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THE MOORS By: Dr. Leroy Vaughn, MD, MBA. A Dynamic, Honest and Powerful View of Black History.

During the European Dark Ages, between the 7th and 14th century AD, the Moorish Empire in Spain became one of the world's finest civilizations. General Tarik and his Black Moorish army from Morocco, conquered Spain after a week-long battle with King Roderick in 711 AD. (The word tariff and the Rock of Gibraltar were named after him). They found that Europe, with the assistance of the Catholic Church, had returned almost to complete barbarism. The population was 90% illiterate and had lost all of the civilizing principles that were passed on by the ancient Greeks and Romans. The Moors reintroduced mathematics, medicine, agriculture, and the physical sciences. Arabic figures including the zero and the decimal point replaced the clumsy Roman numerals. As Dr. Van Sertima says, "You can't do higher mathematics with Roman numerals." The Moors introduced agriculture to Europe including cotton, rice, sugar cane, dates, ginger, lemons, and strawberries. They also taught them how to store grain for up to 100 years and built underground grain silos. They established a world-famous silk industry in Spain. The Moorish achievement in hydraulic engineering was outstanding. They constructed an aqueduct, that conveyed water from the mountains to the city through lead pipes from the mountains to the city. They taught them how to mine for minerals on a large scale, including copper, gold, silver, tin, lead, and aluminium. Spain soon became the world centre for high-quality sword blades and shields. Spain was eventually manufacturing up to 12,000 blades and shields per year. Spanish craft and woollen became world famous. The Moorish craftsman also produced world-class glass, pottery, vases, mosaics, and jewellery. The Moors introduced to Europe paved, lighted streets with raised sidewalks for pedestrians, flanked by uninterrupted rows of buildings. Paved and lighted streets did not appear in London or Paris for centuries. They constructed thousands of public markets and mills in each city. Cordova alone had 5,000 of each. They were also introduced to Spain's underwear and bathing with soap. Their public baths numbered in the thousands when bathing in the rest of Europe was frowned upon as a diabolical custom to be avoided by all good Christians. Poor hygiene contributed to the plagues in the rest of Europe. Moorish monarchs dwelled in sumptuous palaces while the crowned heads of England, France, and Germany lived in barns, lacking windows, toilets, and chimneys, with only a hole in the roof as the exit for smoke. Human waste material was thrown in the streets since no bathrooms were present. Education was made mandatory by the Moors, while 90% of Europe was illiterate, including the kings and queens. The Moors introduced public libraries to Europe with 600,000 books in Cordova alone. They established 17 outstanding universities in Spain. Since Africa is a matriarchal society, women were also encouraged to devote themselves to serious study, and it was only in Spain that one could find female doctors, lawyers, and scientists. Moorish schoolteachers knew that the world was round and taught geography from a globe. They produced expert maps with all sea and land routes accurately located with respect to latitude and longitude; while also introducing compasses to Europe. They were such expert shipbuilders that they were able to use their geography expertise to import and export as far away as India and China. It was not by accident that a Moor named Pietro Olonzo Nino was the chief navigator for Christopher Columbus on the flagship Santa Maria. He is said to have argued with Columbus as to who really discovered America. One of the worst mistakes the Moors made was to introduce gunpowder technology from China into Europe because their enemies adopted this weapon and used it to drive them out of Spain. #Africa

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Where we Start is Where we End. (Where we Live is Where we Die.)

Summary:  You lost everything in the apocalypse. Everything you ever cared about, that is. After bouncing from survivor groups to other survivor groups you decide you can't live like a rule book anymore. So, you decide to travel the map and end up in Baltimore, MD.

You expect nothing more than to find a place to lay your head down and sightsee for a few months before keeping it going to the next place, like you had before. The apocalypse was a free vacation Afterall.

Maybe it'll start to cost you one day.

Relationship(s): Yandere Cult Leader Hannibal Lecter x Reader

Chapter Four: A Dinner of Four

Words: 2.6k

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long. 

would like to ask you all a question of what do you think you and Hannibal should talk about at this upcoming dinner party bc I’m imagining the dialogee and my head is blank lmao, if you guys can help then Youd be appreciated thank you pls comment or pm!!

⚠️!!!!!TW!!!!!⚠️ Slight animal cruelty & violence. Descriptions of violence.

Will had made it back after a while, his car parked a couple of blocks away from the whole division. He hadn’t cared to park anywhere close since he knew they would trash it the second they could. “They”, being Hannibal’s followers. Of course, it had happened before and would probably happen again. As long as he knew he had done everything to stop it he would be fine. It's not like he couldn't find a bike with a basket big enough for some of his smaller dogs anyways.

