#I did went political here and I never mentioned the actual president of my country.

[kurtty-drabbles]

Nation au

N/A: Ever since I learned that Ultimate Jean was the leader of a nation, this idea blossom into my mind, now, this au is a bit different from the others as Kitty never joined the X-men.

@djinmer4 @dannybagpipesarecalling @sailorstar9 @discordsworld @look-ma-no-hands336

The ONU is a bit perplexed with the situation the mutants are causing, in a moment of desperation and to be at peace with Magneto, many global leaders give Genosha to him, of course, the land had nothing and the global leader was under the impression Magneto would make a house there and nothing more, how utterly wrong they are. Now, Genosha is a potency that is overshadowing the USA.

And now, to add salt to the injury, a new island appears out of nowhere, Gosmein, as many are calling, and is a first world place, not even most advanced Europeans countries can compete with this new island, that again, no one had any prior knowledge.

This island takes the poor, the hurt, the human and the mutant and is insulting to them as no one can see who the leader of the island is. There´s a higher command that obviously commands everything, yet, no one knows who it is.

And more and more mutants are crafting more powerful countries, which, is boosting the positive image of mutants that the Avengers so much wanted to prevent.

Jean Grey is now the leader of her own nation, in her own words, is a paradise on Earth, however, the new island, Gosmein, is a real beauty and a real mystery. Many countries wanted to know who the leader is and how to increase commercial deals with Gosmein.

"Who is the leader?" the new president of the US asked, the previous one was killed by an alien invasion and thankfully, the alien managed to kill all his entourage.

The Brazilian´s newest president is silent as trying to study the situation, they do have mutants and they need to value their own. The Brazilian mutants with light skin, with brown skin and the ones that may be aligned with LGBT groups.

"We need to know what´s going on with Gosmein" and soon a plan is asked, a diplomatic one, where a selected person will try to make contact with the leader. They decided already who will make contact.

"Minister Wagner" a man speaks with utter respect to the young man who is studying his notes diligently "you´re the best candidate for this case, please, would you accept this mission?" Kurt Wagner, the minister of Bavaria that is along with the chancellor of Germany offers a polite smile back and accept the mission.

No one notices the creepy smile on his handsome face. Time is relative to Kurt Wagner and he has all the reasons to go to Gosmein.

______________________________________________________ Gosmein is a wonderful place and has opening arms to humans and mutants, however, the leader is unknow. IT exists, but, IT presence can be felt.

Gosmein has beautiful green mountains, two beaches, a wild range of green and a lake that is connected to the ocean pacific. An idyllic place, so, perfects that the simple draw is not enough.

"Oh, the draw is so similar, but, childish" Kitty mutters to herself as she is now in Gosmein. Her parents weren´t thrilled to her decision, but, Kitty argues that this is the best decision for her, as she can never forget, Kitty is a mutant.

The draw did take attention of others mutants, one named Blink, watches and make a simple conversation. "Oh, did your little brother made the draw?"

Kitty blinks and shakes her head "No, I did when I was little, is a funny coincidence this island exists" the conversation changes to topics about mutants and their experience in the US. Some were good, some were bad.

No one is paying the draw any attention, but, no one pays attention to the big house in the draw that is exactly like the house in real life, this is where the leader stays.

_______________________________________________________________

Kitty Pryde also didn´t meet the leader, but, unlike the others, she´s alright with that. Her new house is a bit similar to the big house, the lonely one in the big picture of Gosmein.

"I´m here now...I´d hope Gosmein is just like I ever dream of" Kitty mutters to herself.

Her dreams are filled with hope for this place, so many ideas, but she has the impression someone is watching her in her own dream. Again.

[potteresque-ire]

Hello! I have a question related to your answer for your previous anon's question (WQ and WWX backup plan).

So the book fans knew about the backup plan and the actress who played W/Q got cyberbullied. I wanna ask why did that happened (sry if this is a dumb question), because even though she's the one who's playing W/Q, wasn't she just went with the script? I mean she wasn't the one who get to decide wether to film a backup or not.

I can understand the displeasure of the book fans, but is it 'normal' (I can't find the right word for it, English isn't my first language, sry) to get to the point where she was bullied for that? Is there any similar incidents occured to other actor(s)/actress(es) in the past because of the change of script/story?

Hello Anons! I apologise for the especially long wait for one of you. I was debating for a while whether I’d like to get into the old rumours surrounding The Untamed that weren’t immediately related to the genre of its source material. 

I’m not really a follower of the finer details of c-ent—my interest in it wanes rapidly with the subject’s distance from Gg, Dd and BL/Dangai as a genre. I’m also a very late comer into the BJYX fandom, and I’m never quite in The Untamed fandom to begin with. 

The more important reason, however, is this: it’s very difficult to pull out facts. There are just so many rumours, so many lies told about … everything and everyone. All for the sake of profit.

So this is likely the last time I’ll address rumours concerning the actors of the show. I’m answering these asks as you two reached me before I make this statement.

First of all, I’d like to kindly ask everyone to please consider disregarding the negative things said about The Untamed’s development and its participants. The series is about to reach its 2 years old birthday by airing date, and 3 years old by its start-of-filming date. Many things ... don’t really matter anymore. The Untamed has become an international success, and whatever was told about anyone has very likely changed.

(People change.)

To answer these asks, it’s important to understand that despite being a Communist country by name, China is at heart a highly capitalistic society, and money REALLY talks in the major industries including c-ent. Corruption is also rampant and is often associated with families with political power; anti-corruption laws are inconsistently and selectively enforced. Both the acts of corruption and the acts against corruption are therefore intimately tied to politics and related to politics, something that I haven’t talked about largely because it’s highly complex and my knowledge of it is limited — the infighting between the different factions of the Chinese Communist Party. Supporters and beneficiaries of one leader—a faction—competing for power, for money and resources with the supporters and beneficiaries of another, often equally powerful leader.

The main point of mentioning Chinese factional politics here is this: what seems to be a regular business war in c-ent, a simple competition for viewership and profit by different media companies, can actually be a battlefront of top political factions fighting for power, or more accurately, for the money that comes from with the power—not only the profit, but the bribes paid to different departments to make things happen, to bypass different laws and regulations. 

Facts about the cash flow in c-ent are therefore very difficult to track down, as both the powers-that-be and the media they control make sure the political ties and conflicts, the under-the-table negotiations and the money changing hands, are kept well away from the public eye. Example: c-ent used to be an even more lucrative industry than it is now, before President Xi began an anti-corruption campaign around 2018. There have been whispers that while corruption was indeed a major issue in the industry, the campaign was also a ploy to funnel c-ent’s profit, a significant fraction of which was once held in the hands of the Jiang faction (supporters of former President Jiang Zemin), into the hands of Xi faction (supporters of President Xi). (Here’s a good article about the once top actress Fan Bing Bing, who was made an example in the anti-corruption campaign, and how the campaign affected the people who actually worked in the industry). 

What this also means is this: c-ent is an industry where rumours and lies can REALLY thrive, their spread propagated by powerful commercial interests that are often (secretly) backed by even more powerful government interests. These are people who can afford to pay, who often have the right connections to not have to worry about the legal consequences. 

With these two factors alone, they can make almost any rumour sound true. 

I’ve looked more closely into c-ent in the recent months, and as of today, the lesson I’ve learned is this—I can’t believe in almost any of its so-called “entertainment news”. For every article that sells a viewpoint, a set of facts, there’s another one that sells exactly the opposite, and the pair of articles happily sit beside each other, waiting for their readers to pick the one they wish to read—the one praising the show and actors they like; the one dissing the shows and actors they don’t. 

Yxh, water armies...c-ent is an industry where “facts” are often constructed by money.

Entertainers are often swept into the whirlpool of falsehoods just because they happen to work on a project / for a company another side or faction wants to take down. With the exception of a very few, they don’t have much of a way to defend themselves. There have also been longstanding whispers that beautiful actors and actresses are often forced to … service, for lack of a better word, the higher-ups in the government / commercial forces (and their families) in exchange for opportunities or even survival in the industry. While such “unspoken rule” (潛規則) is, to a certain extent, true in many entertainment industries around the world, that the higher-ups in China hold very concentrated power makes it much more difficult for the entertainers to refuse to cooperate, or ask for help.

That entertainers are traditionally held in very low regard—their “career ancestors”, 戲子 (roughly, “showperson”), being one of the “lowest 9 professions” (下九流) that included prostitutes—doesn’t help their case.

Back to your questions, Anons: the consequence of c-ent money flow often being hush-hush and potentially politically sensitive is that, when a production team receives money, it doesn’t always try to look very hard at where the money comes from. Because of this, it’s easy for Yxh and Antis to make up rumours about participants of a project bringing in cash in exchange for making themselves more at the centre of the spotlight—increase the screen time for an actor / actress, for example. And when it’s pointed out that a starlet, in particular, cannot possibly have that kind of money to bring into a project, the rumour mill can conveniently explain away this lapse in logic by implying that the starlet is sleeping with someone.

This was essentially what happened to the actress who played WQ, despite her denying the rumour with a public statement and no evidences existed to suggest any truth in the rumour — that she‘d brought in money into The Untamed’s production team in exchange for a romantic plot w/ WWX as the female lead. She wasn’t paired with WWX in final version of The Untamed; WQ died pretty early on in the show. Nonetheless, the rumour (and the poor reputation it brought) has stuck with her since. It can still be found on the internet.

About the actor who played Wen Ning… I haven’t really paid much attention to him (sorry!). A quick search online shows that at some point, he said something that was interpreted to be not as friendly towards Gg, compared to how much he seemed to like Dd. After 227, however, he spoke out for Gg and personally, I think that’s what really counts because anyone who spoke out for Gg at the time also risked being harassed and boycotted. I don’t know of any successful effort in creating a popular cp between him and Dd. Since all that is required to create a supertopic on Weibo, including a cp supertopic, is sufficient seed membership (10 people) plus a moderator with demonstrated familiarity and popularity in the platform, however, is it possible that this cp, if it existed at some point, was simply because some fans wanted to explore this rare pair? I don’t know (if anyone would like to jump in with more info, please do!). But I think it doesn’t have to translate into judgement of the actor’s character at all.

[evienyx]

DSMP Citizens POV 4: The Rebellious Teenager

DSMPsona created by anon

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Hel had lived on the Dream SMP server for longer than they cared to remember. Their parents had moved them and their siblings to the server rather early on, before there was anything more than the main faction. It was peaceful, for a good while, and Hel did their studies, made friends, and lived a calm life.

Then, though, a man by the name of Wilbur Soot, with the help of his right-hand man, TommyInnit, started a revolution, fighting for independence from the rest of the server, and things seemed to almost immediately fall into chaos.

Hel, the oldest of their siblings and right around the same age as TommyInnit himself, did what their parents told them to do: Stay out of trouble. Dream, the Admin of the server, was decidedly not happy with L’Manburg’s defiance, and each side rallied their forces to prepare for a war.

“Hel,” their mother said as they stared out the window at respawned troops running back toward the battlefield, smoke billowing into the sky, “Stay out of it. Don’t get caught in the crossfire because you’re curious. You’ll just end up making enemies, and they’ll come after your siblings just to get back at you, I promise you they will.”

A hand rested on their shoulder. They turned their head to meet their mother’s firm gaze. “Stay out of it.”

And so Hel stayed out of it.

Their friends made bets on which side would win and how.

“I’ll say Dream will win by killing all of them for… three diamonds.”

“Ha, c’mon, that’s lame! I’ll say Dream wins by killing them all and imprisoning them when they respawn for, uh, let’s say five diamonds.”

“I bet Dream kills them all until all their lives are gone for, uh, three diamonds.”

Hel was the only one who bet that L’Manburg would end up winning. They took home most of the prize pool, with one of their friends getting a small cut for correctly guessing that Dream would have a traitor working for him within L’Manburg.

“Who was the traitor?” One of their friends asked them, as Hel was the one who had been the most interested in the members of the Revolution.

Hel shrugged. That information had been kept rather underwraps.

“Oh, well. Anyway, what do you think about King Eret being in charge, now?”

“A puppet monarch if ever I’ve seen one.”

“Yeah, but a pretty puppet monarch.”

“Point taken.”

After L’Manburg gained independence, Hel came home from school one day to boxes lining the front room of the house.

“What’s going on?”

“Mom and Dad decided we’re moving to L’Manburg,” their younger sister said, passing by with her arms full of books that she dropped into a nearby box. “Now that the war is over, they decided that they like President Soot’s policies more, I guess.”

Hel raised an eyebrow but grabbed a box and moved upstairs to begin packing away their own things.

“Why didn’t you fight for L’Manburg?” Their new neighbor, someone who had, asked them about a week after they’d moved in.

“Wanted to stay out of trouble,” Hel replied simply. The neighbor shrugged, passed over a welcome gift of flowers from the Prime Path Flower Shop, and left. Hel shifted the bundle of daffodils in their hands before moving to put them into a vase.

A bit of time passed, and the L’Manburg elections were announced. Hel’s parents and siblings all stayed rather distant from politics.

“No need to waste time paying attention to something that doesn’t matter anyway,” their father said as he held the ladder so their mother could paint the new wood on a corner of their house that had gotten blown apart during a recent conflict between VP Tommy and Dream.

“At least this doesn’t cost us anything to redo,” their mother said each time, as President Soot allocated funds to anyone who needed to rebuild because of a conflict that they weren’t involved in.

“Still need to do the labor,” Hel responded every time, often on their hands and knees to assist their parents.

Their mother would hum vaguely, then, and continue working.

Hel could understand their parents not wanting to pay attention while it was just POG2020 in the running, but when SWAG2020 announced their candidacy, their family still didn’t care. There were stakes now, things that could change in the event that the administration changed, but still their parents didn’t even bother listening to what each candidate promised.

“There are how many parties, now?” Their mother asked one evening when Hel mentioned the debates.

“Four. POG2020, SWAG2020, SCHLATT2020, and COCONUT2020,” Hel replied, despite the fact that they had just talked about this.

Their mother furrowed her eyebrows. “Which one is led by Secretary Underscore, again?”

“None of them.”

As the elections approached, Hel found themselves getting more and more nervous. There were people, ones who had moved into L’Manburg and the server itself long after the Revolution and so had never witnessed Wilbur Soot’s leadership in action, who were passionately supporting SWAG2020.

“A change in leadership is needed,” one of their friends, someone who had moved from a larger survival server with their family about a week-and-a-half after the L’Manburg Revolution ended. “President Soot and VP Tommy have been in charge this whole time! A new perspective is necessary for the country to develop.”

When the election results were announced, Hel wondered if this was what their friend had meant by ‘a new perspective.’

Their parents hadn’t come to hear the results, nor to witness the inauguration that would immediately follow, but Hel was there in the stands, watching the members of the four campaigns standing on the stage above.

President Soot announced the victory of SCHLATT2020 thanks to the coalition government, and he sat with VP Tommy in reserved seats just a few rows ahead of Hel as Schlatt took the microphone for himself.

Then, before Hel could even blink, the leaders of the previous administration were being chased out of the event, and then ex-President Soot fell over, an arrow in his back and screams for VP Tommy on his lips/, and then his body was gone, returned to the server for the second time, with only one more chance before it would stay there for good.

Hel heard whispers of an internal rebellion, led by Niki Nihachu, who were in support of the Pogtopia rebellion that was sprouting up under direction of Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit, and immediately went to the bakery.

“Hello,” Niki Nihachu said, looking rather exhausted as she grabbed a cupcake for another customer and began to bag it. “How can I help you today?”

Hel wet their lips, remembering what one of their friends told them to say. “Feel free to call me crazy, but I was actually wondering if you had anything made with cave crawlers?”

The customer in front of them gave them an odd look as they paid for their cupcake.

“I’ll see if I can find something,” Nihachu said, cracking a smile. “Could you wait for a few minutes?”

Hel nodded and the other customer hurried out of the shop a moment later. Nihachu helped two more people who entered the bakery before she moved into the back room, beckoning at them to follow.

“Niki, nice to meet you,” she said, holding out a hand. Hel took her hand in theirs and shook it firmly.

“I’m Hel, it’s nice to meet you, too,” they replied. “I’ve been trying to get my parents to move to Pogtopia to support the rebellion, but they don’t want to, so I’m here to help however I can.”

Niki smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.”

They snuck around with their friends involved in Niki’s internal rebellion, listening to what the baker told them to do, silently tipping her extra money to compensate for her increased taxes, and, one night, as they were sneaking back into their house in Manburg after helping vandalize the White House, the lights flicked on as they moved to go up the stairs.

Hel winced. They took in a deep breath and turned around to see their parents standing there, arms crossed, their oldest younger sibling standing next to them.

“Hey, guys,” Hel said, forcing a smile. “I was just grabbing some water…”

Their mother glared, and they felt their heart sink in their chest.

“I wasn’t doing anything dangerous!” Hel exclaimed five minutes later, sat on the couch with their parents looming over them. Their siblings weren’t being very discreet where they stood on the stairs, peering around the corner.

“You’re part of a rebellion!” Their father replied. “That, by definition, is dangerous!”

“Nothing’s gonna happen to me!” Hel shot back. “I’m in my final year of school, I’m basically an adult!”

“But you’re not, Hel, you’re not!”

"Well someone has to be!" Hel growled out. "Schlatt is ruining this country!"

"You don't need to be worrying about that," their mother said. "You work on your studies, and play with your friends, and stop it with all this rebellion talk."

"I'm not going to go live in Hypixel like you and Dad did!" Hel said. "I don't want to go to a 'big' server to 'find myself!' I'm going to stay here and I am going to fight for what I care about!"

"What, you're just going to leave? Go join the rebellion. Leave you family behind?" Their mother asked, her nostrils flaring and hair wild.

Hel grit their teeth. "Watch me."

Their parents calling their name behind them, younger siblings frozen around the corner, Hel shouldered their bag again and stalked out the door, slamming it closed as they went. Their face hot and eyes stinging, Hel went to the spot on the Manburg border that they had learned was never surveilled, glanced around, and then slipped into the forest.

A few hours later, they ran into a Pogtopia scouting group, who attacked them until they managed to say the newest code that they had been given for the rebellion. One member of the group split off to lead them back through the forest farther.

"Pogtopia isn't the most... luxurious, I guess," the scout said, "But it's not forever." They turned and faced a dirty wall of rock. The scout knocked on the rock in a rather quick pattern, and a moment later, the wall fell away to reveal the tired face of a guard. The scout nodded to the guard, who returned the greeting, and Hel followed them inside, the rock wall closing behind them. As the scout led them down the stairs, they looked back at Hel and said, "I hope you like potatoes."

Before Hel could ask what they were talking about, they went around the final turn in the staircase and emerged in an enormous ravine. Lanterns hung from the ceiling, bridges strung across to allow access to rooms dug into the walls. The bottom of the ravine was expanded out, and people moved past one another with a surprising amount of purpose.

"Welcome to Pogtopia," the scout said, patting Hel on the shoulder. They realized that they had been staring. The scout cracked a smile. "C'mon. Let's get you sorted."

Hel was given a bunk a few hours after, a chest for themself, and was officially a member of Pogtopia. As they talked with friends that they hadn't seen since the election, they pretended that their heart didn't feel a bit empty.

For the months following, Hel assisted where they could. They helped establish firmer contact with Nihachu and the internal rebellion. They gave any information they had, and contacted trustworthy friends of theirs to get insider information. They attended training to learn how to wield a weapon, and they was taught how to disguise themselves, and quiet their footsteps, and, for some reason, how to prepare potatoes.

"Sometimes we need extra hands," the kitchen head who had asked President Soot to require the class told Hel. "Technoblade grows a lot of potatoes."

Hel found that that was true very quickly when, a week later, they were called out of training early to help out at the kitchens and watched as a piglin hybrid lugged in barrels and barrels of potatoes.

"This enough?" The hybrid asked gruffly once he'd brought in the sixth and final barrel.

The Head Chef nodded, a gentle smile on her face. "Yes, this will be good for the week, thank you, Technoblade."

Technoblade gave her a nod in return before turning and leaving the room without another word.

"We prepare everything other than dinner in advance," the Head Chef told Hel after the hybrid was gone. "And sometimes he shows up with more than this. Thankfully we had enough forewarning to get some help here before he showed up."

Other than the cold, damp nature of the ravine, and the general serious, somber feeling that clouded everything, Pogtopia wasn't the worst place to live. Hel enjoyed themself more than they had living with their parents, and they felt like they had a purpose, much more than when all they did was study.

"Tomorrow, November 16th, we shall fight the combined forces of Manburg and the Greater SMP to determine the fate of our country," President Soot said. Everyone had seen the deterioration of their leader, there was no way to miss it, and the mania in his eyes was present even now, but he was smiling, and he sounded hopeful, so the people couldn't help but feel the same. "Those of you who wish to fight have already indicated so, and everyone else has been given their jobs."

Niki Nihachu, who had fully joined Pogtopia after the Manburg Festival, stepped forward. "Remember, you might be fighting against friends. You might be fighting against family. The Manburg and Greater SMP forces will be shooting to kill. You must be prepared to do the same."

"We will not ask you to sacrifice your morals," President Soot continued, "But if you do not think that you would be able to kill if you're backed into a corner, then feel free to pull yourself from the forces. Make sure you do it by the end of the night."

Soot's fingers tapped aggressively against his leg, and he kept glancing up to the roof of the ravine. Then, without another word, he was gone, Niki trailing behind him.

The people of Pogtopia who had been present and not just listening over the loudspeakers dispersed to go prepare for the battle the next day. As they did, there was a crackle above them again and, just as it had twice every day for weeks, VP Tommy's voice came through the speakers.

"Hello, Pogtopia!" He exclaimed, static filling his words thanks to his volume. Someone hissed at him, and he quieted. "Er, sorry. This is Big Man TommyInnit, just reminding you again not to touch any of the buttons on the walls if you don't want everyone to die! Thanks!" There was another crackle, and the voice disappeared.

Hel exchanged glances with the person next to them and shifted a bit more away from the wall before continuing on.

The battle the following day went by quickly. Their family was nowhere to be seen, and Hel had been put on ranged combat, anyway. They bowed down anyone not on their side, and hoped that none of the people they were killing were on their last life.

When all was said and done, Hel stood watching the newly-inaugurated President Tubbo speak of rebuilding their country, and Hel felt pride swell up in their chest feeling that, now that they've fought for L'Manburg, they could truly call it theirs.

Then, there was a hissing below them. People in the crowd around them screamed. Hel spun around, watching in confusion as the people ran. The ground shook, then everything froze for a moment, and then they were gone.

Hel shot up in their bunk in Pogtopia. Their hands shook, their face was hot, tears falling from their eyes. Someone grabbed at them, and they let out a cry, whacking the hand away.

"Hey, Hel, calm down, calm down."

They blinked and focused in on the Head Chef, standing in front of them with a gentle smile.

"What happened?" She asked.

Hel's mouth was dry. They wet their lips.

"We... We won," Hel said.

The Head Chef gasped and relayed the information to someone at the door, who called it out to the rest of the occupants of the ravine. The remaining members of Pogtopia could be heard cheering.

"Wait, if we won..." The Head Chef looked down at them. "How did you die?"

Hel, as well as the other Pogtopia members who were respawning from the explosion and following fight, explained what had happened. Apparently, Hel got off lucky, as Technoblade had then spawned Withers. That was when they all noticed the notification that had shot through their communicators, one that informed the whole server of Wilbur Soot's death.

"That was his last life," the Head Chef said, and she sounded like she wasn't particularly surprised. Her arms, at some point, had ended up embracing Hel.

"So, we won, but our country is gone, and whatever is left is being led by a teenager?" Someone asked.

Hel, sixteen-years-old and freshly dead themself, buried their face in their hands and pretended that the Head Chef's arms, holding them close, were their parents' instead.

[rein-ette]

Howdy! I'm going to ask your awesome question back at you ;) what do you think of England, both as a character and as a country? Do tell me all of your feelings towards the grumpy man 👀

Short Answer:

To borrow a phrase from my favourite writer/historian Barbara Tuchmann, if Canada is the country of my birth, England has always been the country of my heart.

Long Answer:

I actually fell in love with England the country a long time before I even knew England the character, but Hetalia certainly reinforced my infatuation ten-fold. I can't say when or how it started because I think I was pretty young (I remember my mom making me take notes on Greek and Roman history when I was like, 7, and uh, let's just say my obessession with Europe only grew after that). It's also kinda difficult for me to parse why I like the country because it's been a constant in my life for so long, but I'll try my best.

I think it might have begun with my fascination with WWII history. There's this Chinese idiom -- 乱世出英雄 -- which kinda encapsulates why the world wars and British history in particular so enchanted me. The literal translation of it would be "heroes emerge in turbulent times" but I think a better figurative approximation is the phrase "for darkness shows the stars." The world wars, British participation in the world wars, and British history in general has many, many dark episodes and in many ways exposes the worst of humanity. But I think it's also true that British history also brought out the best of us -- exposed the "heroes", so to speak. I refer not only to household names like Churchill but also the commanders on the ground, the suffragettes, the workers in the factories, and naturally the common soldier. Of course this is not a phenomenon unique to British history, but it was through British 20th century history that I first fell in love with history in general, so it holds a bit of a special place in my heart.

From a more objective perspective, Canadians are really steeped in British culture, ideas, and history, even if we don't realize it. I mean, most of the ideals we embrace, such as the rule of law or constitutional monarchy, as well as the things we celebrate -- the abolishment of slavery, for example -- stem from Britain. One cannot teach Canadian history in school without learning British history, and when you consider that Canada's massive sacrifices in the world wars also played a defining moment in its national identity, it's really no wonder that many still feel a kinship with the UK. Plus, like I mentioned in the response to needcake's ask, a lot of being Canadian is trying to differentiate ourselves from Americans, and one primary way we do that is by pointing to our loyalty to England and shared monarch.

I'm not sure if this is really obvious from the other side of the pond, but Queen Elizabeth also, like, plays a really insidious role. Idk if Aussies or Kiwis feel this way, but we really love Queen Liz and can't imagine a world without her on our money and all our fancy buildings and occasionally making her speeches. I was an air cadet as a teen too! We had to play God Save the Queen for closing parades every night, and I remember thinking, gosh, one day we'll have to sing God save the king, and they'll have to change all the lyrics and coins and bills and what not, and that's really weird.

But yeah, besides the history and the environment in Canada, I also follow British politics to some extent? It's not as common as following American politics here (if you talk to Canadians ab the American president it's not uncommon to hear people say "why did we elect him" etc.) but it isn't rare either. I mean, I read the Economist (no i'm not 10 billion years old) and I've done courses in British politics, read British authors, a lot of people like British actors and films and shows...the culture is just really widespread, I guess. I also have close friends who lived/live in London...oh, and I went to a British international school when I was young for a year. That might have played a role too. I should say here that I've never actually been to England in person so I can't comment on what its actually like, but it feels so familiar that sometimes I honestly forget i haven't been. I hope to actually study in London soon, actually, so if you have any advice/warnings, hit me!

