she found herself in front of Kaz’s door.

It was a routine the two had when they were the only ones at the Slat. Y/N would sit on the bed, head in a book, and Kaz would sit quietly at his desk planning whatever it was Kaz Brekker decided to plan. It seemed the same tonight, with Y/N quietly reading, until her head lifted to see Kaz rubbing his eyes.

“You need to get more sleep. The amount you manage is minimal. I’m surprised you’re not dead yet,” Y/N commented, her book falling into her lap, the page she’d left off on now folded at the corner. It surprised her how Kaz managed to live off of his, if lucky, two hours of sleep. She’d never understand it. Granted, she slept less than the suggested as well, but she always made up for it with at least a nap during the day.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” 

That might be sooner than you think at this rate. But Y/N wouldn’t take that for an answer. She wasn’t usually a pushy person, especially with Kaz Brekker. She’d learned being pushy with him was never a good idea, considering the amount of people who did were left with a ruined reputation and nothing to live with.

“Sleeping when you’re dead isn’t an option in Ketterdam. Even when you’re dead here, you’re really not. Especially when people know of you. And last time I checked, the entire city knows you, and half of it wants your head on a silver platter. I’m actually sure people outside of the city know you, and may want the same,” Y/N said, standing and moving over to the wooden desk, sitting across from Kaz. Her eyes landed on the work Kaz worked on, seeing another heist plan he was drawing out.

Kaz wasn’t going to give in easily, anyone who knew him knew he was stubborn. One of the most stubborn people who lived in Ketterdam, but he knew what Y/N was saying held some truth in it. One was never truly dead in Ketterdam. He suspected people would dig up his body to hand over to Pekka Rollins - no, he wouldn’t die before Pekka Rollins did, that was a promise he’d made himself after Jordie. Brick by Brick. He couldn’t pull Rollins apart if he was dead. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t dead yet: his vigor to destroy the man who’d killed his brother. But he did suspect that when he, Kaz Brekker, was dead, he’d never truly be dead.

“Even so, I have things to do, plans to make-”

“At 1 in the morning? I’m sure such plans aren’t going to disappear overnight.” Being cut off, Kaz casted Y/N a glare, eyes narrowing. Why she had such influence over him, he’d never know. Or, maybe he did know and wasn’t going to express why. Because why would he? Kaz Brekker didn’t need a reason after all. He always had reasons though.

Finally, Y/N sighed. “I don’t expect you to listen to me, but I’m not going to let you rot away from the lack of sleep you get, Kaz. I am just as stubborn as you, and if I must? I will sit here and bug you about your lack of sleep until sunrise. Or until I inevitably fall asleep.” The smallest glimpse of a smile reached Kaz’s lips, an instinct to roll his eyes almost playfully too. Stubborn about the well-being of her friends was a Y/N special. Kaz had simply thought he’d have time before she got on his ass about his own health.

She’d already gotten on Wylan about his self-destructive habits. His tendency to blame himself for not being good enough. Y/N had practically choked him out once when he’d gone on a rant about how he was a problem for the Crows. A burden. Kaz himself had been somewhat frightened. She’d found ways to help Jesper and his gambling addiction, which usually included them gambling, but in ways that didn’t involve money. She’d gotten on Matthias for his excuses to not kiss Nina.

If Kaz remembered correctly, she’d called it ‘redirecting the issue’.

“You’re avoiding something,” Y/N then spoke, crossing her arms. Weren’t they all avoiding something? Kaz thought, huffing as he sat back into his seat. This was Ketterdam after all. If you weren’t running from some rich merchant, then you were running from their son. Wylan had simply been a lucky break in that usual streak.

“You say that as if we all aren’t running from something,” Kaz finally said out loud, his eyes casted downwards.

“Avoiding, Kaz. Not running, and something tells me the thing you’re avoiding isn’t something, but someone.” Y/N knew the look Kaz had on. She’d worn it herself dozens of times.

“I had a brother.” Kaz couldn’t bring himself to look directly at Y/N. It would make talking about this all too real. Too much. Was this a lapse in his judgement? Why was he telling her this? Had she managed to get so under his skin? 

“We moved to Ketterdam after my father died. My brother . . . Jordie-'' the name came out with a small crack in his voice. He hadn’t said that name out loud since he’d laid on his sick brother’s chest. “Was hopeful about what the city would bring, and it brought peace for some time. We worked with a man for some time, and my brother was in on a deal. One that seemed too good to be true,” Kaz scowled now, his anger seeming to rise as he spoke.

Y/N sighed, knowing where this was going now. “When an offer is too good to be true-”

“It usually is. That man went by a different name then. One to scam people for their money to rise through the ranks of the Barrel.” Kaz finally lifted his eyes, seeing the realization rush over Y/N’s face.

“Pekka Rollins.”

“Pekka Rollins is the reason my brother is dead.”

The room fell silent for a few moments, Y/N contemplating what to say. She had a feeling she was among the few who knew Kaz’s story. She was tempted to ask how Joride died, but she could infer. She’d been around Ketterdam during the time firepox had plagued the city. Her mother had been taken from the disease. She’d been the same age as Kaz. It began clicking in her head too.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N murmured. “I know you probably don’t want my pity, but really, I’m sorry.” It made sense why Kaz felt like he needed to best Pekka Rollins. He wanted revenge. He wanted Rollins to be just as down as him and his brother had been.

Kaz sucked in a deep breath, standing and running a hand through his hair. His regret for telling the woman before him began to consume him. This was a mistake. Why had he told her? A harsh look fell over his face, looking down at the plans he had laid out. “I need to finish these plans, and I’m sure you need some sleep,” his tone was harsh, but it was clear there was hurt underlying it. He wasn’t going to be an outright asshole, but he needed his space now.

“You need sleep too, and I doubt you’re in the right headspace to try and make plans-”

“Y/N, leave.” He internally was begging. And Kaz Brekker never begged . . . but Kaz Rietveld would, and that’s who was begging. 

“Kaz-”

“Leave.” Anger washed over his features, his eyes directing Y/N to the door.

Y/N sighed, walking towards the door. Before she turned the knob, she stopped. “You know being open about your past doesn’t make you weak, right?” But Kaz said nothing, afraid his voice would fail him. With no words spoken for a beat, Y/N opened the door, shutting it as she paced down the steps.

Her book still lied on the bed, the folded paper to the chapter she was on prominent. Kaz took one look at it before sighing and sitting in the chair, one tear making its way down his face.

---

It was supposed to be in and out. Another job. Another however much Kruge. Where is she? Kaz thought. Y/N was never one for being late. Sure she was working with Jesper, who was notoriously late, but she should’ve been out before Jesper was, and she wasn’t.

It’d been a week of no speaking. Kaz couldn’t speak to her after revealing so much. He feared it would become all too real. A common fear he had. Stealing, picking locks, it was all real to him, yes, but he never experienced reality when he was on a job. It was his way of ‘avoiding’ as Y/N would put it. But now, he couldn’t avoid the reality of this job.

The reality was: He’d ignored Y/N for a week in fear, and now she wasn’t at the rondevu point.

She’s Y/N, she isn’t dead. But that may not be true. She could indeed be dead. She could be, She could be, She could be.... Dozens of potential outcomes came to mind.

The world seemed to spin as he paced. Nina and Matthias had already tried to calm him. Nina had even tried to calm his heart rate down. Wylan seemed to be just as worried as Kaz as well, Jesper still out there alongside Y/N and all. Inej was calm, but it was clear she was worried too. They all were, but Kaz was being unusually emotional. 

“At this rate, you’re going to have a heart attack Kaz,” Nina had said.

And if he did, then that’d be a first for the Bastard of The Barrel. 

“And you’re not close to having one?” Wylan asked, shooting a glare over at Nina.

Kaz mentally thanked Wylan. At least he wasn’t the only one close to breaking down. Get in and out. In and out. What had gone wrong?

But then he heard the sound of boots running across the muddy ground, his eyes shooting up to see Jesper carrying a bleeding Y/N.

She’s bleeding. Who had hurt her? Kaz wasn’t sure, but anger filled him. That was until he fully internalized that Y/N was bleeding.

“Jesper, what happened?”

Jesper helped Y/N into the safe house, his breathing heavy as he helped her onto the bed of one of the rooms. “Rollins. He got word of the job. We became overwhelmed and Y/N here took a bullet to the shoulder.” Then Wylan was practically engulfing Jesper in a hug.

How? Was Kaz’s initial thought, but with a huff, he closed his eyes. Moving over to follow Jesper, he took off his coat. Upon entering the room Y/N was sitting in, he nodded towards her good arm, silently asking for her to take off the sleeve of the arm that was hit.

“I thought we weren’t speaking?” Y/N asked, groaning as she pulled the sleeve of her bad shoulder off with some help from Inej who pushed everyone else out of the room. Inej left as well, but gave Kaz a nod to let her know when he would need help.

Kaz didn’t lift his eyes to look at Y/N, his eyes steady on the bullet lodged in her shoulder. He pulled out the medical kit under the bed. Always prepared, Y/N thought.

“How did Rollins find out?” Y/N asked, watching Kaz pick up tweezers from the small medical kit.

“I’m not sure, but I plan on figuring it out. Stay still.” And Y/N did, knowing this was hard enough as it was for Kaz, she didn’t want to make it any harder. Squeezing her eyes shut as she prepared for the pain. She gripped onto the bed, seething as Kaz took the bullet out with the tweezers.

“I hope you know, I didn’t mean any harm last week.” Kaz knew what Y/N was referring too, and he simply nodded for the moment. Picking up the bandages from the kit, Y/N shook her head.

“Get Inej to do it, you’ve already pushed yourself enough.”

“It’s fine,” Kaz spoke, his voice firm.

“Kaz, don’t-”

“I want too.” His eyes lifted to finally look up at Y/N. She looked down as well, silently nodding. She understood Kaz enough to know this was his apology for ignoring her the past week.

“My mother, she died from firepox,” Y/N spoke quietly. She didn’t know how Kaz would take her bringing it up, but she felt that if she didn’t, they’d build up all this anger again. They’d ignore one another again. Kaz stalled. Flashes of Jordie and Reapers Barge consumed him for a few moments. Y/N’s skin turned cold, icy and raw. He flinched away from the feeling.

Then he heard it - Y/N’s heartbeat. She was living. She wasn’t a corpse. The heartbeat and blood were testament to that. She isn’t dead. 

“I never told you how he died,” Kaz spoke quietly. He wasn’t used to talking about such subjects with anyone. It was the reason he’d taken on a different surname. That way he could cut ties with his past.

But for some reason, Y/N was able to make him feel . . . though begrudgingly, open with his past.

“I can infer, Kaz,” Y/N said with a small hiss as Kaz finished with the bandage, his hands shaky. “Now, you can continue ignoring me if you wish, I imagine you enjoy avoiding me.”

“I don’t enjoy it.” Kaz now had someone he connected with on a level he wasn’t used to. He wasn’t going to enjoy being apart from that.

“I know, I was simply making sure,” Y/N teased, her lips quirking in a small smile.

Kaz gave a small shake of his head, his lips pulling into a smile as well for just a moment. Then he picked up his coat he’d taken off. “I imagine you’re cold, here,” he spoke then, watching as Y/N took it and wrapped it around herself.

Then the door swung open, Nina rushing over to give Y/N a hug. “Kaz here almost had a heart attack. Wylan almost did. Jeez, never do that again,” she said, laughing a bit.

“Ouch, ouch, Nina,” Y/N spoke, referencing the still open wound on her shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry. We made food for you,” Nina said, smiling before handing Y/N a tray of food.

Kaz exited the room, allowing the others some time to talk to Y/N. Inej followed him, her arms crossed as she leaned against one of the walls.

“What information do you want me to get on Rollins?”

“Whatever you can find.” You’re not taking her from me Rollins, and you’d better be ready when I do come for you. Brick by Brick.

[that-gay-jedi]

All my trans and non binary friends tell me I should read Stone Butch Blues, because they tell me Leslie's gender reminds them of mine. I have a copy of Stone Butch Blues. I have not read it. 

I think I'm afraid that if hir gender DOESN'T strongly resemble mine, I'm going to feel weirdly alone and like even my most gender outlaw friends are putting me in another damn box.

It all feels irrelevant anyway. Despite exhausting and unavoidable levels of visibility, 90% of my gender dysphoria and euphoria are still entirely private. It is only the fact that I've "failed" the role I was assigned that's visible. I never ask what would make me happy. I only dare to ask myself what I can live with.

It took me almost a decade of being out as trans before people started getting even halfway normal about it. I don't have the fortitude for another decade of handling cis people with kid gloves to get them to see me.

In public, I'm whatever a stranger decides I am as long as I know I'm never going to have to see them again. At work, I'm a man because it's easier to explain a binary trans narrative to my boss than how I'd really want to be ackowledged. I fought so long and hard for my bio family to just stop making up reasons to call me a girl that I'll put my hand on a hot burner before I let them know I'm anything other than a man with a vag.

They don't know me. I pretend I only care what I'm called if it's someone who knows me. I'm lying to myself.

I don't think of other people's genders when I think of mine. I think of the apocryphal popculture image of Diogenes, free because he was poor and poor because he was free. The key tattooed on my inner forearm. I think of the twin fears of being locked in and locked out and of a thief who steals from no one, steals nothing but a few square feet of shelter.

In the book Fierce Femmes and Notorious Liars, the trans narrator recommends lockpicking as a skill everyone should have. Because it allows you to interact with the world on your own terms. Because you're not only harder to trap, but harder to exclude. Harder to coerce. Harder to kill.

I legitimately can't tell whether I'm MLM or WLW. It feels like I'm not allowed to be both, but something inside me screams that I absolutely am both. I punish myself for wanting to enter spaces of either by pretending I'm neither. I'm an interloper, appropriating, invading, I will live a lifetime of biting my tongue because I don't belong.

I love that alternative words like sapphic and achillean exist. I hate using them for myself. Calling myself sapphic feels like I'm saying "I'm actually a lesbian, but I know I'm not allowed to call myself one because sometimes I'm also MLM." Just painting over the elephant in the room like a landlord special.

I spent 8 years going by a kind of temporary placeholder masc name and when I finally got the name that I use now, the one that feels right, I waited 2 years before asking anyone to call me by it because I wanted to have my birth certificate in my hand. My first experience getting people to call me a new name had taught me it wasn't worth it without the stupid piece of paper.

I wonder what my body, still occasionally flinching from blows that landed almost 30 years ago, thinks of being taught a lesson.

Maybe I won't be afraid to read Stone Butch Blues some day. Maybe like everything else relating to gender, I'll get so frustrated and exhausted that I'll be more afraid than ever and do it anyway. Not living by what brings me joy, but what I just can't take anymore of.

I'm tired.

[inthewild-flowers]

Hi!! I'm sending an ask!!! So. Two ideas competing for attention in my brain, so you can pick! I can ask you to take a Regency era prompt that explores class differences, including British Empire things (TM) (doesn't have to be a continuation of your fic!! It can be hcs!) OR. Ideas/feelings/notions with trans Remus (transmasc or nb) please?

Sorry these are both extremely broad and difficult 🤠 hope they get creative juices flowing?

thank u for sending an ask!! i’m still planning a continuation of that fic but it needs more thinking and research than i have time for rn so!! transmasc remus

honestly i don’t think that remus would know he was trans super early? he might have if not for the whole werewolf thing, but as it is i think he would have spent most of his childhood more focused on being a werewolf and worrying about that and hiding it and therefore would have pushed any gender and sexuality thoughts to the side

i do think that he would have figured it out at hogwarts. as a kid he was always fairly isolated but also allowed to do more or less what he wanted, but then at hogwarts he would have been very suddenly pushed into all this interaction with other people and also all the very gendered stuff that he was mostly able to avoid before — separate dorms for boys and girls, potentially different uniforms depending on how you think of the hogwarts uniforms (i personally don’t have any concrete ideas about them), teachers calling miss lupin — and at that point he can’t really keep on indefinitely ignoring his discomfort at being lumped in with the girls

he does make friends with the girls in his dorm; dorcas, marlene, mary, and emmeline. not lily. we’ll get there. anyway: they’re all nice and lovely and he loves them to bits and they love him and they’re all the best of friends, they really are. but he also sometimes gets the sense that he’s not quite like them somehow. (and maybe he doesn’t know this, but dorcas feels the same sometimes. nonbinary dorcas is a hill i am willing to die on)

he does have a not like other girls phase. it’s short lived, because his friends tell him he’s being shitty, and then he feels bad so he keeps it to himself. it’s also around then that he starts to think about why, exactly, he’s so determined to be not like other girls. he thinks about it mainly so that he’s able to not be awful to his friends, but it eventually leads to oh shit. wait is that a thing? can i be not a girl?

he spends a lot of time in the library after that, trying to find any evidence of people like him. it’s there that he finds lily, although she’s not lily yet, looking for the same thing, but different. she wants to know if she can be a girl.

it’s exciting for both of them, that moment of im not alone look you’re here too you’re like me!! they still don’t know if they can tell anyone, but they have each other now, and that’s something. they choose their names together. remus tells lily he’s a werewolf. she thinks his choice of name is hilarious. she tells him that she wants to be lily because her parents always wanted to name both their children after flowers, but it’s hard to find boy’s names that are also flowers. remus tells her it’s a beautiful name.

she also introduces him to the boys she shares a dorm with. remus already knows who they are, but he hasn’t talked to them much. he’s been too busy with other things to seek out friends he doesn’t share a room with. they’re lovely though, all of them. james, sirius, peter, frank. frank seems like the odd one out, but lily tells remus that he doesn’t mind. his friends are in other houses. the other three boys like remus immediately. the four of them spend all their time together, they become notorious, and remus loves them just as much as he loves his roommates, and he didn’t know he’d ever have this many friends, and he loves it.

he comes out to them, and to his roommates, after sirius approaches remus one day, looking nervous, and says that they read somewhere about they/them pronouns and that they’d like to use those. they look terrified, and remus hugs them and says he’s proud of them and says i’m sort of like that too, and that’s how he comes out. lily does as well, shortly after. then dorcas. one by one, they find out that nearly everyone in the group is queer. they all think it’s amazing and hilarious and fantastic.

for a few years, remus won’t wear skirts at all, won’t touch makeup unless it’s to help sirius, doesn’t want to risk being seen as a woman at all if he can help it. but then he graduates, moves out from home, moves in with his friends, and the more he is seen as a man, the more comfortable he becomes with the idea of femininity.

he thinks, and he talks to sirius, and he decides that he does like they/them pronouns, and starts using them alongside he/him. they let sirius do their makeup sometimes, he steals some of their clothes, or lily’s. they start to relax in their gender, because they can. because he feels more comfortable now than he ever has in his life, and they don’t really want to have to go to all the trouble of performing a whole gender anyway, when it’s so much easier to just exist. so that’s what he does. he exists

[m4gp13]

For those of you who made it through my laughably incoherent ethabaster think piece, here’s some hc’s, you’ve earned them:

- Ethan has sole possession of their one shared brain cell. Alabaster is not allowed to even look at it. This is because they used to have two but Al broke the good one trying to blow up something (probably Percy).

- If Al finds out Ethan left without some form of magical protection i.e. a sigil, a crystal, ground eggshells, he will be pretty much vibrating with nerves until Ethan gets back so he can give him a once-over.

- Alabaster’s from a very witchy family who all worship Hecate for many reasons that differ depending on which estranged relative you ask and they all kinda saw Al as the first coming of witch Christ so he had a lot of expectations at a very young age.

- Ethan knows this and tries to lift as much Titan army business off his shoulders as possible.

- He accidentally lifts too much off to the point where he is drowning in work and is now the one in need of saving. But does he tell anyone that if he looks at one more stack of demands from his mile long list of bosses he’s going to cry for five hours? Of course not don’t be ridiculous.

- Alabaster immediately hated Percy as soon as he heard the guys name but due to the arena stuff and telling Thalia not to k*ll him Ethan actually held a bit of respect for Percy which annoyed Al to no end.

-This was until the not-so-peaceful peace talk in tlo when Percy starts shit talking Nemesis and Ethan just internally goes “actually the witch bitch was right this guy sucks ass”

-However, under no circumstances will Ethan ever tell this to Alabaster; not because he values his pride (he has none) but because he knows the life of a demigod is short and he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his very short one hearing Al rub that one thing in his face for every single second of it.

- And I mean Every. Single. Second.

- So yeah he takes that to the grave and doesn’t even tell anyone in the underworld in case they tell Al when he dies and he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his afterlife with Al being a dumbass. (also yes Ethan got into Elysium, fuck you)

- (Actually I have another idea about where Ethan went post-life but that’s so far from canon it’s more of an AU than a headcanon so we’re gonna leave that out for now)

- Al thought he was the one in charge of the Hecate kids because he was the most powerful and the highest ranking in the army but he was Not. That was Ethan. The Hecate kids thought Ethan was their unofficial adopted baby brother but little did they know he was the mum the whole time.