Will had doubted he would find another car this far along as well, so he would rather be safe than sorry. They had once broke multiple windshields on his old car, leaving the glass shattered on the carpet floor and seating. They had sliced a couple of his tires beyond a quick patch up and he didn't know how to replace a tire back then, so he used one of the cars Mrs. Bradshaw had let him take for good.

It wasn't like she was using it, anyways. Will thought, making his way around corners with Kylo. Kylo yipped by his side, happy just to be with his own human.

Mrs. Arleen Bradshaw was one of the only people Will could tolerate in the whole suburb. An older woman, older than Hannibal, who had married into wealth years before the apocalypse dawned the human race. In the seventies she and her now deceased husband had bought a lot and put a house on where all of the other new houses were residing now. She was one of the oldest residents in the sqaure and didn't really care about how weird and wacked the whole Hannibal thing was. She was just glad to have some neighbors and company during the time where mostly everyone was lonely. She wouldn't tell anyone else, but Will was her favorite visitor and Will had smiled with pride when she told him. It takes a smartass to know a smartass, and they both were, surely.

Will would say she was like a snarky grandmother if he had ever had one at all, but he didn't so he didn't know for sure if he was comparing her right.

Speaking of, he made sure to note his brain to visit her since he had been gone for a while at his own divertissements. She was sure to be lonely and waiting for Will to come by.

"Oh William!" She scolded, one time, hitting his head with an oven mitten, "That tea is too hot! Let it cool!"

Will would hastily put back down his teacup and smile with his eyes closed, catching her eye. "Yes Mrs. Bradshaw." She chuckled, ignoring the charmer.

The brunette's mouth quirked up at the memory and he continued his walk. He neared creaky and old fence on a full grass yard and knew he was near. He hoped he wouldn't encounter anyone before getting to Hannibal's front door.  

So, he walked on the sidewalk and tried to not stick out too much. Which wasn't hard since no one was outside that he saw, and he doubted any of them actually looked outside their windows this late. He patted his thigh a couple of times, urging Kylo to get closer as he looked around suspiciously; feeling a chill strike his spine.

Something wasn't right, didn't feel right.

The feeling of someone watching him had crept on his shoulders and stayed there for the walk. It had started to get darker outside, where it was a hazy dark blue that ruffled from the sky to the trees, it was now nearing pitch black, everywhere. His eyes couldn’t focus in this dark, barely blinding him. He had quickened his pace.

Will thought back to you and wondered if you had followed him and were some kinds of crazy stalker. Maybe you had taken such an interest from the human (and dog) contact that you hadn’t wanted to go home yet. Will touched his barely-there beard and wondered if you had been awestruck by his face and just couldn’t get enough.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t took a couple of long stares at your face either. Only when you weren’t looking. Because he did and, yes, you were quite beautiful in his eyes. He wasn’t one to be so full of himself but maybe you had saw him in the same light.

But, as flattering as his thoughts were, it wasn’t you. He knew it wasn’t. He didn’t know you all that well, but you didn’t seem to be the type to stalk a random guy and his dog. Well…maybe the dog. He laughed and shrugged off the thought and knew he was overthinking. Plus, he would’ve seen your headlights tailing him, and the feeling had only just started now- not on the road.

Will’s thoughts were confirmed as he heard a bark from his left. Kylo had alerted his owner of a presence behind him. Two men snuck up on him and one grabbed his wrists, pulling him back while another figure had got in front of him. Will yelled a noise and he struggled against the men. The other man struggled to get his feet and Will kicked his feet wildly.

Will had kicked his face forcefully and he stumbled backwards. The guy behind him laughed. Will watched as the blonde in front of him wiped his lip as the blood trailed down his chin, he glared at Will- then the man behind him. Kylo barked and barked, high pitched and alerting. Will continued to pull his wrists, struggling with his own balance.

Kylo had ran up to the blonde and bit his leg, jaw locking in place. The man cursed multiple words and shook his leg, but Kylo stood ground and kept his jaw in place. Kylo’s fur under his chin had contained drool and crimson red trails mixing into his saliva.

Will whistled loudly, trying to get his dogs attention before he got hurt by the man. It didn’t do much and Kylo had kept biting- desperate to defend his owner. Will still struggled and head butted the guy behind him. A sickening cracking noise was heard as well as a grunt.

Will pulled his hand away as the man weakened his grip, heading straight for the man in front of him. He jumped into action, kicking the guy in his shin as his knees buckled. Kylo let get of the man as he knelt and continued growling while watching him and going to Wills side.