Alright, onto Arthur. I just? Really? Love him? In particular I really admire his pragmatic worldview, even if I don't always agree with the conclusions it leads him to. When it comes to knowledge and analysis, he's someone who refuses to turn away from the truth, no matter how incovenient. Yet when it comes to his own emotions he's the complete opposite. That mix of cynicism and then escapism to relieve the emotional burden of his own cycnism is just...fascinating. I also really admire his intelligence in general, as well as his work ethic.

Perhaps what I love the most about Arthur, however, is his spirit. I mean, he's just so alive. Whether he's furious or devastated or overjoyed, he's someone who lives life so intensely, so fully, with such fury. When I write Arthur, that's often the feeling I try to capture: someone who cannot help but see all the suffering in life, but someone who cannot help but fight on, regardless. In a strange way, Arthur embodies hope at its most irrational. As Samuel Beckett wrote in the Unnamable, he's someone who is always telling himself: "You must go on. I can't go on. I'll go on."

Absolutely no one asked for fruk, but I'm just gonna seize this chance to throw out a little headcanon. I think this intense, somehow mortal quality of Arthur is what first captivated Francis. As I've written about a bit before, Francis to me has the most "eternal" feel out of the all the nations. He loves humanity and life as a whole, whereas Arthur lives like every second counts. For someone like Francis, who just adores beautiful, wild, transient things, Arthur is like mortality in a bottle -- so utterly enthralling that once he tasted it he could never get enough. Unlike Joan or other real humans, however, Arthur has proved far more durable to wear and tear :P

My final thought on Arthur is that he has so much contempt for fate, its actually both funny and admirable. If I may quote Tuchmann again, "no man ever lived who was less willing to be the victim of events." Arthur's someone who simply refuses to be bullied, even by grandaddy destiny itself, and I think we all love him for that, a little.

[buckstaposition]

I cling to your lips like gloss (4)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

also on AO3

tags&warnings: spoilers for S3 eps1+2 mainly, some for later episodes also; mention of drug use; brief description of a panic attack; sleazy David Rodríguez is sleazy; somewhat liberal use of the f-word and also other swearing; reference to past canon character deaths; this blog is CIA station chief Bill Stechner-phobic to the max; most non-graphic, vaguest possible reference to sex (to when Javi goes home with that lady in episode 1); oblivious mutual pining; idiots with zero emotional self-awareness; domesticity

word count: 15.435 (I’m sorry, here are some snacks 🍌🥨🧁🥤)

summary: Diana goes into the lions’ den. Javier is not having a good time. No one gets enough sleep.

tag list & author’s notes have been moved to the bottom. let me just say sorry this took me so long and I hope you’re all well and healthy and happy holidays and may the new year be better for all of us 

Masterlist

Prologue • Chapter 1 - The Informant • Chapter 2 - A Wedding and Four Funerals  • Chapter 3 -  Swallow Pride and Anger

Chapter 4 - Prime Numbers

Franklin Jurado, Diana thinks, is a bit of an ass. It's not even that he happily, willingly, goes around laundering narcos' blood money, or that he gets rich off that himself. In this moment, it's mostly the way he dismissively rolls his eyes and can barely keep the contempt out of his voice when arguing with her about Maltese vs Caymanian tax loopholes. Like she's an idiot for actually reading the laws, spotty as they are. 

On top of everything, it's keeping her in her office well past the time she was meaning to start getting changed and dolled up for the grand party that night, and she feels a pressure headache of annoyance building behind her temples to boot. 

She's this close to bludgeoning the man with her stapler when an insistent knock sounds at the door, followed by a blonde head poking in. The blonde lady starts speaking in rapid English, too abrupt for Diana's brain to keep up with what is being said, but she instinctively recognized the tone of a husband being reamed out with righteous indignation and if nothing else, it gives her a certain kind of vindication. 

"Hi, I'm Christina Jurado. Just Christina is fine. Pleasure to meet you!" The other woman now stepped fully into her office, holding out her hand and smiling just a tad too brightly. 

"Diana...Galindo." Why she'd chosen to be known here under her married name is anyone's guess. Perhaps it was mostly a matter of having grown used to it. Perhaps it allowed her to pretend that this wasn't quite her, just an act to be put on for a greater purpose. That helping drug cartel bosses hide their blood money from the tax man and signing off on their henchmen's paychecks was something that Diana Teresa Artemisia Rivas Rincón would not be caught dead doing, no matter the circumstances. "Pleased to meet you." 

"Franklin, we'll be late!" the other woman throws over her shoulder. Rather pointedly, too. 

"We're not done discussing-" 

"I don't care, Franklin!" There's a moment of very animated eye contact, the kind of wordless back-and-forth that she'd dreamt of developing with Juan Mateo but that they never quite managed. Just another little detail that ultimately spelled the end of their marriage. "Actually, why don't your ride with us?" 

"I, um-" Diana instinctively reached to adjust the wire she'd been wearing for most of the day (to get used to the feeling and not inadvertently betray herself later), only catching herself in the last moment and fidgeting with the collar on her blouse instead. "I- Felipe was supposed to drive me. I need to get ready still, too." 

"Eh, he can tag along. What are you wearing? Do you have your dress here?" She did. There was no arguing with Christina, but no malice in her overbearing imperiousness either. Nonetheless, Diana tried to argue, if only for politeness' sake. How she wouldn't want to impose. That it wasn't a problem, since Miguel Rodríguez had very kindly arranged for her transportation in the form of the afore-mentioned Felipe. Mrs Jurado waved it all off. And perhaps the obvious annoyance in Franklin Jurado's eyes gave her a little push. Say what one might about the Rodríguez brothers, but at least neither of them had ever questioned her professional expertise. 

Before she knows what hit her, the three of them are sailing out of the building and towards the cars parked out front. Well, Christina is sailing, while Franklin and Diana are trotting along behind her and shooting each other sour looks. It's the kind of wrathful indignation that she hadn't felt since second grade, when Bruno Moreno had pulled her pigtails and stolen her pencil. Christina seemed unperturbed, ordering the drivers around in her accented but surprisingly decent Spanish. Felipe caught Diana's eye, wringing his hands and questions in his eye. 

"It seems I will be riding with Mr and Mrs Jurado. Perhaps you'd be kind enough to follow us to their hotel and then take my work clothes back to the office after I've changed? I'd hate to have to lug around my stuff or leave it lying around somewhere. You'd be a great help this way, and as far as I'm concerned, you can go straight home after that." 

"Of course, ma'am." He nodded, seeming relieved by the clear instructions. Diana smiled and handed off her garment bag to the Jurados' driver. 

The drive itself could have been more awkward, what with being caged in the back of this limousine with two strangers, one of whom all but openly despised her and spent his time pouting after his wife had told him in no uncertain terms that if a single word of work talk left his lips she'd shove him out the door and into oncoming traffic. Luckily she also had made it her personal mission to pack half an evening's worth of small talk into the barely twenty-minute-ride. 

The Jurados' suite was grand, the lounge alone bigger than the house Diana had grown up in. She was still trying not to show how out of place she felt among all the marble and gilded edges when Christina steered her towards the back, still prattling on in a way that the DEA would have a lot of fun picking through when they got the recording from her wire. 

"Ugh, this place is so... Sorry, we wanted the president's suite, but one of the North Valley people snatched it up. Their... Who is he, Franklin? That unpleasant little man - is he the leader of the pack? With the young woman we saw when we checked in. Was that his wife?" 

"Salazar." Franklin muttered, his face curdling into a deeper frown. At least Diana wasn't at the top of his most hated list, apparently. "Yeah, I think so honey." 

"She looked awfully young." 

"I'm sure we'll meet them all at the party." 

"Something to look forward to." Christina grimaced and pulled Diana into the spacious bathroom, settling her down in front of a gigantic vanity mirror. 

"Alright, what are we doing with you?" Diana looked at her own wide-eyed reflection staring back at her while Christina started pulling her hair free from the simple clip she'd used to hold it up. 

"I, uh-" Diana pushed her glasses back up her nose and frowned. "I have contact lenses." She gestured vaguely towards her reflection. She had also packed a small bag with the handful of make-up items she owned, but lack of practice didn't exactly serve to make her adept at using them. Christina grinned excitedly, her whitened teeth shining. "Well no, that won't do! Hang on." 

She sprung up and rushed towards the door, only stopping when she reached her husband who had lingered there, leaning against the frame.  

"Hey you." For a moment, they softened, stealing a small kiss amid halted momentum. Diana ached to witness it. "Hey yourself." 

"Go get changed." Christina smiled, kissing his cheek as she brushed past to dive into her suitcase. 

"You're telling me? Don't take too long, we're on a schedule here." The words were softened by his tender expression, and as she walked past on her way back he reeled her in for another, deeper kiss. Diana pretended to be very invested in not poking her eyeballs out. Well, half-pretended. Putting in contact lenses was another thing she wasn't exactly used to. When she'd finally managed to fumble the second lens onto her eyeball, Franklin had long left and closed the door. 

Without further ado, Christina set to work. Within moments, the marble counter was covered with various cosmetics and the other woman's eager hands set to work. Diana had no choice but to submit. Thankfully again, it was Christina who shouldered the bulk of the conversation. 

"So, I did notice you're not wearing a wedding band, Mrs Galindo." Diana's eyes were closed, as her eyeshadow was currently being blended, but she did stiffen and instinctively her other hand went to touch where her ring had been. "Oh damn, I hope that wasn't- He's not tragically deceased, is he?" 

"No, we're...separated. Divorcing. It's... it's dragging on, to be honest. I've learned more about Colombian marriage law in the past year than I ever wanted to know." She tried to diffuse with a joke, but it didn't quite land. 

"Sorry, you must think me so rude. We only just met and here I am acting like we're friends!" She bit out in a jarring departure from her hitherto genial tone. "Anyway, I admire you. That can't have been easy what with how...uh-"

"...Catholic this country is?" Diana supplied, clasping the other woman's hands in hers with a slight smile. Christina huffed in relief. "Yes, I suppose. It's just... it's so hard. Marriage I mean. Sometimes I don't even know how to bear it." Her gaze fell towards the bathroom door that Franklin had closed behind himself upon leaving. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she continued. "How did you even know you couldn't go on like this?" 

Diana gulped, hating what she was about to do. Resenting, for a moment, women like Gabriela who only had to sell a bit of their time and acess to their bodies to these people. She felt like she was selling away her soul every single day. 

"Mrs Jurado-"

"Christina. Please, you can call me Christina."

"Christina, let me be honest. I never truly loved my husband, and he didn't love me. We liked each other and it was convenient, and expected, to get married. And in the end that proved to not be enough. But from what little I have seen, that's not something you and your husband have to contend with. Even if things are hard, as long as there is love you can overcome them. You have to believe in that." 

Christina choked out a tearful little laugh, like in spite of herself. 

"Oh God, good thing I haven't put on mascara yet. You're making me all dewy-eyed." She chuckled, then threw her arms around Diana and gave her a tight squeeze. "Thank you. Really." 

"Of course," Diana awkwardly patted the other woman's back, thankful that she wasn't currently facing the mirror, "and I would be happy to become your friend." Whatever ice had remained between the two women was broken after that. Christina perked up and returned to chatting animatedly, finishing her make-up, doing up her hair in a very elegant twisted bun, and gushing over her dress.

"Do you have any jewelry to go with it?"

"Not really, no. I only ever wear this." Diana indicated the thin silver chain around her neck. Christina tutted. 

"Well, that just won't do. Wait, let me just-" An impatient knock at the door interrupted her. "Oh dear, looks like we're running late."

Diana saw a chance to get a moment alone and suggested they each get dressed quickly, and separately, lest they waste any more time and husbandly nerves with their chatter. 

"Okay, but holler if you need help with the zipper or anything." 

Diana had never squeezed into a garment faster, glad that she had chosen to put on the wire device that morning already. She tugged the actual wire tight around her body where it had loosened over the course of the day, then shimmied into the underdress she'd brought in the hopes that it would conceal any suspicious bumps or lines. She had almost wrestled the zipper into its final position when Christina knocked and entered, quickly getting the last inch or so with a comment of how husbands were useful for some things. 

"Anyway, I thought these would suit you." Christina presented an opened velvet case. Sitting inside it was a jewelry set, sapphires with diamonds set in gold. Real ones, judging by the Cartier labelling embossed into the velvet. A necklace, earrings, bracelet and ring, all fancier and more ostentacious than anything Diana had ever set eyes on. Immediately, her palms started sweating. 

"Oh, I couldn't possibly-" 

"Nonsense." Christina cut her off, placing the case down and snatching the bracelet and Diana's wrist. "You'll look so pretty and expensive. You can return them to me later, we'll be in town until Tuesday." Having clasped the bracelet around her wrist, she now moved on to the earrings. "Maybe we could get coffee on the weekend or something." 

"I'd like that." Diana lied. Christina smiled at her brightly. "Great! I just need to ...uh, freshen up a moment." Taking the hint, Diana gathered up her things and stepped outside, awkwardly holding her bag of of work clothes to give to Felipe down in the hotel lobby. Franklin was standing by a sideboard, boredly rifling through a magazine. 

"Mrs Galindo." He acknowledged. For a split second, he looked like he wanted to add something, but caught himself. Diana followed his gaze towards the closed bathroom door, behind which low noises of shuffling and splashing water could be heard. 

"How long have you two been married?" She had no idea how this information might help the investigation, but determined that wasn't for her to worry about. Franklin sighed, gaze still fixed on the door and absent. 

"Seven years now." He finally tore his eyes away from the door and let them flit over her briefly, catching on the borrowed jewels but electing not to comment on it. "They say the seventh year is the hardest, don't they?" 

"I wouldn't know. I never made it that far." Though if Juan Mateo didn't pull his head out of his ass soon she would spend the seventh year still technically married. The thought made her frown. 

Before either of them had to search for more overburdened smalltalk, the bathroom door blessedly clicked open and Christina emerged with a wide grin and a spring to her step, her eyes just a smidgeon glassy and too bright. Diana politely pretended not to see the remnants of fine white powder that Franklin surreptitiously wiped from her nose and upper lip. --- They arrived not exactly on time but not fashionably late either. There's a line of cars already plugging up the driveway to the sprawling estate, stringed lights illuminating against the darkening sky. They got out and sauntered towards the two-storey villa, the Jurados up front and Diana trailing behind like the kid that's finally allowed to come along to the fancy family outings. Her dress hadn't felt this tight in the store, or at any point afterwards, until just now. 

"Franklin! I'm so glad you're finally here! Mrs Jurado, it's a pleasure." Diana can only just contain the flinch at the sound of this voice, and before long Miguel Rodríguez turns to her with one of his bright, self-satisfied smiles. "Mrs Galindo, I'm so glad you could come. We need to introduce you to the rest of the guys! It's been too long!" 

He has his arm around her shoulders within the same breath, exuberant and steering her through the scattered throngs of people at a pace that doesn't even allow for snatching a champagne flute from one of the waiters floating around. She plastered on a fake demure smile. The 'invitation' hadn't exactly been a matter of mere suggestion. 

Miguel led them to a dainty pagoda that sat a comfortable distance from the pool and most of the din and chatter of the other guests, nestled between the luscious greenery of the large garden. Diana could hear the mumbled whispers of the Jurados behind her, Miguel's droning on of meaningless small talk that she barely paid attention to. She could see Gilberto's back, his stature dwarfed almost comically by that of a much larger and broader man sat to his side, with short silver hair that gleamed in the low light. 

"Gentlemen, I believe we are complete!" Miguel boomed, ushering her up the few steps and into the circle. 

"Mrs Galindo, what a pleasure!" Gilberto shot up and made a show of shaking her hand and pulling her close to present her to the rest of the ...associates. 

"Now I believe you've not yet met these fine gentlemen. Pacho Herrera, Diana Galindo." Pacho stood and took her hand gingerly, his face impassive and tone painstakingly polite and neutral. "My pleasure."

"Mr Herrera." Diana replied, heart thumping up into her throat. They'd not so much met as passed each other in front of offices or meeting rooms a handful of times, his tightly coiled, jaguar-like energy always seeming just a smidge out of place in those blandly corporate spaces. 

"And here's Chepe, came all the way down from New York especially!" The large man with the silver hair stood to his full impressive height, snatching her hand with a wolfish grin and dropping a just-too-moist kiss on the back of it with a wink. Diana did her utmost not to flinch. For just a moment, she regretted the moment she'd taken off her ring and put it in front of a shocked Juan Mateo on their kitchen table before leaving their shared apartment. It was moments like these that she missed the protection it had afforded her from some unwanted advances. 

Pallomari was last, balding and skittish, with huge owl-eye glasses not unlike the first pair she'd ever had. 

"Mrs Galindo, how interesting to finally put a face to the name." He greeted, sounding painfully rehearsed. Diana returned with some meaningless pleasantry, hyper-aware of the wiretap device against her skin. She wondered whether it even picked up anything apart from the thundering of her heart. 

"So, about your big announcement-" Miguel began once everyone was settled into a seat with a drink in hand. Gilberto cut him off almost immediately.

"Now, now brother, let's enjoy the party a bit beforehand." A look passed between them, a challenge issued and accepted, until Miguel turned his gaze away with a barely concealed snarl. Gilberto leaned back in his seat, glass raised with a smug and triumphant smirk. "Let's just say that I have made an important investment into our future. We will continue to thrive, but more importantly, we will be safe. Our families will be safe." 

With that cryptic remark, he threw back his drink, expression melting from jovial to grim. The ensuing silence made the hair on the back of Diana's neck stand up, a feat she wouldn't have thought possible with the amount of hairspray Christina had encased her head in. 

"He's dead, Pablo's dead." Miguel reached over where she was squished between the two men, squeezing his brother's arm in reassurance. "He's gone and we helped bring him down." 

"We did. This country should build us monuments, instead they issue arrest warrants!" Gilberto bit out, pouring himself another glass of whiskey. 

"To Pablo Escobar, may he forever rot in hell!" Chepe bellowed, glass raised high. They all joined in. Diana thought of her father. How he'd done her hair and walked her to school every morning and tucked her in with a new story every night when she was a girl. How, during her first year of university when she'd been so lonely and homesick she broke down crying, he'd taken precious time off work and taken a night bus to come visit her in Bogotá for a weekend. How her heart still split down the middle whenever she so much as thought of the crash that killed him. But the gentlemen didn't need to know that she despised them just as much as she did Escobar, not yet anyway. So, she raised her champagne alongside and joined her voice in the chorus of gleeful condemnation. - She'd just escaped Christina and the gaggle of wives for a moment, excusing herself to the restrooms. What the DEA might glean from their inane chatter, she couldn't possibly fathom. She was glad that she was free of them for a moment, and that disecting the recording wasn't her problem to deal with. On her way into the house, she must have passed by at least two dozen important and powerful people. There were a few handfuls of representatives, a number of mayors, at least two senators, an attorney general and an army general. No one she'd ever voted for, at least. And those were just the ones she'd managed to get Miguel to introduce to her, or her to them - either way, she'd made sure to repeat every name as clearly as possible for the recording. 

Rounding the last corner in from the veranda, she all but ran into Salcedo. 

"Mrs Galindo." His tone was clipped as ever. She wasn't sure whether he might be suspicious of her in particular, or whether it was a general thing and he was just like that. 

"Mr Salcedo." She nodded, tone painstakingly polite. He set her teeth on edge, always so stiff-backed with that serpent edge to him; in a ranking of people within the cartel who had this effect on her he would probably come in about third. She wondered what Javier- what Agent Peña would make of the man. "What brings you here, Mrs Galindo?" Or perhaps he just didn't like her for some reason. Which was very much a mutual sentiment. Not that she held particular sympathies for anyone here. 

"To the restroom?" *Take a wild guess, buddy*, she thought, one eyebrow arching with clear condescension. 

"To the...house." 

"The restroom." She resisted rolling her eyes. As much as she may personally dislike Miguel's chief of security, purposely antagonizing him was probably a bad idea. And yet, petty temptation beckoned in every nook and cranny. Like the sideboard they were currently standing in front of that displayed a solid bronze statue of a very rotund dancing couple. "To marvel at the Botero, naturally." 

Salcedo's eyes followed her nod towards the heavy bronze. "It's genuine, you know." He said it not in the tone of an art aficionado, but rather in the crudely suggestive one of a third-rate telenovela detective trying to be slick by not outright asking if she meant to steal it. 

"Of course, Mr Rodríguez wouldn't stand for anything less." The thing was half her size and probably twice as heavy, what was he thinking? Himself a master at subtle insinuation, probably. Or that being poor and growing up in the comunas naturally meant she had sticky fingers. Uptight, hoity-toity middle class prick. Like his employers weren't internationally wanted criminals of the highest degree. The audacity of it!  

His mouth was already halfway open to retort when his name being yelled from outside made both of them turn. David Rodríguez hung onto the veranda door, snapping at Salcedo that his father wanted him for something, and pronto. Diana could practically hear his teeth grind in irritation, but he schooled his face into a carefully blank facade before he gave David a nod. 

"Ma'am." Salcedo gave in and moved, squeezing by David. David purposefully did not budge, instead giving her a leery once-over before following after the other man. 

Diana fled into the bathroom down the hall in a manner she hoped looked urgent rather than as panicked as she felt inside. She held it together until the lock slid closed, and then she was crouched on the floor, curled up and heavy breathing into her hands. The small pressure point of the wire recorder thingy felt like a ton weight against her chest and her heart was beating so fast she could feel it everywhere. 

Hyperventilating. You're hyperventilating, her brain supplied unhelpfully, and she almost laughed at herself. She wished she wasn't here all on her own, wished she had at least one of those spy devices in her ear for some moral support, tried to recall the exact feeling of Agent Peña's hands on her shoulders, warm and grounding. One hand remained up, muffling the desperate breaths and whimpers from her mouth, while the other dropped, thumb dipping underneath the fabric at her chest to brush soothingly across her collarbone. It worked...to a degree. A very small degree. What she would give to at least have the deep, comforting rumble of his voice, or the way he'd held her close after the festival. Did he even know how calming his presence was? It always seemed to work on her, in wrath and anxiety both (something that Juan Mateo had never been able to affect unless it was to irritate her more). So much so that now even just focusing on it was enough to help her pull herself together. 

The guest restroom was bigger than her childhood room had been and, of course, looked more like it belonged in some fancy hotel. All warm-toned marble and matte gold appliances. The mirror was huge and its frame, naturally, also gold. What was it with rich people's obsession with gold? 

"Okay." Diana said to her reflection, then went to work freshening up. Carefully, she wiped away the smudged mascara under her eyes and reapplied her lipstick where it had come off on her drink earlier. She stuck her hands underneath her dress to check on the recording device, concerned that a wire had shaken loose or something, but the small rectangular container still sat right snug right against her sternum. She gave it an absent tap and adjusted the microphone bit so it sat just below the seam of her collar again. 

"I hope you'll get something worthwhile from this because I am never doing this again." A knock on the door nearly sent her into cardiac arrest. Diana swore under her breath, then called out that she'd only be a moment. 

"Sorry," an apologetic female voice came from the other side of the door, "You've been in there a while, is all. Are you alright? I have an aspirin in my purse if you need it." 

Diana stopped dabbing at her still damp eyes and tried to determine whether her near panic attack was the sole reason her vision was still a bit hazy. She could count the times she'd been out without her glasses on one hand. 

"Oh no it's just-," she crossed over and unlocked the door to find a young, very pretty and very concerned looking woman on the other side, "I just had some trouble with my contact lenses. They're awfully fiddly." She stepped back and opened the door wider. "All yours." 

"Oh I don't-" She looked down the hallway, further into the house, her eyes widening slightly when she caught sight of something or someone outside of Diana's field of vision. "Actually, I think I need to...uh, powder my nose or something." 

The door fell into its lock the same moment the younger woman had stepped into the room, not giving Diana a chance to leave. Not that she was over-eager to get back outside and mingle with the corrupt and criminal. That and the discomfort and anxiety hung around the other woman like a cloud. Diana made up her mind, sitting down on one of the plush benches in the room. 

"I'm not a big fan of parties either." She stated, voice careful and soft. The other woman stood, unsure and tugging at the short hem of her dress. 

"I wish they could just open the buffet already. My husband is three drinks in and he gets-" She trembled. No, shuddered. Diana patted the space beside her on the bench, a gentle invitation. 

"It's alright, we can stay here for a little bit. I'm Diana." 

"Maria." She stuck out her hand, which was also still trembling slightly. "Maria Salazar." --- By the time the two of them dared venture outside again, there was indeed, finally!, food to be had. Diana pulled Maria along to the relative safety of the gaggle of wives, busy amusing themselves while their husbands dealt with their important business matters. But then, the bandleader announced that the dancefloor was now officially open and started off with a spirited selection of the finest Colombian rhythms of the past twenty years. One by one the wives were collected to fill said dancefloor, leaving Diana sitting alone at the table with the sad remnants of various canapees and salads. Here was another occasion where she didn't miss Juan Mateo. Or his two left feet. Idly, she turned the near-empty cocktail glass between her fingers and wondered whether Javier danced, or could at least be persuaded to try. 

"You don't dance?" David appeared so suddenly that she almost spilled the last bit of her drink. She remembered his leering earlier, forced her face not to flinch until she had raised the glass and could hide her  expression of distaste behind a sip of the overly sweet and fruity cocktail. Hummed non-committally and hoping against hope that he'd grow bored and leave. Of course, she had no such luck. 

"Oh, whom with? Everyone's paired up already." Sip again. The glass had another three or four in it, if she stretched it smartly enough. "I'm afraid third-wheeling is the unenviable fate of divorcees." How old was this boy anyway? She must have ten years on him, at the very least. But apparently he'd got it into his head that he must prove to himself what a man he was, and how irresistible. At least he had the good sense not to try anything with the wives of any of the powerful men present. 

"Dance with me." David stated. Ah, bingo. He might have at least pretended to ask, she thought sourly. "I insist." 

Of course you do, you entitled brat. "It would be my pleasure." She lies, as most politeness is lies, here in these circles comprised of snakes. Fakes a smile the way she's been taught to by this world, so easy to act and conceal the disdain underneath. It doesn't falter even when his hand, clammy and slightly sweaty, settles way too low for comfort or propriety on her hip. She resolves to step on his feet - accidentally - at least twice. 

David Rodríguez was not what one would call a skilled dancer. At first, Diana had been thankful that the band wasn't playing any slow songs yet, but it had taken approximately half of 'Bamboleo' to dispel the hope that this would keep David's hands from wandering. Well, if she was stuck here she might as well try to get some intel out of him. 

...It takes about two and a half songs - the band now switching to their international collection - to determine that this route of inquiry is absolutely doomed and David completely useless. Doesn't know any business particulars, and doesn't care to. Too distracted with trying to put some moves on her, which she steadfastly ignores. Well, if details of her failed marriage and dragging divorce aren't enough to discourage him, she's got another one up her sleeve. Not to mention she's been curious ever since the gaggle of wives had made their introductions earlier. 