- Ethan is the only thing standing between them and starving to death. He also does the younger kids hair and gives everyone with long hair super intricate braids that stay out of their faces during “field work”. Al thinks this is more of him trying to take the weight off his shoulders but Ethan knows that if he doesn’t do this shit no one will so he kinda has to. Not that he doesn’t like doing it. being helpful is his love language.

 - Because of their powers over the mist the Hecate kids of the army were notorious pranksters who were usually at war with the Hermes kids (wars usually declared by Al because he rolled a zero on self restraint) but none of them prank Ethan because “nooooo you can’t do him he babey 🥺”

- Ethan has simply decided that what the magic prank wizards don’t know can’t hurt them and just turns to his blind side whenever he sees them sneaking off the ship to get Micky D’s in the middle of the night to stay on their good sides.

- Speaking of the ship, Ethan thinks it’s the dumbest thing in the world that one of their most powerful demigod enemies is the son of a sea god and he actually has a pretty decent relationship with said sea god and their main base of operations aside from mt Othrys is a fucking BOAT. He tells Al all about his worries for the ship and while Al assures him that nothing that bad could happen he always makes sure that the ship always has the least amount of demigods on board at all times just in case.

- It takes all the strength Ethan has not to yell “TOLD YOU SO” at him when the ship blows up.

- Al probably either wears basic white boy clothes or typical witchy stuff (like moons and shit) depending his mood meanwhile Ethan found out about leather and just goes for it.  

- Every grunge/punk/emo/eboy/teachwear bitch aspires to be him and because he aint about all that “gender roles” bs he definitely goes about wearing cool egirl stuff too. Not just slightly feminine shaped jumpers but all the plaid skirts, fishnets and lace trimmed dresses he can steal afford and Al, despite his more basic fashion taste is here for it. You’ve never seen someone more supportive of their pals fits, get you a hypeman like Al. You deserve it. (Ethan is also not afraid to walk around in a full pastel gamer girl fit)

- (Also Al hyping up one Ethans fits in front of a Titan is the reason they were allowed to start wearing army fatigues instead of the whole ancient Greek armour on occasion)

- Ethan appreciates Al’s enthusiasm but he also kinda doesn’t get it. And he definitely doesn't do that “yeah you’re right I DO look good” thing because he just doesn’t know how. He’d always been a little self-conscious about getting a big head but then he found out about Nemesis and hubris and all that fun stuff, looked at his meager pile of self worth and said “ yep, this has to go”

- Al almost starts crying when he finds out and pretty much makes it mission to be such a good hype man that Ethan has no choice but to think of himself as a Pretty Cool Dude via absorbing the hype through diffusion. It kinda starts working but then Ethan [REDACTED] in tlo so we’ll never know what could’ve been.

- To nick a hc from someone ( hi @chromarozee-spam) contrary to his taste in clothes Ethan does ballet (he was a punk AND did ballet, what more can I say?) and while Al tries to support his hobbies he is genuinely afraid both for and of him. “For” because “holy fuck that looks painful are you okay?”. And “of” because “are you sure those are bones inside you because I don’t think bones are supposed do that?!”.

- Ethan tries to assure him that no his spine is not made of rubber, broken bones or otherworldly materials so can he stop bothering him during practice please?

- This does not stop Al from making a million protection wards and constantly asking his deck if Ethan is indeed a Being of this Good Green Earth.

- Eventually his cards pretty much just tell him that he is friends with one bendy heck of a boi and he needs to fucking get over it so he kinda just,, ,,,,, , does.

- Again with the hc thieving (this time from @altorringtons) Al learning to use a two-handed broadsword so he can guard Ethan’s blind side and back in a fight *soft noises* just them trying so hard to keep each other alive because they love each other and they care about each other!

- They also sleep in the same bed whenever they get the chance (fully clothed ya nasties, they’re kids) and they just hug each other soooo tight because they just need to know they’re alright cos they always get pretty banged up in fights against campers or just monsters that are too much like wild animals to recruit. (What? Me? Projecting my desire to be intimately held by the closest person I have to family with their arms wrapped not tight enough to make me uncomfortable but tight enough to make me feel loved? Never! What on earth are you talking about?)

- Because Al is super stubborn and prideful whenever they have an argument Al can’t really bring himself to say he’s sorry so when he’s ready to apologise he just climbs into bed on Ethan’s blind side and cuddles him because he knows Ethan is super worried about getting attacked on his blind side so it’s like he has a guard or a shield.

- Ethan on the other hand just calls him a Rock Boy in a derogatory way until he gets over himself and apologizes but he really does love the fact that Al knows that about him and accommodates that.

- The thing they fight about most is how “heroic” the titan army is. Kronos’ brainwashing worked on Al like a charm and he fully believes that they are the rebellion and camp is the empire. Ethan on the other hand wasn’t at camp long enough for Kronos or Luke to really do anything but it doesn’t matter because Ethan really doesn’t give a shit if he’s on the “evil side” cos he just wants respect and he’s willing to do what it takes without a second thought of how people see him. If he thinks he’s doing the right thing but on the wrong side he can live with that but Al needs to feel like all of his side is on the moral high ground because that’s what Kronos drilled into his brain.

- Ethan knows that Al delusional when it comes to the non-existent heroics of the army but eventually he just decides to let Al believe the titans lies because that’s easier for him even if it hurts Ethan to see him being manipulated like that.

- Due to Ethan not giving a shit on the humanity of his bosses he gets punished a lot more often and a lot more violently than Al because they know that Ethan already knows they don’t care about him so they don’t have to sugar coat him but Al still believes that they’re heroes and his mindset needs to stay like that to keep him obedient.

- Also because I am  a Cruel Person By Nature I hc Ethan’s mortal family (which usually just consists of his dad) as meeting a not very pg13 end at the hands of a monster who wanted to nible on Ethan a tad which pretty much scarred him for life.

- SO, at the end of the battle of Man Hats Are In when Al looks around and sees that his whole family (that joined the titans) are dead! oh no! How sad! At least he knows someone whose been through the same thing so they understand each other and can help each other through this tough time together right? SIKE!

- so yeah Al learns Ethan d-worded in the worst possible way at the worst possible time and just looses it from grief. Loosing his family was bad enough but finding out he lost the one person he thought he would be able to confide in and heal with immediately after just really rubs salt in the wound.

- When the survivors start re-grouping to find someplace to hide until the gods forget about them Al just wanders off because it’s all he can do to not break down on the spot.

- He’s just wandering in a daze for a while and most people just assume he’s high but he snaps out of it and gets into anger mode when Lamia starts attacking him because he finally has something to do and occupy himself with even though it’s hard not to think about his sibling especially when Lamia keeps talking like they never would have died if she’d been in charge which is why she should totally just kill him and lead their siblings instead.

- His desire to have something to keep his mind off his family and Ethan is the first thing he thinks about when Claymore re-alives and immediately starts talking about doing research (yeah because that’s what you need after a long stressful day of fighting monsters and literally dying).

- Ethan keeps trying to cross the veil and help, even if he just sends Al a pleasant dream to help him sleep but contrary to what you might think from the name, the veil is really hard to cross so Ethan just has to bite his nails and watch his friend suffer.

- It gets easier to watch after Al and Claymore pretty much adopt each other because at least he has someone but they do still get into pretty scary situations.

- When they were both premortem they got paired up for a lot of missions for the titan army and they usually just tried to pretend they were on a fun road trip around America when they could and make fun of mortal shit together.

- At one point they were in a motel and the last people accidentally left behind one of Claymore’s books about death and they found it the funniest thing ever. Between a pair of in which one of their mum’s regularly goes to the underworld and one has been there himself they find mortal ideas of the afterlife to be very amusing.

- Alabaster has decided he would not like to share this with the class (Claymore) thank you very much.

- Also when they’re doing their road tripping Ethan knows all the best places to crash, the cheapest food places and the local gangs don’t bother them because between running away from camp and joining the army he just wandered around a lot.

- Like he’d just hop on a random train, take a nap and figure it out when he wakes up; he made a lot of friends this way too as well as his taste in clothes cos he didn’t have a lot of money so he’d just DIY some second hand punk shit. Al thinks he’s the Gandalf of the demigod world because he just knows everyone who might help them and everywhere they could spend the night. He definitely tells his siblings about Ethan being the closest thing they have to a wandering wizard and they fucking love it.

- Also because Nemesis tends to not have a lot of kids Ethan was the only one of hers in the army and Al felt really bad for him because his sibling were his favourite part about the army so he tried to include Ethan in as much as possible with his siblings.

- As an unexpected result Ethan ended up with a small army of super powered children to sick on the people who keep making jabs about him loosing in the arena battle.

- Al sometimes thinks he’s given him too much power but also he will fuck a bitch up if they make fun of his pals so he sees where his siblings are coming from and yeah those bitches had it coming. He also has a copy of bitchcraft.

- Ethan’s dad was the type to play “Stay With Me” by Miki Matsubara on repeat for hours and Ethan would probably enjoy the song but he’s heard it so often that now it makes his ears bleed and Al sometimes tortures him with for fun until Ethan starts throwing shit.

- To steal another hc from @chromarozee-spam Ethan has a thing for cats and one time Al accidentally gave himself mistform cat-ears and Ethan could not stop touching them. Ethan was just craning his head back uncontrollably grinning so much his face hurt. Al can’t bring himself to be upset because Ethan rarely ever smiles since he joined the army.

- Al saw Ethan crying over one of those video’s where people put their hoodies on backwards and put their cat in the hood so he made a mist cat and bought him a hoodie. Ethan of course started crying again but it was happy tears instead.

- Ethan is fucking tiny while Al is almost a foot taller than him. He wouldn’t mind so much if Al didn’t exhaust every opportunity to rub it in his face so he just starts climbing all over shit (especially tall buildings) half to give Al heart attacks and half so he can be like “Sorry? What was that? I’m so high up I can’t hear you. Can you speak up a little? Maybe get a ladder? Or taller?”

- Also I don’t know why but I hc Al as Texan. Ethan gets told about this “Alabaster C. Torrington” guy who knows latin, incantations and other magical knowledge and expects some fancy British guy so when they meet and Al speaks Ethan gets whiplash so hard he fuckin chokes.

- Al is also very casual and Ethan is pretty professional so when he meets this magic general with a straight back and the first thing that comes out of this assholes mouth is some “Howdy y’all!!” bullshit he just dies on the spot.

- Also because Al is texan he is very sensitive to the cold (I’m about 80% sure that Texas is one of the Warm states) so when he has to do stuff in cold places like the labyrinth or new york (idk about that one to but in every film I’ve seen that’s set in NY it’s raining for about 90% of the time) he complains about being freezing all the time until Ethan helpfully reminds him that he can literally make fire out of nothing, surely he can find a way to warm himself up.

- Ethan is also sensitive to the cold because he’s basically malnourished but he’s been like that for a while and thinks it’s normal so he sucks it up until Al notices he’s always cold. Ethan tells him it’s fine but Al is basically a walking electric blanket so whenever Al cuddles him to keep him warm Ethan can’t help but melt because he’s so fucking warm and soft and have you noticed I crave intimacy?

- Ethan started studying Greek myths vigorously since he found out he was a demigod and when he died he kept an eye and an ear out for Al because even though he wouldn’t be able to do anything it still reassures him to know what’s going on, HOWEVER, he was almost filled with enough malice to rip through the barrier between the living and the dead purely to beat an ass when he hears Al’s little “I don’t bother reading about worthless monsters like you!” jab.

- Ethan is very jumpy and fidgety to the point where Al is genuinely concerned and while Ethan assures Al that nothing’s wrong Al is still suspicious. Ethan probably would have told Al about it if it was because of anything but Kronos but seeing that it mostly is, he doesn’t because Ethan feels like Al will just take Kronos’ word over his and he’ll loose the only person he trusts in the army.

- Al doesn’t find out about it until way after the war when Kronos’ brainwashing starts to come undone because by then his mindset is a lot less biased in the titans favour so he can see things that he just unconsciously ignored before and is able to put two and two together. When he does boy is it a trip.

- Ethan is really bad at talking about feelings and stuff so whenever Al gets upset over something and Ethan has no idea how to talk to him he’ll just get him some rocks. One time Ethan found out about those heart shaped valentine boxes that are normally filled with chocolates but people put crystals in them and that just became his go-to for when Al was especially upset. 

- Al is only slightly better at talking about stuff but he can still get Ethan to open up to him which is good because Ethan isn’t very materialistic so it’s hard to make him feel better by buying him things and because someone needs to get Ethan to express himself in an emotionally healthy way.

- Also because of this they just can’t tell each other they love each other. Like they’ll barely whisper it when the other is asleep because they’re just so bad at talking about feelings. It wasn’t that much of an issue until after the war and Ethan gets k-worded and Al is left alone and sobbing over all the times he never told his loved ones how much they meant to him.

- But because this is a headcanon list; fuck that, Al saved Ethan with some sort of magic bullshit and they talk about how much they love each other all the time now because they can’t stand the thought of one of them dying having never been told how much they are loved.

[rolanberry-rebel]

Info sheet: Kjalla Nisemi

Name: Kjalla Nisemi Nicknames: K, Two-Guns, “oh hell, not her!”, “Gun-bunny” if you want to get shot Race: Viera (rava) Age: mid-late 30s in hyuran years, exact age unknown (even to her, really) Gender: Cis female Orientation: Whatever suits her at the moment Relationship status: Whatever suits her at the moment Profession: Professional psycho, hired gun, mechanic

Height: 6′2″ Weight: 160lbs. Eyes: Icy blue Hair: Dark blue Skin: Greyish-blue Build: Fit, busty Scars: Deep scar along the left side of her jaw, scarring around her wrists and fingers, scar tissue along her neck. Tattoos: Blue markings along her face; a thorny blue vine splayed down the back of her neck, along her right shoulder and twining around her right bicep Fashion: Spartan and street-tough; never goes anywhere without her kickin’ boots and a good jacket. Loves leather, loves fishnets, loves denim, loves spikes. Comfortable and not necessarily showy. Dark colors. Loves red; loves black. Not afraid to show off what she’s got. When she thinks she’ll need it she's outfitted in the one of the suits of heavy armor she custom-builds herself, varying from more mobile sets of light plate to bulky, gadget-augmented battle suits. Accessories: Kjalla wears a fair amount of jewelry, a lot of it worn and tarnished, suggesting it might have some sentimental value. Often seen with a smattering of dull gold and silver rings, earrings, and a bridge piercing with a pair of rubies at each end.

Birthplace: the Golmore jungles somewhere. Residence: Her junk shop/personal safehouse off of a private jetty near Kugane. Alignment: Chaotic Evil Hobbies: Violence, rowdy nights out, any and every manner of indulgence, creating new weapons and gadgets for her armors, salvaging and experimenting with old junk, making and spending lots of gil Likes: Exciting experiences, adrenaline rushes, the opposite sex, the same sex, swapping stories, swapping punches, money, people with guts, alcohol, tinkering away Dislikes: Cowards, soft people, pretty things, lalafel, you if you get in her way. And chocobos. Disgusting things. Personality: Erratic and unconstrained, shifting wildly with her impulsive mood swings. One night you buy her a drink and you might flirt your way back to her junk-shop; the next she might put a round through your skull. More than anything she likes to surprise and be surprised, so always expect the unexpected. Always headstrong and often arrogant, and you should absolutely never tell her what to do. Ever. In spite of her crazed impulses, when she’s not in a bad mood Kjalla can be incorrigibly flirtatious, friendly, and fun to have a good night out with. Virtues: Strong, physically and emotionally; there’s very little that will break her, and she’s seen it all. Strong leadership instinct, whether through her charisma or force of character simply overwhelming others into following. Obsessively self-sufficient and fiercely independent. Determined and diligent when there’s work to do, and will not quit until she gets it done. Streetwise, clever, skilled; not conventionally smart but picks up new hands-on skills quickly. A fierce, experienced fighter. Unfailingly loyal to those who prove themselves worth it. Bad habits: The obvious - she’s utterly immoral, indulging in any behavior if it makes her feel good. Impulsive, reckless, violent, quick to anger and lash out at others. Heart hard as a rock and a firm believer in the survival of the fittest (the fittest, of course, being her). Trusts next to no one and will betray others save her closest circle if it helps her get ahead. Stubborn as hell. Promiscuous with little regard for whom it might hurt. Huge chip on her shoulder. Has a major problem with authority. Unintelligent by conventional standards, and completely dead to magic.

Significant Other: *derisive laughter* Children: *even more incredulous laughter* Family: All presumed dead, except for her sister Eyrisse, from whom she is estranged. Pets: Linchpin and Electrode, her pair of baby coeurls, who live at her junk-shop. Their unique grounding and electrical powers help Kjalla with her electrical experiments.

Friends: People aren’t friends to Kjalla; they’re tools, things to be used, experienced and discarded. (Most of the time, anyway...)

You might know Kjalla if...

Merciless Mercenary. Kjalla is a notoriously cutthroat sellsword, unscrupulous - more than willing and able to do any job big or small, just as long as kids aren’t involved. (That’s the one line she doesn’t cross.) From political leaders to petty thieves, she’s taken them all. Her race may paint her as a novelty - it’s not often you see a viera mercenary traipsing around the world, after all - but she’s no laughing matter. If you hire mercenaries, work with them, or are one yourself, there’s a good chance you’ve heard of her, under one of her assorted names - some flattering, some very much not.

Underworld Surgeon. Kjalla has no magical healing talent but she’s a darn good field surgeon, and has a great knowledge of alchemical remedies, salves and drugs. A ‘side-job’ of hers is to sell her services as a mundane healer to shady characters who, for fear of the law, of the attention, or otherwise - avoid visiting a reputable establishment for healing after an incident. Criminals on the run, overdose cases, just someone who wants to stay off the grid - if you’re in need of a quick patching-up and you’d rather keep it discreet, her junk-shop is always open.

Life of the Party. Kjalla is a staple in a few of her favorite seedy dives in cities across the world - and would certainly be recognizable to regulars, given scar-covered, foul-mouthed viera with backwater accents aren’t exactly easy to miss. If you frequent these kinds of establishments, you’ve no doubt heard of, seen, and maybe even gotten into a drunken brawl with her.

Purveyor of Dangerous and Exploding Things. Kjalla loves weapons - all of them, but especially guns, bombs, tasers, flamethrowers, dynamite, and weapons far more bizarre and exotic. If you’re a weapon collector, an arms dealer, or if you’re looking to outfit yourself with something significantly more dangerous, you’ve no doubt run in to back-alley gunrunners and smugglers who’ve mentioned her as a supplier. Conversely, if you’re searching for training in gunsmithing or engineering from a master, she might consider it... you’ll probably wind up dead, though, so maaaybe not a good idea... unless that’s your kink. 

Garlean Killer: There’re few jobs Kjalla loves more than the ones where she gets to pop Garlean heads like grapes. Though one could scarcely call the viera a principled woman whose violence is politically sophisticated, she takes a perverse delight in torturing and killing agents of the empire, even if she’s not getting paid to do it. Naturally her reputation for murdering prominent officers, personnel, facilities, and stealing lots of Garlean technology has made her a notorious outlaw in the empire, and if you’re involved in any of those fields, you’d recognize her scarred visage anywhere. Just be careful - she really does love planting bullets right in those third eyes.

Hi! I’ve been RPing forever and I’m lookin for new friends!

Adult female OOCly who’s RPed in every game you can probably think of and happy RPing lots of themes/scene types so long as we talk about it beforehand.

Kjalla is violent, rude, crude, and lustful. I however am (well, in my opinion, anyway...) none of those things, and am happy to talk with nice people! Just be aware most RP involving her’s gonna be one of those things, lol.

Available at random times, usually late evenings EST. Will always try to respond to private messages here no matter when you send them though!

Discord: I’m not on there very much, but I know it’s become a big way for a lotta people to do most of their OOC communication/RP threads so I’m willing to get on there if you wanna talk!

In-game: Anylissa Sebastis (Balmung) or Kjalla Nisemi (Mateus)

If you’re not into psychotic rabbit-ladies, I have my playful spoiled heiress, Anylissa, if you’d prefer. :>

[whylie]

BYE GUYS 🏃‍♂️💨 HI LADIES 👋😫 MWWWAHH 💋💋

hello  <3 i’m cc, twenty1 from cst + my pronouns are she / her! i’m super super excited for this i actually have no thoughts ever and i can’t spell ever, either, but i’m enthusiastic about nari and about varieta and i am excited 2 be here. alright. love u guys. 