Will looked over his dog thoroughly and patted his head. His tail stood straight and stiff as a board; making it known he was alerted and scared. Will comforted his dog before looking to the man who had stayed kneeling and holding his bloody, swollen nose. Will glared at him.  He glared back.

“Stupid fucking mutts.” The blonde swore, picking up a chunk of grass and dirt and throwing it at Kylo. Kylo doffed out of the way, barked, and lunged for him.

Will only had a second to respond before his dog attacked the man in front of him. He jumped, aiming for him neck arteries, the one open area Kylo could see. Will yelled out a quick curse, surprised by Kylo’s disobedience.

 Before Will could reach his dog to pull him back, the blond in front of him struck Kylo swiftly- knocking him far off to the road on their right. Will stopped in his tracks, flabbergasted and in shock. His eyes situated from the blondes bleeding face to Kylo who hung his jaw open as he struggled to get settled on his feet.

"Kylo, Find safety." Will whispered, rubbing his throat with his knuckles and coughing. "Kylo, find safety." He reaffirmed louder. Kylo ran.

Before Will knew what he was doing, he had tackled the abuser, punching him in repetitive motions. He pulled his fist back, blood jumping from fist to his shirt to his face and mouth. Skin pulled from the blonde's lips that clung to one of Wills hang nails. Will could feel himself shaking, making a low growling sound that was obviously because he wasn't breathing properly.

His nose was broken, bleeding more profusely than it had been. Will had watched his fist repeatedly punch one area over and over again, hoping to permanently paralyze the man's face.  The man's tears and drool jumbled together as he took the punches. He slurred again, "Stupid fucking mutts."

Will saw red, but before he acted more on his anger, he had gotten tackled onto the grass.  The man behind him had apparently watched the fight and laughed at his friend's demise. He pulled Will up by his shoulders and captured by his wrists before laughing and keeping his shining eyes on his friends battered and bloodied face.

"Oh my god, you got your shit wrecked!" He laughed. "Anyways," The brunette continued, "I'm calling the others to help drag him to Dr. Lecter, I'll save you the embarrassment from Macy seeing your ugly mug and have her meet me near his house. I'll come back for you soon."

The blonde made a sound on the ground that sounded like someone gargling salt water and the brunette laughed again. He dragged Will by the wrists.

"Don't die!" The brunette yelled.  

*****

“Get your fucking hands off of me!” Will barked as he got dragged by the arms to his doom. He pulled and tugged his grip out of two of the four people who dragged him. “I can walk!” He continued yelling, giving glares to a brunette in front of him who just snickered at him. Will rolled his eyes and thought that he seemed to think a lot was funny.

He had come here willingly, so why was he treated like a criminal? This wasn’t going to make them any closer to Hannibal and if they truly thought that Will wanted to laugh in their faces. They seriously were fools.  Will didn't mind at all going when he was a willing participant, but now that he had nearly killed a man and injured another, he was sure he wouldn't hear the end of it.

He hadn't come here to fight again or to continue fighting. No, he had come here to meet with Hannibal see what the fuck he wanted, visit an old friend, and get the fuck out of there before he did KILL someone. The blonde might not have been dead when he left him, but now? Who knew?

If his friend was as trustworthy as he seemed, then he would be found in the morning laying there rotting with maggots eating his tongue and sliced lip and halfway turned. Now the question people would ask would be who killed him? Not surprising nobody would find out (though they would point the fingers,) but if anybody would, then it would be Hannibal. Probably. Maybe not.

But Hannibal had found out any other time. Why would this time be different? Especially when they were walking him straight to the man in question. When the man they were dragging literally had bloodstains all over him and chunks of split lip under his fingernails.

The brunette from before sneaked another look at Will and gave him a once over as they reached the door to Hannibal’s study and scoffed at his choice of clothing.  Will furrowed his brow and yelled out another string of curses to the group who ended up tossing him into the wooden doors. Will tumbled on his feet and bucked on his knees in front of the doors.  

Will would have turned if he wasn't headfirst at the door. He would have been ready to berate the man, asking him if he wanted to end up like his friend. Will genuinely believes he would laugh too.

The door opened, revealing an up-kept older man with a calm face but tired eyes. He looked down, seeing Will looking down to his shoes in anger and embarrassment. Hannibal’s eyes twitched as he kept his gaze down on Will, he sighed heavily. Former giggles and laughter cut off midway as Hannibal looked up sharply. A telltale sign he was angry.

Will was sure there was a metaphor somewhere in this situation. Something about Hannibal-one of the gods and Will-one of the followers. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, standing slowly and breathing shallow breaths. Hannibal had patted his back and gave a demonizing look towards the four. They cowered and dropped to their knees.