"You're not married." She leaves the 'yet' unsaid, hanging in the air between them as heavy insinuation. 

"If I were, would I be dancing with you?" A faithful husband, and in these circles at that? What a novel idea. Diana almost snorted out loud. Left it at a telling look that seemed to go over his head completely. Doesn't have the energy to dissect how a dance with a friend or acquaintance at a party isn't exactly on par with, say, the juridical definition of adultery. Which brings her mind back to the tedium of having to explain to various lawyers, notaries, judges that no, her husband wasn't a cheating pig who drank and beat her, and that there were a multitude of quieter reasons why marriages failed. 

"I have been wondering, though, where the third of the Mrs Rodríguezes belongs. Besides your mother and your aunt." She nodded over at the three women in question, one dancing with either Rodríguez brother, the third being currently twirled about by Chepe and looking a bit motion sick from it. 

"My mother is dead." Ah, shit. Diana faltered, and this time the graze of her heel on his shoe really was entirely accidental. Something in David's eyes shuttered and hardened, gaze for once lifting from her body and darkly fixing on his father. "They're all my uncle's wives." 

"Oh. Oh!" Diana's mouth falls open. Of all things she could have expected, this was certainly not one. "That's um... That sounds, uh..." Illegal, but then again, what did a bit of consensual polygamy matter in the grand scheme of things, she supposed. 

"You sound so scandalized. Didn't think he had it in him, didn't you?" David smirked, tightening his grip on her back again and leading her in a turn. 

"No, I'm just...wondering...about the, um...time management...aspect." In fairness, that was one of the things she did wonder about. David laughed, bringing her in closer. 

"Each gets two days per week and Sundays he has them come all together and sit there while he watches sports." 

How thrilling. "Whatever works for them, I suppose." 

Diana tried to subtly twist away again. She wasn't going to get anything else from this, what with David already being bored and growing increasingly impatient. And she didn't have an escape plan that didn't consist of ramming her heel into him somewhere until she struck bone. 

"Damn, can't they play something from this decade?" He whined as 'Money, money, money' faded into 'Knowing me, knowing you'. "All of this ancient stuff-" Sensing another chance to subtly nudge him away from his inexplicable sudden attraction, Diana jumped. "Oh I quite like it," she remarked lightly. Now go in for the kill "Reminds me of my youth." 

David harrumphed, then grunted as her heel dug into his toes again. "Oh dear, so sorry." Diana said breezily,  forcing his hand up from where it had been creeping towards her ass with a deft twirl. 

"It's fine." He gritted. "Did you want to-" 

"Allow me to cut in." Herrera stepped up, lightly shoving David aside to take his place. "I've not had the pleasure yet, Mrs Galindo." Diana forced a smile as his hand settled at her waist. Pro: at least this one wouldn't spend the whole time trying to feel her up. Con: not being thus distracted, he might notice...something. And become suspicious. If he wasn't already. Truth be told, Herrera scared her almost as much as Navegante did. Sometimes more so. 

"Right, well this is a very tight dress, so I can't do any adventurous moves." She warned, plastering an apologetic expression onto her face. Thankfully the band had changed to a faster track, though they kept with the international flair of the selection. Next up was some Brazil, if she wasn't mistaken. David stood between the twirling couples for a long moment, glaring but not daring to do or say anything that might affront his father's business partner. She shot him a fake apologetic smile, but suspected it was more the insistent raised eyebrow from Herrera that ultimately got him to scurry. 

Pacho Herrera could dance, that much was undeniable. Under different circumstances she might have even enjoyed this. He was also unnervingly quiet. If the purpose of this was to unsettle her, his tactic was very successful. At this rate, just keeping her feet under her proved to be challenge enough. One could think the band had launched into a Tarantella, given the speed they were going. Her head swam from the quick succession of turns and twirls, and when he dipped her upon the song's grand climax, her heart stopped for a variety of reasons. One of them being that she thought she felt some of her concealed wiring dislodge. 

"I think your dress is not too tight after all, Mrs Galindo." He pulled back up and righted her again, blessedly stilling a moment while the band segued into a mellower number. Diana gulped in a few deep, unladylike breaths. 

"No trust me, it is." She was still catching her breath; meanwhile he didn't even have a single hair out of place. Unfair. "So," Diana began her feeble attempt to bring the situation back under some semblance of control, "Are you interested in... tax exemptions?" Apparently humans could wheeze and cringe simultaneously. Very interesting. Herrera didn't answer immediately, just started leading her back into a mellow sway. 

"I think you're interested enough for all of us, Mrs Galindo. Miguel showed us the figures earlier. Very impressive. I see why DIAN recruited you right out of university." How he made what was ostensibly a compliment sound like a threat, Diana didn't know, just that it did nothing for her heart rate. 

"Thank you." He spun her out along with a flourish from the brass section, turning her already shaky voice into a squeak. She really hoped the recording had not picked that up. After the spin, his hand slid up over  her back, before settling back on her waist. To her horror, something in Pacho's expression twisted and he pulled her closer, hand splaying over her mid-back again. So much for avoiding being fondled for one dance. 

"What's this?" 

"Oh, I don't want to bore you with the details of women's undergarments. Suffice to say I'm wearing an insane amount of Spanx right now." 

There was a prolonged moment, during which Diana tried to keep her cool while deciding how much of a scene she was willing to cause should he not let it rest. Normally none at all, then again it was her life on the line. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, Mr Rodríguez requests you make your way to the equestrian ring for the big announcement." 

Never in her life had Diana welcomed an interruption like at this very moment. Herrera hesitated for a split second, expression still unreadable, before joining the throngs of people set in motion. He grasped her hand firmly, looping it through his elbow until it rested on his forearm, where he pinned it with his other hand. Just unconspicuous enough to look polite to any onlooker, just forceful enough that she knew she couldn't free herself without obvious struggle. 

"He could have done this up on the other stage." Miguel grumbled when they reached him, standing off the side to the stage that had been set up in the area. 

"You know how he is, Miguel. Always has to have his way." The two men exchanged a glance around her while more people filed past. 

"Mrs Galindo." 

Diana hummed in acknowledgement, returned the meaningless pleasantries. Yes of course she was enjoying herself. What a lovely party. The music? Exhilarating. The buffet? Exquisite. Her divorce? Ugh. She would really prefer not to think about that right now, thank you very much. 

"It's next Thursday, right? Your court appointment?" 

"Yes, thank you for letting me combine this with a work trip to Barranquilla. It's my personal business after all." 

"Of course, we want you at your best. Undistracted. Unburdened." Diana almost laughed, barely managed to suppress the snort and cover it with clearing her throat. 

"I thought that had all gone through ages ago." Herrera remarked lightly, grip finally easing up some from her wrist. Diana sighed. 

"I'm divorced, as far as I'm concerned. I moved out, signed my papers. I don't know what he thinks he's doing. I'm not going back to him. This obstinate little tantrum isn't helping his case anyway." Countless hours spent arguing with various legal professionals flashed before her eyes. "It's a very tedious process."

"It's a very catholic country." Pacho said, somewhere between wistful and embittered. She used his momentary distraction to pull her arm free. 

"That's true." 

Up on the stage, Gilberto was fiddling with a microphone and waiting for the last few stragglers to come and fill up the equestrian ring so he could begin. Again, the two men exhanged a telling glance around her. 

"You gonna go up there with him?" Pacho said lowly, hands now crossing behind his back. Miguel shook his head. 

"You go. I'll stay here. Better view." 

Diana stayed demonstratively rooted to the spot when Herrera started moving. He shot her a look, which she pretended not to notice in favor of striking up more mindless small talk with Miguel. Apparently Herrera decided that it wasn't worth making a big deal out of, choosing instead to let her be and weave through the audience until he reached the bottom of the stage, exchanging a greeting with Santacruz and glowering over the assembled crooks and accomplices. 

Gilberto's speech was... full of pathos and grandstanding, and too many high-minded terms for such a petty crook, she thought. When did the delusions or grandeur usually start appearing, she wondered. Was it with the first million? The first billion? But it's the core of the announcement that makes her gasp and sets the wheels in her mind into overdrive, the implications just mounting up. She spares a quick glance at Herrera at the foot of the stage, his face too demonstratively blank save for furrowed brows. Miguel beside her is more expressive, but quick to reign his face back in. Among the surprised gasps and whispers all around it tells her enough. Briefly, she thought of making a comment to Miguel, but his jaw is set so tight she can hear the grinding of teeth and she doesn't have anything productive or intelligent to say anyway, so she lets it be. Swallows the bile that rises up in her throat as Gilberto proclaims 'For our children! And for our children's children!', and tries not to roll her eyes. Or gouge his out, for the sheer gall of it. Because here she stands, approaching thirty-five and still deathly afraid to bring a baby into a world they have made so violent, so toxic, so dangerous. Meanwhile Salome is without her parents, both murdered by this unending war. Meanwhile a David Rodríguez flounces around as some sort of better henchman, he and his cousins all cushy and carefree thanks to daddy's blood money. It churns the stomach with rage. 

"Mrs Galindo! Just the woman I've been looking for!" 

The crowd parts for him, less so out of reverence and more because people are slowly drifting away, gossip already flying about, Diana is pleased to note. 

"Mr Rodríguez, what an...impactful speech." She said demurely, keeping all her sneering tucked safely away behind the mask of officiousness. 

"It's the coup of the century!" She catches Miguel's scoff just in the corner of her eye. "It also means transferring our assets into the...ah, ...legitimate sphere, if you will." He's got his arm around her shoulders again, leading her back towards the dancefloor, the buffet and tables, the house. By chance and his smaller stature, he's speaking almost directly into the shoulder with the hidden microphone attached, detailing all the financial acrobatics he wants her to perform to save all their assets from both law- and taxman. There she went again, trading complicity for access. --- Just over an hour on and the gender ratio has left Diana sitting squished between Herrera and the youngest of the Mrs Rodríguezes, but at least he seems to have taken his measure of her. And swallowed her undergarment excuse. Swallowed...undergarments. She snorted semi-loudly into the cocktail she'd been nursing this whole time, the ice in it all but dissolved. Dammit, here eyes were getting heavier by the minute and it wasn't even that late, barely midnight. Then again she had been up since five and alcohol, even though she hadn't had all that much, always made her sleepy. And the guests had started trickling away, leaving behind a scene of mild devastation. 

"I think Mrs Galindo needs to go home." It was Franklin Jurado speaking, Christina's head buffered on his shoulder as she slept. Diana had just enough self-control left to not tell him to fuck off. Or maybe she really is too tired to; doesn't even have it in her to get annoyed at Gilberto's patronizing tone as he agrees. 

"Yes, why don't you drive Mrs Galindo home?" 

She hums more in acknowledgement than agreement to Hererra's suggestion, tired eyes hazily following his line of sight to the man stepping forward from the shadows at being summoned. His gaudy shirt reminds her of one Juan Mateo had worn on their honeymoon and which she had hated half because it had been a gift from her horrible mother-in-law, and half because it was the most hideous thing she had ever seen. And then realization hits and her blood runs ice-cold and alertness slams back into her consciousness like a bullet. 

"Mr Velasquez." her voice is so weak and brittle, she thinks it must give her away if nothing else did so far. She took one last sip to wet her dry mouth, and because frankly she needs the alcohol now more than ever. The suggestion to call a taxi died on her lips as she realized that there was truly no way out of this. So, she steels herself and stands on sore feet, bidding the bosses of Calí and their dependents a good night. "I would be much obliged, Mr Velasquez." 

Navegante approximated a smile and stalked ahead. --- Well, there goes his progress. He'd been down to three smokes a day, four on a bad day, due in part to an iron adherence to some hard and fast self-imposed rules, such as no smoking in his office (or, in fact, no smoking inside the building at all). Tonight, however, is the night of the Calí godfathers' big announcement party, and Javier had not moved from his office for longer than a quick bathroom break or coffee run. He had also gone through half a pack of cigarettes in the last two hours, and his stomach was beginning to feel queasy the longer he spent glancing at the phone on the edge of his desk from the corner of his eye as he pretended to make his way through the mountain of paperwork that somehow never seemed to get any smaller. The fact that he'd woken that morning with the memory of Diana Turbay's lifeless body crumpled in that cupboard certainly hadn't helped. 

He last looked at a clock around half past nine, when a very insistent cleaning lady had shooed him out of his office and he'd spent around ten anxious minutes hovering by the door in case the phone rang. It hadn't, and now here he was, eyes burning and brain mushy with his heartbeat a steady pulsing behind his temples. And he wondered– 

Javier swiped up the phone before the first ring had even finished. "Miss Rivas!" 

"I'm fine." She didn't sound fine. She sounded on edge. Rattled. Like she was trying to reassure herself. He gripped the phone receiver tighter. 

"Where are you?" What was he gonna do? Drive all the way to Calí from Bogotá at half an hour past midnight? Even a flight would take hours, and raise suspisions to boot. 

"I said I'm fine," she replied, nails clacking rhythmically against the plastic phone casing in what he knew by now to be a nervous tick. "I'm safe. I'm home." 

Javier breathed a relieved sigh, rigid shoulders slumping a fraction. He supposed he could have ordered Duffy or Lopez to do something if push had come to shove, though what he honestly had no idea. 

"Good, that's good." 

"Mr Velasquez gave me a lift." 

Who the hell was that? "Who the hell is that?" Javier asked. 

"You probably know him as Navegante." Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Mentally he's already halfway out the door, physically at least halfway out of the office until the phone wire makes known its spatial limitations. 

"You alright? Is he still there? Lock your door, double lock it, I-" 

"I didn't give him the exact address, please calm down." He does, but only enough to catch his breath and not bolt out the door. There's a rustling from her end of the line, and she makes a sort of breathless little sound, somehwere between a sigh and a grunt, followed by a low but vicious curse.

"You okay?" 

"It's the damn zipper again; I'm this close to pulling something. Hang on." Judging by the thud that reverberates she set the phone down on a counter or table. Javier's hand went to rub at the back of his neck, half reflex, half sympathy. "Let's focus on the real issue here. The announcement." 

The way she said it was urgent, but he chose to believe this was due to wanting to get the message out and not to any concerns of Navegante lurking nearby. He had to, for his own sanity. 

"Apparently Gilberto cut a deal with the government." 

"The government?" Javier echoed weakly. 

"The new Samper administration. I knew why I didn't vote for those clowns. No, that's ...I had many reasons for that actually, first and foremost of them being that the Liberal Party nowadays is a damn joke. And to think that this is the same party that my parents fought for in their youth! Anyway, enough of that. They get half a year to get their house in order, then turn themselves in on the smallest possible charges, minimal jail time, back out again after a few years and back into their cushy lives with all of their blood money laundered neatly away. A clean slate." He'd never heard her sound so bitter, and he'd heard a good deal of her opinions on the Gentlemen of Calí over the past year. 

"So they're just going to get away with it." Javier grit out, equally livid. "Wait, you said Gilberto cut the deal? What about the others?" 

"Yes, so here is where it gets interesting. I didn't get the sense that they knew. Beforehand I mean. You should have outfitted me with a camera too, because Miguel's face was priceless." Another grunt and then a triumphant little 'ha' and then her voice sounded clearer again, nearer as she picked the phone back up. 

"He doesn't like it." 

"None of them like it. Don't want to give up the power, if I had to guess. What is it with men and building their entire ego on how much they can make others fear them?" 

Javier hummed non-committally, deciding that he had nothing valuable to add at this point. 

"Yeah, you're right. So how do I get the 'ooof' ...the recording to you? Usual way?" Javier didn't even get to reply no when she went on, now audibly shuffling around her apartment and out of the rest of her clothes. "I can't believe I almost forgot! I met the money launderer. His name is Franklin Jurado. He'll be in Calí until Tuesday with his wife Christina. I somewhat promised her to meet for coffee on Sunday; if you can have one of your agents trail me you can get them." 

She sounded so hopeful that he hated to have to dash it, even for her own safety, but snatching such an important cartel member so soon and with her so close would cast suspicion. She couldn't be involved. And he hadn't heard back from his agents yet, which was possibly a bad sign. Javier made up his mind, cringing while he glanced at the clock to make some mental calculations. 

"I'm coming over." 

"To Calí?" 

"Yes, what's your address? Unless you'd rather meet somewhere else?"

She gave her address, sounding stunned. He jotted it down under the note he'd made of Jurado's name; he'd need someone to look the guy up first thing tomorrow. 

"You're not leaving now, are you? It's late, you need to sleep." Javier could picture the way her brow creased in a frown just from the tone of her voice. 

"No, I'll call you again as soon as I know when I'll be there." Driving the whole way would be a nightmare and eat up most of the day. Javier whirled around and pulled an atlas from the shelf behind his desk. Flying in directly was out of the question with the way the godfathers had the whole city under surveillance. Buenaventura, under two hours by plane and then about two and a half from there to Calí. Yes, that would work. 

"Goodness, you're actually serious about this." 

"Of course." Javier stopped in his tracks for the first time in several minutes now, taking a moment to breathe and slump in his seat. He was exhausted yet wide awake, and likely would be for some time. "I mean, if that's okay with you." 

"Of course, umm...anything in particular you'd like for dinner?" Javier stopped. He would be staying for dinner, possibly the night, too. In a hotel of course, he couldn't possibly impose- 

"You don't have to cook for me." His mouth said, but his stomach said bandeja paisa. Briefly, the thought of taking her out for dinner popped up, indulgent and unbidden, and was immediately squashed by the thought of the godfathers' eyes everywhere. "I can pick something up on the way." 

Her protest turned into a yawn not two syllables in. Javier couldn't help the small smile appearing on his face, felt it only by how it twinged his tense jaw. "You're tired, you should rest." 

"We're not finished with this." She mumbled obstinately. "You rest." 

"I will." He would, eventually. "I'll call you tomor- ...today." A quick glance at the clock revealed it was now past midnight. She made a very grumpy, very adorable huffy sound, mumbling something about the inexorable passage of time. 

"Sleep well, Miss Rivas." 

"You too..." There was a rustle and the quiet squeak and groan of a bedframe and mattress. He waited a moment, unsure whether more was coming or whether she'd just been too tired to disconnect the call. A short silence burst into a quick curse, her voice remote but still clear enough to make out. "...God fucking dammit, fucking contact lenses! Son of a rabid-" 

"Miss Rivas?" By the rapid padding of feet and the continued cursing he had to suppose that she hadn't heard, and by how either sound seemed to be at about equal distance with neither decreasing, he supposed further that the phone was still in her hand. As soon as he heard the 'thunk' that most likely meant that the phone had been tossed down on some surface, he tried again. "Miss Rivas?" 

"You're still there?" She sounded marginally more awake now, but not like this state would persist for very long. 

"You didn't hang up." And perhaps Javier wasn't all too opposed to having the continued assurance that she was alright and her cover intact. "You swear very entertainingly, by the way." 

"I'm glad my lack of filter and ladylike decorum amuses rather than appalls you." Splashing water interrupted them for a moment, but was quickly replaced by more colorful cursing. 

"Please, don't hold back." Javier commented drily, not really expecting to be heard clearly since the satphone didn't have a loudspeaker. 

"Very funny. Why don't you talk to me a bit more while I try not to poke my eyes out by accident-" 

"I- ...I'm afraid I don't really have anything interesting to talk about." 

"And I don't have enough brain left today for anything more taxing than the weather anyway. I just need your voice; I'm dead on my feet. How was the weather in Bogotá today? I always found it so cold when I was at university there. Nothing like Medellín. They used to call me 'chompa' at uni because I would never go anywhere without one. Too cold. And of course Calí is so much warmer than either..." 

"It's been quite grey here, and not especially warm either. Back home it's at least twice as warm but I've been here so long now I think I'm more used to it." 

"I never asked where exactly you're from..." 

"Laredo, Texas. It's right on the border with Mexico." 

"Laredo..." She mused, puttering about still. "Oh like the song? As I walked walked out on the streets of Laredo..." She must really be tired and devoid of all usual inhibitions, Javier thought, to just start singing like this. Not that he minded. She got halfway through the first stanza until she faltered, the lyrics escaping her. Her voice was soft and with that same raspy edge she had when speaking. It was a voice suited best to lullabies he thought; or to yearnful ballads performed in smoky bars, or some similarly wistful thing. "Aren't I supposed to be the one talking?" 

"Hmm, this works too. I'm almost done, so you won't have to humor me much longer. So, tell me more about Laredo while I brush my teeth." --- He ended up talking longer than that - divulging more than he ever planned to as per usual, of the town and the ranch that sat up against the river - until she was settled back into bed and about to doze off for good. If nothing else, it settled him too somewhat, though sleep would elude him for a a good while yet even despite the physical and mental exhaustion the day, or in fact the whole week, had brought him. No sooner had he disconnected the line with a soft 'Sleep well' than the phone rang again. 

"Yes?" 

"Boss, I've been trying to reach you for half an hour!" Duffy's voice sounded strained and any modicum of relaxation Javier might have gained dissipated with immediate effect. He scrubbed a hand over his burning eyes and resigned himself to dealing with one more catastrophe. 

"Duffy, what is it?" Agents Duffy and Lopez had organized their own infiltration of the godfathers' party, courtesy of the intel provided by Miss Rivas as well as what Operation Cornerstone had shaken loose. At least he knew it was nothing that had blown the cover of his informant. 

"Okay well, no use beating around the bush here. Our guy got made, and Calí knows we're here-" Javier listened to his agent's report with his frown deepening. Why was it that with every step forward, another wrench was thrown his way? 

"Alright, close up shop. Leave as soon and as inconspicuously as you can. I'll see you back here at the embassy on Monday morning." He ordered. Hopefully the gentlemen and their security would leave it at the gesture of intimidation, especially if they thought themselves well on the way of becoming untouchable, but one could never be too careful. 

---

Javier consulted the clock for what must have been the hundredth time that evening. Normally the bar down the street from the embassy wouldn't be his first or even fourth choice, but tonight he was looking for a place to wind down with the shortest possible distance to cover afterwards. The danger of being accosted by any of his co-workers was one he'd simply have to brave. If luck was on his side for once, none of the more sociably inclined would be there any more, or too engrossed in their own merriment to notice him slink in, and if not, his curmudgeonly ways were known well enough that a civil yet decisive refusal would hopefully be deterrence enough. 

It was for Stoddard, but of course not for Bill Stechner, the non-drug-lord bane of Javier's existence. Ostensibly on the same side, though Javier would argue that the CIA was on its own side entirely. Or that their budget would be spent more productively by making the damn lot of them just feed dollar bills through a shredder, but no one asked Javier about these things. So, he sits and grinds his teeth while Stechner's smug voice grates on his nerves. Visualizes strangling the CIA station shief with the tie he'd just pulled off and balled up into his pocket moments ago, which does a little bit to alleviate the almost overbearing urge to smash Stechner's face into the bar top. "Oh come on, you don't care about American streets or dead Colombians." 

And the deal? How the hell does Stechner know about the deal when it's only just been announced? For a split-second, he wonders whether Diana- but no, he trusts her completely, and he hasn't told anyone except a handful of his agents about her, deciding this information was so sensitive it was strictly need to know, and even they only knew her by her assigned code name. Not even the ambassador knew that he had such a high-priority informant on the inside of the cartel. Stechner must have some government source, be it an informant of his own or bugs in the offices of ministers. The way he only mentions Lopez and Duffy's operation confirms it. 

"Same goal my ass." Javier muttered into his whiskey after Stechner slithered away. This had been supposed to be a one-drink-night, but now he was feeling like he might need at least three more, if only to dull the screeching of his swirling thoughts. 

It's no use. He's all keyed up still, something feels like it's burrowing inside of his chest, some sort of woodland critter both desperate and unable to settle down. He's tired, too, of course, eyes heavy and burning and sore, feels like his eyeballs are coated in smoke and pitched open by caffeine. He shouldn't have had that much coffee that late; despite his high tolerance it does still have an effect on him. Thank goodness on any given day, but right now he's regretting it. His leg jumps, knee knocking painfully against the bar front. He feels eyes on him. They've been there since he walked in, furtively glancing throughout his confrontation with Stechner, but bolder now. He feels it like a prickle on his skin. Turns his gaze finally. Sees long dark hair, open, melting into the late shadows of the bar. Too long, but it'll have to do. She's... he's definitely seen her around before. The elevator? Different department, perhaps press office, or visas. Definitely nowhere near the DEA offices or he would have known her name. She's coming over now, leaning easily against the bartop, slender fingers tapping, and an easy, eager smile. Her hair isn't dark enough, and too long and wavy all the way through instead of only curling at the ends, and nothing else about her appearance quite matches up, but she's pretty and willing and he's pent up and about to crawl out of his skin. And so he lets her take him home. And he means to leave right after, he really does. If only not to give any impression of this having even the slightest potential of becoming any more than it is. But Katie (that's her name, but he's learnt a long time ago to not groan out names during, because whether the name is correct or not it always turns out bad somehow), Katie sleepily mumbles that he can stay because it's late, and truth be told? He's completely shot, feels like he couldn't move if he wanted to. And the thought of dragging himself back to his empty apartment with only his thoughts for company is the most unbearable thing at this moment. Her mattress is too soft and despite the fact that he only laid on it until waking again at first light, it messes up his back for almost a week. --- It is indeed much warmer in this side of the country, and an especially hot day in Calí itself. On the coast where he'd landed, there had at least been a breeze blowing in from the Pacific, but the further inland Javier drives the less the air seems to move. He felt the sweat start to gather at his hairline, and down his neck, as soon as he parked the rental car in front of the cluster of new-ish high rise apartment blocks in one of the north-western boroughs of the city. 

Javier grabbed his one piece of luggage and the bag of takeout he'd picked up on the way, just as promised, and walked up to the first building to study the panel beside the door for the correct bell to ring. A sharp whistle made him look around, then up at the next building. Miss Rivas was all but hanging off the side of her balcony, waving down and giving Javier half a heart attack seeing as she was on the sixth floor. He waved back in acknowledgement, then jogged over to the already buzzing door, which he pushed open. Blessedly, there was an elevator, and not two minutes later he stood in front of her apartment, the door swinging open before he could raise his hand to knock. 

"Hi." She sounded breathless, as if she'd run up six flights of stairs, not across an apartment. 

"... Miss Rivas." In his relief, he'd almost slipped. Almost called her by her first name, but they're not there yet, strangely. Or not strangely at all, in fact. It's quite by design. It's a way of keeping himself detached; professional. Or whatever excuse he could come up with to maintain this state of perpetual denial. 

"Umm, ...lunch? I brought lunch." He thrust the bag foward, watched it swing between them while cringing inwardly. 

"Good! I've only been up for two hours or so; I don't even care what it is, I'm starving!" Carefully, she took the bag from him, one hand supporting the bottom like a newborn's head, the other brushing his as she looped her fingers through the handles. "Come in, come in." 