MUSE H - ( kim yerim, cis woman, she/her ) nari chae has lived in naples, italy for eleven months. they’re currently twenty two years old and a housekeeper for vista laterale bnb. people tend to associate them with the ache of heartbreak without really knowing what it is, floating face down in the deep end of the pool to see who’d care, yellow fingernails on particularly sticky fingers + a perfect image to present to the world because you don’t even know who you are anymore.

    ﹟ ⠀  influences﹕

carl  gallagher,  shameless.

karen  smith,  mean  girls.

margot,  legally  blonde.

haley  marshall,  modern  family.

   ﹟ ⠀  basic  stats﹕

birth  name:  chae  nari

nickname(s)  /  alias(es):  nana  +  ri  /  lee

preferred  name:  nari

age  +  dob:  twenty  two  +  aug,  third

hometown:  undetermined,  once  said  manhattan  once  said  chicago?

occupation:  housekeeper  +  pickpocket  +  full  time  dumb  bitch

ethnicity:  korean

nationality:  american

gender:  cis  woman

pronouns:  she  +  her

orientation:  demi  sexual  +  demi  romantic

faceclaim:  kim  yerim

﹟ ⠀  intraperson﹕

(  +  )  positives:  charismatic,  perceptive,  intrepid,

(  -  )  negatives:  thoughtless,  impetuous,  equivocal,

labels:  the  icarian,  the  bubble  brain,

natal  chart:  leo  sun,  libra  moon,  libra  rising

moral  alignment:  chaotic  neutral

hogwarts  house:  ravenclaw  (  i  know...  )

languages  spoken:  english  +  korean  +  italian  +  conversational  french  but  in  a  bad  way

exterior:  just...  clueless  in  the  way  that  you  can  tell  that  she’s  experiencing  thoughts  but  refuses  to  acknowledge  them.  always  sort  of  thinking  of  the  most  reckless  thing  to  do  and/or  the  most  mundane,  first  grade-esque  question  in  the  world.  can  come  off  as  both  superficial  and  egoistic,  because  she  is  –  just  doesn’t  care  enough  about  people  other  than  herself.  allows  herself  to  be  a  bimbo  because  old  men  love  it  and  she’s  excited  to  marry  rich  (  but  also  will  never  give  a  man  the  time  of  day  ).

interior:  theoretically,  brainy,  but  in  practice?  technically  yes  because  there’s  a  plan  for  everything,  but  these  days  kind  of  just  stares  off  into  space  like  she’s  a  widow  (  because  as  far  as  she’s  concerned,  she  is  ).  kind  of  conniving  because  there’s  a  reason  she  does  everything,  but  nobody  at  the  bnb  is  worth  conning  so  she  just  barely  does  her  job  and  watches  bad  things  happen  at  the  bnb  without  helping  out  <3

   ﹟ ⠀  dossier﹕  trigger  warnings

the  circumstances  that  nari  is  born  into  is  :/  unfortunate.  she  is  the  youngest  of  five  kids  and  kind  of  just  hangs  around  while  her  family  remains  dirt  poor  and  her  parents  try  (  in  theory  )  to  give  their  children  good  lives.  but,  while  nari’s  siblings  are  working  hard  and  getting  themselves  on  the  right  path,  she’s  busy  sitting  in  the  kiddie  pool  at  the  local  park  with  pink  sunglasses  on,  dreaming  of  a  lazy  life  because  –  she’s  lazy.  her  eldest  sister  dreams  of  becoming  a  politician,  her  brothers  want  to  become  businessmen  and  nari  wants  to  be  a  trophy  wife  ...  so.

anyway,  her  parents  sort  of  turn  a  blind  eye  the  first  time  she  brings  a  wallet  home  and  says  “oopsies!”,  meaning  they  don’t  outright  discipline  her  for  being  a  thief.  too  bad,  so  sad  –  she  gets  caught  once  when  she’s  younger  and  that’s  when  she  learns  that  her  crying  can  get  her  out  of  anything.  not  only  is  she  a  notoriously  beautiful  crier,  she  can  also  be  super  loud  and  obnoxious  about  it  and  a  screaming  nari  just  :/  isn’t  the  way  to  go,  so  she  learns  all  the  skills  she  needs  to  learn  when  she’s  growing  up.

but,  she  gets  caught  again  when  she’s  fourteen  and  her  parents  suddenly  grow  a  conscience  and  send  her  to  live  with  her  scatter-brained  aunt.  aunt  sissy  isn’t  even  related  to  either  of  her  parents,  but  she’s  a  family  friend  of  a  family  friend  and  somehow  nari  ends  up  in  a  stupid  rv  with  a  great  dane  and  a  woman  older  than  both  of  her  parents.  her  outlook  on  life  doesn’t  really  change,  since  from  ages  fourteen  to  sixteen,  she  watches  aunt  sissy  finesse  her  way  into  fancy  dinners  and  onto  yachts.  

anyway,  when  nari  runs  away  at  sixteen,  she  spends  an  entire  year  with  a  rich  family  in  the  hamptons  because  she  pretends  to  be  a  stranded  heiress  from  south  korea  :/  don’t  know  how  it  worked  honestly,  but  it  did  and  she’s  better  for  it.  she  leaves  at  seventeen  to  live  in  nyc,  somehow  wrangles  her  way  into  a  terrible  apartment  when  she’s  eighteen  after  spending  a  year  sofa  surfing.  started  a  job  as  a  housekeeper  in  a  high  end  hotel  and  stayed  there  for  ...  a  bit.

definitely  was  a  little  bit  of  a  rat  in  nyc,  pickpocketing  and  stealing  for  fun  and  for  necessity.  when  she  turned  twenty  one,  was  promoted  to  a  concierge  which  she  only  really  worked  for  a  couple  of  months  (  literally  one  month  tbh  )  before  she  surprised  her  s/o  with  a  trip  to  italy  because  <3  romance  <3  and  then  got  to  italy  and  was  like  “we  should  break  up”  so.

now  she’s  here,  cried  her  way  into  the  bnb  and  into  a  job,  sorry  to  nico  n  nolan  because  she’s  a  nightmare.  she’s  still  flat  broke  but  pretends  like  she  isn’t  out  of  spite  to  muse  i  and  refuses  to  leave  because  nari’s  never  lost  a  break  up  and  she’s  just  too  sexy  to  lose  now  (  her  words,  not  mine  )

  ﹟ ⠀  headcanons﹕

so,  here’s  the  thing:  nari  has  always  been  poor.  her  parents  aren’t  bad  people,  they’re  just  unfortunate  and  all  nari  could  do  as  a  child  was  learn  how  to  pickpocket  (  among  other  things  ).  unfortunately  for  the  entire  world,  nari  is  really,  really  good  at  it.  she’s  good  at  pickpocketing  and  stealing  and  lying  and  crying  on  cue;  she’s  just  all  too  good  at  playing  the  damsel  in  distress  to  lie  and  cheat  her  way  through  life  –  and  since  no  charge  has  ever  really,  well,  stuck,  she  hasn’t  stopped.

genuinely,  actually  really  smart  but  has  never  actually  used  her  brain  cell  for  anything  other  than  crime  –  because,  why  bother?  bottom  of  the  barrel,  she  really  never  thought  that  she  had  a  chance  at  getting  into  a  good  school  anyway  without  burying  herself  in  debt,  so  has  spent  her  life  just  trying  to  build  an  underground  syndicate  while  being  way  too  self  centered  to  ever  have  anything  kick  off;  she’s  literally  so,  so,  stupid  despite  having  a  photographic  memory  and  a  surprisingly  high  iq.  would  rather  be  a  dumb  hot  girl  than  a  smart  hot  girl  for  some  reason?

doesn’t  really  have  anything  to  go  back  to  outside  of  italy,  honestly.  had  an  okay-ish  life  in  new  york  city,  but  the  bills  would  barely  be  paid  and  there’s  only  so  much  that  pickpocketing  +  stealing  can  do  for  a  girl.  she  did  used  to  have  a  job  as  a  concierge  at  a  high  class  hotel,  but  rich  people  treat  poor  people  terribly  and  there  were  rumors  that  she  had  been  stealing  from  guests;  which,  how  scandalous,  she  would  absolutely  never!  “i  can’t  even  get  the  keys  to  work  on  the  first  try?”

   ﹟ ⠀  wanted  connections﹕

everything  plus  angst  and  fluff  and  crack  and  spiderman  memes  <3

  ﹟ ⠀ conclusion﹕

i  will  be  reaching  out  to  plot  soon  just  give  me  a  second  to  find  my  brain.

[ah-musing-musings]

Tropical Storm Nicholas musings

I live in the Houston, TX, US area, actually on the outskirts closer to the coast. Yesterday we experienced our first tropical storm of the hurricane season, Tropical Storm Nicholas. The energies during and after the storms are always so unique.

During the storm it's trepidation, anxiety, worry; the wild animal population panics and they try to find viable shelter to weather the worst of it. Last night a raccoon ran onto my porch; he scared me as much as I scared him, but I wondered and worried about the sweet thing all night. I tried to find the feral cats we feed, hoping the kitten was okay (stay tuned for kitten update; spoiler alert: she's just fine!). I obsessively checked the motorcycles (are they covered? at one point I was sure they'd have been blown off their kickstands, but of course they weren't and I was relieved to see them both upright and covered). Is the back patio safe? Are the chairs blown around? Did anything get removed from the yard? Sitting inside, I could hear the wind howling, shaking my bedroom window, and all I could imagine were terrified raccoons and opossums, cats crying for help as the rain flurried around them; I am exhausted this morning.

The morning after a big storm is always interesting. This morning was more akin to Ike's morning after as opposed to Harvey's morning after, thank the gods. Neighbors sweeping branches and leaves out of their driveways, pulling decorative evergreens back into an upright position (the evergreens have more shallow root systems than say, a live oak; I have only seen a few oaks uprooted by storms [typically tornadoes, which thankfully we don't get many of], but I've seen plenty an evergreen knocked over), clearing storm drains of debris, checking their vehicles and their property for damage. For suburban Houstonians, Ike and Nicholas were very much the same. We experienced minor flooding, 20-30mph winds, and rain. They both sounded worse than they were.

The energy though... being outside and seeing all of these people with nothing in common coming together to help each other... it evokes such a unique emotion, one I truly don't have words for. My heart aches with longing like it's full of appreciation for those who put aside petty differences in others' times of need. Ignorant of meaningless neighborly disputes (they keep me up at night with their barking dog, they parked in front of my house, blah blah blah...), these people come together to serve each other without disdain, without thought of themselves or the past. It both breaks and fills my heart, and it reminds me of being a child without all these perceived grudges and hang-ups. It reminds me of riding my bicycle with neighbor kids, no thought given to age/gender/race/religion; just enjoying the company of others, genuinely enjoying true camaraderie.

Harvey, on the other hand, decimated Houston and its surrounding areas; floodwaters caused drainage systems to fail, and a necessity flood-letting of drainage levees. The release of floodwaters from our flood control systems actually caused more damage than the storm, but it would have been worse if the barriers had broken. Millions without power for weeks on end, without food or water; it was devastating. I feel my mind has blocked out much of Harvey (something that happens frequently when I experience trauma; I call it my "Overactive Trauma Filter Technique") but what I do remember was frantic pounding at my door, a neighbor screaming about floodwaters and endangered vehicles. I was living in an (unfortunately notoriously poor and run-down) apartment complex in August of 2017. I hurriedly grabbed my rain boots and my car keys before bolting outside; the experience was incredibly disorienting. Imagine, being awoken from sleep by frenzied neighbors all trying to salvage their vehicles, then immediately stepping outside into the worst rains in 100 years. My car was indeed in danger of being overcome by the bayou overflowing just a couple hundred yards from the parking lot. I sprinted downstairs, and as soon as I stepped into the parking lot itself I realized my rain boots were ineffective; I ripped them off and... honestly I don't remember if I threw them or if I put them in my car... Some neighbors and I, out of necessity, decided to move the construction fence surrounding the only dry-ish land we spotted. There used to be a building next to mine that burned down about a year before I moved in, and the complex's solution was to leave bare foundation surrounded by a "temporary" construction fence. It took three grown men and myself to slide the fence close enough to the bare foundation, closer to the ghost of the building, so that we had space for our vehicles on the sidewalk and the surrounding grass. I get into my car which, fortunately, was able to start. The only option I have is to drive my little Chevrolet Sonic onto the sidewalk and into the grass, so that's exactly what I did. And glad I did, because it ended up being the only way to save my car from total loss.

The reason I tell this story is to demonstrate how, even in the direst of circumstances and when all seems lost, we can create light. Either by ourselves or with the help of those around us, we can accomplish incredible things. This situation stills warms my heart and occasionally brings me to tears; when I remember how grateful my neighbors and I were for each other that night, how one instance can shatter my cold view of humanity, somehow everything feels okay. If I can cooperate with the neighbor that accused my family member of stealing from him, who got kicked down the stairs by said family member for being aggressive and intoxicated, if I can cooperate with a person like that... then what can we as a collective accomplish when we collaborate with like-minded and like-moraled individuals?

Humanity doesn't always have to suck. Sometimes we surprise even ourselves with our capacity for selflessness and teamwork.

Thanks for reading; let me know in the replies if you have any similar stories of humans overcoming their emotional barricades to benefit the greater collective, or even just a nice story of people being cool!

Hope everyone in the Gulf Coastal area is safe.

p.s. The aforementioned kitten update: she was with her mother this morning! Her mother is tiny, barely larger than the kitten; mother picked her up and hurried into my open garage when she spotted me this morning. It was truly hilarious to see that tiny mother with her baby, almost as big as she was! I made sure to put extra food for them in my garage (I often leave my garage open before and after a storm, to encourage the feral cat population to take shelter and keep them safe).

[writingbakery]

Oh my god I freaking love aus,, do you?? So,, may I request hcs for um, Denki and Shoto (sorry if you only accept one character)?? With a royal au? You can decide the reader and their caste or job or whatever.. thank you!! I love your writing so far!

[hello bb anon! i 1000% ADORE AU’s! they’re some of my favorite things to write if i’m honest!

a royal au sounds lovely, & i hope these hc’s fulfill your wishes! thank you so much for requesting! 💓]

“A Taste Of Royalty”

[Knight!Kaminari & Prince!Todoroki hc’s, with gender neutral! reader💓]

Knight! Kaminari Denki

as a commoner in the kingdom, you don’t really interact with royalty much.

you’re a simple crafter, selling your wares in the market every morning & retreating to your little cottage to tinker in your garden in the evenings.

you’re arranging your wares on the little clothed table under your seller’s tent when someone crashes into you full force, sending you both flying

for a moment you’re completely dazed, blinking away the dizziness as you sit up on the remains of your - shattered! - table & crafts

there’s fast waving hands in your face immediately, concerned golden eyes meeting yours as the cause for all this mess squats down in front of you

“are you alright? i’m terribly sorry, but that man was going to rob you! and in broad daylight no less, the scoundrel!” the criminal in question is unconscious on the ground next to you, and your heart races a little at the awful thought of him hurting you

“well now there really isn’t anything to rob me of, is there?” you joke, gesturing to all the ruined wares around you, and your “hero” is immediately stumbling over himself to apologize red-faced

you learn his name - sir kaminari denki, third knight to the ever irritable king bakugo and apparently one of the most gifted swordsmen in the knighthood (shocker, huh?)

he ends up buying all the shattered pieces despite your protests, insisting that it was the least he could do as he pressed the gold into your hands

he becomes a regular patron of your little market table, stopping by every morning without fail to purchase a trinket or two and press a warm pastry into your hands - “i could never allow my favorite merchant to go hungry, now could i? how unknightly!”

he takes to walking you home in the evenings as well, to ward off any other potential robbers - or so he says, ears dusted pink as he fiddles with his scabbard

even once you’ve arrived home he lingers, leaning over your back fence to chat your ear off with all his castle adventures as you tend to your garden

you never mind his near-constant presence, however; it’s adorable how he trails at your heels like an excited puppy

you also can’t deny your own growing feelings for the energetic blonde, he’s just... well. handsome, brave, spirited, kind, everything

but with the realization that your feelings are changing, so comes the realization that the two of you come from vastly different worlds.

you were just a simple commoner, and denki was third in waiting to the king! the king!

still, you couldn’t help but indulge yourself in his company, even if you knew your feelings were irrational

he’s the one to make the first move of course, his overly energetic attitude pushing him to confess one misty morning

when you arrive to the market you find denki already there, sheepishly hugging a bouquet of bright wildflowers to his chest in full knights’ attire

(he’d spent four hours scrubbing his armor just to impress you)

he immediately launches into a half hour spiel about his feelings for you, tackily comparing “your smile to a midsummers sweet rain” - so he’d read a little poetry to prepare, he was in love!

you can barely get a word in as he rambles, his nerves shining through as he twists his hands - he’d been wringing the flowers half to death before you’d rescued them from his iron grip

you’re trying to be patient and hear him out, but god does kaminari talk - he’s so wrapped up in his own anxious word vomit that he looks like he might just faint

you take pity on the mess of a knight in front of you, stepping forward to press a gentle kiss to his flushed cheek

“i know. now can you help me set out this basket?” you ask, a hint of a laugh to your words as you tuck one of the wildflowers behind his ear

the poor knight can barely speak, mouth open so comically that you give in and laugh, patting his chin.

“come along, sir lovestruck. assist me with this and we’ll collect pastries for this evening.”

he almost trips over himself rushing to help you, but he’s smiling so wide you don’t think he even noticed.

“that’s sir lovestruck, third in waiting to you, darling!”

Prince! Todoroki Shoto

as the castle’s head tutor for the arts, you’re used to dealing with royalty

you took your job as royal tutor extremely seriously, despite the subjects being deemed less important to some of the nobles

however, you don’t always get along with your “students” - most of the royals you taught were your own age or older, and they were awfully spoiled

the only one you could truly say you liked & were friends with, not just tolerating, was the crown prince

he had a notorious reputation for being cold and impassive, never speaking more than a few words & only when absolutely needed, but you knew him as a much different person

in fact, the only time he was ever cold to you was your very first meeting. you’d sat in the royal library for an hour waiting, a little panicked - you’d never tutored someone so very important, the prestige on his shoulders immense

when he finally arrives there’s a bruise decorating his jaw, and an absolutely chilling look in his eyes - your nerves are steadily growing by the second

but then he simply sits down across from you at the table, his stoic expression never leaving. “i apologize for keeping you waiting. Father insisted on extra swordfighting lessons.”

his voice is so calm and monotone, almost as though he’s barely even present, and yet his eyes remain locked on yours, never flinching away

“a-are.. are you alright? would you like me to fetch you some ice? here, the lesson can wait-“ immediately you’re up out of your chair and fussing over him, dabbing at a cut just under his eye and shoto is ... well he’s confused.

he’s not used to people caring for him in such a way, especially not strangers he’d just met a few minutes prior

the entirety of your first “lesson” was spent patching him up, your easy chattering filling the silence between the pair of you. you told him all about where you’d lived in the kingdom, and how you’d gotten such a position, all while he sat and allowed you to tend to his minor wounds.

his silence didn’t bother you, even when his next three lessons passed in a similar quiet - you could tell he was listening, and he always gave some sort of physical cue that he was following along, a more tranquil look settling onto his features as time went on.

little by little, he starts opening up - a quick snippet of his day, a smile at one of your silly jokes. he’s no prince charming, but he’s certainly not the robot that the kingdom makes him out to be - he just needs a little encouragement!

soon, the two of you are thick as theives, sneaking around the castle when shoto’s meant to be having archery lessons, stealing mince pies from the kitchen when the head chef isn’t looking. you’re partners in crime, much to the disdain of his father, and before you can stop yourself you’re head over heels for the crown prince.

oh right. the crown prince. who would eventually ascend to the throne and marry some faraway princess for power, or land. not you.

you try your best to bury the emotions deep within your chest, but shoto’s nothing if not painfully observant. he can see you shying away, becoming more reserved, not allowing yourself to indulge in the daydreams of your heart.

he’s a bit oblivious, so he doesn’t know why you’re pulling away honestly. he knows his own feelings from you have long since passed friendly, despite his father’s complete disdain for you

he may have had a shouting match in the throne room with king endeavor, making him swear he wouldn’t relieve you of your post or have you sent away - so the man keeps his distance despite his disapproval

still, it takes an overly flirtatious stable boy for shoto to finally confess his feelings for you

you’d both been planning a quiet horse ride towards the meadows, content to enjoy each other’s company as you enjoyed the day. however, one of the new stable boys has much... different notions.

“you’ve chosen a lovely steed! not quite so lovely as yourself, however!”

he’s so busy trying to charm the pants off you that he doesn’t even realize the crown prince is right behind him, staring daggers into his skull. if looks could kill, shoto would’ve been a murderer that day.

“i do not believe we require your services further.” his voice is uncharacteristically cold - downright frosty, and the stable boy is gone before the pale on his cheeks properly sets in.

you’re not used to such behavior from shoto, especially not when he hauls you up on his horse in front of him. “one horse is more efficient,” is all he says as he grips the reigns, arms encircling your waist.

you’re blushing without even realizing, leaning back against him as he spurs the horse on. “if you wanted me all to yourself, you simply could have asked,” you tease in an effort to hide your flustered expression.

he’s silent for a moment, and you fear you’ve gone too far before he speaks.

“well. i suppose i am asking. stay with me?”

needless to say, your afternoon in the meadow was peppered with sweet laughter and even sweeeter kisses.

[hope you enjoyed! 💓 feedback is always appreciated!]

[d-criss-news]

With the film industry as we know it—A-list stars swanning around studio lots amid the swirling winds of an entire city bellowing buzzwords about makin’ pictures—essentially nonexistent at the moment, here’s an especially provocative idea as we contemplate its eventual return: What if Hollywood was... better?

Not in terms of quality of output, though if we’ve learned anything through the industry’s glacial inching toward progress, that will follow suit. But what if the industry was more inclusive? What if it was less afraid of change? What if it allowed gay people, people of color, women, and minorities to tell their own stories, to be in charge—and what if the people accepted it? 

Better yet, what if it was always that way? 

Like the loud, harsh clack of a clapboard coming down on 70 years of motion picture history, Ryan Murphy’s revisionist manifesto Hollywood arrives Friday on Netflix with blinding, blaring, technicolor confidence. Hardly subtle, deliciously ostentatious, and admirably mischievous, the lavish seven-episode series is a love letter to Hollywood by way of 2020 think piece. 

It is messy and thrilling, upsetting yet profound; as uneven and as enthralling as any of Murphy’s big-swing, genre-contorting efforts: Glee, American Horror Story, or The Politician. But as with his soapy historical study Feud: Bette and Joan, it is a fastidious celebration of a glamorized time in Hollywood that mines nostalgia for modern meaning—a fragile undertaking swaddled in the dazzle of unmatched production design and talent pedigree.

Hollywood flops as often as it soars, but never rests in its grandiosity and ambition. The result is something escapist and frothy at a time when a retreat to a Hollywood happy ending is as alluring a fantasy as they come.

There is brilliant acting and there is bad acting. There are ovation-worthy ideas and there are off-putting ones. But, above all, there is reason to watch: It is gay, it is sexy, it is Patti LuPone.

Hollywood is a revisionist history of cinema’s golden age. It’s the 1940s in all their glamour and art: Casablanca! Citizen Kane! Alfred Hitchcock! Jimmy Stewart! Rita Hayworth! Cary Grant! It’s an era that’s been romanticized for so long that we’ve internalized it, morphing our own lifestyle aspirations to conform to its very heteronormative, very patriarchal, very (very) white ideas about sex and gender roles. These were ideas, however, that the industry was telegraphing, but not living in real life. Not at all. 

Murphy and his team’s rewriting of history pulls the curtain back, exposing the sexually fluid proclivities of the stars—leading men sleeping with male escorts; Oscar-winning actresses in bisexual affairs—and the damning, racist barriers to inclusion fortified by studio heads thwarting any opportunity for progress. 

Then, and here’s the crux of the whole thing: Hollywood changes that narrative. We glimpse the power dynamics inside Tinseltown’s gilded cage, and watch them being dismantled. 

Some of the players’ narratives are real, and some are fiction. That makes for an amusing parlor game for viewers, attempting to separate the true history from the imagined one, and should birth a cottage industry of “The Real Story Behind…” stories in the weeks to come. But these are actual people who never had the opportunity to live authentically or see true, equal opportunity in the industry. Expect there to be a split among those who find happier, reimagined fates for them a sweet gesture, and those who find it in bad taste. 

The story trains in on Jack (David Corenswet), a World War II veteran arriving wide-eyed in Hollywood, hoping some gumption and a jawline God shed a tear after creating will be enough to get him into the pictures. But he’s got a pregnant wife (Maude Apatow) to think about. Until he catches the eye of a casting director, he has to find some way to pay the bills. That cash flow comes surreptitiously from a gas station owner (Dylan McDermott), whose dashed Hollywood ambitions leave a soft spot for attractive dreamers like Jack—particularly ones who prove lucrative in his under-the-table prostitution business. A customer comes in for a fill-up, so to speak, and whispers the code, “I want to go to Dreamland,” and, well, you know the rest—and hopefully get the hardly nuanced metaphor about sex, power, sacrifices, and Hollywood.

This gas station business is without a doubt inspired by Scotty Bowers, the notorious L.A. hustler who died last year at 96, following a scandalizing, dishy documentary and memoir revealing the brothel he ran out of a petrol stand, sleeping with (allegedly) Cary Grant, Spencer Tracy, Bette Davis, Vivien Leigh, Gary Cooper, J. Edgar Hoover, and Rock Hudson. 

McDermott’s character, however, is not actually Scotty Bowers, a distinction that’s necessary because Rock Hudson actually is a character, played by Jake Picking. So is Henry Wilson, the monstrous, closeted Hollywood agent played by Jim Parsons, who trades blowjobs for representation. Elsewhere, real-life trailblazers like Hattie MacDaniel, Vivien Leigh, and George Cukor show up. Their presence, on the one hand, lends credibility and grounds the fantasia of diversity and acceptance that Hollywood builds to. It’s also morally amorphous.

Hudson was closeted until the day he died of HIV/AIDS. He didn’t get the happy ending imagined here, publicly coming out of the closet by attending the Academy Awards with his fictional black, gay screenwriting boyfriend, holding hands on the red carpet, and staying on track on his ascension to Hollywood hunk. There’s also no evidence that Wilson, as caustic and self-loathing as the devil himself when we meet him in the show, had a change of heart and becomes a LGBT crusader seeking amends and atonement. 

The wishful thinking is nice. But the bleakness of the reality shouldn’t be forgotten. There’s no clean place to land there, other than to consider both. 

But these are just a handful of Hollywood’s players, and not even the true engine of the plot. In typical Murphyland fashion, there is a dizzying constellation of characters and their errant business to keep tabs on. 

At the forefront is Patti LuPone’s Avis, the bored wife of a studio head (a scene-stealing Rob Reiner) who is first introduced as a client of Jack’s—hence all the press about the Tony winner’s explicit sex scenes that you’ve likely been reading—and eventually put in charge of the studio itself when her husband is incapacitated by a heart attack. 

If it’s novel now to think of a female in charge of greenlighting projects and making commercial creative decisions, imagine it seven decades ago. And Avis shakes things up. With a casting director (Holland Taylor, perfect) and producer (Joe Mantello, heartbreaking) as her conspirators, she greenlights and positions as the studio’s next blockbuster a film called Meg, with its historically diverse creative team intact. 

That means half-Filipino director Raymond (Darren Criss), black screenwriter Archie (Jeremy Pope), black leading lady Camille (Laura Harrier), and Jack and Rock in supporting roles. It takes willfulness to bulldoze the fortresses that bar progress. That is invigorating and moving to watch, especially as Hollywood dances between comedy, camp, earnestness, and tragedy with all the glee, if you will, that you’d expect from a Ryan Murphy production. 

There’s sex—hot sex, gay sex, interracial sex, intergenerational sex—and there’s farce and there’s a wardrobe and set budget to sweep you away like a riptide. 

There are scenes from Parsons and LuPone that will win them Emmys. Mantello and Taylor have a two-hander together that shattered me into so many pieces I am billing Ryan Murphy the cleaning fee. I worry that even with his Netflix money it won’t be enough—that’s how good it is. 

Mira Sorvino and Queen Latifah give so much in their scenes as guest stars that you wish they were in more but are grateful for the flawless blips of bliss, while Michelle Krusiec as Anna May Wong, the first Chinese American movie star, is the epitome of an actor making a monumental moment out of limited material. 

Criss solidifies his leading-man status—he’s captivating in every scene, even without much to do—and Corenswet brings glimmers of gravitas to eye candy. But the rest of the kids nearly torpedo the whole damn thing, they’re so miscast. The scenes with the older generation are so rich and such an utter joy to watch, it only makes the woodenness of performers like Picking and Harrier all the more egregious. Thankfully, there’s a larger message to it all that acts as absolution.

If Hollywood were a treatise on how society interacts with movies and TV both then and now, then the thesis could likely be boiled down to an early conversation between Raymond, Criss’ director character, and Dick, Mantello’s studio exec. It’s Raymond’s dream to direct a movie starring Anna May Wong. Dick kills the pitch, saying no one will pay to see a movie with an Asian lead, or any lead of color. 

Raymond doesn’t stand for that. How does he know? No one’s tried. “Sometimes I think folks in this town don’t really understand the power they have. Movies don’t just show us how the world is, they show how the world can be. If we change the way that movies are made, you take a chance and you make a different kind of story, I think you can change the world.” 

It’s not a stretch to argue that as the mission statement of Murphy’s entire career. He’s proved it time and again, from Glee to Pose: Bring the marginalized out of the margins and watch how things change. Someone just has to be the one to do it.

In essence, Hollywood sees Murphy dramatizing the progress that he played a part in catalyzing today, but imagining if it had come at a different turning point in cinema history—70 years ago. More tantalizingly, he raises the question of what society today might be like had it actually happened then. 

Is it a little self-congratulatory? Sure. But, hey, that’s showbiz, kid. 

[urmckidding]

╰ °✧ that’s MARLENE MCKINNON and SHE seems to look a lot like NANA KOMATSU. according to ministry files, the PUREBLOOD used to attend HOGWARTS and be in GRYFFINDOR. now, they’re TWENTY and is A RADIO BROADCASTER. red wine stains on white linen ; bloody lips pulled into a defiant grin ; plunging into cold water ; the twist of your gut before you make a stupid decision ( still laughing despite the fear ) ; loud and unapologetic laughter echoing out ; a soldier — scared but marching on nonetheless ; a bonfire roaring to life, wood hissing and sparks flying are the best way to describe them. it doesn’t say in their file, but word around the street is that they’re a ORDER MEMBER.

hullo  ,  it’s  ME  ,  bri  (  she/her  ,  23  ,  est  tz  )!!  this  is  my  trash  daughter  ,  marlene  ,  but  don’t  tell  her  i  said  that  because  she  will  bully  me.  any  who  ,  you  can  find  more  about  miss  mckinnon  under  the  cut  including  wanted  connections  (  at  the  way  bottom  so  feel  free  to  skip  the  about  bit  if  it’s  too  long  )!  and  feel  free  to  check  out  her  ABOUT  PAGE  &  PINTEREST.   

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒

FULL NAME:  marlene  isadora  mckinnon

AKA:  marlie  ,  len  ,  mckinnon

AGE:  twenty  years  old

BIRTHDAY:  

GENDER  & PRONOUNS:  cis  woman

PRONOUNS:  she/her

SEXUALITY:  biromantic  bisexual 

BLOOD STATUS:  pureblood 

FORMER HOUSE:  gryffindor

OCCUPATION:  radio  host  ,  order  of  the  phoenix  member

marlene’s  radio  show  is  anonymous  and  she  mainly  uses  it  to  shit  talk  the  deatheater  movement  and  share  stories  about  the  order  of  the  phoenix  and  their  allies.  it’s  fairly  similar  to  the  potterwatch  radio  show  that  lee  jordan  runs  during  the  seventh  book.  of  course  ,  since  this  is  marlene  she’ll  also  put  on  some  music  during  the  breaks.       

FACECLAIM:  nana  komatsu 

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑

POSITIVE TRAITS:  humorous  ,  protective  ,  spirited  ,  passionate  ,  loyal  ,  courageous  ,  persistent  ,  independent  ,  playful  

NEGATIVE TRAITS:  bullheaded  ,  impulsive  ,  impatient  ,  self  destructive  ,  arrogant  ,  attention  seeking  ,  argumentative    

DEMEANOR:  marlene  can  come  off  one  of  two  ways  :  friendly  and  playful  or  cruel  and  spiteful.  she  is  a  person  set  in  her  ways  ,  that  means  she  probably  has  already  decided  how  she  feels  about  a  person  either  before  or  in  the  first  couple  minutes  of  meeting  them.  to  her  friends  and  family  ,  marlene  is  a  spitfire  with  a  penchant  for  adventure  and  trouble.  she  likes  to  make  her  loved  ones  laugh  and  have  fun  and  is  incredibly  protective  of  them.  however  to  those  she’s  not  so  crazy  about  ,  she’s  a  spitfire  in  a  less  fun  way.  she’s  hard  to  win  over  if  a  person  has  already  felt  her  judgement  but  it’s  possible  ...  maybe  ...  who  knows.      

𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓  (  trigger  warning  :  the  death  of  a family  member -  i  will  tag  the  paragraph  it’s  in.  )

the  mckinnon  brood  resides  in  SCOTLAND  ,  her  father’s  family  having  settled  there  for  quite  some  time  while  her  mother’s  side  has  never  left  japan  —  save  for  her  mother  of  course.  they  are  a  large  crew  even  when  only  counting  marlene’s  immediate  family.  she  has  four  siblings  ,  all  older.  it  had  been  a  contentious  subject  whether  to  send  the  kids  to  hogwarts  or  mahoutokoro  in  japan.  her  father  won  the  fight  eventually  and  the  mckinnons  went  on  to  scatter  themselves  throughout  gryffindor  and  ravenclaw.        

as  a  note  ,  the  mckinnons  have  not  mingled  with  many  of  the  other  zealous  pureblood  families  for  a  long  while  now  having  marked  themselves  as  blood  traitors  generations  ago.  they’re  a  rough  and  tumble  kind  of  group  who  don’t  care  for  haughty  parties  or  the  politics  of  it  all. 

marlene  has  always  been  a  whirlwind  of  spirit  and  trouble.  she  was  infamous  for  the  pranks  she  played  on  the  family’s  tutors  and  her  disappearing  acts  ,  though  her  parents  could  hardly  blame  her  with  the  kind  of  examples  they  set  ;  both  aurors  who  threw  themselves  into  trouble  even  when  the  odds  were  against  them.  marlene  grew  up  hearing  stories  about  their  misadventures  ,  all  tied  up  in  a  nice  little  bow  as  if  her  parents  weren’t  risking  their  lives  as  the  war  worsened.  but  it  was  not  them  that  marlene  wanted  to  be  like.  no  ,  she  completely  adored  and  idolized  her  grandmother.   

KIRA  MCKINNON  was  a  staple  in  the  mckinnon  household  ,  floating  in  and  out  as  if  it  was  her  own  home.  she  doted  on  marlene  as  her  youngest  granddaughter.  she  would  often  steal  her  grandchildren  away  to  different  adventures  in  town  or  the  lands  surrounding  the  mckinnon  manor.  marlene  always  looked  forward  to  her  grandmother’s  visits.  

even  when  marlene  was  whisked  off  to  hogwarts  ,  she  and  her  grandmother  exchanged  letters  —  probably  the  one  thing  that  marlene  would  let  her  friends  tease  her  about  solely  because  she  didn’t  care.  

marlene  was  sorted  into  gryffindor  ,  like  her  father  and  older  brother.  she  made  herself  comfortable  quickly  and  garnered  a  reputation  as  a  fairly  opinionated  and  sharp  witch.  she  liked  the  flashy  spells  and  never  cared  for  the  classes  where  she  was  required  to  sit  still  —  “  what  a  bore.  ”  she  would  often  say  during  history  of  magic  and  potions  classes.  

she  had  grown  up  playing  quidditch  with  her  family  and  tried  out  as  soon  as  she  was  able  to  ,  earning  a  proper  spot  on  the  house  team  in  her  third  year  (  either  beater  or  chaser  ,  whichever  position  works  with  the  other  gryffindor  headcanons!  ).  

most  notoriously  ,  marlene  had  trouble  picking  her  fights  wisely.  she  has  always  been  the  type  of  person  to  act  first  and  think  later  ,  which  during  her  time   at  hogwarts  got  her  into  an  awful  amount  of  trouble  —  fights  on  the  pitch  ,  in  the  corridors  ,  sometimes  even  in  classes.  it  was  difficult  for  her  to  stand  down  when  she  had  a  problem  with  someone  ...  

this  passion  became  more  and  more  focused  around  equality  efforts  for  muggles  and  muggleborns.  that  conversation  was  had  frequently  at  the  mckinnon  house  and  it  was  clear  who  her  family  stood  with  :  the  order.  however  ,  marlene’s  passion  for  it  was  based  in  the  seeds  her  family  planted.  i  think  that  if  the  mckinnons  sided  with  the  death  eaters  ,  marlene  would  have  fought  just  as  passionately  for  that  ...  at  least  until  around  the  time  the  rp  takes  place  because  this  is  when  she  begins  to  form  her  own  opinions. 

FAMILY  MEMBER  DEATH  TRIGGER  WARNING  BEGINS  ...  though  marlene  was  obvious  in  where  she  stood  in  the  war  ,  it  never  became  real  to  her  until  her  seventh  year.  she  had  nursed  a  quiet  fear  for  what  waited  for  her  outside  of  hogwarts’s  walls  until  she  received  news  of  her  grandmother’s  death.  kira  mckinnon  had  garnered  her  own  reputation  throughout  her  career.  she  was  no  one  to  scoff  at  as  a  looming  figure  in  the  efforts  to  catch  war  criminals.  however  when  she  retired  those  she  had  helped  imprison  didn’t  forget  what  she  had  done.  she  had  been  on  the  death  eaters’  hit  list  for  quite  some  time  and  they  finally  crossed  her  off  —  marking  the  beginning  of  the  mckinnon  family’s  demise.  marlene  refused  to  leave  school  and  took  her  grief  out  on  students  who  she  suspected  stood  with  voldemort.  it  nearly  got  her  expelled.  but  her  grandmother’s  death  left  her  with  a  nearly  paralyzing  need  to  fight.  TRIGGER  WARNING  ENDS.    

upon  graduation  ,  marlene  —  seventeen  and  burning  with  purpose  —  signed  up  to  join  the  order.  her  family  welcomed  her  ,  though  her  parents  had  reservations  about  their  youngest  and  most  reckless  joining  up.  they  tried  to  keep  her  off  missions  as  long  as  possible  and  so  marlene  went  elsewhere  to  try  to  help. 

she  began  her  radio  show  ,  title  TBD  ,  when  she  was  nineteen.  it  requires  a  special  tune  in  in  order  to  hear  and  is  riddled  with  passcodes  and  code  names  but  she  mainly  reports  on  news  and  stories  ,  including  her  own  passionate  rhetoric.  she  operates  it  out  of  a  wizarding  network  who  she  hosts  a  show  for  during  some  weekdays  but  at  night  she  uses  the  instruments  to  hold  her  own  show.  of  course  there  is  music  during  breaks  because  marlene  needs  to  jam.  

since  she’s  joined  the  order  she’s  actually  been  included  on  missions  and  meetings.  all  she  can  see  is  the  fight  right  now  ,  but  in  that  reckless  and  young  perspective  where  she  can  only  see  it  ending  well  for  her  and  her  friends.  because  of  that  she  tends  to  act  fearless  and  downright  stupid  ,  glossing  over  her  fears  and  worries  with  humor  and  general  avoidance.  

TLDR;  marlene  is  a  chaotic  dumbass  who  runs  a  secret  radio  show  under  the  guise  of  an  actual  radio  host  for  a  wizarding  network.  she’s  a  dedicated  order  member  who  will  absolutely  throw  herself  in  harm’s  way  because  ...  she’s  a  chaotic  dumbass.     

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

RIDE  OR  DIE’S  —  these  are  the  people  marlene  would  go  to  battle  for.  she  is  a  fiercely  protective  friend  and  would  rather  herself  get  hurt  than  those  she  cares  for.  these  are  also  the  people  she  would  actually  confide  in  too.  she  very  rarely  shares  what’s  going  on  in  her  brain  except  for  when  it  involves  these  people.  on  the  flip  side  ,  if  no  one’s  in  peril  ,  marlene  is  that  friend  who  always  pushes  her  limits  a  little  too  much.  she  wants  everyone  to  enjoy  themselves  but  it  won’t  stop  her  if  they  decide  not  to  partake.  she’s  a  bad  influence  point  blank.      