Javier stood a full three seconds or so after she'd already turned around and walked down the narrow hallway, rooted to the spot and struck dumb like some sort of imbecile. His skin prickled in all the places he'd let Katie touch him the night before, which, admittedly, hadn't been too many - but still enough to be burning him with that familiar mixture of guilt and shame now. So he does what he does best when it comes to emotions: deny and repress. 

He left his shoes beside the pair of strappy heels she must have discarded there the night before, probably in a hurry to get the severely uncomfortable looking things off after spending a whole evening in them. The hallway opened into an open living room and dining area, the balcony beyond that, and a galley-style kitchen off to one side not unlike his own apartment. It was a sparse place, not quite enough furniture to fill the space - a long couch and coffee table, a low sideboard with a TV on it, none of it new save for the stereo system that was of course on and softly playing the usual eclectic music mix. Javier dropped his bag beside the couch where it would be out of the way. The dining table barely deserved the name. It was a small, round, reedy looking thing, just large enough for two, or maybe two and a child, with two plastic fold-out chairs. On it stood a light blue and white ceramic fruit bowl that currently held zero fruit, just the recording device he'd given her and... some pieces of golden sapphire and diamond jewelry? Puzzled, Javier picked up what turned out to be a bracelet. He raised one eyebrow at her as she set down plates for them. 

"Got a raise?" 

"Ha! As if. I should have, though. What with the extra work I got saddled with last night. That's the problem with rich people. Miserly. The more zeroes on their bank statements the stingier they get." She scoffed, ranting away all the way to and fro carrying the cutlery. "No, this-" she stabbed a spoonhandle through the bracelet and swirled it around once, twice, before glowering at the gemstones darkly, "This is what Mrs Jurado had me borrow to complete my outfit yesterday. Obviously I have to return them, which is why I'm meeting her for coffee tomorrow afternoon. If you do your whole government agent covert spy observation thing you could at least get eyes on her, maybe even him, too. Franklin Jurado, the money launderer. You can just smell the entitlement on him. I bet he went to one of the really fancy schools over there, like Princeton. Or maybe Harvard." 

"I'm glad to see you're making friends." Javier had followed her to the kitchen, leaning against a cabinet and watching her place the food on plates, any attempts to help or make himself useful deftly rebuffed as always. 

"I think it was Harvard actually. I think he mentioned it- It's on the recording, in any case. Real smug about it too. La Javeriana is a perfectly good university, too. Older, too. Luis Carlos Galán attended it, you know? Graduated in economics and law, like I did." 

"Like the new president, too." Javier dared remark, only to be leveled with a death glare that could make a man fear for his life. 

"Professor Samper, oh yes," she said pointedly, thrusting the plates at him, "Don't remind me please. The whole family attended, have for generations." 

Javier dutifully carried over the dishes and set them down, returning a moment later for the pitcher of water. Diana followed him, wiping her glasses with her tee-shirt in a gesture he had come to know was more about calming down than it was about being able to see better. 

"Right, no politics at meal time. Tell me something interesting instead." Diana attacked her food with a frightening kind of fervor. And suddenly the only thing he could think about was what Stechner had told him the night before, how the deal would go ahead, a neat little setup by politicians whose only objective was looking good enough for re-election. Naturally, the words died in his throat. He shrugged and started digging in. 

"Nothing huh? Okay, well, how about this then: How many Mrs Rodríguezes are there?" 

"Is this a trick question?" There should be one only, seeing as Miguel was widowed and his little shit of a son wasn't exactly husband material - nor looking to be. "One?"

"Close. There's three." 

That didn't make any sense. "That doesn't make any sense. Miguel is widowed and David- ...Gilberto! Gilberto?" 

"Gilberto." She confirmed. "All three. They have a rota, apparently. On Sundays they just sit around while he watches whatever game is on which sounds thrilling. And I thought my marriage was crap." 

"Huh." If Javier thought that the farcical nature of governmental - and inter-governmental - bureaucracy had prepared him for the absurdity of chasing drug kingpins he had apparently been sorely mistaken. But mostly, he was relieved to see that Diana was in such good spirits again, what with how affected she'd sounded the night before. Lunch was over in no time at all, and Javier felt his short night starting to catch up with him. He yawned surreptitiously as he helped carry the dirty dishes back into the kitchen, or what he thought had been surreptitious anyway. 

"Okay, coffee or nap?" 

"Huh?" Dammit, his eyes were burning. Diana took the plates and deposited them in the sink, leaving him to blink sluggishly. "I can do those. The dishes." 

"You're about to keel over. Haven't slept a wink, have you?" 

"About three hours, and another half hour or so on the plane. I'm fine, really." He admitted. The fact that he had to lean against the cabinets did not exactly serve to strengthen his argument. Diana tutted. 

"I need to run some errands, grocery shopping and the like. If you are really determined to get to work on the recording I'll make you a good strong coffee before I go, but I would personally suggest you use the time to catch up on some sleep. The couch pulls out." 

It was tempting, it really was, but Javier also knew that he'd have a harder time falling asleep later if he messed up his rhythm more now. 

"Coffee it is, then." She set to work in the same breath. 

A fond smile pulled at Javier's lips. "Thank you." --- Even knowing she was fine and safe now, she hadn't expected that listening to the recording would be so excruciatingly stressful. She had very helpfully compiled a list of encounters, along with time estimates (and a very evocative caricature of the chief accountant, Guillermo Pallomari), which had allowed him to fast forward through the recording to get a general overview. Even so, he'd gotten stuck on several bits, even replaying a few. The introductory round, for one. Her panic attack in the bathroom. Or the segment with that slimy little bastard David Rodríguez. Her quick thinking and clever diversion of Pacho's suspicions. He hated hearing the strain in her voice, the barely masked anxiousness that none of them even seemed to notice but that stood out to him so very clearly. His jaw was clenched so tight he could feel his teeth grinding– The lock on the front door clicked open, jolting Javier from his focused state. A quick glance at his watch told him it had been well over three hours since she'd left for her errands, afternoon now melting into early evening. In his haste to get up he tangled the wires, cursing as he he sat back down. Diana huffed into view, heavy-looking bags on each arm. 

"Hey there," she threw him a quick smile before vanishing into the kitchen to set down her load, re-emerging a heartbeat later. She crossed the distance in a few strides, lightly squeezing his shoulder as she leaned over him to peer at the notes he'd taken. "How's it going? Anything viable?" 

Her touch, given with such casual affection, electrified him. He'd never been, never considered himself the type of person anyone would come home to. 

"Plenty." He needed to collect himself, clear his throat and mind and get a grip. "You did amazing work." And I can't use it in court because you incriminate yourself all throughout.

"Good, I'm glad. Would have been a re-" 

The shrill ringing of her landline interrupted them. Immediately, Javier mourned the loss of her touch, the spot on his shoulder where her hand had lingered now turning cold. Pull yourself together, dammit! 

The telephone was mounted on the wall that separated hallway and kitchen, and had a cord long enough to allow for a range of movement to about halfway into the latter. Unsure of whether he was supposed to be listening, he tried to go back to the recording. Only tried rather turned into pretended. As quickly as he had put the headphones on, he took them off again, watching Diana for a moment of hesitation. She was shuffling around the kitchen entrance, emptying her shopping bags with the phone receiver pinned between her cheek and shoulder. She was talking to her aunt, tense and worried, but managed a small smile when she caught Javier's eye. Wordlessly, he started helping her putting the groceries away as directed. 

"No, I know you don't approve. No one approves except Gabriela, and incidentally Gabriela is also the only one who saw that I was making a mistake right from the start and the only one who tried to dissuade me from going through with the wedding, and if I'd only listened to her and my gut back then, I wouldn't-" She turned her back at this, and Javier put away the last few pieces and left the kitchen, giving her the pretense of privacy at least. It wasn't like the apartment was so vast that her voice wouldn't carry. He walked over to the stereo system he'd turned off earlier and switched it back on, fiddling with the volume by way of looking distracted. 

"...No, and I don't want to talk about it any more. I don't care what the Pope says; the Pope was never married! ...Yes, put her on; I think that's better for everyone involved." 

Immediately her voice and stance relaxed, became softer and warmer, and the conversation a lot more one-sided as Diana talked to Salome on the phone. Javier's knees were starting to protest at his half-kneeling by the sideboard, but he was too transfixed by trying to determine whether the little girl would perhaps say a few words today. She sometimes did, though very rarely, and Javier had yet to witness it himself. 

"Okay, my little darling, you be good for granny, alright? Sleep well, sweetheart. I love you. Bye-bye." 

Diana hung up and shuffled over, taking a seat on he edge of the coffee table closest to him. Javier gave up on the volume dial and turned towards her. 

"Everything okay?" She nodded and took off her glasses to rub at her eyes. Cautiously, Javier placed his hand atop hers where it laid in her lap, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the top of it soothingly. "And are you okay?" 

"I will be; I just- ...I try that she at least hears my voice every day, even if I can't be there and- She's so little and has already lost so much, and every time I have to leave I feel like I'm just making it worse and like maybe that's why she still barely talks. And it's so unfair! She's just a little girl and she needs her mother or at least she needs a mother and we try - my aunt and I try our best but we're all that's left of this family." Her voice got quieter with each word, fading to a whisper before ceasing. Javier didn't know how to respond; all the obvious things seemed like meaningless phrases, frivolous and unhelpful. Diana deflated, her whole frame drooping like misery personified. She let out a single, quiet sob, gripping his hand in both of hers like he was her anchor. "I just wish I at least knew what I was doing." 

She wiped at her eyes angrily, blindly grasping for the glasses on the table behind her until she found them and shoved them back on. She stood abruptly, but did not let go of his hand, instead tugging him up, to which his beleaguered knees only objected more. 

"Sorry, forget that. Let's sort out dinner." She stalked back into the kitchen, and Javier could only follow of creaky knees, the blood rushing back down into his feet and making them prickle and almost falter. She finally let go of his hand in front of the refridgerator, throwing open the door of it like a shield between them.  

"So for dinner I was thinking-" 

"Miss Rivas." She didn't even hear him, just went on explaining what was possible with the ingredients she'd picked up earlier. Javier laid his hand on top of hers gently, feeling the tension in her fingers, the tremble in them as she gripped the fridge door tight. Gently still, he eased her grip and shut the door. She didn't even look at him, obstinately staring down at the tiled floor instead. 

"I'm in control of my emotions." She declared defiantly. "I'm not a liability to your investigation." 

"I know." Javier took both her hands in his now, squeezed them once, still gentle. Kept his voice soft too; soft and low and for her ears only. "I know you ...aren't. It's okay. You're doing so good. You're doing amazing. It's okay." On the last few words, he raised their entwined hands, nudging her chin up to look at him. Took in her reddened but stubbornly dry eyes, her lips pressed into a painful line, and the hard set of her jaw and brows. All she needed was one final push to let go, one word of permission, and he gave it gladly. "It's okay." 

He'd expected an outburst now, an explosive outpouring of grief or at least wrath. Instead, Diana squeezed his hands back once before letting go, leaving him standing in the kitchen while she went into her bedroom. He heard her rummage around for a moment, then she returned with a small photo album in her hands which she carefully set down on the counter before throwing it open and flipping through the pages until she found the picture she was looking for. It showed what he assumed was her family. He recognized only her and Maritza, both noticeably younger then. Side by side, the family resemblance became more apparent, especially in comparison with the respective parents. Wordlessly, she flipped through the pages. In the next one Maritza's father was missing, the one after that, her own father was no longer there. The one after that showed the addition of a young man and what must have been a newborn Salome, him holding the baby with a broad, dimpled smile that his daughter had inherited. He was gone in the following picture, Diana's mother vanished in the one after that, until the last photograph showed only Maritza's mother, Diana herself, and little Salome. 

"Some time after we cleared out Maritza's apartment, I went to Escobar's grave. If I was looking for some kind of satisfaction, I didn't find it there." She closed the album with a sharp snap. "The whole drive back, last night, I was sure I was about to end up fish fodder, and I just thought... with how my aunt's health is failing, will Salome be all alone in the world before she's even five?" 

Javier swallowed hard, choking on the words that had sprung up onto the tip of his tongue. That he wouldn't let that happen (but it could have happened not twenty-four hours prior and there would have been nothing he could have done about it). That he would make sure the little girl was taken care of (How? He wasn't kin and Diana's aunt didn't know him. And he wasn't exactly prime fatherhood material, so what exactly did he think he could do?). And in the back of his head, he still heard the desperate shallow little breaths she'd heaved during her panic attack. So different words jumped onto his tongue instead, tumbling out before he could ever think through the implications. 

"Do you want out? You don't even have to go meet Mrs Jurado tomorrow, I can organize to have you pulled out within the week. And your family too. You'd be safe." 'I am never doing this again', she'd said. Well, he wouldn't make her. And considering what he knew now, that his whole investigation was just a front? What was the damn point of it anyway? 

Diana smiled, just a slight quirk of the corner of her lip, but the first in what felt like hours now. "Now? No. I don't want anyone else having to go through what my family and I went through, here or anywhere. This kind of...lust for power - it's grasping. It never stops, it is never satisfied. And it doesn't care what stands in its way." 

"You sure?" He ought to tell her, he really ...but even though the betrayal isn't his, just his to hand on, he hesitates again. 

"I am. Starting with meeting Christina Jurado tomorrow. Besides, you'll be with me all the way through." 

"Yeah," his voice creaks like a rusty hinge, "Yeah, of course I'll be. Just a stone's throw away." --- "Goodness, does she ever shut up?" Javier shut the door behind himself, hanging up the spare key on the hook by the door. They'd just returned from Diana and Mrs Jurado's coffee and lunch date - separately for safety purposes - and Javier's head was still swimming. Diana might be reasonably called talkative, but at least she had things to say. Christina Jurado, it turned out, could talk a mile a minute without saying much of substance at all. Diana had been all but steam-rollered by the barrage of conversation and Javier, who had listened closely to all two and a half hours of it, was starting to feel the beginnings of a pressure headache building. 

"Without being condescending, Agent Peña, there is so much that men don't understand about the way women talk with each other." Diana peeked out into the hallway with a raised eyebrow. "Besides, she may well have been... uuh-" 

"May have been what?" After discarding his shoes, he walked into the apartment fully. Diana frowned, then touched a fingertip to the side of her nose with a meaningful look. When he didn't light up with sudden understanding, she gave a good-natured yet long-suffering sigh. And Javier really thinks he should probably have slept more than four hours, but his back was now paying the price for his stint on that marshmallow fluff that passed for Katie's mattress, and also his mind liked to give him trouble when it ought to quiet down. 

"She may have been what, Miss Rivas?" 

"Mrs Jurado, I have good reason to believe, likes to uhh... sample the product." The penny rolled around Javier's exhausted mind a moment longer before dropping. 

"...You mean to tell me she was high on cocaine the whole time?" 

"Yes. Why are you whispering?" Why indeed. Javier cleared his throat and wondered why this revelation left him so scandalized. "She did use on Friday night, too, which is a frequency I honestly find alarming. I hope it's more of a weekend thing- Franklin knows, but I don't think he has any idea what to do about it. I'd reckon it's something they're both keen to keep under wraps, though for different reasons. I don't imagine the gentlemen would be overly thrilled, especially the brothers. They like to keep a pretty tight hold on everything even remotely to do with the business." 

"Huh... what the hell are you do-" While he had been musing on this new development in his sluggish mind, she'd stuck one hand down her blouse from the top and the other up it from the bottom, fumbling around for a moment before pulling the wiretap she'd been wearing for the meeting out and handing it to him non-chalantly. 

"When's your flight?" 

"Uh, late. Later. Ten-ish." He'd be back in Bogotá before midnight, but there was the drive back to Buenaventura to consider. Even so, it was only mid-afternoon now. Javier rubbed his hand over his burning eyes. His brain was no longer in a state to be doing that kind of math and he sighed, the coffee he'd just had clearly not doing anything. 

"You have at least an hour to get some sleep. Come lie down." She was out from in front of him and across the room before he could blink tiredly, already pushing back the coffee table and bending to pull out the couch. Javier meant to protest, he really did. But. Sleep beckoned. And so, with heavy feet dragging across the laminate floor, he acquiesced. 

"Thanks." He mumbled, gratefully receiving a pillow. 

"I'll wake you in an hour, hour and a half tops." She already sounded further away than she should be, considering she was by the sofa-bed's - and his - head still. Javier hummed a reply, more affirmative sound than any proper words. As he drifted off, he thought he felt gentle fingers brushing the hair back from his forehead. But surely that was just wishful thinking, for what else could it be? ---

So, six more months of looking busy and doing nothing while the Calí godfathers revved up operations to squeeze as much money as they could out. He'd had to send his agents home after they'd been splashed all over the front page of the Espectador, so not only did the DEA not currently have any presence on the ground in Calí, it also left Diana without even the faintest layer of protection. And with the massive stink the Colombians, fronted by General Vargas, had kicked up about it, he couldn't send in any replacements, no matter how eager or indeed fastidious Agent Feistl was. And now the incident in Yumbo. The youngest of the dead had only been six years old. Javier glowered at the TV report where the safety inspector was giving his final report. Natural gas leak... yeah, sure. This thing reeked; he felt it in his bones that the cartel was responsible somehow. And he couldn't go after them. The desire to go find Stechner and smash his stupid smug face through the screen became near unbearable. He turned the TV off before the urge manifested into action. 

He sat down behind his desk, taking a moment to look around the largely dark and empty office space around him before opening that particular drawer on the top right and taking out the arrest warrants. Their money and power and the influence both bought meant that the Calí bosses could move comparatively freely, but they still hid away. Carefully so, with the kind of tight-knit security that most heads of state could only dream of. Even if he did find a way to get at them, his hands were now unofficially bound. Well over a year's work, two good agents sent home, his informant risking her life every single day, more innocent dead who would never get justice, and what for? He hated it. He still hadn't told her. He thought about quitting. 

The phone rang. He knew it was her. She didn't even try his home landline first now, knowing he spent his evenings at the office more often than not. Javier let it ring once more while mustering up the courage to come clean. 

"Miss Rivas, good evening." 

"Decidedly not. Did you watch the news?" 

Javier scrubbed a hand over his face, squeezed his eyes shut so as to not have to look at the warrants spread out on his desk. There was only so much mockery a man could take. "Yeah. Yeah, I did." 

"It was them. David specifically, that self-absorbed buffoon. They chewed him out for over half an hour over it, which is far less than he deserves." 

"I figured." His throat felt tight; undoing another shirt button did precisely nothing. 

"Gilberto worries it will give the government leverage to go back on the deal. I hope it does."

So did Javier, but knowing the special interests being at play here he didn't hold out much hope. 

"And you have been made to recall your agents from Calí." 

Javier gulped. "Yes." 

"But they'll be replaced, right?" 

Well, here goes nothing then. "...No." 

Silence. She's not one to raise her voice even when upset and right now she must be livid. But perhaps she's shocked before anything else. Shocked into silence, into disbelief. He hates this, too. He wishes she would scream at him. Instead all he gets is a brittle quiet little '...What?' 

And it's so unfair, all of it. Stechner doesn't have to face her with this, the bastard. None of the politicians who are oh so invested in this little vanity project do either, the consequences aren't real to them. They get to collect the empty symbol of a supposedly bloodless surrender, some good publicity, and don't have to do or face any of the ugly truths on the ground. He thinks about quitting again. Pats his pocket for the reporter's business card. If he's leaving, he thinks, he'd do it with a bang. Burn all bridges with a mighty barrage of his personal J'accuse. But for now that's all idle thinking. 

"The surrender deal is going ahead as planned, because the powers that be will it so." He explained, truly understanding the sentiment of shooting the messenger at this very moment. "My hands are bound, there's nothing I can do."  

"Bullshit!" Yeah, agreed. He tries saying more, justifications that turn to dust on his tongue before the words even leave his mouth. His heart's not in it, and it only serves to stoke her wrath, fearsome even over the distance of the phone line. 

"What else will they get away with? If you're rich enough you can buy impunity? A blank cheque for murder? How many more people must die? Every day I go in and make myself complicit in it all on the promise that it will take them down!" 

The worst part of this, perhaps, is that he knows she's right. If any of those senators in their cushy Washington offices had even a bit of her bravery, her steadfastness, her moral clarity– 

"I'm sorry." His mouth is so dry. At last he opens his eyes again, glaring down at the warrants. Gilberto Rodríguez Orejuela. Miguel Rodríguez Orejuela. 

"You're sorry?" Even now her voice is still level. Full of venomous disbelief and cold with rage, yes, but it has not risen even a single decibel. 

"Miss Rivas, I-" 

The line went dead with a click. She'd hung up.

--- --- --- 

author’s notes: 

*me, an idiot* this chapter will cover episodes 1 through to 4. this is a thing that is feasible and realistic

*me, 7000 words in and still at the party* ah. oh no.

in other words: remember last chapter when I cut things off because I wanted to keep it below 10k? yeah, that won’t be happening anymore. It takes as long as it takes. *shrug emoji* stay hydrated.

DIAN (Dirección de Impuestos y Aduanas Nacionales) is the Colombian government agency that is responsible for collecting taxes

Fernando Botero is a Colombian artist and sculptor, famous for these really chunky bronze statues, though the one I reference here is a complete fabrication and does not actually exist

according to the Art and Making of Narcos book Navegante’s actual name is Jorge Velasquez

‘chompa’ according to the dictionary I used, is a term for jacket used in Colombia and some other places

yes I looked up average temperatures in all these cities. I have concluded that it gets hot af in Laredo

La Javeriana (Pontificia Universidad Javeriana) is one of the oldest and most prestigious universities in Colombia. Presidential candidate Carlos Luis Galan did indeed attend there, as did president Ernesto Samper, who is president during the season in the show. He also did indeed teach there for a while in the early 80s, which fortunately matches up with my timeline. It was indeed founded before Harvard. Thirteen years before to be exact (1623 vs 1636)

here’s the drawing Diana made of Pallomari (contador=accountant): 

tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @fromthedeskoftheraven @dindjarindiaries @shikin83 @cinewhore @maddoggrahaml @javier-djarin @huliabitch @heatherbel @shestillwrites1​

didn’t ask to be tagged but reblogged all previous parts and therefore I assume you enjoyed it regardless of that you reading my story made me very happy list: @asoftcollection​ (thank you for indulging me and brainstorming the Jurados with me it helped a lot) @holographic-carmen​  @dermandalorianer​  @oldstuffnewstuff​ (sry it won’t let me tag ur sideblog hope this is okay)

Next Chapter

[geeky-politics-46]

The Asgardian Candidate

Loki/The West Wing FanFiction Crossover

Chapter 3 - “The First Debate”

The 2 candidates strode toward the center of the stage for the ceremonial pre-debate handshake. Both men exuding confidence & authority, even though the air around them was thick with palpable tension

The first lady, Abbey, entering hand in hand with her husband. It was an effort to further highlight the differences between the candidates.

President Bartlet easily outplayed Loki in policy knowledge, but regardless the handsome raven haired charismatic Loki managed to maintain a thin lead over the incumbent. Tonight they were hoping to change that.

They had found a vulnerable spot in Loki, one that Jed was particularly suited to take advantage of. Jed Bartlet was a family man 1st & foremost, nothing mattered more to him. Loki, always solo on the campaign trail with no spouse or relatives to be seen, became visibly angered at the mention of family.

After the first lady had smiled & waved to the audience she turned to her husband. Abbey tipped her head up & kissed Jed, she then placed her hand on his chest over his heart & touched her forehead to his. Both of their eyes closed in that moment & the president placed his hand over Abbey’s, smiling as their hands met.

Loki watched the display with annoyance, to him they were simply putting on an act, a show for their audience. They were posturing.

To the Bartlet’s however this was their moment of ritual, a grounding force that connected them before a moment of political chaos. While it may have been Loki’s weakness, Jed derived only strength from his family & especially from his wife.

Loki placed his hands on his hips & shifted his weight to signal his impatience with being made to wait. He had just finished rolling his eyes when Abbey pulled away from her husband & exited the debate stage.

President Bartlet was the 1st to extend his hand, his warm friendly smile covering a feeling of anxiety. He may be the President of the United States, the Commander In Chief, but something about this man exuded an authority outranking even his own.

Loki locked hands with the President, his lips curling into his signature mischievous smirk, lowering his gaze slightly & boring his rich emerald eyes into his opponent. He was ready for a battle.

As they walked to their podiums, Loki’s eyes stayed on the President. Like a predator stalking his prey, he watched every step the man took. The president could feel the eyes on him, causing him to swallow hard as he took his position.

The 2 men stood roughly 20 feet apart on the large stage, podiums angled toward the front center. The audience had begun to silence & still themselves. The moderator was finishing up sorting her papers. It was nearly time to begin.

Bartlet adjusted his microphone, straightened his tie, basically anything except look at the man to his left. Loki was still staring him down, & he couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at the nervous fidgeting he had elicited.

Loki’s attention snapped to the front of the stage as the moderator began reciting the debate rules over her own microphone. Truth be told, he had been so wrapped up in his game that he had forgotten she was even there.

He could hardly even see her due to the stage lights, so he looked for the news & TV cameras instead. That was where he would focus. That was who he was campaigning to after all, to the millions watching on TV. They were who he wanted to win.

As the cameras went live the moderator once again recited her introduction & the rules for the debate. This time leaving out bits & pieces that pertained only to the candidates themselves or to their staff. It was really showtime now.

“Good evening, & welcome to the first debate for this year’s U.S. Presidential election. The participants are President Josiah Bartlet, & Mr. Loki Laufeyson. I am Rachel Maddow your moderator. The topics this evening will all be pertaining to U.S. domestic policy. The format for the debate is as follows, & has been agreed to by both campaigns. Each candidate will make a 2 minute opening statement. The debate will then be divided into 6 segments, each 14 minutes long. At the beginning of each segment I will ask both candidates the same lead-off question & they will each have up to 2 minutes to respond, we will then move into open discussion for the rest of the time allotted. At the end of the debate each candidate will be given 2 minutes to make a closing statement. Mr. Laufeyson you won the coin toss, so we will be beginning with you. You have 2 minutes for your opening statement please.”

Loki shifted his weight from foot to foot, hands poised on the edges of the podium. He glanced downward & licked his lips. A smile spread across his face as he brought his gaze back up, locking into the cameras.

“Well, first of all thank you dear Rachel & my opponent, President Bartlet, for taking part in this glorious display of… purpose… before the American people. I know you all feel lost, like leaves scattered in the wind. Without a true direction. That is the downside of freedom, it diminishes life’s joy as you scramble for identity. In order to truly embrace all that this life, this country, has to offer you must put your trust in a true leader. Someone who will lead you down the path toward greatness without question or hesitation. I will be that benevolent leader if you put your trust in my hands.”

“Thank you Mr. Laufeyson. Now to you President Bartlet.”