HOOK UPS  &  FLINGS  —  marlene  is  straight  up  afraid  of  serious  relationships.  she  sees  her  parents  and  their  parents  and  relationships  like  theirs  seem  so  out  of  reach.  i  wouldn’t  say  she’s  a  serial  one  night  stander  but  she  has  definitely  left  some  broken  off  flings  in  her  wake  because  of  this.  any  gender  ,  anyone.

LOVE  INTEREST  —  me:  *says  marlene  is  afraid  of  serious  relationships*  also  me:  *puts  love  interest  under  wanted  connections*  exCUSE  ME  if  i’m  a  sucker  for  a  guarded  person  falling  in  love  oK.  anyway  this  could  really  be  any  dynamic  but  personally  i  am  a  sucker  for  a  past  hook  up  catching  feels  but  marlene  doesn’t  return  the  sentiment  unTIL  LATER  or  enemies  to  friends  to  lovers  or  literally  anything  ,  it  does  not  take  much  to  please  me.  again  ,  open  to  anyone.  

RIVALS  &  ENEMIES  —  marlene  is  an  absolute  rage  machine  and  has  probably  started  fights  with  a  lot  of  people.  with  that  said  ,  her  favorite  people  to  hate  are  death  eaters  or  their  sympathizers.  other  than  that  ,  rivals  or  enemies  could  be  a  former  school/quidditch  competitor  to  someone  who  looked  at  her  funny  once.  

MENTOR  —  hello  i  am  a  sucker  for  the  mentor  -  student  dynamic  and  if  anyone  wants  to  knock  some  sense  into  marlene  ,  please  do  not  hesitate  to  do  it.  she’s  young  and  stupid  and  naive  about  the  war  efforts  ,  she  doesn’t  have  an  accurate  view  of  the  world  ,  a  place  she  thinks  is  neatly  divided  into  black  and  white.  your  character  can  tell  her  she’s  not  all  good  and  she  can  be  a  pain  in  your  character’s  ass!!  a  win  -  win  honestly. 

LITERALLY  ANYTHING  —  i  ,,  Love  to  plot  and  am  so  down  to  brainstorm  new  fun  things  with  y’all!!  

[richincolor]

New week, new books! Happy early book birthday to these two YA books and one memoir...

Incendiary (Hollow Crown #1) by Zoraida Córdova

I am Renata Convida. I have lived a hundred stolen lives. Now I live my own.

Renata Convida was only a child when she was kidnapped by the King’s Justice and brought to the luxurious palace of Andalucia. As a Robari, the rarest and most feared of the magical Moria, Renata’s ability to steal memories from royal enemies enabled the King’s Wrath, a siege that resulted in the deaths of thousands of her own people.

Now Renata is one of the Whispers, rebel spies working against the crown and helping the remaining Moria escape the kingdom bent on their destruction. The Whispers may have rescued Renata from the palace years ago, but she cannot escape their mistrust and hatred–or the overpowering memories of the hundreds of souls she turned “hollow” during her time in the palace.

When Dez, the commander of her unit, is taken captive by the notorious Sangrado Prince, Renata will do anything to save the boy whose love makes her place among the Whispers bearable. But a disastrous rescue attempt means Renata must return to the palace under cover and complete Dez’s top secret mission. Can Renata convince her former captors that she remains loyal, even as she burns for vengeance against the brutal, enigmatic prince? Her life and the fate of the Moria depend on it.

But returning to the palace stirs childhood memories long locked away. As Renata grows more deeply embedded in the politics of the royal court, she uncovers a secret in her past that could change the entire fate of the kingdom–and end the war that has cost her everything. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

A Breath Too Late by Rocky Callen

For fans of Girl in Pieces, All the Bright Places, and Girl, Interrupted comes a haunting and breathtaking YA contemporary debut novel that packs a powerful message: hope can be found in the darkness.

Seventeen-year-old Ellie had no hope left. Yet the day after she dies by suicide, she finds herself in the midst of an out-of-body experience. She is a spectator, swaying between past and present, retracing the events that unfolded prior to her death.

But there are gaps in her memory, fractured pieces Ellie is desperate to re-assemble. There’s her mother, a songbird who wanted to break free from her oppressive cage. The boy made of brushstrokes and goofy smiles who brought color into a gray world. Her brooding father, with his sad puppy eyes and clenched fists. Told in epistolary-like style, this deeply moving novel sensitively examines the beautiful and terrible moments that make up a life and the possibilities that live in even the darkest of places. Perfect for fans of the critically-acclaimed Speak, I’ll Give You the Sun, and If I Stay.

All Boys Aren’t Blue by George M. Johnson

In a series of personal essays, prominent journalist and LGBTQIA+ activist George M. Johnson explores his childhood, adolescence, and college years in New Jersey and Virginia. From the memories of getting his teeth kicked out by bullies at age five, to flea marketing with his loving grandmother, to his first sexual relationships, this young-adult memoir weaves together the trials and triumphs faced by Black queer boys.

Both a primer for teens eager to be allies as well as a reassuring testimony for young queer men of color, All Boys Aren’t Blue covers topics such as gender identity, toxic masculinity, brotherhood, family, structural marginalization, consent, and Black joy. Johnson’s emotionally frank style of writing will appeal directly to young adults.— Cover image and summary via Goodreads

[officialheroesofolympus]

Defend (Peter Parker x reader)

HeroesOfOlympus: Heyyy y’all! It’s been far too long since I’ve last updated a fanfiction and I apologise for that. I’m kind of proud of this idea and I spent quite a while writing, and editing this. It’s still crappy like any other fanfic I’ve written but I kind of like it.

Description: Mad at Flash’s relentless teasing of Peter at the party, you break out of your shy and quiet shell to speak up for your best friend, Peter. During your banter with Flash, he purposefully addresses your obvious crush on Peter. After that, Peter confronts you about Flash’s words and something both of you have longed for finally happens.

Reader Gender: Female

Characters/Ships: Peter Parker x reader, Flash, Ned, mention of Liz

Rating: PG

Warnings: Slightly descriptive kissing, horribly written insults and the word ‘penis’ repeated

Y/E/C: Your Eye Colour

The pounding music suddenly faded away into the background and the obnoxious repeats of ‘DJ Flash’ came to a screeching stop. Curious as to why Flash had abruptly stopped playing the music, you turned towards the makeshift stage where he stood upon. The moment your eyes fell on his face and you saw the mischief dancing in his eyes, you knew trouble was soon to arise.

“When I say penis, you say Parker!” Flash laughed maliciously as his voice vibrated throughout the room. With a sneer on his face and a triumphant smirk, the crowd of students obeyed his instructions. Soon enough, the whole room of students was chanting the word ‘Parker, thoroughly enjoying ganging up on Peter and supporting Flash. 

Although some of them still looked down on Flash for being a geek, the student body never took down the chance to taunt someone, especially when it came to Peter Parker. Some pupils were also slightly angry at Parker for making up lies that he knew Spiderman as he made those who believed him look like complete fools for even choosing to trust him. 

Flash continued to chant, his ego gradually inflating as the many voices chanting Peter’s surname slowly became louder and louder. Soon, the room seemingly shook from everyone’s shouts and the echoes of Peter’s defiled name filled the house. With the adrenaline pumping, Flash began to raise his hands up in the air, egging the teenagers on.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Ned, one of your close friends, talking with somebody on the phone, no doubt Peter. You could see that Ned was as frustrated as you were with the whole student body mocking Peter but you could also tell that he was more upset with Peter not following through Ned’s plan to become popular. 

Sighing, you ran your fingers through your hair as you thought about Peter, your best friend. You knew he was Spiderman, he had told you when he first crafted this new persona for him to take on, knowing that you were understanding and would support him through everything. 

Even though he had that constant nagging fear that you might be hurt because of him and his second life as a superhero, he knew you would figure it out sooner or later. Plus, he was really bad at keeping secrets from you, which was understandable since the two of you had been friends since Preschool.

That was the thing between you and Peter, you both had absolute trust in one other. You had each other’s backs ever since you met and there was an unbreakable bond between the two of you. Even if you were held at a gunpoint, you would never stop being best friends with the boy, and vice versa. 

That was why you couldn’t stand by and listen to the taunts of Peter when you knew you could do something. Gathering up all the courage you had, you took in a deep breath as you clenched your fists till the knuckles turned white, trying to plan out what to say and remain calm.

Unfortunately, your boiling anger got the better of you and before you knew it, it had erupted from you, making you unknowingly blurt out three simple words. “Shut up, Flash!” You managed to holler over the noise, and the chanting soon faded away, everyone shocked that you, Y/N the quiet and pleasantly nice girl, had actually shouted. 

Widened eyes were trained on you wherever you looked, accompanied by dropped jaws from several of the students. Getting over his initial shock of you actually speaking loudly and talking back to someone, Flash threw his head back in laughter, making your heart pump even harder in anger. 

Turning his attention back to you, Flash was startled to see your usual calm and slightly timid expression wiped away, replaced by something foreign on your face, which was anger. It was as if he could see the red boiling anger coursing through your veins that had made your eyebrows knit together, eyes harden and switch your signature kind smile with a thin line.

“Is someone mad that I’m calling their friend Penis Parker?” Flash taunted, putting on a childish voice that made several people laugh. Walking towards Flash, your boots thudded against the ground with each step you took, the crowd parting to leave you a straight line leading directly to the notorious bully. 

Once you stood a few metres away from him, you crossed your arms over your chest, the hard look still on your face. “On the contrary, I’m not mad.” You stated simply, training your narrowed eyes on the bully in front of you. Without even needing to look, you could tell that confused looks were being exchanged between the students around you. 

Sensing the confusion, you elaborated further. “I’m not mad because what you’re saying is true. Peter has a penis, although I can’t say the same about you since you have no balls.” The corner of your mouth tugged upwards as you smirked triumphantly at Flash, all the years of insulting Peter teasingly finally going to good use. 

Hearing a few sharp intakes of air around you, you grinned smugly as you took in Flash’s flabbergasted expression whilst also thoroughly enjoying the reactions you were receiving from everyone. Opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, Flash shook his head and you could see the gears in his head turning, trying to think of a witty remark to shoot back at you and win this argument. 

A slow conceited grin spread across his face and you swore you could feel everybody in the room, even those with front row seats to this drama, leaning forward and straining their ears to hear both of you, not wanting to miss out on any word being exchanged. “You know, Y/N, I don’t get you,” Flash started, still standing on his makeshift stage with the microphone in his hand. 

“You’re not that stupid and you’re not that bad looking.” He admitted begrudgingly, giving you a once over, his eyes trailing all over your body as you shivered involuntarily. “If you didn’t hang out with the biggest loser in the school, you’d actually be cool.” Jumping down from the stage, he approached you, microphone in hand as he came face to face with you.

Raising his eyebrows expectantly with a cocky smile stretched across his face, he waited for your reaction. “I don’t hang out with you though. So, I guess I am cool.” You shrugged, studying your nails as you maintained an utterly bored expression whilst internally enjoying the crowd cheering you on. Peering up from your nails, you arched a brow, staring down at Flash as you waited for his next comment. 

In a last desperate attempt to regain his honour and pride, Flash jabbed a finger into your chest, his face twisted in anger as he spat, “Why are you even defending Peter anyway? Is it because you’re hoping that by doing this, the guy would finally notice you as more than a friend? Don’t think I haven’t seen you stealing glances at the loser and envying Liz for the attention she’s receiving from Peter.” 

Heat rose to your cheeks and you felt absolutely mortified that Flash had just blurted out your longtime secret in front of practically the whole school. Tears gathered in your eyes and you wanted nothing more than to give in to the temptation to run into a corner and cry your eyes out. 

However, you were soon fueled by courage and anger once again, now even more furious with Flash for not only embarrassing Peter but you as well. He was nothing more than a bully and it was about time for someone to put him in place. Blinking away your tears, you had an almost maniacal laugh as you swatted away Flash’s hand. 

Pressing a finger against the boy’s chest, your nail dug into one of his many designer shirts, whilst your eyebrows drew together once again. “I’m defending Peter because he's my friend, and friends defend each other.” You hissed, reveling in the pleasant triumphant feeling that filled your body the moment you saw Flash’s annoyingly egoistic smile wiped off his face. 

“But you wouldn’t know what it’s like to have a friend, would you?” With that final statement hanging in the air, the right corner of your lips lifted upwards as you remembered a self-defense lesson Peter had taught you, leading you to unexpectedly punching Flash smack in the middle of his face. 

Despite the pain that had welled up in your knuckle the moment it had landed in the middle of Flash’s face, you couldn’t resist the growing grin on your face as you heard the satisfying sound of a bone cracking. Immediately, Flash clutched his nose, which had cracked, as he yelled incoherent curses and threats at you. 

Ignoring his pain and the guilt that was building up inside of you, you realised that everyone was staring at you and you felt uncomfortable under their intensive looks. Desperate to get the attention away from you, you turned abruptly on your heel, strutting out of the house with eyes filled with amazement focused on you. 

Swinging your legs back and forth, you enjoyed the peace and quiet surrounding you as you sat on top of the monkey bars in a playground that overlooked the river. After the whole fiasco with Flash, you didn’t feel like facing all the judgemental remarks and stares from the rest of your cohort, especially the pity glances you had seen on your way out. 

You hated those pitying looks. You knew that they only felt that way towards you because of what Flash had said about you and Peter. The only reassurance you had was that at least Peter hadn’t been there when everything had happened, you wouldn’t have had a clue of what to do if Peter found out you liked him, and not in a platonic way. 

Sighing, you tried to erase the night’s events and felt a little smirk crossing your face as you recalled the astonished look you had seen on Flash’s face when you had spoken up. Suddenly, you heard footsteps crunching against the withered leaves on the ground and your head shot up, your eyes wide in alert. 

Sliding down from the bars, you put your arms up as you shifted into a fighting stance, remembering what Peter had taught you. When you saw the familiar bright blue and red skin-tight suit, you sighed in relief, returning back to a relaxed position. 

“Peter, you scared me!” You grinned from ear to ear as your best friend tugged off his mask, a wide grin similar to yours flashing onto his face. Motioning for him to follow you, you both strolled side by side along the riverbank, your hands bumping against one another occasionally, making your cheeks tinge red.

Seeing that scrunched up look on Peter’s face, you knew he had a lot of things to tell you, most probably about his sudden mission, and you waited patiently for him to rant to you. Lost in admiring the view and enjoying the comfortable silence between the two of you, Peter had to clear his throat a few times to get your attention.

“You know,” Peter started, wringing his hands nervously as you focused all your attention on him, hearing the seriousness and nervousness in his voice. You were prepared for him to give a long frustrated talk on his mission, so what he said next had been quite a shock. “Ned sent me a video. From the party.” He continued, adding the location as an afterthought. 

Hearing those words, your immediate instinct was to bolt, run as fast and as far away as you could from Peter. However, before you could even decide if you should actually run, Peter slid his hand into yours, gripping it tightly. Thinking it was most probably because he didn’t want you to run off, you fought down the heat rising to your cheeks and nodded your head, waiting for Peter to continue. 

“Thanks for sticking up for me. I know how much you hate getting attention from others, so thank you.” Peter said softly and genuinely, squeezing your hand affectionately which made it even harder for you to stop the blush no doubt rising to your cheeks. Trying to hide your probably obvious blush, you tilted your head downwards.

“No problem, that’s what friends are meant to do, stick up for one another.” Grinning brightly again, your voice had unfortunately wavered on the word ‘friend’ and you inwardly felt yourself slowly shrivelling away in embarrassment, hoping that Peter hadn’t heard the hesitation in your voice. 

“Is friends just all we are?” Peter blurted, his cheeks turning even redder, eyes widening when he heard the words tumble out of his mouth as if he couldn’t believe he had actually said that. The instant you heard those words, trepidation began to fill you, constricting your chest and making it hard for you to breathe. 

Coming to a sudden halt, you tugged your hand out of Peter’s gentle grip, instantly missed the warmth of his hand in yours but you shrugged it off, remembering the predicament you were currently in. Taking a shaky breath, you took a few tries before finally whispering clearly, “You heard it, didn’t you.” 

Praying that Peter’s comment had just been offhanded and was a casual remark, you waited impatiently, rooted to your spot. Staring intently at Peter, he finally responded with a tiny nod of his head, you felt your whole world crashing down onto you. 

This was it. 

This was surely, no doubt, the end of your beautiful friendship with Peter. There would be no more laughter, no more teasing, no more of the once comfortable and easygoing relationship you two had. Instead, there would be awkward tension between both of you from now on and Peter would definitely detach himself from you, not wanting to get close to you as a desperate attempt to stop you from having a crush on him. 

And that was judging on the possibility that he still wanted to be friends. He might actually even stop talking to you, in hopes of getting away from a lovestruck ex-best friend. 

With the two horrifying possibilities in your mind, you wrung your hands nervously, taking a deep unsteady breath. “Look, Pete. Flash was just talking nonsense, as per usual. I don’t like you in that kind of way.” You lied fluently, giving a forced laugh. If it was anyone else, they would’ve believed you easily.

However, Peter wasn’t just anyone. He was your best friend and practically knew every single thing about you. Hence, your refusion to look at him gave it away that you were lying to him as he knew that you were probably feeling uncomfortable under his steady gaze on you.  

But what if he was wrong? What if he was reading you falsely and maybe this time, you were just feeling jittery under his intense stare and not because you were lying?

In that split second, Peter listened to those thoughts and the hopeful look on his face had completely disappeared, now taken over by a frown. His bottom lip quivered as his eyes flickered away from you before settling back into you again. Deciding to take his chances and risk everything, he prepared himself for what he was about o say.

“But what if I want you to like me in that way.” He managed to choke out after countless of attempts with beads of sweat slowly forming on his forehead. Awestruck by Peter’s sudden bravery and words, your whole body became rigid as you openly stared at him with your lips parted slightly, thinking to yourself that this was probably just a really good dream.

“I really like you, Y/N. I really, really do. And...” Peter’s eyes stared out into the distance timidly before shifting back to you again. “I really want you to like me too.” Biting the side of your lips, you tried to gather up the same courage you had found when you had confronted Flash and you drew in a deep breath. 

“I like you too, so much that it scares me sometimes.” You breathed, the short sentence causing the brightest grin you had ever seen on Peter’s face to appear. With the adrenaline rushing through his body, Peter boldly took a step towards you, cupping your cheeks in his hands.

Shyly, he whispered in disbelief, “Do you mean it?” Seeing the nod of confirmation, Peter cried out in joy, picking you up from the ground and spinning around with you in his arms. Giggling happily, you buried your head in the crook of Peter’s neck before he finally set you down.

With your arms around his neck and his around your waist, the both of you bashfully peered up from the ground, staring into each other’s beautiful eyes filled with nothing else but love and joy. Foreheads pressed against each other, you and Peter couldn’t help your faces from flushing at the close proximity.

The laughter had died down as the two of you were so focused and enchanted by the other person’s beauty that staring at each other was all you could both do at the moment. Suddenly, your eyes moved down from admiring Peter’s eyes and when you saw his lips, you couldn’t help but stare long and hard at it, dreaming about how it would feel against your own lips. 

Looking up from Peter’s lips, you caught the brunette doing the exact same thing you had just been doing, gazing longingly at your red painted lips. It seemed like the same thought had been running through both your minds as your grips on each other had tightened, forcing you and Peter to close the tiny space left between the two of you.

Heart hammering in your’s and Peter’s chest, you filled up the tiny gap between your lips, pressing your mouth against his. The kiss was better than anything you could ever dream of, it was soft and sweet, and the feeling that coursed through your body was unlike anything you felt before.

You felt complete, like a missing part of you had finally been given back to you. Fingers sliding up from Peter’s neck, your hands ran through his incredibly soft wavy brown locks as Peter deepened the kiss, pulling you even closer to him. The kiss was less soft than it was before but it was still filled with the same amount of love and care.

Pulling apart, you smiled bashfully whilst Peter beamed, clearly unable to hide his utter joy at the fact that he had finally just kissed you. Taking a strand of your hair, which had been dangling over and covering your gorgeous eyes, Peter tucked it behind your ear, his fingers smoothly going through your hair before stopping at the back of your head.

Cheekily, he moved your head towards him with the hand on your head and engaged you in another kiss. Unable to resist the growing smile stretching onto your face, you smiled against Peter’s lips as you continued to mold your lips with his.

Thank god for Flash Thompson being more obnoxiously conceited tonight.

(GIF belongs to @petersbackpack)

[hot-mysticc-mess-blog]

Jaehee Week Day 5: Plants

So I totally forgot about Jaehee week and am a day late for this prompt, but it’s here!!!! 

Rating: G

Pairing: Jaehee x MC (gender neutral) 

Words: 1,398

My Masterlist

There are still several hours before the sun comes up for the day, but Jaehee and MC have been up for nearly twenty minutes getting ready for work. The bedroom of their new apartment contains one queen-size bed, a dresser, and a fortress of boxes bathed in the yellow lighting of an old incandescent bulb the couple will be changing as soon as they can find time to go to the store. Their new apartment is unfamiliar, and having everything still mostly packed up makes things difficult, but the time of day is normal to them. Fresh baked goods, in order to actually be fresh, means arriving several hours before the actual opening time of the café.  

“Are you telling me you’ve never been on Pinthings!?” Jaehee can see MC through the mirror on the closet door, watching as they jump onto the bed knees first, using their weight to bounce up and down as Jaehee pulls on one of her many button-down shirts for work. MC should be getting ready as well, but they are notorious for dilly-dallying in the morning.

“I never had much free time working at C&R to be involved with social media. When I did I spent it looking at Zen’s fansite,” Jaehee explains. She slips a skirt over her hips. The little wiggle she does to get it over her thighs makes MC lick their lips, mouth suddenly a little dry.

“You would love it, it’s perfect for planning things. Now’s a great time to make an account too, since we just started unpacking. I always find the best ideas for decorating! Oh! And we could borrow some ideas for desserts!” MC flops back onto the bed, caught up in weaving a fantasy about their life post-Pinthings. Jaehee slips her final bobby pin into place with a small sigh. Her hair is at an odd stage of growing out, too short for a ponytail but too long to keep out of the way on its own and she finds it frustrating.

“MC, you still need to get ready.” Jaehee pats MC’s arm lightly, urging them up from the bed. MC comes back from their trance with a groan, swiping Jaehee’s phone off the bedside table.

“What are you doing with my phone?”

“Downloading Pinthings for you,” MC says, sinking deeper into the pillows. Jaehee strongly suspects this is just another one of her partner’s ploys to stay in bed a few minutes longer.

Opening the café is its usual flurry of motion. Everything else is silent and dark at 3am, leaving Jaehee and MC to fill their little space with light and laughter while they rush around baking pastries and stocking the display cases. The two of them get next to no sleep. Sometimes they work sixteen-hour days with few breaks in between, but that just means the café is always the brightest place on the block. The morning drags, and yet, also seems to pass by too fast. By lunch time they are busy with customers. It is far from packed, but they have been steadily building a small regular customer base with new people coming in all the time. Jaehee has never felt happier, and neither has MC. 

Dinner for them is, more often than they would like to admit, convenience store meals shared on cushions on the floor at 9 o’ clock. Their diets have only gotten worse since starting the café, much to both their disappointment. Jaehee is working a similar number of hours (albeit in a much more fulfilling way) and both of them are exposed to far more desserts than they used to be.

 “What do you think about starting an herb garden?” Jaehee asks. MC swipes a fried shrimp from their girlfriend’s plate and pops it in their mouth. Jaehee levels them with a sharp look, but it gives way to a smile a moment later. MC really shouldn’t make a habit of stealing other people’s food, but as long as it is only Jaehee’s…she does not mind so much then. Her partner is always considerate not to take the foods Jaehee really likes, and frequently feed her bites of whatever dessert they have chosen as a snack during break. While she has never crunched the numbers, Jaehee figures it most likely evens out. If it doesn’t, well, at least she likes the attention.  

 “That sounds nice…wait. Did you get that idea from Pinthings?” MC puts on their best needling voice, drawing out their words for maximum embarrassment. Jaehee’s cheeks turn pink and she looks away.

“They suggested using old coffee cans as planters, I thought it would be a good idea. I know we’re very busy with the coffee shop right now, but it seemed like fun. Of course, I understand if you don’t want to, gardens can be a lot of work…” Perhaps this is a mistake. The two of them are busy, so busy that normally the idea of adding something else on top of their current workload would send Jaehee into enough of a frenzy that she would be calling MC for comfort. Just because MC is here now, and her encouragement makes Jaehee feel like she can do anything, does not actually change the reality of her limitations.

“I think it sounds like a nice idea too. Maybe it would help us cook at home a little more if we took more responsibility for the food prep, and we can compost the old coffee grounds from the shop!” A smile grows on MC’s face, back to imagining all of the things that could be. Their smiles must be contagious, because Jaehee finds herself grinning again as well.

In the next few weeks, they get even less sleep than usual, fueled by more coffee and the thrill of DIY projects. They unpack most of the boxes, start collecting coffee cans, and Jaehee starts researching what they need to begin composting. The apartment gets decorated with matching pillows, string-ball fairy lights, and vanilla tealights seated in bowls of coffee beans. Their garden starts with an egg carton full of seedlings that they nurture carefully. MC was right, as they often are: Pinthings is great for planning.

One Tuesday afternoon, Tuesdays and Wednesdays being the slowest days for their little shop, they take off early so they can come home and build a little hanging rack for the plants in front of the window sills. It is a three-tiered set of wooden shelves stained to match their cabinets with holes just large enough for each of the cans to sit in, connected by rope and hung by an immense number of command strips so they could get their security deposit back when they moved out. They start with basil, rosemary, and thyme. The plants thrive under Jaehee’s meticulous care and MC’s love.

 “Goodbye kids!” MC teases on their way out the door, throwing a glance back at their window-sill garden. Jaehee shakes her head at how silly her partner is, twining their fingers together so she can make sure they both make it out to the car. The little plants grow with the café, and Jaehee has memorized the care instructions for all the herbs, including ideal planting and harvesting dates.

Soon, they have a healthy 9-plant garden they use for cooking at least twice a week. Despite how often they cook with them, the RFA still ends up getting home-grown dried spices as gifts a couple times a year to manage their surplus. That doesn’t stop Jaehee and MC from adding to their garden, putting a planter box outside on their balcony so they can grow a wider variety of plants.

On warm summer nights they bring a cups of coffee out onto the balcony and sip together in quiet silence while their plants sway in the wind and the sky swims with beautiful colors.

“…MC?” Jaehee asks, caught between looking at the sunset itself or the way the orange’s and pinks catch in her lover’s hair.

“Hmm?” MC hums, glancing over to her partner, mid-sip of coffee.

“I don’t think I tell you often enough how glad I am to have you at my side.” Jaehee takes a breath, ready to start on a fumbling speech, but MC just shakes their head and smiles, cutting Jaehee off before she could embarrass herself with her own gushing.

“I love you too, Jaehee.” 

[cupidquinn-moved]

   😈   –   𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑫𝒀.

   𝑳𝑨𝒀𝑬𝑹 001   :   𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑶𝑼𝑻𝑺𝑰𝑫𝑬.

   NAME  :       Harley Quinn, formerly Dr. Harleen Quinzel    EYE   COLOUR  :     blue    HAIR   STYLE   /   COLOUR  :      A natural blonde, though she has on occasion claimed otherwise for the sake of a good joke. She tends to keep it longish, at least around her shoulders. In keeping with the tradition of artists and now films depicting her hair styled and coloured in different ways. I have to admit, I like the duo pink/blue ombre, tho.     HEIGHT  :      5′7     CLOTHING   STYLE  :    In a word, Harley likes looking cute and knows she’s gorgeous. Her personal taste tends to be a blender aesthetic drawing inspiration from punk, glam, tacky kitch, and a touch of vintage. While she likes showing off her body, it’s not something that’s a constant in the clothing she wears. I tend to think, like any person, her clothing reflects her mood. Sometimes a girl wants to wear a pair of sparkly spandex hot pants and I think that’s just fine.     BEST   PHYSICAL   FEATURE  :      smile, it’s wide, impish, and brilliant or manic depending on your perspective.

     𝑳𝑨𝒀𝑬𝑹 002 : 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑰𝑵𝑺𝑰𝑫𝑬.

    FEARS  :      dying, being unable to function without Joker     GUILTY   PLEASURE  :     junk food, sequins, the sound of a bat or mallet hitting meat or bone     BIGGEST   PET   PEEVE  :     People who underestimate her due to her gender, appearance, or previous association with Joker. Regarding the latter, believing that she is helpless or harmless without the protection of his reputation/clout.     AMBITIONS   FOR   THE   FUTURE  :     Harley is notoriously impulsive and doesn’t tend to dwell much on the future. Frankly, I think most days, she’d shocked that she’s still alive given the dangerous lifestyle she’s been living since becoming Harley Quinn. Her biggest wish is to be able to support herself tolerably in a way that doesn’t bore her, allows her to retain independence, and maaaybe keeps her out of jail/arkham.

     𝑳𝑨𝒀𝑬𝑹 003 : 𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑺.

     FIRST   THOUGHTS   WAKING   UP  :     it could be something perfectly normal, following her body’s waking needs. Bathroom, coffee, breakfast, that sort of thing. Yet it could also be some kind of random thoughts, whether it be some kind of random mundane desire or something more obtuse, whether it be a deep thought about why Poison Ivy eats salads or a more chaotic one.  Think “shower/high” kinda musings      WHAT   THEY   THINK   ABOUT   MOST  :      food and the nature of reality       WHAT   THEY   THINK   ABOUT   BEFORE   BED  :     depends. If she’s crushing on someone she might fixate on the person and daydream until she falls asleep. Otherwise, I think she tends to be a before bed worrier, either reflecting on some reckless and/or criminal act and what the repercussion might be or something fairly normal like “oh shit did I lock the door?” “I just got comfortable, so how badly do I have to suddenly pee right now?” “Ah shit I forgot to wash my face.”        WHAT   THEY   THINK   THEIR   BEST   QUALITY   IS  :     her charm and ability to stay optimistic, even in a bad situation.

       𝑳𝑨𝒀𝑬𝑹 004 : 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻’𝑺 𝑩𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 ?

       SINGLE   OR   GROUP   DATES  :      Group dates! The more the merrier!        TO   BE   LOVED   OR   RESPECTED  :  Oh boy, I dunno. She really is romantic deep down. She loves being in love and giving and receiving affection, however, given her track record, she often second guesses her judgement when it comes to romantic inclinations. So in the end I think she’d choose respected, because lord knows, she’s experienced a dearth of that throughout her life.        BEAUTY   OR   BRAINS  :      Beauty because in a very cynical moment, I can imagine her saying that her brains had gotten her in a hell of a lot of trouble. In truth, she uses her looks in a very manipulative way, either playing on sexual desire or dumb blonde stereotypes.        DOGS   OR   CATS  :      dogs

       𝑳𝑨𝒀𝑬𝑹 005 : 𝑫𝑶 𝑻𝑯𝑬𝒀…

       LIE  :      yes, sometimes compulsively         BELIEVE   IN   THEMSELVES  :     yes and no. She is very confident but also often struggles with trusting herself and own instincts        BELIEVE   IN   LOVE  :      yes, despite everything        WANT   SOMEONE  : Maybe so.....

       𝑳𝑨𝒀𝑬𝑹 006 : 𝑯𝑨𝑽𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑬𝒀 𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹…

       BEEN   ON   STAGE  :      yes        DONE   DRUGS  :   experimented a bit in college        CHANGED   WHO   THEY   WERE   TO   FIT   IN  :    This answer will come in two parts. Back when she was Harleen Quinzel, she conformed in very specific ways to try to be taken seriously. She dressed conservatively, wore little to know makeup and learned to modulate her voice to conceal her strong accent (is it New York or Jersey? I honestly haven’t decided which she’s a native of). And then she became Harley Quinn. I don’t know if it can be said she altered herself to precisely “fit in” but she certainly changed partially due to various straining factors in her life in addition to her desire to please Joker.

         𝑳𝑨𝒀𝑬𝑹 007 : 𝑭𝑨𝑽𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑬𝑺.

        FAVOURITE   COLOURS  :     red, black  pink, blue, magenta.         FAVOURITE   ANIMAL  :      hyena         FAVOURITE   BOOK  :     (real talk, as I fill this out I’m very sleepy and incapable of considering the answer to this very seriously and would rather return to this at a later time maybe with a real answer).         FAVOURITE   GAME  :     Secretly, she loves tabletop rpgs, usually fantasy or sci-fi titles.

         𝑳𝑨𝒀𝑬𝑹 008 : 𝑨𝑮𝑬.

        DAY   THEIR   NEXT   BIRTHDAY   WILL   BE  :      July 20         HOW   OLD   WILL   THEY   BE  :      36.

       𝑳𝑨𝒀𝑬𝑹 009 : 𝑭𝑰𝑵𝑰𝑺𝑯 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬.

        I LOVE  :      trouble.         I FEEL  :       that I am becoming strong enough.         I HIDE  :       vulnerability.         I MISS  :      Harleen.         I WISH  :      I had been able to ask for help when I needed it before I broke..

   TAGGED:    stolen from @saintedevil​    TAGGING:  steal from me.

[kiss-my-freckle]

Red’s Quotes

Season Three

You have every right to be afraid. Just don’t let it control you. 

You’re in a storm, Lizzy. You need to find the peace below the winds.

I must say, your hair, the way it frames your face is very becoming.

Red:Chin up, Chang. Believe in yourself and others will, too. Chang: What is that, another one of your dumbass literary quotes? Red: Fortune cookie.

Chang: You’re crazy, old man. Red: You have no idea.

Red: Katarina Rostova was the cleverest, most resourceful woman I have ever known. Liz: Wha- what are you saying? Red: No matter how dark the moment, she could always find her way through. Liz: She was a Russian spy who I never knew. Red: No, you didn’t. But that doesn’t mean your mother is gone. I see her in you every day. She’s as much a part of you as the air you breathe.

Red: No. It’s not a trade or a bribe, or an offer of payment in kind to entice you to look away. I admire your probity too much for that. Ressler: So, what do you want? ‘Cause you only give to get. Red: All I want is your word as a man of honor. Ressler: My word. Red: You know Elizabeth. You know she’s not a Russian spy or a traitor or a terrorist. You know that’s not who she is. Ressler: Doesn’t matter what I know. Red: If you catch her, it will. It will matter a great deal.What you know about her, what you feel about her could make all the difference. So, my offer. One blacklister in exchange for your word that you will give her the benefit of every doubt. Can you do that, Donald? Can you give me your word?

You know, as my father used to say to me, just because you’ve been bumped up to first chair in the orchestra doesn’t mean you can compose a symphony. 

Oh, Connie. What a delightful nod to tradition. I can’t tell you how nostalgic it is to see a Russian bureaucrat demonstrating such a time-honored absence of work ethic.

She’s much prettier than she looks sitting behind the news anchor desk. Plus, she’s married to a ranking member of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. Only fair, I suppose, given the black book military aid he’s allocated to Crimea. Reciprocity’s a bitch, right Connie? Screw the Bear, the Bear screws back, batteries not included. By all means, do call in the troops. What with your government’s implication in the Orea bombing and assassinations of the sitting Senator and the Attorney General of the United States, how much harm could a weekly game of water wiggle between their ambassador and a senator’s wife cause? Barely a blip in the news cycle. Though, I doubt the Kremlin will be nearly as jejune as I am. 

That’s the spirit, Connie. Service with a smile.

You need to stop that convoy.

If by “secure” you mean “dead,” then yes, absolutely. Ressler wasn’t trying to kill you. He was trying to save you. The convoy was compromised.

You haven’t the slightest clue how to speak to a woman, have you? Now, my friend there and I are having a very important discussion. So you just sit tight, enjoy your muffin, and if I hear you say anything other than “please” or “thank you” to Carly, I’m gonna drag you into the men’s room and wash your mouth out with soap. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll cut your filthy tongue out with that butter knife. Is that clear enough for you?

Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm and take your seats. Clayton.

Now, I apologize. I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but it appears we’ll all be taking an extended lunch. However, if you remain calm and do exactly as I say, I promise you’ll leave here with a rip-roaring story to tell your friends and families. Bon appetít. Dear, would you mind answering that phone? No doubt it’s for me.

Becky from the old firm? The paralegal. Oh, my God. You old dog. Oh!

That's enough!

She didn’t have a choice. What if he’d gotten her gun? What then, Carly? Do you think any of us would be safer if he were armed? You think you’d be safe?

There will be no deal.

You’re a free man, Marvin. Instead of facing a notoriously unpredictable parole board and the showering with the boys, you’ll be unwinding on a small banana plantation I have outside of Papeete. 

Get in the car, Marvin. Have a mai tai, soak up some sun because I’ll be contacting you soon, and when I do, I want this plan of yours to be thoroughly mapped out. We only have one shot at this. I’ll be in touch. Make sure you have Heia air dry your sheets! You’ll sleep like a baby!

It was the Cold War. There were spies to run.

Our journey begins in the home of the double-bacon corn dog. Welcome to Iowa.

We’re gonna need Mr. Costa’s address. And maybe some directions. My associate prefers to steal cars made before the advent of GPS.

Liz: I don’t know what happened. I used to consider myself lucky. I had a husband I loved, a job I always wanted. I was the kind of person good things happen to. --- Red: Sometimes, bad luck is the best luck you’ll ever have.

This is the life, Lizzy. Someone’s always one step behind.

Only if you don’t know the four digits. Now there’s only 24 combinations.

Ressler is a law-enforcement robot. The FBI winds him up-

Look at me. You need to let that go, Lizzy. I have survived for a very long time now, and I assure you, I didn’t do it by relying on the goodness in people.

You seem like an intuitive guy. At least intuitive enough to know when you’re in over your head, so whichever lowlife you’re working for, he’s gonna have to wait to get his revenge. Set it down.

I came here to ask you to deliver a message to your friend, the Director. This is only the beginning, and I won’t stop until his own people realize that their only way forward is to exonerate Elizabeth Keen and to leave the Director to me. Please. Tell him I’m coming.

Liz: I shot a cop. Red: Yes, you did. Liz: And killed the Attorney General of the United States. Red: Yes. And when you did that, you crossed a threshold, leaving your world, entering mine. Bad things are gonna find you now, Lizzy. This life has a mind and a momentum of its own. That’s a reality you need to accept. Bad things happen to good people. Liz: Am I a good person? I’m not so sure anymore. Red: I’m sure.

Dembe is more than an associate to me. Please find him.

In case we lose visual contact, you’ll be wearing a tracking device. If you’re thinking of reaching out to him, don’t. Now that he’s on the FBI’s radar, they’re likely monitoring any communications. This is important, Lizzy. Promise me you won’t call him.

What is your fantasy?

It’s your fantasy. It’s as it should be.

I’m not sure we should start the party before the hostess arrives, but so be it. Yes. Hello. I need an ambulance. A man’s dying on a cross.

Nasim: What do you want? Red: To offer my sympathies. Nasim: I know who you are. Red: And I know who you are, Nasim. What a beautiful name. It means “breeze” in Farsi. But you weren’t born Nasim. You were born Nasir- “the victorious.” How ironic. But a boy. A perfectly healthy boy.

And this must be your father. The butcher. Tell me, Bahram, was it so horrific to discover that your 19-year-old son, your eldest son, was gay? So horrific that you forced him against his will to go under the knife, change his gender to give you a daughter instead of your son, who is gay?

Bahram: I wanted to protect you, Nasim. They could have killed you. Red: For being gay. They’re so homophobic that being gay is a hideous crime, but chopping off a man’s penis isn’t? Honestly, is it just me, or is the human race, armed with religion, poisoned by prejudice, and absolutely frantic with hatred and fear, galloping pell-mell back to the dark ages? Who on earth is hurt by a little girl going to school or a child being gay? Let’s be frank, Bahram. You didn’t change your son to protect him. You changed him because he disgusted you.

You want to know my fantasy, Nasim? To escape a hopeless police standoff in style with two sensational women on my arms. Shall we? Yeah. Well, we can’t have everything.

Yes. Get the photos to Sandquist at the Chronicle. I want everyone to know what happened here today. 

Red: Fold your hands in front of you. Walk. An assassin has targeted Agent Keen. Ressler: If we haven’t found her, he won’t. Red: He’s better than you. He’s better than me. That’s why I need your help to protect her. Ressler: I thought that’s what your job was. Red: Well, I failed at that. Turn around. I’m a little rusty in the 12 steps, but if I’m not mistaken, step 9 is making amends. I can’t do that without you. Ressler: I suggest you start with step 4, and make a searching and fearless moral inventory of yourself. Red: I admire the way you’re dealing with your addiction, Donald. I tried NA once after an opium den in Kuala Lumpur got the best of me. Didn’t stick. I couldn’t get past the requirement to believe in a power greater than myself. Ressler: Officer down. I repeat, officer down. 546 Hawthorne Place. Send all units. You got four minutes. Red: What I know about this assassin will take less than two.

The fact that we’re still alive means you need something from me. Whatever it is, let her go. My resources are at your disposal. It’s a limited-time offer, Matias. You need to act now.

Call the Director. Tell him I’ll give him everything I’ve been collecting, all the evidence against him. Call him!

Well, we’re just gonna have to kill her.

Borakove, wake and bake and grab a pen. I have a routing number I need you to track.