“I grew up on the promise of life, liberty, & the pursuit of happiness. Along the way, however, we learn how important so many other things there are in our lives. Healthcare, an education, family. Those are just a few that pop to mind. I am, & will be a, president who see’s these issues as ever evolving questions seeking adaptable solutions. As your president I will continue to fight for policy that pulls us forward together, not pushes people into a line. To unite as one family; because at the end of the day, if you have people to call your family - even if you aren’t related by family - you are never truly lost.”

Loki could feel the color drain from his face. Bartlet had just fired a shot across the bow, within the first five minutes of the debate Loki knew he was already starting to sink.

————————

It simply got worse from there. On Asgard Loki never had to attend to matters of actual policy. He was trained as a sorcerer & warrior with a birth right to the throne. Why in the nine realms would he have bothered to learn about budgets & taxes? He was a prince, destined to be a king. A ruler waiting for his throne.

Despite his best efforts to keep up, & even throw a few quick magical charms to make his answers sound more polished, he knew he was floundering. The bile was rising in his stomach as he watched the human to his right take the last of the open question time.

All he had to do now was deliver his closing statement. Then he would re-evaluate. He knew he would have to make a big move tomorrow if he wanted to hold any footing .

“We have now come to the final segment of our debate, the closing statements. Mr. Laufeyson, you have 2 minutes.”

“Standing here, before all of you, I must confess that I spent much of my life being lied to. Many of you have also spent your lives being lied to, by the politicians who claim they will put your needs first. Being told you were something only to find out it was all fiction. All they really care about is power. It’s time for something different than these same lies time after time. I will never feed you those same lies, I will lead you to where you can fully flourish. I will make it easy for you.”

“President Bartlet, you have 2 minutes for your closing statement.”

“While I know that many voters prefer to not delve too deep into the world of policy specifics, & I certainly understand why, but a president should be able to give you a specific plan of how they intend to solve the problems befalling our country. While my opposition here certainly has a flair for language, even when it edges a tad on the overdramatic, I have yet to hear him detail exactly how he will lead this country to a better place. I can tell you that there aren’t many un-nuanced moments in leading a country, it takes much more than fancy generalities. So, Mr. Laufeyson, my question to you is what comes after the generality? What are the next 10 words? How are we going to do it? Give me the next 10 words after that & I’ll drop out of the race right now.”

Loki stood yet with his mouth agape. Fists clenched so tight on the podium his knuckles were white. A mere mortal had bested him, & he knew it just as well as Loki did. Even the moderator had appeared stunned at Bartlet’s closing statement bravado.

As the moderator closed out the debate, the tv camera crews began their scuttle over to the spin room to try & get the best spot for interviews. Bartlet smiled & waved to the audience as he strode offstage. Loki stood there, basking in the stage lights for just a moment longer. Taking a deep breath to compose himself before turning & leaving through the other side of stage. He could already see staffers & stagehands clearing a path for him, they could feel the frustration radiating off of him.

His campaign staff would be taking care of all the post debate interviews. On his best days he hardly had patience for them, on days like today he would rather be looked in closet with his brother than deal with the media’s pedantic prattling. Loki had a plan to put together, & he had to put it together fast.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

A Grave Life Part Thirty Eight

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Notes: Not beta-read. Hope all is well with you guys 💖 Fun fact: The original Ponzi schemes, which many scams are now named as, happened in the 1920s! Warnings: Mentions of illness; drowning mention Summary: My head still felt impossibly heavy, like someone had stacked A History of Magic, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, and Magical Theory all on my forehead. 

“She almost drowned from the amount of water that was in her lungs.”

Whoever was saying so was saying so very loudly, and it was not helping my headache. I turned my head away from the source of the sound, groaning quietly. My head still felt impossibly heavy, like someone had stacked A History of Magic, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, and Magical Theory all on my forehead.

Whoever had been speaking stopped for just a moment before they went on,

"If Stewart hadn’t dragged her up from the bottom of the Hudson, she wouldn’t be here right now.”

I had the sinking feeling I’d be hearing about that later.

“Abernathy was able to extract the water, but she was incredibly disoriented... I understand that she was moved there for recovery before, but she’s too unwell to move now. Her fever has yet to come down. We’ll need to keep an eye out for fluid imbalances, shortness of breath... It’s possible that she may develop pneumonia.”

There were a few more words passed between the people in the room, but they were speaking so softly, I didn’t catch them. I heard the door click closed. I thought I was alone. And then I felt the bed dip, and a hand rest on my head. It should’ve made my head feel heavier, but it didn’t. I focused just on slow, soothing motion of the thumb sweeping across my forehead. I felt so cold; the hand was nice and warm. I tipped my head up into it, wincing at the motion, unable to help the whimper that left me.

Someone shushed me gently, smoothing their hand across my hair. I wanted to open my eyes, but my lids felt so heavy. The hand drifted down, the back of it pressing to my cheek. It rested there for a moment before it returned to my hair. I drifted off again in that silence, focused on the fingers combing through my hair and soothing my heavy head. --

“Who’s that from?” Queenie had manged to remain uninterested in my mail for all of five minutes. I smiled, answering, “Theseus,” Flippantly before moving on to the next envelope.

I’d gotten quite the talking-to. In fact I’d gotten several talking-to’s - from Matilda, Picquery, Tina and Queenie (simultaneously - which had been a trip; I’d never watched Queenie read anyone’s mind so actively before, but she’d seamlessly woven her points around Tina’s without missing a beat, because she knew exactly where Tina was going). Graves hadn’t bothered to give me one on his own - he’d been present when Picquery had spoken to me, and when asked if he had anything additional to add, had simply said,

“You covered off on everything I’d planned to say, Madam President.”

Never mind the fact that he hadn’t met my eye once, or so much as breathed in my direction. Picquery had been more stern than usual, but then, I’d nearly died, so it was warranted. The fact that I was not dead, combined with the fact that Abernathy had nabbed Moretti (who had apparently been more focused on trying to kill me than watching his six) meant that I was more or less off the hook, and the Owen case was finally closed. I was on desk-duty until I was cleared by medical (there was no lingering shortness of breath, no fluid imbalances, no pneumonia - though the doctor had informed me that I had an unusual amount of stupidity. I told her that I had been diagnosed with that at a young age).

Matilda and Queenie had bonded over my idiocy while I was bedridden, and it was nice to see Queenie’s bubbly nature meld with Matilda’s dry humor. It had led to Queenie spending more time around us while I was on desk-duty anyway.

“You’re not going to open it?” Matilda asked, frowning.

“Mm, not right now. He likes to still send them here instead of my apartment because he knows what a shake-up his being here caused for me. Git,” I sighed. Queenie began to giggle, but stifled it behind her hand as a shadow fell over us.

“Mr. Graves,” Matilda straightened up at her desk. I didn’t look away from the letter as I heard Graves reply, “Ms. Stewart. Ms. Goldstein.”

“Mr. Graves,” Queenie said quietly. She plucked up her empty coffee tray, tucking it under her arm and hurrying away. Graves didn’t address me, and I didn’t bother to look away from my mail. I dropped a letter in the trash bin by my desk as I heard the click of his shoes retreating. After a few moments, I looked up to see Matilda staring at me incredulously.

“What?” I asked.

“What was that?” She hissed.

"Oh, it was just some letter from someone named Ponzi about a vacation house near Jacksonville down in Florida. I hardly ever travel, the investment would be worthless for me, and on our salary, imagine--”

“Not the letter!” Matilda snapped. I raised a brow.

“Are you alright, ‘Tilda?” I asked.

Matilda’s mouth worked wordlessly for a few moments before she leaned back in her seat, eyes set on me with disbelief and shock.

“...What?” I asked.

“It was him, wasn’t it?” She asked after a moment.

“What was him?” I shook my head.

“You know,” She leaned in, lowering her voice, reminding me: “‘Quiet in a settled way, not in a timid way’, or whatever it was that you said.”

My blood ran cold, and I let my eyes fall back to my mail.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, ‘Tilds,” I mumbled. She didn’t say anything for a few moments, and when I let myself glance at her, I found her staring at Graves’ closed office door.

“I think you’re right,” She finally said, turning back to me, “He’s not the love letter type.” -- “Well-- I mean, of course I heard the rumors about you and Graves, everyone did. But I never believed them,” Matilda admitted, “Did Scamander really ask for you to be moved to his team while he was here?”

We’d gone to Matilda’s apartment once she’d politely demanded that I explain what she’d worked out. Queenie had seen us on our way out, dipped into Matilda’s mind, and gaped at me, asking, “She didn’t know?” I had been inundated with questions about my association with Percival for the last hour. Queenie had been filling things in where she knew the answers, giving me a bit of a break, but for every one thing that Queenie knew, there were two more that she didn’t. I nodded, confirming Matilda’s question, and the both of them gaped.

“The cheek,” Queenie gasped, over Matilda’s, “Just like a man.” I laughed a little.

“I think it was a very clumsy way of trying to spend more time with me,” I said, “I don’t... I don’t think Theseus saw it as overshadowing what I’d done. Not that I’d done anything but get myself in trouble at that point.”

“That’s not true,” Queenie argued, setting me with a stern look, and I held my hands up in surrender before I reached for my glass of wine.

“What’d his letter say, anyway?” She asked. I hummed before swallowing.

“He sent his congratulations to us for wrapping up the Owen case, and mentioned that he’d heard about my... Mishap.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Matilda mumbled into her wine glass. I shrugged before going on,

“He’s asked me to visit as well. He’s asked a few times since he left, actually.”

“Are you going to? You’ve got plenty’a leave saved up,” Queenie pointed out. I’d been asking myself that question all day. I shook my head a little.

“Probably not.”

“Maybe getting outta the country would do you some good.”

“Maybe being around a man that’s interested in you would do you some good,” Matilda tacked on. She had this way of being about twelve times more blunt when she’d had more than one glass of wine. It stung, but I pushed out a laugh, and Matilda and Queenie’s giggles followed mine.

“I don’t think Thees is still interested,” I shook my head as I rested my head on my hand.

“I don’t think he’d be asking you to visit if he was uninterested,” Matilda retorted. We all went quiet as I considered this.

“Is he the type?” She asked after a few moments. I laughed, nodding.

“Oh... Yes. He’d wax poetic. That’s just his way.”

“Go to London for a few days,” Queenie urged, “See if he’s still interested. More important-- See if you’re still interested.” Tag list: @myplaceofheavenorhell ; @britishfajita ; @terrainhead ; @xespressopatronumx​ ; @thatkidofwarandpeace ;  @elishamoon13 ; @rvgrsbrns ;​ @maaaaryx​ ; @remmyswritings​ ;

[simpingforthisonedeer]

Chapter 9: Tempestuous II

Summary: Julius finds Aika in the Wizard King's study; One of the important reasons for Aika's hesitance is discovered; And there's a five-leaf grimoire👀👀

Notes: 

- completely SFW

- 4k words, a relatively short read compared to my other chapters agfdsghfjhl. - There are also more clues as to what Julius is and I give you one letter. If you figure it out from just that, I will legitimately shit myself. - I introduce an original character who is Marx's older brother and like all side characters, he is important.

- Be sure to check the notes at the end and enjoy (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Aika sat down on her most favourite sofa in the Wizard King’s study with a sigh and a cup of tea. She had just finished tearing down all the talisman stuck to the shelves and walls that prevented anyone from detecting the room and noticing the door from the actual office which was also covered by a painting. She had her personal books in a few dozen stacks around her, ready to be shoved into her backpack but she decided to take a small break.

She could faintly hear the muffled discussion on the other side of the wall of Julius apologizing profusely to someone named “Marx.” Aika had recently confirmed it was Marx Francois, Julius’ advisor and attendant. He may not know her, but Aika knew him well enough. His older brother, Karl Francois, is the president of her company and a close friend of hers and he would sometimes tell her about his brother.

Aika sighed contentedly into her cup. She should have tea with him sometime, especially since she doesn't have her amulet to walk around the castle without scrutiny. She did vaguely remember Karl mentioning that Marx liked black tea.

She turned to the door leading to the office curiously when all became quiet. She heard a door swing shut and some sound of shuffling on the other side of the wall and the door in front of her slammed open.

“Aika!” The invader exclaimed. Her heart jumped when she realized owner of the voice.

“Julius,” she greeted cordially. “I suppose Master Raymond told you about the hidden study?”

He rubbed the back of his head.

“Well, not really. I asked him where I could find you. That’s when he told me about the study.”

She hummed in response. So, he was thinking about her.

“Good. Would you like a cup of tea while you tell me how the banquet went?” She asked politely as she patted the sofa next to her.

“No, no, no,” he shook his head as he strode to where she sat. “You are going to answer my questions.” He plopped down next to her a respectable distance away but still too close. She expected him to sit on the other end of the sofa, not directly next to her. She calmed herself as she served him tea.

“First of all, why are you wearing that?” Julius asked, pointing in the general direction of her face. Aika turned to him curiously as she handed him the tea.

“The wha—Oh.” Right, she was wearing a silk blindfold. Sometimes her eyes hurt and become sensitive to light because she had them open for too long. She used Mana Zone often and completely forgot. She couldn’t properly work in this state but it did allow her to organize her thoughts and meditate.

“My eyes hurt,” she answered simply. 

“But you are moving like you can see…” he murmured to himself. “Are you using Mana Zone? I heard that most blind people are quite adept at using it to do their day-to-day tasks.”

Oh, Aika knew that very well. She was blind for a year when she was around 20 and had practically used Mana Zone every waking moment. Due to the ritual she did that made her blind, she had also gained a weak form of clairvoyance, so she could still perceive things around her as if it were normal when she combined it with Mana Zone. The only downsides were that she couldn’t see color.

“Yes,” she answered, wincing internally at the cold tone. While she wanted to keep him at an arm’s length, she didn’t want to seem rude.

“I see, I see,” he nodded to himself, thankfully unfazed. “Tell me more about your company!”

“Well,” she began as she crossed her legs and slipped off her blindfold.

When Aika turned to him, his breath caught. In the dim firelight of the study, her eyes still seemed to glow on their own. His vision seemed to grow sharper and he could count every speck in her eye. He felt his mouth go dry. Oh, there was nothing Julius wanted more than to be held by her again.

She regarded him with a puzzled expression.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-Yes, Aika. I’m fine.” He looked away as he took a rejuvenating sip of tea.

“Okay, so, I started my company as a means to gather intelligence and sell it. We have agents called Eyes & Ears and they basically gather vital information about any and everything and a lot of times it includes spy work. So we also do private investigations and some mercenary work. But that seemed too limiting, so I expanded my horizons into research and education. My R&D department creates magic items and medical practices that would support their local communities and every few years, they collaborate on department-wide projects that are for the benefit of all.” Aika smiled, amused at the way he hung on to her every word.

“We have intensive job training programs of all kinds and we even started a healthcare program a few years ago for our employees but my biggest project right now is to actually make that sort of healthcare public because it's very affordable and our employees have been a big fan of it. But it’s hard because of different countries' laws so I have to go make a lot of appeals with certain Kings and Queens.”

He leaned forward, genuinely interested.

“How do you keep it affordable? Is there a way you could implement that kind of healthcare here in the forsaken realm?”

“Well, we have an exploration department that has multiple guilds across the world in countries where dungeon-diving by private citizens is allowed and taxes are relatively forgiving. This is where we sometimes get most of our revenue. But of course, we also have investors—Arthur is one—and so we try to provide the best services to both our employees and clients.” She touched her chin thoughtfully. “Well, we could institute our kind of hospitals but Clover Kingdom isn’t lacking in healing mages. We mainly use medical practices and technology because the areas we are targeting are places with weak or no magic and have no way to afford or access.”

“So, perhaps we should rearrange the concentration of healing mages in the common and noble realm then.”

“Yeah, well, healing mages are quite rare even in a magic-rich country like Clover Kingdom. It’s also a big problem that everyone here are magic dependent. This kingdom is quite behind on technology, innovation, medical practices and knowledge compared to the rest of the world. And to top it all off, Clover Kingdom maintains no foreign relations outside of the continent so there is no flow of information in. We would have to educate a lot of people in potion-making and using magical items and mundane tools to heal or treat ailments but like I said, Clover Kingdom is behind on education,” Aika ranted as she frowned. She caught the intrigued look on Julius’s face and pressed a gloved hand to her forehead as she apologized.

“Sorry, I meant no offense—”

“No, no, I’m not offended at all,” He said, waving her off. “I’ve simply never considered that point of view.” He gave her a wry smile. “And what you do seems really cool. Though, it sounds like a lot of work.”

She smiled faintly as she set her cup down and leaned her head back against the sofa. She needed to calm down and stop.

“It is, but I have a lot of time on my hands.”

Julius snorted.

“I’m sure you do,” he retorted softly as mirrored her and rested his head right next to hers.

“It’s fulfilling work too,” she said lowly. He hummed in response.

“Master Raymond told me you used to use this study as your office space but now you’re leaving,” he remarked as he looked around.

“Uncle Ray isn’t the studious type but I could tell you are. You would certainly want to use this space.”

“I would,” he admitted, turning his head to face her. “but you don’t have to leave.”

Aika peered at him from the corner of her eye.

“We could both use this space, Aika.”

“Julius…”

“You have really good advice and a different perspective that could be helpful in the future. I’d like to keep you close.”

“You already have an actual advisor. I’m just a consultant.” 

“Marx? He sees my vision, he understands it but he is a conformist, you are not.”

“Julius,” she began as she sat up. “I’m really flattered but I cannot move as freely around the castle anymore. No one here knows I exist.” And if he insisted on spending some time around her everyday, it could be disastrous.

“What do you mean?”

“My Amulet of Ignorance broke during battle and I like to be private. No one in this castle knows me and even if they did, they forgot.”

“You had an Amulet of Ignorance? Those are pretty rare!” Julius exclaimed, his eyes blown wide. She paused when she caught his gaze. Even though violet was a common color for eyes, she realized that his were the most beautiful ones she had ever seen. She realized she wanted a repeat of earlier today when he leaned into her touch and his lashes fanned his cheeks as he sighed with a serene smile.

“I know, and really expensive too.” Aika stood up abruptly and walked to the long desk facing the windows. She caught the purple light of the Wisteria trees sifting through the window panes and focused on clearing her mind. The more she looked at him, listened to him, the more painful it was. Because she wanted to be near him more than anything, but she couldn’t.

She needed to get out.

“It’s the terrifying ordeal of being known.” He laid an arm on her shoulder and she stiffened instinctively. His touch both burned and soothed her. “I completely understand, but don’t you think it’s time to step into the light and get credit for what you do? Like that spell you did on the battlefield?”

“No,” Aika asserted cooly as she shrugged his hand off. “I’m not looking for credit or glory.” 

Once upon a time, she sought glory, but it only left her shoulders heavy with medals and her chest hollow. She was tempted to let the scars stay too as a reminder that glory is empty but she decided to be kinder on herself so she could move on.

If someone gave her credit, great. If not, that’s also fine.

“But don’t you get tired of hiding?”

Yes, but if she had to deal with people more, that would be dangerous for everyone. It was better to be ignored and forgotten than to turn people into hateful creatures.

“What do you mean ‘turn people into hateful creatures?’” Julius asked curiously, he voice steeped in concern.

Aika whipped around. Did she seriously say that out loud? No. He was using Truth Magic. How dare he?

“You should know better than to use Truth Magic when you are trying to have a genuine conversation, Julius .” She stated deliberately, her mana rising around her.

“It’s hard to have a genuine conversation when the other person insists on hiding,” he retorted swiftly as his face turned to ice, masking his surprise at how she had caught on.

She snapped.

“It’s because I don’t want to publicize the fact that I exude so much negative mana that it turns people evil, okay?!” 

She pushed past him.

“Please.” Julius caught her by her forearms and swiveled her around to face him. The words caught in his throat at the sheer vulnerability on her face. “Please, I don’t want to ruin you,” she breathed, her voice cracking. Aika clenched her jaw as she held her tears at bay. “You are so good,” she lifted her gaze to meet his’. “So pure.”

Her words sent shivers up his spine as he carefully regarded her. Did she somehow know? No, that can't be, or she would have never insisted on maintaining distance.  Weg magic doesn’t affect him. That was the plain and simple truth. It was why he was so curious about it in the first place. He knew why it doesn’t affect him, but the world didn’t need to know.

Julius watched the way her lower lip trembled, eyes glassy with unshed tears and yearning as plain as day.

He needed to reassure her while keeping his secret.

“You think so little of me that I would be affected by it?” He murmured with a light tone.

“You think so little of my knowledge of my own condition that I wouldn’t know who it affects and who it doesn’t?” Aika snapped weakly. “Strength does not matter. It only doesn’t affect other forbidden magic users and certain species of non-humans.”

Non-humans. The words kept ringing in his head. 

Non-human. Non-human. Not-human.

“Your mother died so your half-breed arse could live!” His drunken father screamed as a glass shattered next to his head, shards pricking his scalp and cheek. 

“Don’t ever dare insinuate that your mother never loved you,” his voice came in a dangerous whisper. “You disgusting little N—”

 “Julius?”

He blinked quickly as he sought his bearings. His hands were clenching on her arms so tightly, he was sure Aika was in pain. He could feel sweat rolling down his cheeks. Or was it tears?

“Sorry,” he murmured as he blinked again, this time clearing his head.

No, he was human. And he was going to save all the humans in Clover Kingdom and bring them peace.

He rubbed her arms lightly as he healed her and slid his hands up to her shoulders.

“It won’t affect me,” Julius said plainly as his lips quirked up into a hesitant smile.

She looked at him dubiously. She just said that only— Oh. Is that how it is?  

“Why?” she asked as she sniffled, not expecting the truth.

“It’s simply the nature of my magic,” he answered vaguely. 

That could mean either thing but he could simply be saying that just because. Why does he keep on insisting? She was really not playing hard to get.

“Julius, that isn’t going to convince me. It has real effects. Why are you trying so hard when I am pushing you away?”

His eyes softened as he smiled in amusement.

“Is it so hard to believe that I might like you?”

“Yes?” She asked as if it was obvious. “I was literally rude to you on so many occasions.”

“I’m used to prickly characters.” He rebuffed with a wink.

Her shoulders relaxed slightly as she let out an embarrassing snort. She hung her head to hide the growing smile on her face.

“That doesn’t mean you should tolerate it,” Aika murmured half-heartedly. 

Julius laughed.

“Maybe not,” he murmured as he pulled her into a hug. Her face pressed up against the fur of his cape, tickling her nose as her hands hovered hesitantly around his waist. 

“But I’m very patient.”

After a moment of deliberation, she wrapped her arms around him and nestled into his chest. She will allow herself this one moment. 

Julius made a noise of contentment at the back of his throat as he pressed his cheek to her hair.

“Does this mean you’ll give me a chance?” he asked hopefully.

Aika pulled back and looked up at him with a deadpan look.

“No, there is still a lot you don’t know about me.”

“But, I want to learn—”

She shook her head and looked away.

“You don’t understand. The reason why I’m not convinced is because—” Should she even tell him? It might be a little too much. It was the reason why she was so scared and cautious about the effects her magic has on people.

“Because what?”

Ah, screw it.

“Because after Holly spent a week with me, she clawed Arthur’s face off and tore off my right arm,” she whispered under her breath.

“What? ” So that was the reason why she was so apprehensive. That...was actually understandable.

“She got irritable after 3 days and her behaviour kept escalating until she was outright hostile...She doesn’t remember of course. We had her memory erased after we restrained her,” Aika explained as stepped away from him, exhaustion sufusing through her. But Julius stopped her and took her gloved hands in his.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” he spoke softly as he squeezed her hand. What happened to her was horrible. “You don’t have to keep away from people, least of all me.” He straightened his shoulders, his eyes determined. “I am telling you with utmost confidence that it won’t affect me.”

One part of her was tempted to refuse anyway but his insistence made her curious. Is it bullheaded confidence or was he truly something else like Arthur pointed out or was his interest in weg magic not so innocent after all?

As she weighed the pros and cons, the more curious she got. Aika really wanted to know what the deal with Julius was, and if worst comes to worst, well, Karl Francois was an expert memory mage. She could erase her existence and it will be like this all never happened.

“Fine.”

Julius lit up at her response.

“I will give you one month time to prove that it truly won’t affect you.”

One month was a reasonable enough time for them to notice any effects. He most likely won’t spend all his time with her like Holly did and he will probably use mana skin to protect himself. And only then will she think about it.

“Thank you!” He exclaimed before he engulfed her into another hug. She could feel the relief coursing through him as he smiled into the crook of her neck. She shivered at the feel of his lips and nose and the way his lashes fluttered against her pulse.

Julius gently cradled her face as he pulled back and Aika melted in his hold despite herself. She could allow herself to be if he truly didn’t turn on her. He brushed her cheek with his thumb, making her look up at him. His eyes were like the darkest part of the sunset where the stars shone and the birds flew. She wanted him to keep looking at her like that. 

He angled his face as he slowly closed his eyes and Aika was mesmerized yet conflicted.

She wouldn’t be able to stop if his lips touched hers.

“Julius, stop,” she wanted to say but the words were stuck in her throat. She could feel herself giving into the feeling, the falling sensation as it swept through her. His touch burned with something she couldn’t describe but it set her free. Clarity flooded her senses, washing away her fatigue. Perhaps it was time to seek the light again.

Aika, no, stop, wait, wait, wait.

“Miss Aika!” Jayce crowed as the double doors from the main hallway to the study flew open. “We found a five-leaf grim—” Ellie, Evan and Jayce took three steps into the room before they halted to a stop at the scene in front of them.

The Wizard King and their boss, pressed up against each other, hair's-breadth away from a kiss.

Jayce slapped a hand over his mouth.

Ellie grabbed onto his and Evan’s collar as they scrambled backwards. She quickly shut the door as she threw an apologetic look at Aika’s burning face who disentangled herself from the king’s arms.

The room echoed with a bang and silence followed. 

Julius burst out laughing as he rubbed the back of his head.

“That was embarrassing!”

“Very,” Aika groaned into her hands. He took her hands once again and pulled her close. “You should go finish your paperwork. I have to talk to them about their mission,” she sighed as Julius placed kisses on her knuckles. She withdrew her hands as she took a step back, her heart twinging at the hurt glimmering in his eyes once again.

“I’d like for us to be friends in the meantime.”

“Do you truly like me?” Julius asked suddenly. Aika was taken aback by that.

“What do you mean? Of course I do.”

“Because, like you said, are you keeping your distance because you are trying to let me down slowly?”

Anger shot up her spine. In a second, she was a hair’s-breadth away once again, face cocked to the side. Julius parted his lips, half-surprised, half-expectant but she only stayed agonizingly close.

“Are you insinuating that I am lying to you about my reasons?” Her voice came lowly.

“No, but—”

“Good, so as long as we can conclusively say that I can’t affect you, I will keep my distance.” He blushed at her heated look. “Because even I cannot resist temptation itself.”

Julius took a stuttered breath as he stepped back this time. Oh, god.

“Understood.” He cleared his throat as Aika suppressed a smile. “I will, ah,” he motioned vaguely at the door behind him. “Go do my paperwork.”

As if.

He walked away to the door and looked back one last time. She had her arms crossed as she worried her lower lip.

“Goodnight.” She waved with a reassuring smile. He echoed her as the corner of his lip quirked up. 

He could be patient.

The door clicked shut and the world grew quiet in Aika's head for one still moment...Before adrenaline rushed through her veins, buckling her knees and knocking the air out of her.

Holy shit.

That interaction had taken more out of her than anything. It’s been years since she had any complex, romantic interactions and god, the yearning was exhausting.

Aika stumbled over to the cold tea on the low table in front of the sofas and picked up the cup as she took deep, slow breaths. She waved her hand over it and rewound time to make it warmer. She took a big sip as her heart finally began to calm down. She silently padded over to the main doors and swiftly pired one open. 

Surprisingly enough, the three were not listening in. They were instead gathered in a small circle, talking in low voices.

“This bird had some nerve yanking my hair,” Ellie growled.

“What’s going on?”

Evan and Jayce moved out of the way when they heard Aika, revealing a little anti-bird with an impossibly bored expression resting on Ellie’s cupped hand. She raised a brow at that. The three of them are fairly powerful mages, with Ellie and Jayce being stage 2 while Evan was an arcane stage. So, why was an anti-bird so comfortable in their presence?

“This anti-bird kept following us from Hage, miss,” Jayce groused as he poked it on its head. She walked closer so she could inspect it. She reached out a hand but it evaded her as it flew up and perched on Evan’s head.

“You are weakened but you still have more mana than us?” Ellie asked incredulously.

Aika shook her head and waved them in. She settled back down on the couch as she crossed her legs imperiously. She watched in mild amusement while they carefully inspected the room like the Wizard King was going to pop out from somewhere. She stared down Jayce as he held back a blush, no doubt about the scene earlier, but he shook his head, reassuring her that he wouldn’t say anything. But, she knew that they would thoroughly interrogate her after they were done.

They soon lined up in front of her, backs straight and eyes sharp as they pressed a hand over their hearts and bowed low in a salute as protocol required before they could report to her. While she understood the need for ceremony, they were personally close to her so she had asked them to skip it in the past, but they insisted anyway, saying that it made them feel more like grown-ups.

Ellie was the first to speak up.

“We spent some time inspecting the abandoned cottage like you asked us to.”

“And we have some good news, strange news, and stranger news,” Jayce continued after her.

Aika threw back the last sip of tea and stared at the tea leaves at the bottom of the cup as she half-heartedly attempted to divine from them.

“What is the good news?”

“The good news is that Master Raymond and Lady Lydia had successfully moved into your home without any issues, though they did talk of maybe doing renovations.”

“Good.” She set her cup down with a ‘clink.’ “The strange news?” She breathed out as she reclined, resting her temple against the palm of her hand while she leaned on her elbow.

“Master Raymond wanted us to give you a letter from one Arian Silva, which is supposedly an invitation to tea tomorrow if your schedule allows it.”

Jayce handed her a wax-sealed letter. She noted that the seal was red, meaning that it was a formal letter, which was just the usual.

Aika flicked the seal open and skimmed the letter. It was indeed an invitation to tea and he simply wanted to speak to her about that day on the battlefield. 

Yes, quite simple. She thought as a headache began to grow.

“And the stranger news?” She asked, her eyes still wearily glued to the paper in her hand. She looked up curiously when no one said anything.

The anti-bird on Evan’s head seemed to glare daggers at her as he sifted through his cloak. He whipped out a small potato sack and emptied out its contents onto the table between them.

It was a musty, decrepit-looking grimoire, dark in color with no discernable symbol on the cover. She picked it up and immediately felt something off about it.

“We investigated the abandoned cottage and we believe it may be at most 5 years since anyone had occupied it and you were right, there were traces of a lot of forbidden magic,” Evan confirmed.

Aika wiped the cover where she knew a symbol would be and her jaw nearly dropped at the abnormal clover formation.

“We believe we found a five-leafed grimoire.”

Notes:  

- Yes, I think I'm funny naming Marx's older brother "Karl" LMAOOOO His name was actually supposed to be "Anwir" so make what you will of it👀 - That lil tidbit of Aika being blind for a year and being sensitive to light is important to remember👀

- That is sweat rolling down his cheeks lmaooo I’m not going to make him cry(yet) - Homegirl manifested a whole intervention LMAOOOOO - Nero doesn't avoid Aika bc she has any mana, no, she's avoiding Aika bc she can feel the forbidden magic coming off of her and knows that Aika will find out Nero is human the moment she touches her.

[losille2000]

Mister America, Prologue: Massachusetts

CHAPTER NUMBER: 1/? CHARACTERS: President!Chris Evans/OFC (see notes) GENRE: Romance/Drama FIC SUMMARY: After a massive social media write-in campaign organized by others, Chris finds himself thrust into a spotlight that he is unprepared to handle. His campaign managers suggest that a political marriage might help him weather the storm and help his image during the campaign... just so long as it isn’t the one woman Chris really wants. RATING: M  WARNINGS:  Nothing. AUTHORS NOTES: This story is AU in the fact that this is the 2020 presidential race, and Chris is a candidate. But everything in the past is still the same with him being an actor. Also, COVID-19 is not a part of this story. I needed to play in a land where COVID didn’t exist and “Captain America,” in his alter ego, punched out a Nazi in a metaphorical(?) way. For more on the story, go here.

This first part is prologue-y.

I have also curated a soundtrack for all 50 states, and then some. You can listen on Spotify right now, may eventually put it on Youtube. There will be 50 chapters (I’m hoping), but many of them will be shorter.

Also on AO3!

Boston, MA Evans for President Campaign Headquarters November 3rd, 2020 30 Minutes Before First Polls Close

Stage fright is no joke.

When it hits, it hits like a semi truck going seventy on an icy Massachusetts road. In the blink of an eye, you’re completely obliterated. Except this is on stage and you’re not dead, even though you wish you were. In fact, you’re very much alive. Alive enough to feel the force of the impact, followed by the squeezing in your chest and choking on your breathless words. Paralysis takes over. Cold clammy sweat slicks your palms and also trickles down your back to that one spot between your shoulder blades you can’t reach, but causes your costume to uncomfortably stick to your skin.

There’s no escape. You know what’s coming. You worry you’ll forget your lines, or trip on your cue, or make a complete and utter fool of yourself. You feel like an imposter, questioning why you’re here, in this role, when that dude, JD, from your acting class years ago was a million times more talented than you, and you’re the one that got that teen movie deal.  You’re the one who became one of America's most beloved superheroes for a decade.

You’re also the one who has a very real chance of winning the 2020 presidential election, despite no college education, limited understanding of what elected officials in DC actually do on a day to day basis, and the closest thing you have to experience as a “boss” or “commander in chief” of anything was a movie set or two where you were director and executive producer. 

Nope.

What I, Chris Evans, have is a dedicated online fan base who took the time to write my name into ballots when they discovered I had filed for ballot access in every state of the union. I didn’t do the filing on a whim; we sat around late one night talking about the interviews I had been conducting in DC for a website about party positions on important issues. My business partners and I came up with the idea that a long form documentary about campaigning would be interesting, and we determined the best way to understand the process was to become a “candidate” myself. Meaning, we only planned to use the credentials to be on the front line of the campaigning process. I was never going to create signs and make speeches or debate with others.

I never intended to run a legitimate campaign.

But, as I mentioned, something strange happened during the Democratic primaries. People started to vote for me, a trickle of rain in a hurricane.

I won a few primary delegates.

Without even trying.

Not enough to win the Democratic ticket, but enough to make pollsters sit up and take notice.

My loyal fans stepped in again, undaunted, and ignited a storm. They dubbed it “Operation America’s Ass” and created a grassroots campaign across the country with GoFundMe donations and a lot of pluck. I thought it was a joke. A part of me still does think it’s a joke. I mean, what other explanation is there for this mess? For the red, white and blue bunting hanging on the walls with the “Chris Evans for President” sign plastered underneath it? For the staffers who stop briefly to see if I need anything...‘Would you like a drink, sir?’... or, upon seeing how pale I look, give me a vote of confidence… ‘Are you ready for your acceptance speech?’ There’s absolutely no good explanation as to why there are twenty or thirty people buzzing around the hotel suite waiting for results. They’re so energized with hope for a better future.

Hope that I can be everything they ever wanted in a president.

An Independent president, free from party oversight.

A president with class.

A president for the people.

A president who can bring the United States back from the brink of destruction at the hands of previous leaders.

I wish I had their confidence.

When they asked me on career day in school what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always said artist. When I was older, in high school, I knew I was going to be an actor. Never president. The job never entered my mind as being a possibility, not even when I used to work for my uncle’s congressional campaigns. Or when I started filming those interviews.

Why does anyone think I, a straight white momma’s boy from Boston should be president in 2020? Just because I made a few popular Tweets about the current president’s lack of leadership?

It has to be a joke. A cosmic one. I’m a punchline. I am convinced they’ll jump out from behind a doorway and yell “You’ve been PUNK’D! We really got you this time, now here, Bernie, you’re the better candidate.”

And yet…

What if they see in me something I do not?

I place a lot of stock in being in the moment. I’ve also put a lot of work into accepting the twists and turns of life instead of allowing all the “what ifs” and “what should I dos” to eat away at me. I told everybody after I was done with Marvel and financially secure enough to only work on projects I really wanted to, I’d take life as it came at me.

Well, it came after me.

To be fair, I originally chose to get into politics, even in a tiny way, because I wanted to be informed about my choices. I created a website so others could learn, as well. As time went on, I became more involved on Capitol Hill. I even did some lobbying for a few causes dear to my heart. And, yes, I did file the ballot access paperwork.

Had I unintentionally set my path in this direction? Was it inevitable for me to become a contender for the presidency?

Fortunately, I learned early on in the process that a lot of being a presidential candidate is being a convincing showman. An actor. The world's a stage, after all, and I am but a player. You have to have some solid ideas and convictions to back up the image, but a lot of the governing comes from other members of the executive branch. Should I win, I’d only be signing off on everything.

Of course, that “everything” affects the lives of more than 300 million souls. I wouldn’t trust me with a kitchen knife, much less nuclear launch codes and people's livelihoods and education and health and…

My hands shake with nerves just thinking about it.

Let it be said, once I do make it out onto the stage--be it as an actor or presidential candidate--I rise to the challenge. The energy from the audience buoys me. Makes me feel alive. But I am not, by nature, someone who likes to sign away so much personal freedom in exchange for the weight of carrying an albatross around my neck. I thought signing for Captain America would be tough; the human toll of running for president even moreso.

Actually being President? I can’t even wrap my mind around that.

It would be easy to call it quits, even now when the votes are already cast. I could have done it a long time ago, when the reality of the situation hit me the first time. I didn’t. Something told me to hold back, play it out. I persevered. Why? Somewhere, along the line, I began to believe I could do this. I could make a positive difference in the lives of Americans.

I certainly want to do right by all my supporters--and my detractors. I want to be a leader for all Americans.

But can I, really, while knowing my incredible deficiencies?

Maybe I can’t, but I can be the team leader. A brand ambassador, if you will. A good leader delegates. And I intend, should I win, to surround myself with the best and brightest. I will accept no less. I will do ‘Whatever It Takes,’ as our slogan boasts. I am American, first and foremost, and I care deeply about this country.

A real Captain America, if you will. Maybe not as strong or powerful as others, but I sure as hell can give a great speech and will defend my country from bullies until my last breath, whether they be purple… or orange.

Except, I suppose if I’m elected, I won’t be Captain America anymore. They’ll call me Mr. President.

Or, horror of horrors, what if the new name my nearest and dearest coined makes it out into the public. They tease me with it just to see my visceral revulsion and get a laugh. But if I have learned anything about the internet--and pop culture--is that if something is catchy, it sticks around for a long time.

Maybe I ought to get used to the idea of being a punchline.

So, I suppose I have a question for you.

Won’t you consider a vote for Mr. America?

[innytoes]

Self-Insert January: Let’s Go Steal A Protégé

Yes I did write a self-insert fanfic of my own fanfic. Most of this was written in December and then um, January happened. This takes place December, probably before Christmas (and is obviously not canon).

Happy Self Insert month!

Being with Leverage, Jamie had seen a lot of weird stuff. Done a lot of weird stuff, too. But all the breaking into highly classified places and museums and pretending to be a circus performer and jumping off the Eiffel Tower did not prepare them for the magic portal that opened up in the ceiling of the Leverage Offices, or the lady that fell through it.

Luckily, their startled yell had summoned an Eliot, which meant that if this was the beginning of an intergalactic space war or some kind of mutant criminal rival of Parker’s, Team Leverage was going to come out on top.

Except Eliot actually put away his knife and greeted the lady, who struggled out of the squashy purple beanbag chair she landed on. “Hardison, Parker, Inny’s here!” he called.

“What the hell is an Inny?” Jamie asked. Was it a species of alien? Was Hardison’s Doctor Who obsession because they literally knew The Doctor? Honestly, it wouldn’t really surprise Jamie.

“I the hell am an Inny,” Ceiling-Lady said, before gasping and pointing at them. Which was concerning, to say the least.

“That’s Inny,” Hardison said, coming into the office and handing the lady one of Jamie’s Mountain Dews. Rude.  “She’s from a darker timeline and drops out of the ceiling once or twice a year to catch up. And get inspiration for her fanfiction. Apparently we’re like, a TV show over there. What’s up, girl?”

“Is that why nobody is allowed to move the beanbag chair?” Jamie asked. They had thought it was some weird Parker thing. Or perhaps that it was on top of some kind of secret trap door to Hardison’s BatCave or something. They ignored the part about the fanfiction and the TV show. That was too Truman Show to think about. Though their brain was already going over actors they’d cast as the team. Eliot would totally be played by Chris Evans, right?

Inny stopped chugging the Mountain Dew long enough to shrug. “They used to live somewhere with way lower ceilings. Nearly broke something falling from this one.”

“Yeah, me,” Eliot grumbled. He nearly broke something again when Parker dropped down from the ceiling onto his back. “Dammit, Parker!”

“Inny!” Parker proclaimed. “How is Deeks?”

“Good!” the lady fished a beaten up phone out of her pocket. “He met some alpacas, wanna see?” Parker snatched up the phone and made delighted noises. Jamie peered over her shoulder. They had to admit the dog was pretty cute, and the alpacas looked very intrigued by their small, same-coloured, short-necked friend.

“How’s life in the darkest timeline?” Hardison asked.

“What date is it here?” the lady asked, looking around. “I mean, if you still know.”

“Why wouldn’t we know?” Parker asked, still swiping through dog pictures.

“Well, I mean, 2020, am I right?” Inny said, waiting for a reaction. She looked incredulous at their blank  faces. “It is 2020, here, right?”

“Um, yeah?” Hardison ventured carefully.

“How dark is this timeline of yours?” Jamie asked carefully. Sure, it was a tumblr joke, usually reserved for stuff like the however-many-renewed-season of Supernatural when great shows were cancelled or whatever creepy feature FriendCzar had tried to impose that month.

The woman paused, frowned, then took a deep breath. “In response to the global pandemic of a deadly respiratory virus, President Donald Trump suggested on television during a briefing that people should inject or ingest bleach to kill the virus.”  She took another big breath. “And that’s not mentioning the fact that he downplayed the seriousness of the virus while knowing how deadly and contagious it was, called it a hoax, made taking safety precautions a political thing instead of a public safety thing, and held massive super-spreader events.”

“Donald Trump?” Jamie asked. “The ‘you’re fired’ dude?”

“Oh my sweet summer child,” Inny responded, before taking another swig of her Mountain Dew. “Yeah, I mean, I thought the fact that Australia was on fire at the start of the year was going to be the only terrible thing I was going to tell you.” She laughed and shook her head ruefully, like that was some kind of funny joke.

“Australia was on fire?”

“Yeah. Parts of the US too, for a while. Orange skies. But since the country was basically on lockdown anyway, it wasn’t like it was very different to stay inside for that…” Jamie stared at the lady, then back at the adults. Parker didn’t look overly concerned, but then, she never really did. Eliot and Hardison were both frowning, though. There was no sign that this was some kind of elaborate prank Hardison was pulling on them with the help of one of Sophie’s acting friends. Besides, he was good, but not ‘fake opening a magic portal in the ceiling’ good. At least not within the five minutes Jamie had been in the other room.

After a litany of horrible things, which were apparently not even all of them, the woman stopped. “On the upside,” she said. “I perfected my banana bread recipe, Deeks met some alpacas, Leverage is getting a reboot, and I figured out why I probably keep dropping in here.”

“To remind us that things aren’t so bad like some messed up version of ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’?” Hardison guessed.

“Because Jamie is my OC,” she said, dropping a fucking bombshell like she just dropped out of the fucking ceiling. Jamie felt their brain fill with static, because no, they were a real person, and that either meant that this lady was full of bullshit, or, well, basically god. The Truman Show feeling returned ten times over. “This is my fanfic.”

Hardison recoiled a little. “No,” he whispered, fully understanding the implications of that. Hell, it was probably even weirder for him. Sure, knowing they were a TV show was probably cool, even more so with the reboot. But Fanfic Land didn’t fade to black and Jamie was pretty damn sure some kinky shit went on behind the soundproofed doors of their bedroom.

“Now, there’s two prevailing theories about this, as far as my internet rabbithole searches can tell,” Basically God Maybe continued. “Either I wrote this world into existence, because the multiverse is ever expanding and that is one of the ways it expands, or I just got some vibes from whatever crack between worlds keeps bringing me here and wrote down your shenanigans.”

At Parker and Eliot’s blank looks, Jamie clarified: “Basically, she’s either God or…”

“Some kind of shitty false prophet,” the lady on the beanbag chair beamed. “Probably the second one, honestly. My subconscious turns everything into a zombie apocalypse sooner or later, and you guys seem to be fine.”

Jamie whipped around to look at Hardison and Eliot, hopeful. “We’re fine, right?” they asked quickly. If anyone knew about a starting zombie apocalypse, it would be those two. Between Hardison poking around in basically every intelligence agency’s server ever and Eliot’s contacts, they’d know. God, Jamie hoped not. They were so not ready for a zombie apocalypse. Eliot hadn’t even taught them how to murder someone with an axe yet.

“We are definitely fine,” Hardison assured them.

“Yeah, I figured,” Not-God agreed. “If I had my say, Eliot would have stopped pining long before he did and kissed you guys.” Eliot grumbled and glared, probably because she was right. Parker patted him condescendingly on the head, which wasn’t helping matters.

The ceiling started crackling and glowing ominously. The lady put her can down as she slowly drifted off the beanbag, alien-abduction style. “Well, it’s been real. Be good, guys. Have some fun adventures. Ruin some rich douchebag’s day for me.”

“Will do,” Parker promised. “Say hi to your dog for me.” She got a thumbs up.

“Let us know how the reboot turns out,” Hardison said. Jamie figured it would probably fuck with the space-time continuum if she downloaded the show and brought it to them, but who knew. Maybe there was some kind of loophole for that, too. They were kind of curious to see what a Leverage show would look like. It probably had kickass fight-scenes.

“Stay safe,” Eliot said seriously. He’d been the most concerned about the talk of the pandemic, probably because you couldn’t punch it.

“Will do,” Inny shrugged. “I mean, 2021 can’t possibly be any worse, right?”

The portal crackled louder, which Jamie hoped wasn’t a sign. The lady was almost at the ceiling. She looked concerned, like she realised she just totally jinxed herself and the new year.

“Hey, just in case you are god,” Jamie called up. “Can you give me superpowers?”

The portal closed to the sound of laughter, and then there was silence. All that remained was a dent in the beanbag and an empty can of Mountain Dew.

“What the fuck,” they told the room at large.

“Yeah, you get used to it,” Parker said, before wandering off back to the blueprints she had been studying.

“I’m just gonna… check some things,” Hardison muttered, making a detour to the kitchen to grab a ginormous bottle of orange soda before getting behind his computer. “And buy a bunch of disinfectant and toilet paper, just in case.”

Eliot rolled his eyes, before bumping his shoulder against Jamie’s. “Come on,” he said.

“Come on where?” Jamie asked. “I’m having a bit of an existential crisis here.” If they were someone’s OC, did that mean that they didn’t have free will? Did it mean that all the cool things they had done the past year had only been because of some weird lady that fell out of the ceiling? Or did it mean-

“I’m gonna teach you to throw a knife so you can take out a zombie,” Eliot said.

Fuck that, the existential crisis could wait until 2am. They had more important things to do. Knife throwing would be fun and useful no matter if there was a zombie apocalypse or a pandemic, or they got superpowers.

[themirthfulroadrunners]

D.C. - His and Hers

Debbie’s View of Planet D.C. & Beyond:

Unlike Sparky, (read below) I am not steeped in the subjects of history and politics. When in a so dedicated place, I tend to look for other things that attract my interest, and in many cases, find bits to point and laugh at.

 As Wayne describes below, our visit to the nation’s capital/capitol was done in very unique societal circumstances which was actually fine and dandy with moi. I loved the fact that most tourists chose to stay away and await a future time when normality returns, if there even is so much as a hope for such. The fact that we could drive our car safely and efficiently into and around the Mecca of Democracy and Tourist Magnet thrilled me.

 We did, however, take a ride on the city’s Metro train. At one point, we were the only riders in our particular car. Zounds! The train was clean and felt very safe, affording us several minutes to watch our fellow man going through the paces of what was likely an ordinary day in the life (I read the news today, oh boy …). I didn’t capture any funny or blog-worthy vignettes from these rides but low-drama is desirable on subways anyway, especially in these politically-charged times.

 East Coast food disappointed both of us. Maybe we merely chose wrongly, but we awarded zero 5 star reviews. In the category of Grossest Thing EVER there is Scrapple. Feeling a bit uncharacteristically adventurous, Wayne ordered some with his breakfast at an Annapolis, MD deli (Chick & Ruth’s Delly). Myself, apparently osmosing some of the above-mentioned adventurousness, tasted one bite. My taste buds immediately sounded an alarm, sorta like the one that the robot in Lost in Space blared continuously to Will Robinson: WARNING!! DANGER!! Every part of my being wanted the hateful stuff REMOVED FROM THE AREA IMMEDIATELY. A gag SO wanted to happen, but I comported myself as a lady should when in public and the alien substance safely went down the correct cavity, followed by a long gulp of water. You’ll have to Google scrapple’s recipe, but when asked, our waitress replied that it is made from “pig.” Most everything else I tasted in this region was bland, but that beats gag-worthy, huh?

The offensive scrapple is the brown block on the upper plate. Closer plate is a ginormous crab cake.

Annapolis was, um, Claustrophobia Central, at least to me. Beautiful and historic houses, but streets about 6 inches wide with parking on BOTH SIDES had me holding my breath to somehow magically shrink our Ford Edge to Matchbox Car size in order to squeeeeeeeze through. Streets everywhere, going every which way. They’ve never heard of an urban grid, I guess, but these neighborhood houses are roughly 400 years old. Apparently, SUVs were much smaller back then.

 Delaware was a destination one day, just because, why not? We get a kid’s kick out of dipping into nearby states merely to check them off the list. So … we went there, ate lunch, went back to Maryland where we were house sitting. Sorry, nothing of interest that would fill up a paragraph.

 D.C. was heavily guarded, or at least it sure looked that way to me. Very understandable in light of January 6, but access was almost not to be had, though we did see all the pertinent exteriors and the monuments. We did enjoy a boat ride on the Potomac, past the infamous Watergate Building and a couple more sites of interest to politics/history junkies, blah blah. Not technically D.C. but we walked a bit in Arlington National Cemetery. Barricades kept us from actually seeing JFK’s grave, but we did see the eternal flame, which is kinda the bigger icon, at least to this Baby Boomer.

The Watergate Office Building

Robert E Lee’s home in the background.

Our housesit was in a tiny burg on the west coast of the Chesapeake Bay. It is very low there, just plain swampy in some areas. We had one unseasonably warm day before a storm when the humidity rivaled anything I’ve felt in Arkansas. The trees in the region are rather unimpressive in circumference, but grow to towering heights, making me fear a bit for their sturdiness during a very windy day/night. Maybe they’re slender but elastic; there was no news of massive tree loss afterwards.

That’s it for me, folks. Take it away Sparky …

 Wayne’s take on Washington D.C. –

           This was my third trip to D.C., and somewhat disappointing in that our visit was while Covid19 limits were still in place, and it followed the January 6 insurrection.

      We were restricted not only from visiting and touring the Capitol, but even from getting close enough to have truly said we were there. Thank you very much you “Big Lie’ Insurrectionists.

I can’t/won’t say that I’m proud to be an American because after all, that is just a matter of the fortunes of birth. I could just as well have been born to anyone else, anywhere else on the planet. I have done nothing American to be proud of, even if pride was a notable quality. I have voted, and I have honorably served in the United States military. So there is that.

           The Capitol building is where our elected representatives decide whether to go to war, or not, who does, or does not, get healthcare protections, who pays taxes, and who does not, whether we protect the environment, or not. This is where our representatives determine who won our democratically elected president. And thanks to the battle of January 6, democracy prevailed over autocracy. The flag above the Capitol is the one that all flags flown from every Post Office to every front porch represents. This is the flag of our nation. This is the flag of America.

           The White House has been the home of our elected leader for well over two hundred years, the virtual leader of the free world for a century. It was burned up in 1814 by the soldiers of England, our present greatest ally. Residents of the White House have ranged from the awe-inspiring to the heinous. Andrew Jackson defied the Supreme Court, refusing to comply with their ruling on the Cherokee Indians, and then compelled all Indians to forfeit their lands, despite legal treaties and in many cases total adoption of the American culture, and to remove themselves to the Oklahoma Territory. Other presidents started wars while yet others saved our country, and even the world with military involvements. Our president(s) live/lived here.

           We toured all the memorials – memorials to our national heroes, and to the servicemen who fought and died in our wars. I expect most of our true heroes remain unsung. Some might say that too many of our infamous remain unhung.

Forrest Gump’s spot

Supreme Court Building          

America Bless God

[axwalker]

The Trade 10

Synopsis:  Liam is running for Cordonia’s presidency. To assure his victory, Constantine makes an arraignment behind his back for him to marry the rich ambassador’s daughter: Alexis O’Brien. Due to her father’s threats, she has no other option that seduce Liam and make him fall in love with her. But what happens when she falls for his best friend? (AU)

Pairings: DrakexMC

Warnings: I love drama and chaos so this will probably get a bit dark. In this chapter there is mention of rape, if you get triggered by this issue, don’t hesitate to send me a message and I’ll be glad to explain what happens without reading it. A lot of angst and heartbreak

Please note that this is my first series and English is not my first language. I really love ALL kinds of feedback.  Don’t hesitate to comment!