You look like you’ve seen a ghost.

Blair: You killed her! Red: No, she didn’t. It’s understandable that you would think she did, but she didn’t.

Cedric, lives are at stake. The fate of nations. Bribe someone. Push someone around. I don’t care. Just get it done. 

Max: My son drowned in Portofino.  Red: Well, who could have predicted that?

Red: You must be Lisa. Max said your eyes were radiant, but my God! Mesmerizing. It’s a very small space. We want to brighten. I love mauve, but a soft creamy yellow will just open up the entire room. We also need to land on cabinet options and millwork today. I’m already arguing with my supplier. Tell me if I’m going too fast- Lisa: I’m sorry. I have no idea what any of this means. Red: Oh, my goodness- Max didn’t tell you. Lisa: Tell me what? Red: About your restaurant. Lisa: I don’t have a restaurant. Red: I think we need to take a drive.

Red: I know. I know. I ruined the whole damned thing. But there were too many decisions to make without her. After all, it is her restaurant. Lisa: I can’t believe this. Red: Max has been working night and day to get this place fixed up. Alł those classes, the hours you’ve spent perfecting your tarts, your crumpets. If he’s told me once, he’s told me a thousand times, you should be feeding all of Montreal in your own restaurant. Lisa: I don’t know what to say. Max: Neither do I. Lisa: We could do puff pastries with a little Sunday brunch! And those little tea cakes that you loooove. Red: I need one day working around the clock with no interruptions. After that, the place is yours. Max: Who are you? Red: The man who’s going to help you make her dreams come true.

Red: So you are a gambling man. Let’s place that bet, shall we? Medical: What was that? I thought I heard- Woman: What happened? Is he dead? Red: Dead? Pishposh. What’s death? It’s just a process, right?

Red: Hello, Peter. I hope I’m not interrupting cocktails with Lynda. Peter: Congratulations on getting to Halmi before I did. Red: Yes, it certainly is celebratory drinks here, so I’ll be brief. I think it’s about time to exonerate Elizabeth Keen. Peter: That is not going to happen. Red: Oh, but it is. The only question is whether you’ll live to see the day. If I continue to dismantle the Cabal, they’ll put a bullet in your head just to mitigate their losses. Everything is working according to plan, Peter. Peter: You overestimate your influence, Raymond. Your plan is of no concern to us. Red: Peter. You’ve been skimming from the company till, stealing millions in anticipation of running away. When you were linked to the Cabal, you reached out to Halmi - put your golden parachute in a secret account only he could access. Except now, I’ve got it. You have no money to escape the inevitable. Your colleagues will abandon you. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon enough because I’m not going to stop until they do. Peter: Unless I exonerate Keen. Red: It’s one small chance to save your life. Peter: Such a generous offer. I’ll have to decline. Red: I’m going to bring this whole damn thing down on you, Peter. And when I do, your own people will beg me to kill you to stop the bleeding.

“Do I dare to eat a peach?” I may as well live dangerously.

Red: Agent Navabi. May I assume you’re aware of the recent abductions? Samar: Me and every agent in the building. Red: Perhaps. But they don’t share the same personal investment that you have in today’s events. Samar: And why is that? Red: Because you and I both know that Lazarum Systems International is providing technical expertise to Israel’s missile-defense shield. They’re encrypting software for the Iron Dome. Whoever took those contractors is an enemy of Israel. Samar: That’s a long list. Red: Let me shorten it - Zal Bin Hasaan. Imagine, the man who’s killed more Mossad agents than any other assassin in history, right here on American soil. Samar: That’s not possible. Red: That’s what you thought in Cairo. He was right behind you, and you didn’t know it. That mistake cost your partner his life and put you in an Egyptian I.C.U. But, back then, you were missing one critical element that would have made all the difference - me. Samar: What exactly are you suggesting? Red: That we combine our efforts. We both want Hasaan. I’ll be in touch.

Red: Oh, my. Three questions in not even as many seconds. Which should we answer first? Actually, how about this, I’ll ask a few questions first, and then we can get to whatever’s on your mind. Farzin: I’m sorry, but my name, it is somewhat common. Perhaps you are confusing me with - Red: I knew a guy that happened to all the time. Best glass-smith in New England. Nobody could free-blow a vase like Theodore Bundy. Can you imagine? Ted Bundy, an amazing craftsman, couldn’t sell a vase.

Don’t feel bad, Farzin. You’re a smuggler, not a fighter.

If that’s where the list is, that’s where Hasaan is going. In a few minutes, half the federal agents in Washington will have that building surrounded. Your only job for now is to stay alive.

Red: According to legend, a great and wise bird raised the young warrior, Zal, in her nest atop the highest peak of Damavand. When he came of age, she gave him a plume of her radiant feathers to burn if he was ever in desperate need, and she would come to his aid. Pity. You seem to be fresh out of feathers. Hasaan: What do you want? Red: Well, another spin of the bottle in Melanie Reichman’s basement, but, I’ll settle for you. Samar: What now? Red: That’s your decision. You can turn him in. You know what will happen - Rendition, hunger strikes, eventually death in whatever hellhole he’s thrown into. Or you can give him to me. The best I can offer is death with a purpose. Samar: Which is? Red: Agent Keen’s freedom.

Red: Harold, Agent Keen tells me you have the man they call Karakurt. Cooper: Yes. And I intend on turning him over to the bureau as soon as possible. Red: Don’t. I have a better idea.

Red: Oh, and don’t forget that other matter we discussed.  Liz: Other matter? Red: Ian has a first edition of Life On The Mississippi for me. Multitasking. Liz: Oh. Red: Have I ever told you the story about Ian Bartleby and his wife and the beekeeper they fell into bed with on the Isle of Skye? Fascinating, illuminating story. Liz: Oh, it’s been a long drive. Any chance I can hear about Ian and the beekeeper after I clean up? Red: Yes. Freshen up. I’ll fill the tank. Get us something to eat. Lizzy, we’re very close. This’ll all be over soon.

Let me see if I can guess how this works. You grab hapless motorists, drain their ATM accounts, max out their credit cards, and dump them by the side of the road. Money or your life. You’re highwaymen. “KOTH” Knights? Kings Of The Highway. How romantic..

T-Bone: I like wearing your co-co-coat. Must have set you b-b-back a bundle. Red: No doubt worth considerably less now. 

Yeah, that’s what I am, Cash. I’m on the lam. I was wondering when we’d get to that.

Jilly: It’s tea time. Red: Oh, that’ll be fun, Jilly. Cucumber sandwiches? Jilly: And scones. Red: How delicious. Jilly: Would you like one lump or two? Red: Two, please. Jilly: You simply must tell me your name. It’s dreadfully rude of me not to address you properly. Red: Kenneth. Jilly. Your real name. Red: Kenneth. Now look what you’ve done. You spilled all the tea, dear. Jilly: You have to tell me your real name. They’re gonna hurt me if you don’t. Red: You like getting hurt, Jilly. You wouldn’t be here with them if you didn’t. Jilly: You think so? Red: I do.

Red: You didn’t find anything. Jilly found it ’cause you’re too dense to even look for it. No wonder Cash doesn’t trust you with anything more important than babysitting. T-bone: That’s big talk coming from a g-guy who’s-  Red: You are aware you need to clean and oil these from time to time, right?

Red: You sure it didn’t hit an organ? Looks pretty close to a kidney- Cash: Shut up! Don’t listen to him. Hey, he’s the one that shot you. He don’t know nothing. Red: Then again, you bleed out, one less person who gets a cut of my money. Cash: I said- shh! Pablo: Seriously, man, maybe we should let him get to a hospital. T-Bone: I’m freezing! Red: You’re going into shock.You’ve lost too much blood. The body’s beginning to shut down.

Red: When’s the last time you got any of that, Pablo? Or have you? Pablo: We share everything. Red: But not with Jasper, apparently. Pablo: That’s our business. It ain’t yours. Red: Oh, it's very much my business. As a matter of fact, Pablo, our operations are remarkably similar, albeit mine functions on a somewhat grander scale, certainly more hygienic. But at the end of the day, it all boils down to the same basic principle. We steal from others, but not from each other. Pablo: Shut your mouth, or I swear to God, I’m gonna- Red: Kill me? That’ll fix things. At least until those two decide a two-way split makes more sense than four. Tell me something. Do you trust Cash? Do you trust him with your life?

You sure this is about me? I’m worth a lot more to them than you are. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if I were to walk out of these woods alive, and I sincerely doubt you’ll be as lucky. Where do you suppose they’re gonna go with my money? I say Aruba. Maybe Cancún

See, this is why I don’t go to family reunions. Aunt Lucille is always arguing with Buddy, Uncle Scott is drunk by noon, and someone’s hand is always in the wrong cookie jar.

You are in desperate need of some help, Jilly.

Lizzy, where are you? Where are you? They’re coming.

There are no beatings here, Donald. No winners or losers. There is only Agent Keen’s life.

He tried to tell you, Donald. You didn’t listen. Apparently, you have a disregard for Tom Keen that exceeds even my own.

Red: Donald. I find him so stiff so much of the time. He doesn’t appreciate life’s trimmings. Take yourself, for example. It’s my understand he fired you for helping Elizabeth come to my rescue.  Samar: He had every right. I went behind his back. I’m willing to take responsibility for my actions. Red: Watch out. That’s the kind of spirit that could save America. Thank you for meeting me, Samar. Samar: What do you want? Red: We’re going to clear Elizabeth’s name. It’ll involve a sizable drug haul, an FBI heist in the US Treasury Department. But first, I need to make an appointment. Samar: An appointment with whom? Red: With the Foreign Minister of Venezuela.

Why don’t you grab some kilos off the top and let’s go stage a crime scene.

Just like my uncle Vic on a Saturday night.

Diaz: He has irritable bowels. But what can you expect? We just borrowed another $5 billion from China. So, what is this about, Reddington? I was told a matter of national interest. Red: Indeed. I believe I can help your President’s stomach condition.

Diaz: Where did you get these? Red: Oh. There was this plane that fell out of the sky, a group of anti-capitalists. Terrorists in funny masks. But I digress. The point is, I’m giving El Jefe the ability to print as much money as he’d like to print. Diaz: You son of a gun. Red: I’ve been called worse.

I’m actually a great proponent of marital therapy. Worked for me. Then again, I had sort of a thing for the therapist. Lovely voice.

Everybody likes apples.

Red: Peter! Welcome back. Boy, you were out! Like carrying a bag of boulders. Peter: What the hell have you done? Red: I envy anyone who can sleep soundly on a plane. Then again, I’ve never been injected with propofol. You have the Post Toasties?

Peter: You’re insane. Red: I wouldn’t know.

Red: It’s not everything we wanted, but it’s close. You’ll be safe. You’ll be free. Liz: But I won’t be an agent. I’ll be an asset like you. Red: Yes. I told you some time ago, when you pulled that trigger, you crossed a threshold... you stepped from your world into mine. I wish I could deliver the perfect outcome, but I’m afraid - Liz: This is- fair. Red: Fairness is overrated. And maybe there’s a way to get you all the way back. But for now, Lizzy, for today, sign the deal.

I can’t think of even one set of circumstances in which that would be any of your business. We’ve been descending for some time now. Looks like we’ll be able to drop you off in time for dinner.

Your past three months have been what my life has been like for the past 25 years. I’m often exhausted.

I must confess to feeling curiously flattered.

Samar: Why didn’t you take him up on the polygraph test? Red: Because I can defeat a polygraph. So can he, or he wouldn’t have suggested it.

I forgot how much it sickens me to come here.

Red: Katarina Rostova was a name that had been lost to history. Masha Rostova was never more than suspicion and rumor. The manhunt and the publicity it generated changed all of that. Liz: But who would care that I’m Katarina Rostova’s daughter? Red: The daughter of a legendary spymaster, the secret-keeper who disappeared- Liz: Disappeared? You and Sam told me she’s dead. Red: The secrets she took with her could compromise any number of players on that map. They’ll be coming. They’ll be coming for you. Liz: But I don’t know anything. Red: They don’t know that. You can’t walk away, Lizzy. They won’t let you.

I’m sorry, but “been dug”? Is that correct? That doesn’t sound correct, Marcus.

I thought we weren’t supposed to have phones.

Take your seat, Marcus. Your information is incorrect, and you’re standing in my light.

May I present to you Raymond Reddington? Pour the man a glass of this wonderful port. It appears this party’s just getting started.

I told you that before this dinner was done, I would prove my innocence and identify the person who’d betrayed us. Meet the fake Red. Faux Red. Fred.

I took Agent Elizabeth Keen on as a client when she was a fugitive to gain her trust in exchange for information as to who was responsible for decimating our ranks. Like you, I’d heard the rumors that I was the one who betrayed us. And sure enough, after gaining her trust, she confirmed that the Bureau’s confidential informant was a Raymond Reddington.

You can go after a man’s business, Marcus, even his associates, but other than family, the only thing off-limits is a man’s reputation. You have given false allegations against my good name, which will be whispered and repeated by those who envy my success no matter how thoroughly I repudiate them.

You were right, Marcus. I am the informant. Tell all our friends in Hell to be patient. I’ll be along soon enough.

I know you’ve been through a terrible ordeal, Janet, and I’m sorry for that. But unfortunately, your knowledge of my relationship with the Bureau is inherently dangerous to you, your family, and to me. So please listen carefully and follow my instructions to the letter. First thing tomorrow, you will inform your superiors that the trauma of today’s experience was such that you have re-ordered your priorities and wish to spend more time with Bob, Tyler, and the dogs. You are going to move to Santa Monica, California. I’ve purchased a beach house. The deed is in that envelope. Your property taxes will be paid for on a biannual bases, and I’ll be checking on you from time to time to make sure you’re still ... safe. Travel safely, Janet. The sunset over the Pacific is magnificent.

Liz: You manufactured a doppelganger to reclaim your reputation. Red: I have many contingency plans in place. This was one.

Red: You will not marry her. Tom: Why? Because I didn’t ask daddy’s permission? Is that really why you called me here? Or did you just want someone to play go fish? Red: You married her over my objections once. It will not happen again.

Red: We boring you, Donald? Ressler: Where’s Keen? You wouldn’t be here without her if she was okay. Red: She’s recovering nicely. Cooper: That’s a relief. Red: I’m sure it is. You confiscated her firearm. Ressler: Oh, so you think a convicted felon should be allowed to carry guns. Red: All the ones I know do.

I assume Tom is the father.

I know you want to believe that our work is done, but it’s not. The addition of a child will make that infinitely more difficult.

I’m a violent man. I’ve taken on a life that requires it. I hurt people. I kill people. And each time I do, in that moment, another part of me dies along with them. When I was young, I romanticized the life of an outlaw. Bad guys. That was a long time ago.

You attacked a pregnant woman, broke three of her ribs, battered her so badly she was left lying unconscious in a grocery-store parking lot.

My, God. Gerald, burying your business in the dirt like a dog. How the mighty have fallen. A terrible time of year to go camping, but I suppose we do what we must when we’re on the run. Brenda and I were just catching up. She’s not hungry, but I noticed you packed some bratwurst and couldn’t resist. I do love a good cookout.

A song, Gerald. I so wanted to be a scout- tying knots, the Pinewood Derby, and the campfire songs. Oh, those songs. I keep trying to explain to Dembe, but I’m no singer. Just one song! Okay, then. Just the name.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one. A priest, a eunuch, and a pedophile walk into a bar- I’m here to offer you the sacrament of confession. I’ll be your Father Confessor. I know, the hypocrisy is staggering.

You know what my problem with religion is? Man. Like anything that has a potential to be beautiful, man will turn it into something ugly. For every saint, there are two million sinners. Like you, I’m a sinner- an envious one, I might add, as my transgressions are not nearly as divine as the ones you’ve been guilty of during the years you’ve been associated with the Vatican Bank.

God, it’s god-awful. If they’d only switch to a good Burgundy, people would be much more devout. Hell hath no fury like a fundamentalist scorned.

Liz: The cardinal took out the others in order to expand his business. Did you take him out to expand yours? Red: Yes. To raise capital in preparation for war. Samar: What war? Red: Ours.

Lizzy, I misspoke earlier about your child. I said that having it would be inconvenient. When your mother was pregnant with you, it was terribly inconvenient. The Cold War was ending. Her country was falling apart. Everything she had ever known. She dreaded having a child. Almost aborted it. Not one day of her pregnancy did she ever think of you as anything but a curse. And then, from the second you were born- there was never a day when she thought you were anything but a blessing. In my experience, there is never a convenient time to have a child. It certainly isn’t a convenient time for you. But if in saying that, I left you with the impression that I didn’t think you should have your baby, I’m sorry for that because nothing could be further from the truth. What I did was for your protection. I’m not a threat to your safety, Lizzy, or your child’s. On the contrary, I can guarantee it, but I cannot do that if you run away. Oh, I should probably mention, I booked a pregnancy massage for you. She’ll be here at 9:00. Her name’s Edwina, she’s a registered nurse, and she smells absolutely divine. I hope it goes with the rest of your stuff. 

I’m told it pulls out.

What good is a collection if it doesn’t grow?

I can protect you. All you need to do is ask.

Your law enforcement agencies love their gadgets and their sweeps. The FBI admitted to spending what, a billion dollars in facial-recognition software? Which means they spent at least $3 billion. Honestly, if I paid taxes, I’d be outraged.

I’m a sucker for mob weddings.

May they have the patience to endure one more toast. I am but a humble guest, but please permit me to raise a glass to what I think we all can agree is the most improbable yet consequential occasion. Love is a funny, fickle thing. A slippery slope. Most weddings are fraught with it. This one, not so much. This is business. The brainchild of a brilliant opportunist- a broker of bonds, a procurer of peace. You would think, being singularly responsible for this evening’s prenuptials, he might take a bow. Where is he? Come now, don’t be modest. You do such astonishing, despicable work. I’m dying to hear how he did it. How he brought you two jackals together. How he got rid of Christopher’s fiancé, Anna. How he lied to the boy, let him believe she was slaughtered by the Vacarros, only to turn around and convince him to marry into the very family he despises. What a telenovela!  ...deceive your son, killing the love of his life. Oh, here we go. Better than TV.

You destroyed a creature more beautiful than you could ever comprehend.

Josephine, it’s done.

When I was young, I loved fairytales. I was always partial to shapeshifters, who seemed good and sweet, but they were full of unimaginable darkness. Once upon a time, there lived a woman in the woods. She was neither purely evil, nor purely good. She gathered unwanted children and gave them a home in which to stay. She promised them they’d live forever and a day. She changed them into colors, so beautiful, so bold.... I do not wait for 45 minutes in that petri dish of humanity unless I absolutely have to. This is a matter of life and death, Glen.

If you find this woman, if you get it done fast, your tawdry liaisons at the no-tell motel will be a thing of the past, as I will personally introduce you to two young ladies you will never forget- soft, warm, blonde, and willing.

You think your life is too dangerous for a child. But what is your life without one? I can tell you from personal experience- not much.

Or maybe you’re afraid they won’t like you. Dogs are very intuitive. They’ll know if you’re hiding something.

What you endured, most people never recover from. I doubt I would have. But you’ve turned it into a calling. Nikolai would be proud.

Your parents loved each other very much. The Cold War was hard- too hard for your father. When the Soviet Union was collapsing, he took you from her. She gave up everything to follow him, to follow you. Your mother, despite what he’d done, she wanted him back. She wanted them to be a family. As much as it pains me to say it, he was probably... the only man she ever really loved. Your mother was never the same after that. The man she loved killed by the child she adored, it was... just too much. Two months later, she went to Cape May and left her clothes on the beach, walked into the ocean and was never seen again.

You were a child. There should never have been a gun for you to grab. Looking back, I’m not sure I shouldn’t have raised you myself. I don’t want you looking back with that kind of regret. Lady: Who the hell are you? Red: Her fairy godmother. I hear it’s her birthday. We’ve come to celebrate. It’s been some time since freshman English, but I seem to recall that fairy tales about abandonment, death, and witches are supposed to allow children to deal with their fears in symbolic terms, but there’s nothing symbolic about this place. You’re a real witch.

Lady: They could have died together, so beautiful and innocent. Theo would have been spared all this. Red: By “this,” you mean the horror of being different. Is that why you kill them? Lady: I save them. Red: From what? Lady: I make sure the damaged ones don’t grow up to be outcasts like Theo- hated, pitied. No one loves an outcast. Red: Not even his mother? Lady: I couldn’t send my son away, but when I look at him, I see what these children shouldn’t be, and what they won’t be because I see the life I save them from. Theo: I’m ugly. Red: From where I sit, there’s only one ugly person in the room, and it’s certainly not you, Theo.

Theo, you are entitled to as much as anyone- happiness, joy, a mother’s love.

It just keeps getting worse.

I’m gonna take a shot in the dark and assume you mean Tom.

I am not your Tom problem, Lizzy. Tom is your Tom problem.

Pops. You know, I always liked that name. Louis Armstrong was called “Pops.” Willie Stargell, the legendary Pittsburgh Pirate. My lord, that man could smack a fastball. There was Pops Foster, Pops Fernandez... Oh, my. And then there are different pops entirely. Like the pops you hear when your shoulder’s being dislocated.

If he dies, it’s because he put himself in exactly the wrong place at exactly the wrong time. He did this, not me. And that robbery the police want to ask him about- diamonds. He was part of a team that stole tens of millions of dollars’ worth of diamonds. A team I hear included his ex-girlfriend Gina Zanetakos. He’s reckless, dangerous. He’s not worthy of being your husband, and he sure as hell is not worthy of raising that child.

As a reporter. Amazing times, these, don’t you think? When any Tom, Dick, or Sally with a laptop and internet access can declare herself a journalist. I mean, you don’t even use a last name.

You know, I’ve often considered my love of art, and I realized it’s not just the art- it’s the artist. I like art a lot, but I love artists. I love the stories behind their work... the characters. Lopping off ears... Rankling the establishment with paintings of soup cans... Often boldly revealing themselves to our keen observation and insight, our scrutiny. What a marvelous thing, the courage to create. Though I must say, nothing about your work strikes me as courageous. It seems self-indulgent, petulant. Like a tantrum from a child who’s just realized that the world can be a dark and unfair place.

You can answer me, or I can turn that wall behind you into a Jackson Pollock.

People say youth is wasted on the young. I disagree. I believe wisdom is wasted on the old. All you can do is part with it, but very few will take it. Least of all, the people closest to you. They want no part of it. No matter how often I warn you about Tom, you seem intent on discovering those perils for yourself.

I know... I say things that unsettle you about the dangers that lie ahead. I know I anger you with things I say about Tom. But if I’ve ever given you the impression that you won’t survive this, that you and your child aren’t going to have the simple life that I know you long for, I’m sorry. Because you are going to have that, Lizzy.

Red: There is one thing that I can’t seem to... wrap my head around. Liz: What? Red: Tom. After all the lies, all the deception and humiliation, how you can just forgive and forget. Liz: I haven’t forgotten. Forgiveness can’t change the past, but I believe it can change the future. Red: That’s a charming sentiment. But as far as I’m concerned, some things are unforgivable.

Dembe: She deserves the truth. Red: Watch the road, Dembe.

What you said about forgiveness changing the future- it comforts me to know you’re looking forward again. The future holds such promise. The past- so many regrets.

I’m curious, Harold. How do you think the White House is going to express their appreciation to me for foiling the terrorist plot? Maybe an embossed ashtray. Or one of those little American flag pins for my lapel.

Harold, forgive Charlene. A friend told me recently that forgiveness won’t change the past but could very well change the future. Apparently, nothing is unforgivable. Go home, Harold.

If anything happened to me, this was to go to Elizabeth. So she'd know. Now I’m not sure I ever want her to know.

Liz: Oh. Then you’re here for the wedding? Red: No, Lizzy. I’m here to ask you, to implore you, please, don’t do this. I’m telling you, no matter what you believe, Tom is not the man you think he is. Liz: You’re wrong. You don’t know him. Red: He’s a criminal. Liz: No. He’s changed. Red: Men like Tom don’t change. You’re attempting to build a life with a man who is fundamentally dishonest. Liz: No. I am attempting to build a life with the father of my child. A normal life with two parents who love one another. With everything you know about me, can’t you see that? Can’t you see how important that is to me? To my child? Red: You were wrong about him once. What makes you so sure you’re not wrong this time? Do you really want your child to pay the price for that mistake for the rest of his or her life?

She’s a sacrifice. Solomon isn’t after that weapon. It’s a distraction to keep us looking one way while they go another. He’s after Elizabeth.

Red: Ever since Elizabeth went public as Masha Rostova, still waters have been stirred up and old grudges have surfaced. And now someone out there is singularly focused on coming for her. Ressler: Coming to kill her? Red: No. To abduct her. Ressler: They’re sending Solomon. Red: In retrospect, that’s a perfect choice. He knows us intimately. He knows about the task force. They gave us a false trail, and we followed the scent. Donald, if I’m right and this was all an elaborate feint, all that matters is that you get to that church- now.

Red: Elizabeth, I’m sorry, but we need to go. Liz: What are you doing here? Red: Men are coming for you. We need to leave now.

Solomon: First of all, you and I both know that you are out-manned and out-gunned. The plan was to grab her today, no matter where she was. Grocery store or house of God, it makes little difference to me. And for the record, I take no offense that I wasn’t invited. Red: Came together rather nicely. They went with ruby fringe tulips and pink peonies. You’d be impressed.

I’ll tell you what I know as soon as I know you’re safe.

Yes. All of this, indeed, is on me.

Tom: What do you want? Red: Elizabeth. Here. Now. I’m right in front of the place. Where is she?

Red: I can’t protect you in a hospital. Liz: You can’t protect me in a church, either. Red: Let me rephrase that. I cannot safeguard you and the dozens of innocent patients and medical personnel who’ll be caught in the crossfire when Solomon and his storm troopers put together where you are. I know how desperately you want to protect your baby, Lizzy. So think. 

Circumstances prevent me from sharing more information at this time, Harold. Whoever employed Solomon’s services, they know too much. They’re breathing down our necks even now. Listening, watching. I can feel it.

Oh, for God’s sake, Dembe, spare me the mystical reassurance. Everything is not fine. Where the hell was the perimeter defense at that damn church? You should have deployed four teams, five teams. Look at her- lying there in this barbaric situation with her child’s life at risk. Everything is not fine. She never should have been at that Godforsaken church.

I’m sorry, Dembe.

I’ve done nothing for you, Lizzy. Red: It’s the children whom the world almost breaks who grow up to save it. Liz: I don’t want that for her. Red: I wasn’t talking about her. I was talking about you, Elizabeth.

Come on, Lizzy. Please, don’t go. Please, don’t go.

Tom: Her name is Agnes. Red: That’s a good name.

Everyone dies someday.

It was a Hobson’s Choice. There was a woman and her child. Both were doomed. Both would die. I could either save one or lose both. I chose the child. It was- it was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do in my life. Worst thing by far.

Red: There’s always a choice. I was arrogant. I presumed that there was an order to things, that there was... that if I nourished and protected and taught the child, she would be safe... ...and happy. Katarina: And she was neither. Red: No matter what I tried to do, all I brought her was misery and violence, and eventually... Katarina: Death. Red: Yes. Katarina: And now you’re dead. You believe there’s nothing left for you. Red: It’s that obvious?

Katarina: Have you ever killed anyone? Red: That’s an odd question. Katarina: Have you? Red: Yes. Many. But never anyone who didn’t deserve it. Katarina: Me, too. Red: I know. Katarina: How? Red: There aren’t a lot of us. You learn to recognize it. Red: There was a woman I loved. She was... my life. My heart. And she died. She left behind a little girl. One last, precious piece of herself. I would give anything to be a part of that child’s life, but a man made it clear I would never see her... hold her... watch her grow. And I knew in that moment, I would never be any part of that beautiful little girl’s life. Because... Katarina: He was her father. Red: And to harm him would be to harm her. A mortal sin. Her mother is gone. The father is what she has left in the world. Katarina: Her father. Red: Yes.

Katarina: Those men are after me. It’s my problem, not yours. Red: You made it my problem the moment you walked into the ocean.

Just me.

To Katarina, love Papa.

I’m sorry.

As soon as the name “Masha Rostova” hit the 24-hour news cycle, they came for her. I thought I could...protect her. I did protect her, all these years. I’ve anticipated almost every threat. But this one...a medical complication in childbirth.

I’d imagine it to be a challenge, playing Rachmaninoff’s C-sharp minor Prelude without the benefit of C-sharp.

I’m sorry for the intrusion. Let me give you some money, please. Could you pick up a single malt? Preferably from the Highlands, but not Islay. The water there tastes like seaweed and iodine.

I was just imagining young Katarina covered in glitter. As an adult, it’s easy to dismiss this stuff as girlish frivolity. You forget the wonder it creates, the light captured, secret wishes evoked. It renders even the darkest days sparkly. Never underestimate the power of glitter.

She had your temper.

To pay... my debt to you would require more than I possess. I’m not coming back.

Red: Ugh. How do you drink this stuff? Dom: We drank it with every meal on the farm when I was a boy. But we had cows, and we made our own. In the summers, we made buttermilk pops in the freezer. Kept us all from passing out. Red: So buttermilk reminds you of home. Dom: I overheard your conversation with the Arab boy. Red: He’s from Delaware. You won’t be troubled again with unexpected visitors. I know how you value your privacy. Dom: Why didn’t you go with him? Red: What would be the point? There’s nothing I could do that would really matter. Dom: Cry me a river. Hmm? What the hell are you really doing here? Alright... you gave me the news about Masha. What do you want from me? Red: A way forward. I can’t live for long with what I feel inside. I don’t see how anyone can.

Dom, you’ve always had a good reason to walk out the door. 

Red: I’m here to pay my debt to you, Aram. Aram: You’re back. Red: Strap on your bike helmet. We’re going to work. 

Boy, I can’t wait to hurt you someday.

Elizabeth Keen was well hidden from the demons of her past until you went after her, until you told the world she was Masha Rostova. You put a target on her back and invited someone to take a shot. Do not try my patience, Laurel. On this topic, I have perilously little of it.

Oh, my, yes. Laurel’s as crooked as a dog’s hind leg. Friends and loved ones are dead. I need to speak with Scottie about the matter. I sent her a message. She ignored it. She’s scared. Can be a terrible thing for all when someone as ruthless as Scottie gets scared. I need you to reach her for me, Bradley. I trust you would get through to her. I need her to pay attention to this.

Red: They say gifting a bouquet of daffodils ensures happiness, while presenting just one means bad luck is on the horizon. Cynthia: Okay, boys. I hope you’re hungry. I have a triple crème, some Jarlsberg, water biscuits, and my mother’s famous cucumber dip. Red: That sounds delicious, Cynthia. Tragically, there’s no time for snacks. Well, maybe some of Mom’s famous cucumber dip.

Red: A nanny movie? Cynthia: Not just nannies. Schoolteachers, nurses, and a ridiculous threesome with two completely unbelievable policewomen. Samuel: Cynthia, they’re just movies. I have never cheated on you. And besides, I don’t think he wants to hear about it. Red: Yes, I want to hear about it. All about it. Unfortunately, I do need to hear about your contract with Halcyon. So- business first. And then, Cynthia, I’ll be all ears.

Red: Harold, smile. We’re this close. Cooper: I’ll task a team to stake out the docks. As for a smile... how are you holding up? Red: As long as we keep moving forward, I’ll endure.

Red: I once spent part of the summer in Bermuda. The island. Certainly not the shorts. Not a lot to do there except ride motor scooters and play checkers with the locals. I’m more of a chess man myself. But one tactic that came naturally was the concept of forced capture... sacrificing a checker to force your enemy in one direction while your forces lie in wait for the exquisitely satisfying double jump. One quick look at the airport schematics revealed why Scottie chose the lounge on Concourse F. Conveniently located near a little-used loading dock. Shall we?  Armstrong: Please! Don’t kill me. Red: I said “double jump.” You’re merely the first capture. Please, if you would.

God, that door is slow. I was hoping for a somewhat more dramatic entrance, but what the hell. Scottie. Aren’t you the challenging woman to pin down.

Red: You know, I used to have such high hopes for your organization. High hopes for Howard. Halcyon was once such a promising company... like AOL. Put an entire generation online. Companies can so easily lose their way. Forget what it was that made them great to begin with. I remember a time when your husband never would have taken a job from a man like Alexander Kirk, if only out of respect for his friends. Scottie: Howard didn’t take that job. We haven’t had sex in four years. We’re rarely in the same country, let alone the same bed. Red: What bed have you been occupying? Scottie: I’ve been assuming a larger role in a management position lately. Red: You don’t say. Scottie: We’ve never been more successful. Listen, Red... I regret what happened to Elizabeth Keen. But her kidnapping was simply a business decision. You of all people should recognize that. We all do what we have to in order to survive. I know Howard and I do. Red: Survival is all relative. There are limits, even for people like us. Especially for people like us. Scottie: When Kirk hired us to abduct Masha, he also wanted me to kill you. Sorry I didn’t take that job. Red: Here’s where we stand. Elizabeth Keen is dead, which means you are, too. Alexander Kirk is coming to kill you. The only surprise is that I got to you first. Scottie: You killed a lot of people trying to reach me. Well, here I am. Finish what you came to do. Red: You have it all wrong, dear. I didn’t come to kill you. I came here because you and I are about to climb into bed together, just for a quickie. We now share a mutual enemy. So, let’s get you bandaged up, not that you aren’t even lovelier with a little blood trickling down your arm.

Red: Tom, I want to speak with you about your daughter. Tom: What happened with Hargrave? Red: Even if you don’t want me to have contact with Elizabeth’s child... Tom: Hargrave. Did you get her? Red: I have virtually unlimited resources. I want you to know that those resources are at your disposal in the raising of Agnes.

Until it’s not. The aid workers who were abducted in Jakarta? Your government refused to pay the ransom, turned its back on three young people who were captured for doing nothing more than providing medical services to the poor. Today, they’re home because Susan Hargrave committed what your government considers to be a crime in order to get them back. She’s a brilliant strategist. And if we want to get Alexander Kirk, we’re going to need her help to do it.

I think you’re responsible for her death. I’m looking past that because I want Alexander Kirk’s head. And so does Tom Keen. I must admit, I’ve never liked you, Scottie. Looking at you makes my toes curl. But robbing the next President of the United States? This is gonna be a gas.

Red: Senator! Having taken your money, I won’t take much of your time. Unlike Scottie, I have little use for politicians and even less for their politics. Who occupies the White House is of no interest to me. I tell you this so you know that taking your money has nothing to do with you or what you stand for. Truth be told, I haven’t the foggiest clue what you stand for, Senator. Diaz: I’m calling the police. Red: Might be more prudent to call Alexander Kirk. I’m sure you have a contributor of his stature on speed dial. Call him. Kirk: Senator, what a pleasure. Red: I have your money. I have your senator.

Red: Don’t do it. Tom: There’s nothing left to do. Red: Tom. Tom: We needed the money to get to Kirk. We got it. We have no use for her anymore. Red: If you kill her, the answers you’ve been looking for your entire life will die with her. Tom: What are you talking about? My mother. Red: Yes. Which is why I didn’t want you involved. Tom: Why didn’t you tell me? Red: You have a child to raise, Tom. If you start asking questions, it will put her at risk, it will put you at risk. Tom: But her son is dead. She told me that herself. Red: Christopher Hargrave went missing when he was only 3 years old. Tom: Christopher... Hargrave. Is that my name? Red: Susan Hargrave genuinely believes her son is dead. Tom: So, she has no idea who I am? What, did somebody fake my death, and hide me from her all these years? W-why would anybody do that? Red: Listen to me, Tom. Susan Hargrave has many secrets. Some of them concern you. If you want answers, you must conceal your true identity.

Red: A good man could make a real difference as President. A good man might even inspire one’s patriotic instincts, but a good man would never allow himself to be put under obligation to anyone willing to write a big check. Diaz: You just had me accuse Kirk of something he didn’t do. What makes you so sure he’s gonna show up? Red: Don’t underestimate yourself, Robert. One way or another, I’m confident Kirk will come. I’ll have his head, and you’ll end up in the Oval Office where you can pay off your debt to me with a full pardon. Diaz: You expect me to pardon you. Red: Not me. Elizabeth Keen. Diaz: The FBI agent... who murdered the attorney general. She’s dead. Red: Yes. And I want things put right.

Cooper: That’s why you hijacked it before it made it into evidence. Red: No. I hijacked it because... I’m a criminal. I’m parting with it because Alexander Kirk needs to be killed, and if it takes planting a little evidence on him... so be it.

Red: Powerful sermon, especially for an old faker like yourself. Barnhill: I know it’s important for you to know what’s moving where, but damn it, Red, I’m three ex-wives into this ministry. Red: And seven children. You’re like a rockstar without the income. Barnhill: And I appreciate your help with the child-support payments. I do. Red: The Good Book.

What’s the difference between the pastrami swiss cheese dog with sauerkraut and the Reuben dog? Aren’t those the same? Honestly, the amount of options overwhelms. So it’ll be one Chicago double dog, hold the pickles, and one, uh... the uh, Brooklyn Baconeer with cheese. Oh, and throw in some of those house-made sea-salt chips. What do you recommend on the dessert front? You know what? Toss in two of those little fried pies. You only live once, right?

Red: These charges against Alexander Kirk for financing terrorism are ludicrous. And no one’s gonna touch him for what happened to Elizabeth. So I’m gonna kill him. He won’t live long enough to see the inside of that hearing room. I’m gonna kill him the instant he steps out of his vehicle. You and I both know nothing less will protect Agnes and avenge Elizabeth’s death. Cooper: Red... how can I - Red: Harold, you and your people... I will always be more grateful than I could ever express, but I don’t expect... or rather, I couldn’t accept your involvement in this final act. Cooper: I entered into this relationship with my eyes wide open. So did Agent Ressler and the others. Red: I admire that about you, Harold. I know so many zealots, men and women who choose a side, an ideology by which to interpret the world, but to get up every single day and do the hard work of deciding what to believe, what’s right today, when to stand up or stand down... that’s courage. It’s been a privilege to see firsthand why the people you lead love you the way they do. But sadly, our time together has come to an end. Cooper: On this case. You don’t mean... Red: I do. We’ve done some good work. But with Elizabeth gone... there’s nothing more for me to contribute. Please, take care of yourself and the others. Charlene. Aram... set him up with someone, for God’s sake. He’s like a kid with his first erection on the school bus.

Red: Agent Ressler. Aren’t you the dog on a scent? Ressler: There was one empty building with a line of sight to the front and one to the back. Started with the front. Red: You spoke to Harold. Ressler: Reddington, grab the guy, put him in a hole, get what you need from him, but don’t kill Kirk. Red: There’s nothing I care to take from Alexander Kirk except his life. Ressler: Trust me. I want him as badly as you, but- I’m not gonna let this happen. Red: Oh, this is gonna happen, Donald. This is gonna happen in about 10 minutes.

Red: You want justice for Elizabeth. Ressler: Justice, not vengeance. Red: In my experience, they’re the same. I know how difficult this must be for you, Donald. Ressler: I will do this. Red: You have faith. I envy that. Justice, integrity, faith in humanity... nobody embodies those principles more than you. And I know it must be hard for you to believe that you’ll continue to embody those principles even after you watch me do this. Ressler: Oh, this isn’t about me. This is about the rules... what’s right. Red: When Elizabeth was a fugitive, you played by the rules, did what you thought was right. But Elizabeth’s gone. Alexander Kirk took her away from us, and she’s not coming back. Ressler: Take your hands off that trigger. Red: What do you think’s going to happen if you stop me, Donald? That you’ll arrest Kirk? That justice will be done? Ressler: Let go of the weapon. Red: Do you want a bullet in Alexander Kirk’s head or one in mine? Decide now. What’s it going to be, Donald?

Kaplan!

Red: I have nothing for you, Kate. No parables about loyalty, no florid speeches of trust belied, deception, treachery, or false devotion. I’m simply too bereft. It will have to suffice to say... I would name every human being on the planet before you if asked who might betray me. Kaplan: Raymond... Red: I know what you’ve done. I know you helped Tom and Agnes leave the country without my knowledge. Kaplan: Yes. Red: Yes. Kaplan: What do you want to know, Raymond? If I’m sorry? Yes. I’m sorry you weren’t more honest with Elizabeth from the beginning. I’m sorry you wanted to know her so desperately that you convinced yourself we could keep her safe. I couldn’t sit back and watch you make the same mistake with Agnes. I didn’t betray you. I did what I’ve always done... protected you... this time, from yourself. Red: You’re wrong. Kaplan: I won’t tell you where they are. Red: You don’t understand, Kate. I know where they are, and so does Alexander Kirk. Kaplan: Kirk? Red: He was tracking Tom. He knows they’re in Cuba. He’s flying there as we speak. Kaplan: No. Red: I need an address. I know you had her best interests at heart, that you were trying to protect her, but now, because of you, Agnes is in grave danger. Kaplan: Not just Agnes.

I saw her die.

I sat over her body... and watched her die.

Had it really come to that?

Kate. What am I gonna do with you, Kate?