Disclaimer: Some of the dialogues and settings as well as most of the characters belong to Pixelberry (except for Alexis O’Brien and her evil father George O’Brien JR).

To catch up: Masterlist

To my beautiful, incredible beta readers @drxkewalker @pedudley thanks for helping me with your ideas and support and reading so many snippets! Your comments always make me smile !!    @mskaneko Thank you so much for this new mood-board, I LOVE it, it’s just perfect 

Love you girls ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

I'm tagging those who asked, if you want to be added to the list, just ask :)

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After confronting her father, Alexis felt exhausted. Years of fighting him had taken a toll on her. The loss of the only man she had ever loved was the last straw in a series of tragedies that her own father had provoked, and she felt like she didn’t have the strength to fight him anymore

The worst part was to think about Drake, about his pain, the disappointment in his voice, the hateful look on his eyes. Alexis had done everything she could so he would hate her, but now that it was done, she didn’t know how she was going to actually live with it. She hated herself much more than he would never do.

Alexis heard the knocks at her door, and tried to ignore them; too tired and too sad to answer, but the tapping persisted. Finally, she went to open it, decided to chase away whoever it was.

“Max.” She sighed. “I can’t talk to anyone right now, I’m sorry.” She made an attempt to close the door, but Maxwell put his foot between it and the frame. His heart tugged seeing how destroyed she seemed, how swollen and red her eyes were.

“I’m sorry Blossom, but I really don’t think you should be alone right now. Plus, I brought my three best friends.” He grinned showing her a whiskey bottle and a plastic bag with two pints of ice cream. “Jack, Ben, and Jerry.” She smiled through her tears. “Please, Lexie, we can talk or get wasted or eat ice cream or all three, I can show you my own version of a Coke float.” He winked.

She let him in. “I really need a drink right now.”

They sat on the balcony eating ice cream and drinking silently for a while, each of them thinking about their broken heart.

“I really loved him, you know?” Max broke the silence. “I’ve had intense relationships before, but Rashad was the first one I truly loved. The worst part is that I’m pretty sure, he loved me too. And he’s ready to let all those feelings go to waste for some stupid political ambitions.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t do the same Blossom, don’t let your desire of being the First Lady stop you from loving Drake. I’ve known him since we were kids and I’ve never seen him more desperate or broken than today. He really cares for you.”

Alexis turned her head to him, anger stirring through her entire body. “My desire of being First Lady?” She laughed bitterly. “Please, Maxwell! You have no idea what you’re talking about.” She gulped her whiskey, refilled her glass, and gulped its content again.

“You’re right Lexie, I have absolutely no idea what’s going on.” He took her hand. “And for the little I heard, neither does Drake. Perhaps if you actually talked to one of us, we could understand you better.”

Maybe it was all the alcohol she had ingested but suddenly she found herself opening up to him. “I did a horrible thing in my youth, something Drake would never be able to forgive me for.” She sighed sadly. “Because of that mistake I have to protect someone and my father is taking advantage of it. If I don’t do what he says, the person I care about the most in the world will get hurt.” She gulped yet another glass and quickly refilled it again.

Max couldn’t believe his ears “Wait a minute Blossom.” He lifted his hands. “Are you being this cryptic on purpose? I don’t understand anything. What do you mean your father is taking advantage of it? I mean he’s your father, Lexie. And I can assure you there’s not much Drake wouldn’t forgive you”

“Well, this is one of those few things, Max. He hates me now, but even if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to forgive this. And yes, George is my father. He’s also the most despicable man on earth. And I assure you, his threats are not empty. He wants control of Cordonia’s commerce, and nothing will stop him until he gets what he wants.”

Maxwell was starting to understand. “So he wants you to marry Liam, the next president, to help him.”

She nodded without adding anything else.

Max stood up. “I understand better why you insisted that you liked Liam when it was so obvious you were falling for Drake, and why you left him like that.” He turned around to see her crying. “Oh Blossom, you should talk to them, I promise they would try to help you, both of them.”

She looked at him terrified “No, Max! Promise you won’t tell them anything. Either of them. Please, you don’t know how much there’s on stake here. If something happens to my- ... I can’t even consider it.”

Maxwell sighed, visibly uncomfortable “Ok, Lexie. I won’t. I think it’s a horrible idea, but I won’t say anything.”

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Drake woke up feeling like crap. After getting wasted at the bar, one equally drunk Leo had taken him to his cabin, where he had slept uneasily, seeing her face every time he closed his eyes.

When he had set the meeting with Liam, Drake had planned to be honest with his best friend and tell him that he had fallen for Alexis too.  It was the first time in his life that Drake felt that kind of wild passion; of deep connection with someone, so he was determined to fight for her. But now, all the consequences of his carelessness were about to crush him. Drake had to face the fact that the sweet, passionate woman he had seen in her, simply didn’t exist. The fact that he had betrayed his best friend for someone who didn’t love him back. The fact that deep down he had always known that she was too good for someone like him, someone his own mother had abandoned. Alexis had been born to shine in Liam’s arm, to be his wife and rule beside him.

When he finally arrived at the Beaumont’s estate, Drake had made up his mind; the best thing was to let her go. Let her be happy with Liam and try to move on, even if he had no idea how he was going to be able to do that.

At Ramsford, he went directly to the brothers’ study, where he knew Liam would be working already, and entered it without knocking.

Drake immediately saw in Liam’s demeanor that that morning he wouldn’t be facing his best friend, the brother he had grown up with but the politician, the future president of the country. He wasn’t intimidated. 

“Sit, Drake, please.” Liam was comfortably seated with his elbows resting on the desk, the tips of his fingers touching. “Could you tell me where have you been these past two days? Where did you take Alexis?”

Drake looked straight at him, he wasn’t going to lie. “To my cabin near Portavira.”

Liam looked back at him coldly. “Could I ask why?”

“She had a panic attack two nights ago and needed to go away, so I took her to the only place I could think of,” Drake replied calmly, staring back at his friend.

“Was Max with you?” Liam was getting angrier at the second, the tension between the two almost brothers growing.

Drake growled. “Fuck Liam! Is this an interrogatory?” Liam seemed imperturbable, so Drake answered the question. “No, he wasn’t.”

Liam's posture remained calm, without showing all the rage he was feeling. Before asking the next question, he hesitated, unsure if he wanted to know the answer. “Did something happen between you? Did you two…” Liam swallowed, unable to complete the sentence.

Drake had never felt so guilty and stupid at the same time. “Listen, Liam, the only thing that should matter now is that she cares for you.” 

-He is not denying it- Liam thought furious.

Drake felt a, now familiar, pang in his chest. “Alexis told me she cares for you before she left with Max.” He stood up to pour himself a drink from the minibar and gulped it down.

Liam remained seated looking at the man that had been his best friend for over twenty years. He felt betrayed by him, but seeing how rattled Drake seemed, a hideous thought started creeping his mind.

“Drake,” he stood up to pour himself a scotch too, “are you in love with Alexis?”

Drake arched his brows, mockingly. “You know me better than that Li, I don’t do love. I don’t absolutely feel anything for her, but she does for you, end of the story.”

Liam thought about what he was about to say. “Alexis and I are not really together yet. However, I’m planning to talk to her today. If she accepts to be with me, I don’t want you near her.”

Drake sighed. “Li-“

Liam raised his hand interrupting him. “I don’t think you’re understanding me, Drake. I won’t care about our friendship the same way you didn’t care about it these past two days. If I see you near her, I will end you.”

Drake shook his head and spoke with a deep voice, anger in his tone.  “No, Liam, is you who doesn’t get it. I don’t care about her at all. Do whatever you fucking want.”

“It’s settled then. If she wants to, she belongs with me.” He patted Drake’s back and sat again. “Let’s forget about this and keep working on the campaign”

Drake nodded, he was going to need another whiskey.

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Alexis woke up next to Maxwell, both of them had passed out together on the balcony after the third bottle.

She looked at the time on her phone.

“Shit! I have to meet Li in thirty minutes for lunch.” She saw Maxwell looking intently at the estate’s parking. “What is it Max?”

“I don’t want to worry you Blossom, but Drake’s jeep is here.” The mere mention of his name made Alexis’s heart skip a beat but she tried to hide it.

“Well, he’s Liam’s future Chief of Staff, I imagine they have a lot of work to do. I’m sorry to chase you Max but I have to take a quick shower and prepare myself to my-” She took a deep breath, “date with Liam.”

Maxwell took her by the shoulders, “I remember what you told me last night Lexie, and I still think you should talk to both of them, or at least with Drake.”

She shook her head. “That’s never going to happen. Now if you don’t mind, I really need to take a shower.”

Thirty minutes later, Alexis was ready to go have lunch. She felt a hole in her stomach thinking that she had to feign interest in Liam, hurting him make her feel sick. At 1 p.m. sharp, the young candidate knocked at her door.

“Hi, Liam! What are you hiding there?”

He grinned giving her a beautiful bouquet of pink roses.

“Thank you, it’s beautiful.” She gave him a small smile and put the roses on a vase next to her bed.

“Are you ready, Alexis?”

“I am, where are you taking me?”

He smiled fondly at her. “I prepared a little something here with Bertrand’s help.” He offered her his arm, she sighed deeply to calm her nerves and took it.    

They walked around the gardens until they finally reached a little gazebo. Bertrand and his staff had prepared a beautiful table with colorful orchids, elegant porcelain china, and crystal champagne glasses.

“Wow, this is beautiful!” Alexis felt relieved that they were hidden in the center of the gardens where they didn’t risk running into him.

“It’s all for you Alexis, you deserve the most gorgeous things in the world.” He pulled a chair so she could sit and made a gesture to call the waiter behind her.

After pouring them a couple of mimosas the waiter went looking for the appetizers giving them some minutes alone.

Alexis was feeling uneasy, so she drank her glass in almost one gulp.

“Are you alright Alexis?” He touched her hand across the table and stroked it softly.

His touch wasn’t electric as Drake’s but comforting, almost soothing, something she desperately needed.

“I’m fine Li, thank you.” Alexis gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was going to have to improve her acting skills.

“I hope you like this, there’s not a lot of good restaurants around the Beaumont’s state.”

“I think all this is lovely Li, I really do.”

The waiter came back with the appetizers and placed them in front of them.

“It smells great.” Alexis felt sick with pretending, but she forced herself to eat something.

Liam raised his glass. “What shall we toast to?”

She raised her glass as well. “To this date?”

“Perfect, for it to go great.” They clinked their glasses.

Alexis took a small bite of the salmon’s mousse in front of her. “It’s delicious”

“I’m glad you like it, you said that you liked everything, so I chose this  It’s one of my favorites”

He reached to take her hand between his again. “I would really like to get to know you better Alexis. Really know you.”

She sighed thinking about the conversations she had had with Drake just 24 hours ago. About all the things they had shared, all the confidences and secrets. Feeling her eyes watering, she took a sip from her drink. “I’m here, Li. Ask anything you want.”

He looked straight at her eyes. “Why did you leave the party at Lythikos two days ago?”

She shook her head, unwilling to share her secret with him. “I had a difficult moment with my father, our relationship is … complicated.”

“And for that, you needed to leave two days?” Liam asked, arching his brows.

“Yes,” Alexis stated simply.

He rubbed her face with his hand. “If there’s something I can help you with, just tell me Alexis, and I will.”

“Thank you, Liam. Everything is fine.” She smiled. “This is excellent too.” Avid to change the subject, she pointed at the main course the waiter had just brought them.

“Ah! Carbonara pasta, it was my mother’s favorites. She used to cook it all the time, so it became my favorite as well.”

She reached to stroke his arm across the table. “How old were you when she…?”

“Nine, it was very hard. After her death, my father married Regina, and she is not the warmest woman in the world.”

Her heart tugged at his sadness. “I’m sorry, Li. You must have a lot of good memories of her.”

“I do. She loved to sing and play the guitar. She used to take me, Leo and Drake to these picnics and played with us. She was a great mother, I’m sad you could not meet her, she would have loved you”

-No, she would have hated me- “I’m sure I would have loved her as well”.

They spent the next hour talking about happy memories of their childhoods. Alexis was happy to hear all about Liam’s and Drake’s pranks when they were little boys. Finally, they finished their dessert.  

Liam looked tenderly at her for a long moment before he spoke. “Alexis, I know we haven’t known each other for long, but I want you to know that I am serious about this, about us. I’m a man who knows what he wants, and I want you. Desperately. You are the most beautiful, charming, fascinating woman, I have ever met and I want you in my life.”

This was it. Her future, her fate had finally caught up with her. Trying to put all memories of Drake out of her mind she smiled weakly at him, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Me too, Li.” He took her chin between his fingers and softly kissed her.

After a few seconds, they parted and Liam cleared his throat before speaking. “I just want to clarify something. Everything that has happened before today does not matter because we were not officially together. However, as I told you before, I am very serious about you. If you accept to be with me, nothing like that can happen again. The next time that you have a problem, you come to me and no one else.”

She didn’t know how much he knew about the two days she had spent with Drake but judging by his words much more than she thought.

“I understand, Li.” She tried to ignore her heart aching. “From now on, it’s only you and me. You don’t have to worry.”

He stood up giving her his hand so she could stand in front of him, he caressed her cheek with his thumb and kissed her passionately.

Alexis was feeling a mix of guilt and despair, it didn’t matter how much she tried, her heart, mind, and body belonged to Drake now, and she was going to condemn Liam and herself to a loveless life. She knew Liam wasn’t completely certain about her, that he was going to need some reassurance from her part.

“I trust you, love.” Liam looked at her lovingly. “In fact, I was thinking that I could introduce you as my fiancée tonight.” Alexis inhaled a deep breath, he stroke her arm gently. “I know that it’s a little early for that and that I haven’t officially proposed but I cannot think of a better way to introduce you tonight.” He leaned to kiss her. “With my choice of career, it’s where we are headed anyway. You know that darling, right?”

She nodded, trying to pass her sorrow for emotion at his words.

“Yes, of course.”

“You’re making me the happiest man in the world.” He took her hands and pressed them against his lips.

“I’m happy too, Li. Let’s go back to the state, I need to prepare for the Beaumont Bash tonight.”

He gave her his arm again and they walked back to the mansion unaware of the pair of chocolate eyes watching them from the East balcony.

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Thirty minutes before the gala Olivia knocked at Drake’s door.

When he opened it the first thing she noticed was the strong smell. The whiskey odor came as much from him as from the room itself.

“What the fuck, Drake? We have to be at the bash in 30 minutes, we’re supposed to look impeccable and you look like a Whiskey barrel just rolled over you.”

“Leave me alone Nevrakis, I’m in no mood for the gala.”

“You do not have a choice, Walker. So, go hop into the shower while I look for a proper suit. That is if I can find one that’s not stinking of whiskey. NOW”

After the shower, he came back into the room and found a blue suit on the bed. He got dressed and joined Olivia who was waiting outside.

“Care to tell me what was that pathetic pity party about?”

Drake kept on walking. “None of your business”

“Come on, Walker we are usually honest with each other, so cut the crap.”

Drake didn’t respond. His mind was full of images of Liam kissing Alexis, taking her by the arm, acting like she was his. He felt a sudden urge for whiskey that only deepened when they arrived at the gala. There they were, together. She looked stunning in a golden lamé dress and he looked like a Prince in a black tuxedo, the perfect picture of success.

Occupied with her own jealousy, Olivia took a moment to notice the change in Drake’s attitude. Drake’s fist clenched at both sides of his body and his usual sarcastic smirk had transformed into a rageful scowl addressed at his best friend. Luckily, Liam was too busy greeting his guests and holding the American woman to notice.

“Drake, for the last time. What the hell is going on?” She followed his gaze and suddenly, realization washed over her. “Oh fuck! You like that woman! That’s why you disappeared for two days at the same time as her. My staff told me that they saw you coming out of my cellar with some girl, it was her. Liam’s girl.”

He turned at her furious. “She wasn’t with Liam then.”

“Well, she sure is now” Olivia and Drake witnessed how Liam placed a kiss on Alexis' cheek and whispered something in her ear. Olivia took Drake’s arm reassuringly and walked towards the new couple.

“Come on, we are obliged to greet them. We’ll do it fast and then we’ll get wasted at the bar. Both of us”

Alexis felt his piercing chocolate eyes on her before turning her head.  Her breath hitched, her hands started to shake, and her heartbeat increased considerably, threatening to throw her heart out of her chest. She inhaled, trying her best to hide the anxiety. Liam must have seen Drake too because he immediately tightened his grip on her waist possessively.  

“Welcome to the gala, Olivia” She offered Liam her hand and he kissed it before adding coldly, “Drake.” He looked directly into Drake’s eyes. “You both know Alexis, my fiancée.”

Drake could physically feel his heart shattering at Liam’s words, but he did his best to show them a cool, aloof façade.

“I’m very happy for you both.” He addressed himself to Liam first and then added looking at Alexis, “you make a beautiful couple.” Drake took her hand as Liam had done with Olivia’s. Without taking his eyes off of hers, he turned it, brushing a small kiss on the sensitive skin in the back of her wrist. Her fragrance immediately flooded into his nostrils, intoxicating him. A furious blush colored her cheeks, and her eyes were actively avoiding his.  Alexis prayed that Liam hadn’t noticed, but he had turned his head to talk to Olivia.

“Well, we have more guests to greet, see you both at dinner.” Liam turned to Penelope and Hana who were entering the ballroom.

“Come on Walker” Olivia patted his back.“Let’s get wasted”

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Maxwell was at the door looking over the last details of the party when he witnessed the exchange between Alexis, Liam, and Drake and felt deeply sad for all of them. Maxwell didn’t fully understand Alexis’ reasons, but she had seemed so scared at the idea of anyone finding out about her father’s threat that he had made an impossible promise. However, seeing his two best friends treating each other as enemies and Alexis so utterly devastated made him make a new decision. He was going to have to break his promise.

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Liam and Alexis had the first dance of the night as it was the tradition for the honor guests at the Beaumont Gala. He was an amazing dancer and swirled her around with ease and confidence, holding her tightly against him. She tried to remain calm as long as she could but seeing Drake had deeply shaken her. She couldn’t avoid feeling insanely jealous when she saw him arrive with Olivia. Without even noticing it, her eyes looked for him all across the ballroom until she felt his gaze from the bar. Alexis locked eyes with him over Liam’s shoulder. Drake was clutching his glass, his knuckles almost white as he watched them together. His eyes didn’t leave her for one second, but she wasn’t sure what was on them, finally, he broke their eye contact, drank his glass, and left.

Drake watched Liam and Alexis slide along the room together, unable to detach his eyes off of them, feeling like a blade slowly pierced him, every time Liam whispered something on her ear or pulled her closer to his chest. Only one day before, she was completely his and now she was dancing in another man’s arms like their story hadn’t even happened. He dreaded the mixture of things dwelling in the pitch of his stomach, the intense hatred mixed with his feelings for her, stronger than ever.  As he watched her move, he realized that her eyes were looking for someone across the ballroom, and then they stopped when they locked with his own gaze. Rage flooded through his veins. How dare she taunt him like that? He didn’t know what game she was playing at, but he wasn’t going to stay to find out. He gulped what was left of his whiskey and left the room before the song was finished.

When the song was finally over, she excused herself with Liam and decided to leave the party for a few minutes. She saw a door open in the hallway and entered the room to calm down before coming back to the gala.

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Tariq watched Alexis and Liam greet their closer guests. He hadn’t forgotten about how Alexis had humiliated him at that bar a month before.

“Hi T!” Tariq turned to the beautiful woman next to him. “Do you know her?” She cocked her head towards Alexis.

Tariq arched his brows “I met that whore in a bar, she behaved like she was above me before leaving with Drake Walker, and here she’s a month later parading in Liam Rhys’ arm like she’s a fucking virgin”

A smile formed on her lips, this was going to be much easier than she thought. “You know, I might have a little idea of how you can teach her what a real man is, T.”

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Alexis entered the study so fast she didn’t realize that Drake was already there leaning his back against the wall drinking a glass of whiskey. Her heart stopped, she turned around as fast as she could to leave the room when she heard his voice.

“Are you following me, O’Brien?”

“No, I’m sorry I- I didn’t see you come in here” her soft voice made him even angrier.

He placed the glass on the desk and moved in front of the door to prevent her from leaving the room.

She took a sharp breath “Let.Me.Pass”

As much as he hated her, he wanted to be as close to her as he could. It was driving him mad.

She inhaled sharply “What do you want Drake?”

Drake took two steps in her direction making her walk backward until her back was against the wall, he placed his hand against it, trapping her, his left arm on one side of her, the wall on the other.

“What do I want?” he scoffed “What do I want?” He leaned towards her. Her heart started racing furiously, being this close to him made her feel drunk.

He looked at her intently “I want you fucking out of my head. I want you to tell me what sick game you’re playing at, because I saw you looking for me while you were dancing with your fiancé.” His face was only a few inches from her, his raspy voice in her ear had the immediate effect of goosebumps emerging all along her arms. He noticed them so he stroke one arm gently, locking his gaze on her. “I want to know why you’re trying to drive me insane.” He got closer to her, smelling her neck, almost kissing it “I can feel the effect I have on you, O’Brien.” Her breath hitched when he took her chin between his fingers “And you know what? Twenty-four hours ago, I would’ve killed for you” He got even closer to her mouth “I want you to know that I would’ve done anything to make you happy” Her smell was making him lose all self-control, he finally crashed his mouth with hers kissing her hungrily, Alexis responded to the kiss even more desperately, tugging his hair between her fingers. He stopped furiously with himself for giving in to her, so he grabbed her hands “but now? Now, I despise you, and I want you out of my life, that’s what I want.”

The contempt and hurt on his eyes were too much for her to bear. She freed herself from his grip and pushed him away. “Don’t worry, Drake. You got it. Now let me pass.”

He raised his hands mockingly taking a step backward so she could pass. “By all means, Ms. Rhys”

She left the room shutting the door angrily after her.

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He was waiting for her at their usual meeting point.

“I talked to Tariq, he was easier to convince than I thought, he will make it look like she wanted it, don’t worry”

“Are you sure? It has to be credible”

“Don’t worry, he understands. I also have a photographer in the right position. Soon, all Cordonia’s news will be talking about the new future first lady and what a whore she is, Liam will be humiliated.”

He smirked before kissing her. “That’s perfect”

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Maxwell saw Drake walking furiously towards his room

“Drake!” Maxwell ran behind him “Fuck, Drake! Stop! I need to tell you something important!”

He stopped. “What do you want Beaumont? I'm really not in the mood for your nonsense right now.”

“I know, it’s about Lexie.”

Just hearing her name hurt. “I’m not interested.”

“But, Dr-“

“Are you deaf Beaumont?? I’M.NOT.FUCKING.INTERESTED.”

Maxwell had spent his childhood being friends with Drake and his frequent outbursts; he wasn’t going to be impressed easily.

“She needs you!” He yelled back “She’s scared and desperate and needs you.”

He stopped dead in his tracks at Maxwell’s words and turned around slowly.

“What do you mean scared? Of what?”

“I don’t know. She wasn’t very expli-”

Drake sighed, annoyed “She’s messing with your head, Beaumont. It’s what she does best”

“Argh! Would you shut the fuck up and listen for one second?” He yelled.

Drake arched his brows, he wasn’t used to seeing that side of Maxwell.

“She told me that her father is threatening with… something… and because of a mistake that she made when she was younger, she has to do what he says. That’s why she’s with Liam. Believe me, Drake, I spent last night comforting her, she’s incredibly sad and desperate.”

Drake scoffed but a small part of him wondered, her father was certainly capable of doing something like that, and it would definitely explain a lot of what had happened between them.

Maxwell watched his best friend debate with himself.

“Look, she didn’t even want me to tell you, hell she begged me not to. But she was terrified, I swear Drake. Please talk to her”

Drake knew right then that he didn’t have a choice. Not really. If she was feeling scared ... terrified, he had to be there for her, he had to help her.

“I’ll talk to her Max”

Max grinned relieved. “Now?”

Drake ran a hand through his hair. “Not now, we just  fought and I’m still very drunk from the party, but tomorrow, first thing in the morning, I will make sure she’s fine.”

“Ok, buddy.”

Drake rolled his eyes. “I’ll go to sleep now and…” He patted Max on his back. “Thank you Max, you’re a good friend.”

Tariq watched from the corner he was hiding, how Drake and Maxwell say good night to each other before taking the left corridor to their rooms. When they were out of sight, he took the right side of the hall where he was told Alexis’ quarters were. He put his hand on his pocket to make sure the key to her room was still there when he felt it, he grinned to himself thinking about her all alone in her room. His night was definitely going to be unforgettable.

[toomuchbroadwayquotes]

This might be ignored,its a long read, but if you want to have your forces restored on feminism my dead feminists i really wanted to share something that is making me tear up every 5 seconds.

As some of you might now, in my country (Brasil) we currently have a situation where our "president" is a misogynist (said he had a bunch of boys, they he went weak and have a daughter that's a "small" example for yall), homophobic ( said he would beat the gay out of his son if he ever "got it"), racist ( talking about killing native Indians and saying slaverism was a choice yadayada) anyways, just a piece of crap, we call him Bozo, like the clown. Well ever since his election we have been feeling so down (I'm sure my American friends can share the feeling). We are the country that kills more transexual people on the world. And it's not even illegal here, that would put into perspective. So, all this are real, serious problems, but bear with me as I get I little... naive maybe?. Well we had 20 seasons of BigBrother over here (Or BBB, Adding the Brasil at the end) and the show is on "the liberals tv channel, all the conservatives try to boycott it yadda yadda ") . But this season is just a gem. I feel like a revolution is happening and (I'm crying rn) I can't even put into words. Its gonna sound ridiculous, but you have to understand that 1) TV is a huge part of our culture, and is 100% connected with politics for us. 2)This show has been silencing woman, making men do anything they want without consequences and put woman as simple objects for their enjoyment. And somehow every year we wouldcomplain about how that was the reflection of our country. Something like this year edition NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE.

Our LGBT movies, Theather and books are being censoreds right now. Our country is on the verge of becoming a conservative doom.

The secretary of health system said :abstinence of sex is the best way to avoid DSTs and pregnancies. THATS HOW DEEP IN SHIT WE ARE. And we feel voiceless. Is like they are the majority you know?

Is like, you know when Katniss made every distric rebel by leading an example on the hunger games? Is THAT KIND OF SHIT. So, firsts things first:

I will introduce you the leaders of our current feminist movement

First, Thelma, she is not just ya regular powerful black queen. She is a doctor, with a bunch of degrees on stuff I can't even pronounce,she is specialized on anesthesia and she is a resident like those bad ass ones in grey's anatomy. She she is A BOSS. She is strong, and even though she is not 100% familiar with the feminism in "theory" she lives it in practice with out even knowing it ( now she knows, cause the other two are teaching her!) I want to make clear that on this reality show, the majority of the public has always been racist, and black people normally are eliminated first, yes it sucks and is one of the reasons I stopped watching a long time ago, as most of us millenials, but thank God we came back. She isn't going ANYWHERE CUZ WE ARE NOT LETTING THAT HAPPEN.

The second one is Marcela, every since the first we saw her she said loud and clear:I AM A FEMINIST, she is also a Doctor. She calls her self doctor unicorn, she is an OB/GYN and choose her career because she wanted to fully support her transexual brother /yess/, she is also expert on female sexuality and give classes about it, think Carina Deluca. She also takes care of sexual abuse victims. Oh yeah, she is bisexual as well. And everyone is shipping her with the next one btw.

Now our last warrior: Gizelly, She is a Lawyer, and she advocates for woman, she has suffered all the types of abuse from her ex husband and after all the trauma, she decided no one would do that to her again. Feminist, we call her the hurricane, she just shoots fire and defends any woman that is being belittled.

What happened was, some guys decided they would "seduce"any woman who was in a relationship outside the reality show, so they would look bad, and be eliminated easily. Wellx those 3 heard that, and they just couldn't get quiet. They went and tell all the girls about it. Some of them didn't believe them, the guys said they were CRAZY, and were LYING (what a shock)

The confrontation scene:

So one of them said: If I am lying, I will be eliminated this round. If I'm back, then you are the lier. So, regular reality show stuff right?

Here are some things you should know: Marcela, the leader ( as she was the one with the initiatives) was anonymous when she first got on the show, and 13 days later, she had 2 MILLION FOLLOWERS. Every feminist, every LGBT+ and ally on this country just woke up ya know?. We were all mad as hell that they were being treated as liars, but, and that's a HUGE but, the guy mentioned earlier was against one that was even worse. He was touching inappropriately the girls while they were completely DRUNK at the parties ( they wouldn't remember later), he was the one who actually made said plan mentioned before, but they didn't knew at the house because he was a completely different person when he was alone with the guys. A complete scumbag, he mocked and made fun of every woman on the house because of their looks etc. Sooo, all those millions of feminists watching were like : "do we take the biggest jerk and make the girls think we think they are lying or ?" Well, we decided to take the bigger toxic monster first, and left the other one for the next. But we had a special card. Every year, after the show starts, they put a glass house in the middle of a mall, with 4 candidates inside, we vote for 2 of them to be on the actual show yada yada. What happened was:people started showing off by the mall, with posters, begging for whomever got in the house to :"PLEASE TELL THE GIRLS EVERYONE BELIEVE THEM. THAT THEY ARE NOT LYING. THAT THEY HAVE MILLIONS OF SUPPORTERS. THAT HE ONLY CAME BACK BECAUSE THE OTHER WAS WORSE ETC"

So, last night was elimination day, the worst one got out with 80% elimination A victory for us (there were 4 people on this run, and one of them is a Black guy, fat, older than everyone else, and by history, he would obviously be the first eliminated but he was the one with LESS VOTES. AGAIN THIS IS UNPRECEDENTED IN OUR COUNTRY SPECIALLY SINC THE FOURTH PERSON COMPETING IS A CARISMATIC YOUNG KOREAN MAGICIAN YOUTUBER WITH A NETWORTH OF MILLIONS, BUT THE BLACK GUY WAS LESS VOTED THAN HIM, GUYS I CAN'T STOP WRITING IN CAPS.The second worst one tho, comeback celebrating, saying he knew he was right. Singing victory. The girls were crashed. No one understood and they all started crying and talking about how it was a reflection of our country, but that they wouldn't change their ideals etc. (Again, they didn't knew everything trash bag number one did, cuz he did it in secret so they thought it was an answer)... well, 2am, the couple from the glass house got in. And they told them. They said everything. How the public loves them, and the why the other one got out first, and how we knew they were saying the truth. This part is just a sweet ending for y'all. They then proceeded to get all the woman in one bedroom and talked and talked, they even explained to the ones who had some deep patriarchal mindset and were believing the boys up until that point, they had conversations about feminism, about not accepting to be treated that way, they cried, they were so relieved, it's silly because is a reality show, but last night everyone felt like we were supported. Like, people got our backs! People agree that we wont take that bullshit anymore. In other editions those guys would be the handsome guys that all the girls would die to be with, you know? But know they are the villains. It happened. The girls are not the crazy ones. They are not the powerless wones. They were the STRONG ONES forming OPINIONS, moving the big pieces on the board.

I can't even talk about how this will impact on many young girls, especially with all those girls having such strong stories you know? Today is a reality show but whatch us on the booting vote! Watch us at the March's. Just watch us. I'm telling y'all. Brasil is gonna turn this shit upside down.

Anyways here is a little clip of when our guardian Angel Dan, told the girls that they should trust Marcela's word

The relief the felt, we all felt. Having your word taken seriously after being called crazy and lier...

( even the production of the show tryied to deny the guys plan was real before the videos started pouring up, and they had to take back after saying on national television that Marcela was lying. Because that was the standard)

[whalexflowers]

{ sophia bush, lesbian, cisfemale + she/her } ➸ hey look, it’s SAWYER CICERO! they’re a 32 year old originally from WASHINGTON, DC. i heard she’s pretty EVASIVE, but i think she’s so LOYAL at the same time. while they’re terrified of being harmed, they’re perhaps more afraid of people finding out HER FATHER IS A DESPISED FORMER PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. they had no idea what they were getting themselves into when they moved to wrenbury.

tw: abuse, republicans, sex, drugs, rock’n roll, non graphic mentions of assault, lesbian butch mess

ok here i go again, reg back on her bullshit with my chainsmoking, dog training, doberman wrangling, chip-on-her-shoulder lesbian

Decades before Sawyer Cicero existed, there was Sally Maxwell, the youngest of the six children of Ernest Maxwell, a prolific republican politician from Topeka, Kansas. The power of her first cries was a force to be reckoned with, for an already exhausted mother that was trying to juggle her husband’s rapidly growing career and very attention demanding siblings.

Sally was born with the label of black sheep tattooed to her face even before she learned how to run. She was loud, curious and would not stay still, constantly interrupting the peaceful formation that her picture perfect family had to maintain as they got more and more thrusted into the public eye.

As Sally grew and started being more aware of her surroundings, she noticed that a lot of the things that happened around her made her feel uneasy: the bruises on mother’s face, the smell of alcohol on her parents breath’s before 10 am and the way her siblings did everything to get out of the house. Also, there were words thrown around that Sally knew they weren’t supposed to say, words thrown at their maids, and cooks, and gardeners and waitresses, usually people with skin darker than hers. They were called slurs, she learned one day at school. 

The pain of Sally’s self awareness did nothing but intensify as the years went on. The Maxwell’s house grew bigger and their universes got smaller, a sea of ignorance and bigotry surrounding their existence. And Sally was trying her best to stay afloat, to not be one of them, to not be like her father and her meek mother. She liked her nannies and chauffeurs better, they were the ones with the real knowledge, with the colorful worlds and tolerant answers that spoke of real freedom. Not the American Dream bullshit that Sally’s father went on and on about during dinner, face red from whisky and expensive steak dripping with blood.

So Sally did the only thing she could and started rebelling. She went by Sawyer and stop responding to her real name. She pierced her ears and went heavy on the eyeliner. She snuck out of the public appearances her family made or scowled directly at the cameras, proudly displaying her USA flag pin upside down. 

She was sixteen when Republican candidate Ernst Maxwell won the presidential election and her family started packing to move into the actual White fucking House. Sawyer’s worst nightmare had come to life, both personally and for the minorities in the country that just wanted to live a decent life away from the bullies that populated Sawyer’s daily life. Her mother, the First Lady had long ago lost her voice and so had her siblings.

So she rebelled even harder, openly flipping off cameras, speaking against her father’s policies, attending democratic party events and reading everything she could to educate herself. The coup de grace came when paparazzis caught her in the Rose Garden, fervently kissing a female classmate from her private school. Sawyer was, of course, a lesbian. She had been stealing kisses, glances and handholds since her early teen years, trying to figure out her identity. And as soon as she did, there was no holding her down. Sawyer was pictured almost every week with a different girl, in gay bars and lgbt+ events.

Her chaotic ways reached newer heights in college, when her parents swiftly shipped her off to London. Sex, drugs, rock’n roll plus a whole lot of lesbianing and disorderly conduct, but Sawyer finally felt free. It took her almost seven years and four colleges to finally graduate with her own mixed-and-matched degree on Pre Law, Ethology, Women’s Studies and Political Science.In the meantime, her father, President Maxwell had done a number on America. Cut ties with nations and organizations, failed military operations, dubious alliances. Almost everyone hated him and his time in office. And even having distanced herself from him from an early age, Sawyer felt the repercussions of their relations everywhere she went. Sawyer Maxwell became Sawyer Cicero after being assaulted by a small mob while working in Morocco. It took several months in the hospital for Sawyer to get back on her feet, take control of her hefty trust fund and disappear into the shadows, completely off the grid. Some tabloids reported her dead, some missing, nobody knew for sure, not even her parents or intelligence agencies.

In reality, Sawyer was bouncing around the world, exploring sights she never imagined she would see, with only a backpack and a flip-phone. It was a lonely existence but it was the price she had to pay for her freedom. She charmed ladies here and there, but she was always gone before breakfast. She got certified as a professional dog trainer in South Africa and that’s when she met her new best friend and companion: Lazarus, a 75 lb, purebred Doberman trained to protect and attack. He is always by her side, having been certified as a service and support dog for PTSD and other remnants from the incident in Morocco.

Sawyer landed in Wrenbury thinking it was time to take a break from international waters, looking for a quiet coastal town to set some roots and maybe get rid of the unbearable grief that has been festering inside of her. She comes across as a detached, unimpressed, chain smoking hermit, with a whole lot of a bad girl charm. She misses people, she misses connections, she misses not looking over her shoulder every two seconds, and letting down her guard. Maybe this town will do. 

[omfgtrump]

Tale of Two Viruses: Part 29

Can you imagine knowing there is something in the air that can kill people and not being truthful about it? 

The idea that The Don didn’t understand the dangerousness of the virus was always ridiculous, but something his apologists promulgated. Remember that first news conference when he spoke about the 15 cases and how most of the infected were recovered and…well, that’s that?

Now we have tapes from Bob Woodward’s 18 interviews with The Don which are part of his new book “Rage.”

“It goes through the air. That’s always tougher than the touch. You don’t have to touch things. Right? But the air, you just breathe the air and that’s how it’s passed. And so that’s a very tricky one. That’s a very delicate one. It’s also more deadly than even your strenuous flus,” Trump told Woodward on Feb. 7

“This is 5 percent versus 1 percent, or less than 1 percent.” (Referring to what was then thought to be percentage of people who would die.)

 On March 7th, The Don had this to say to Woodward: “Just today and yesterday, some startling facts came out. It’s not just old, older. Young people too, plenty of young people.”

“I wanted to always play it down. I still like playing it down because I don’t want to create a panic.”

Does it enrage you that the man leading this country decided to “play it down,” because he was trying to prevent panic? That’s like not telling someone, with his back turned, that a car is hurtling towards them because you don’t want them to freak out. If you don’t know what hit you, no biggie.

 The Don’s deadly spin on why he down-played the seriousness of the virus is another example of how warped and dangerous he is.

Explain that malignant reasoning to the grandmother you lost, the father, the daughter, your close friend. Tell that to the policeman, the meatpacking plant worker, the sanitation and MTA workers. Tell that to former presidential candidate Herman Cain.

The reason The Don didn’t tell the American people is because he is a deeply disturbed man who has no consideration for anyone else but himself. We have witnessed time and time again his construction of altered realities that he serves up to support the grandiose narrative he tells about himself. If he doesn’t like the facts presented, he spins them to his liking.  

The reason The Don did not tell the public about the seriousness of the virus is because he did not want to ruin his own narrative of how great a president he is. Remember, with The Don, everything is about him; the presence of a virus was like bringing a disruptive guest to your party. How dare they show up and spoil the beautiful spread (the stock market)? What nerve.

Now that we have nearly two hundred thousand deaths, with no end in sight (Canada just reported no deaths in the entire country!), The Don continues to to play it down, acting as if it is a thing of the past. Political rallies of thousands with no social distancing and few masks. Urging schools to open without any federal financial assistance and no coordinated plan. The man continues to promote things that will spread the virus and cause more deaths.

In Woodward’s book, we also get treated to The Don’s smugness about helping the Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia cover up the murder of a Washington Post journalist, just as we watch in real time The Don’s disinterest in the poisoning of the opposition leader in Russia.

We also get to hear how tickled he was to be with Kim Jung-un, and be the first to make him smile.

And how disturbed is this country, that with an out of control pandemic raging, he could win re-election?  

And how disturbed is this country that a man who loves autocrats that have no value for human life can win re-election? Here is a quote from one of Woodward’s tapes:

“I can tell you the relationships I have, the tougher and meaner they are, the better I get along with them. ‘The easy ones’ I don’t like as much or don’t get along with as much.” Now those are words we want to hear from a president.   

And how disturbing is it a president who claims climate change is a hoax and waits days before barely mentioning that the wildfires in the West are claiming lives, destroying properties and ruining lives in a manner never seen before; a man who believes if people in the West were just better sweepers none of this would happen.

Finally,when he begrudgingly makes an appearance to meet with officials the “Very Stable Genius” says”

“When trees fall down after a short period of time, they become very dry — really like a matchstick,” Mr. Trump said. “And they can explode. Also leaves. When you have dried leaves on the ground, it’s just fuel for the fires.”

Then he went on to say:

 “It’ll start getting cooler,” he insisted. “You just watch.”

“I wish science agreed with you,” Mr. Crowfoot replied.

“Well, I don’t think science knows, actually.”

Yes, it will magically get cooler, just like the virus will magically disappear.

Are you enraged that Republicans stand by watching a man destroy lives and bring the country to its knees?

I don’t know about you but I am enraged at Bob Woodward, the world famous Washington Post journalist whose book on Watergate helped bring Nixon down. I am enraged at him as he had a tape of The Don stating he knew how serious this all was and that he was playing it down, knowing that people would die. Some disagree with me, but I feel Woodward should have released that tape to the public as it is irrefutable proof of The Don’s willing complicity with a genocide of neglect. Blood on your hands, Mr.Woodward.

My rage is at Mr. Praying Mad Dog Mattis for thinking that praying at church was the proper response to his fear about The Don causing a nuclear catastrophe. During Nixon’s waning days in office he was becoming more and more unstable. As a result, Defense Secretary James Schlesinger issued an unprecedented set of orders: If the president gave any nuclear launch order, military commanders should check with either him or Secretary of State Henry Kissinger before executing them. And Mad dog, you went to church? For all your bravery Mr. Mad Dog, you abandon your country when it needed you most. It’s disgraceful.

And there are so many others for some inexplicable reason have abandon their moral posts and allowed this man to do what he has done.

People we’ve got to vote this evil and dangerous man out of office!

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[nakamina]

What is Produce 101 Japan? + Fav members

Hello again! Today, I’m here with another long blog post NOT about Yuzuru Hanyu or anime but............ PRODUCE 101 JAPAN!! Because there are just not enough posts about it on Tumblr. AGH! WHY!? So here we go...

What is Produce 101 Japan?

Produce 101 Japan is a 2019 Japanese reality competition show and a spin-off of the South Korean television series Produce 101 . The show follows 101 trainees with the intention of producing an 11-member boy band. The members, group name, and concepts are selected by viewers, referred to as "national producers." The series was first announced in April 2019 as a co-production between Yoshimoto Kogyo and CJ E&M and premiered on September 25, 2019, with the first and final episodes airing on TBS while the full series will be streamed on GyaO! beginning September 26, 2019. - Totally not copied and pasted from wiki lol 

So yes, if you are familiar with the Korean Produce 101 franchise then you get the gist; if not, it is basically a Japanese idol show where the viewers get to vote and decide who will debut in the end as part of a 11-member boy band. Almost each week the ranking is released to the public online. This ranking resets every 3-4 weeks, so every trainee has the opportunity to redeem themselves as well as drop down in rank. Currently 9 out of 12 episodes have aired. The final episode is set to air on December 11, 2019. 

Who are MY top 11 members? 

So my favourite part of this blog has come! I will now show case my top/favourite 11 members of Produce 101 Japan. So obviously these are the members that I hope will make it into the final 11 to debut as a group. I will first list their age, prefecture, current rank (as of 27th Nov 2019), audition group (as some members entered this show as a group), position/persona (made up by me) and a short blurb about what I like about them. FYI this is not in any particular order......except for maybe no.1 hehe. 

1. Shiroiwa Ruki

Age: 22 Prefecture: Tokyo, Japan Current rank: 4th  Audition group: Hangyaku no Prince  Position/persona: A prince on the outside, a dork on the inside

Ruki is by far my favourite trainee and my 1-pick. He is a total visual, an all rounder and the dark horse of this show. His rank has been steadily improving and just last week he jumped from 13th place to 4th place! So far he has been the centre for all of the group battle performances. He is known for his “Prince” persona, and yes on stage he is indeed like a prince from a Shojo-manga; however, as some other trainees have confessed he is actually quite dorky and down to earth. I mean, in his 60-second PR video he sang while nonchalantly playing a guitar that was clearly out of tune (face palm). Furthermore, he talks to his dorm mates on and on until 4am only because he gets lonely and doesn’t want to be the last one to fall asleep. This young fella just yearns for some company haha. With all jokes aside though, I think he honestly has the potential to challenge the current top three members and be chosen as the final centre. 

2. Komatsu Koshin

Age: 18 Prefecture: Hyogo, Japan Current rank: 28th Audition group: Puchi-men  Position/persona: Small boy with a big heart 

Komatsu-kun is a 18 year old high schooler that has captured the hearts of many with his cute face and personality. Ruki may be my 1-pick, but Komatsu-kun was the first trainee I had my eyes on. He is very underrated IMHO as he just does not get enough screen time. But you can tell from the few scenes that he is featured in that he is so polite, cares a lot about his fellow peers and can always lift up the the entire mood within the team. He also has a stable vocal and solid dance skills. He may be small (165cm), but he has a heart of a giant. 

3. Uehara Jun 

Age: 23 Prefecture: Tokyo, Japan Current rank: 5th Audition group: n/a Position/persona: King of Rap 

Where do I even begin with Uehara Jun!? He was actually in Produce X (4th season of the Produce franchise in Korea) but as he could not make the final cut there, he has now committed to this second opportunity in Japan to make his debut as an idol. Jun has many amazing qualities, one of the obvious ones being his skills as a rapper. Honestly, he is in a league of his own when it comes to rap. I’m no rap pro, but when he raps it just sounds so GOOD! When he first started off I think a lot of viewers were hesitant to vote for him as he had the tendency to succumb to pressure and self-guilt, but as the weeks went by he really redeemed himself and gained a lot more confidence. I mean...the fact that he moved from one season to another without second thought just shows he really wants this, and I genuinely hope he will make it into the final 11. He deserves it and the group will suffer without a top-quality rapper like him. 

4. Kono Junki

Age: 21 Prefecture: Nara, Japan Current rank: 11th  Audition group: Six Packs Position/persona: Kpop ready vocals and visual 

Junki is a very handsome trainee with a beautiful voice. Despite having little to no experience with singing or dancing prior to this show, he has really demonstrated the ability to adapt and deliver. Also his face and voice is so Kpop worthy it’s crazy. If I saw him walking down the street with no prior knowledge of who he is and someone told me he is a Kpop idol I will be convinced. He has also been voted by the other trainees as one of the top visuals. Oh and did I mention he has amazing muscles? I mean he did audition as part of a group called “Six Packs” ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). 

5. Yonashiro Sho 

Age: 24 Prefecture: Okinawa, Japan   Current rank: 8th Audition group: Six Packs Position/persona: 50 Shades of Yonashiro 

Ah yes... Yonashiro, the Christian Grey of Produce 101 Japan. I say this because many viewers find his face, body and most of all his VOICE to be very sensual. He is a member of Six Packs, the same group as Kono Junki, so of course he has muscles and is also an amazing vocalist. His deep liquid gold voice has just added so much spice to every group performance that he has been a part of, and is now regarded as one of the  best vocalists of all the trainees. You may think that he is this know-it-all arrogant narcissist because of his looks, but he is actually very kind, considerate of others and has genuine passion for singing. 

6. Kim Heecheon 

Age: 25 Prefecture: South Korean  Current rank: 14th  Audition group: Hello Again  Position/persona: Ready to lead a country 

Heecheon was a former member of the Kpop group Halo. As they disbanded, he decided to join this show alongside two other former members of Halo (Younghoon & Youndong). Due to their experience Halo is really on a league of their own in many ways. Their dance, vocals, performance and professionalism as an idol are just top notch and SO stable. Heecheon particularly has a voice of an angel. He can really hit those high notes and it sounds so tranquil. One of the vocal trainers even praised him for it in one of the first episodes. He has also demonstrated great leadership skills. He has the ability to gain everyone’s trust and respect, while not being afraid to give constructive criticism and call out on those who are not being professional within the team. He is so level-headed, but that is not to say he isn’t fun. He is actually so funny and I am just impressed how well he understands Japanese sense of humour despite being Korean. Heecheon for president anyone?? 

7. Jeong Younghoon

Age: 26 Prefecture: South Korea Current rank: 6th  Audition group: Hello Again  Position/persona: Embodiment of Kindness 

Look up “kindness” in your dictionary and you are sure to find his name. Younghoon, the eldest member of the Halo trio, is such a kind-hearted individual. One of the younger trainees even said that he wants Younghoon in his group during one of the group battles because he is kind (uwu). He has actually been judged quite harshly by the trainers despite being a former Kpop idol, and was even placed in group C (3rd lowest group) at one point. Even with these challenges he never showed the slightest bit of annoyance towards the trainers and accepted to improve on the flaws the he was criticised for. Like Heecheon, he has also gained a lot of trust and admiration from the other trainees.

8. Kim Youndong

Age: 24 Prefecture: South Korea Current rank: 10  Audition group: Hello Again  Position/persona: Little Mr Sunshine 

Youndong, also a former member of Halo, is such a sunshine of the show. He is absolutely a pleasure to watch both on and off stage and is always smiling. He is probably the least fluent in Japanese out of the Halo trio, but that in itself is what makes him so charming. His personality is so likeable I think it is impossible for anyone to hate him. Not to mention his stunning presence while performing. 

9. Kawanishi Takumi 

Age: 20 Prefecture: Hyogo, Japan Current rank: 12th  Audition group: KSIX Position/persona: Princess

I think Takumi is a must needed member for the final 11. He really is a talented individual. He apparently has no experience with dancing or singing but for some reason he manages to always pull off complicated choreos and is also working steadily on his vocals right now. He may be ranked 12th at the moment, but he was previously ranked no.1, so I’m sure his one-pickers will place him back up high in the ranking again soon enough. He is also labelled as the “Princess” of Produce 101 Japan due to his picture perfect looks. Unsurprisingly he was also voted as the no.1 visual by the trainees. I mean just look at him, those eyes just so striking and and full of hope! 

10. Kawashiri Ren 

Age: 22 Prefecture: Fukuoka, Japan Current rank: 2nd Audition group: UN Backers  Position/persona: Mr Perfect 

Now Ren is a special one. He is a very experienced dancer and is one of, if not the best dancer of all the trainees. He has worked as a back dancer for many Kpop and Jpop groups such as FT Island, WannaOne, Pentagon and SMAP. Of course he is not the only experienced dancer in the show, but every move of his is so effortless and clean. He was voted as the very first centre of Produce 101 Japan, and maintained this position throughout the first half of the season. His rank has now dropped down to 2nd, but he still maintains an incredible amount of following. He has so much aura and has garnered a lot of respect from the other trainees. I think it’s safe to say that he will make it into the final 11 and will undoubtedly be one of the top contenders for the final centre position. 

11. Tsurubo Shion 

Age: 18 Prefecture: Shiga, Japan Current rank: 3rd  Audition group: n/a  Position/persona: Bad boy gone sweet

I think Shion is a type that really pulls the ladies’ heart strings. Similar to Uehara Jun, Shion also sees Produce 101 as his second chance to accomplish his dream as an idol, as he has had a history of failing an audition....an audition which he even dropped out of high school for. There was some negativity around his reputation at the start as the trainers addressed his “rude” attitude in the first episode (By rude, he talked over some of the trainers and hosts, and was not using proper formal language). This was only for the first episode and was most likely due to nerves of being on screen as as the weeks went by we saw him break out of his shell and show a very sweet side of him. I mean just look at his pure smile in the GIF below! 

Honourable mentions

Now I am going to cheat a bit and show case three other trainees that could not make it into MY top 11 but deserves a mention. 

Ando Tomoaki 

Age: 22 Prefecture: Fukuoka, Japan Current rank: 7th Audition group: Six Packs Position/persona: Michelangelo’s Ando

The third member of Six Packs. I say he’s “Michelangelo’s” Ando because he has such deep set eyes and western facial features. One trainee said that he’s like one of the statues you’d find in the Louvre lol. Ando may very well be the most talented vocalist in Six Packs. It would be very sad to not see all of the three Six Packs members make it into the final 11, so thats why I have placed him here. 

Honda Kosuke 

Age: 24  Prefecture: Fukushima, Japan Current rank: 15th Audition group: Hangyaku no Prince  Position/persona: Big bro Honda 

Honda is so big bro-material. Even Kawajiri Ren, one of the most respected trainees comes to him for moral support. I actually would be really happy if he makes it into the final 11 with Ruki because they are from the same group and have such a strong bond (cries). So much drama happened around him during one of the group battles, and he is such a great dancer and choreographer. 

Urano Shuta

Age: 22 Prefecture: Kanagawa, Japan Current rank: 34th Audition group: Hangyaku no Prince  Position/persona: Mood maker 

Urano Shuta, also a member of Hangyaku no Prince, is someone that very recently caught my attention. He has a great voice and great sense of humour. Honestly, every scene he is featured in just cracks me up because he is always pulling off jokes. Let’s give him a bonus GIF for his loveable humour. 

In Summary 

Produce 101 Japan is such an entertaining, dramatic and inspiring show. I am usually not into idols at all (Kpop or Jpop), so I am honestly surprised just how invested I have become. I’ve only showcased 14 trainees today, but no joke each one of them has something to offer and you just have to watch it to understand the greatness of this show. Unfortunately you are only able to vote if you live in Japan (as it requires to have a Japanese cell phone number). Since I don’t live in Japan I thought this blog post is the least I could do to help promote the trainees. If you are able to please check this show out! You can use a VPN to watch all the episodes on Gyao. Otherwise, they have an official youtube channel and many fans have uploaded videos of Produce 101 Japan as well online. 

Thanks so much if you made it to the end of this blog! And I’m sorry if this is not the kind of content you expected from me. Do not fret though, plenty of Yuzuru Hanyu content will still be coming from me. 

Adios until my next blog post!!