A group of murmurs and prayers escaped their lips as their fists held close to each other and their thumbs kissed their lips.  Hannibal rolled his eyes discreetly and helped Will up. He invited him into his office and dismisses the rest with a nod.

Will sits on the edge of one of Hannibal's couches, declining when he is offered alcohol and sighs loudly. Hannibal pours himself an expensive scotch with a ball ice and sips elegantly.  Will tries to be patient and wait for Hannibal to say what he wants to and explains why he basically hired a hit on his head to find him found but can't seem to find the niceness in his veins.

Almost killing something that isn't already dead kind of fucks with you, according to Will.

According to Hannibal? Not so much.

But we don't know that yet. So, Will is the first to say something as his eyes stings with tiredness.

"Hannibal?" Will asked.

"Yes, Will?" Hannibal answered, taking another sip of his scotch and sitting on his desk.

"Do you mind answering why you wanted me to come back?" Will couldn't seem to hide the irritation in his voice and couldn't help but think about Kylo. If he was thinking, then he would have gone to Arleen's, but he was a dog and do dogs really think? Will couldn't be for sure so he hoped he could hurry his questioning up.  

"Do you mind answering why you have blood all over your clothes?" His eyes peered up, firm but questioning. He would find out whether or not Will told him anyways; So, it didn't matter. He only said it to playfully jab at the guy he knew since was in his Early thirties.

Will tsked, rolling his eyes and shook his head. Hannibal smiled.

"Let's have dinner soon." Hannibal said once more, "You can invite some of your own company this time."

"I don't have my own company Hannibal." Will replied, digging in his fingernails.

"I find it hard to believe you have not found any such friends seeing the time you spend away from here." Hannibal lifts his brows and takes a sip, urging him further. Wills mind wonders back to you and his cheeks get a little flushed, whether it be from his tiredness or just the fond memory of you, he doesn't know but Hannibal takes notice of this and instantly his lip quirks up.

"We'll invite your friend," He nods, "and invite Arleen."

"A dinner just for four?" Will confirms, not ready to invite the whole community to a dinner party just to meet you. He's sure you would be weirded out by how weird the whole thing is anyways.

"A dinner just for four." Hannibal confirms, "Let's talk then."

Hannibal then tells Will his guest room is open, and he can spend the night and leave in the morning. Hannibal told him next week is the dinner party and not to forget to invite you, Will says he will but thinks that is if he can find you in the first place.

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Playing the Game - Chapter 1

Summary: When aspiring writer Grace Caulder is met with financial troubles, she finds herself reluctantly limping back to a life she never thought she’d go back to. The new personal assistant for two of the most successful Managing Directors in New York investment banking, Grace can’t help but feel disgusted with herself and everyone around her. Struggling to come to grips with childhood memories and an eerily familiar boss, Grace tries to find out just who she is and who she loves? 

Steve Rogers wasn’t always the high powered, elite business he was today. No. At one point he was a skinny, little kid, fresh out of Brooklyn, just trying to make it through the daily torment of high school bullies. And his biggest tormentor just became his new personal assistant. Now’s his chance to get his revenge. But, is everything he thought he knew about her, true? 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC

Warnings: Swearing, Smut, NSFW/18+ only, Darkish

Author’s note: First chapter is up! Please, please, please let me know what you think! 

***

Have you ever woken up and found yourself possessed by the imminent feeling of greatness? You roll over in your bed, well-rested and content, the sun shining through your windows, the birds chirping outside, and you know that it is going to be your day. A great day. A life changing day.

Well, that was exactly the opposite of how Grace Caulder felt the morning of her first day at Stark Investments. In fact, her emotions could probably be placed somewhere between puking and flinging herself off the fire escape of her fourth story walkup. But, seeing as she’d never had a weak stomach and the fall not being nearly high enough to kill her, she did neither. No, instead she laid there, a writhing mess of self-pity with just a dash of self-loathing, before dragging her butt out of bed and getting ready.

As her tall, black stilettos clicked audibly across the marble lobby floor of one of New York’s most esteemed investment banking institutions, Grace tried to put herself in a state of mind similar to her surroundings. Men in sharp suits and cutthroat smiles eyed her up and down and in return, she flashed them an award winning smile, her red lips parting to reveal the perfectly straight, white teeth her parents had spent so much money on. Money. The whole building reeked of it. Not literally, but as she wedged herself in between designer suits and handbags, before the doors of the elevator closed, she couldn’t help but feel like she was sixteen again.

She was alone when the elevator chimed, and the doors opened revealing the 35th floor.  Clean lines and a grey monochromatic color palette filled the space in front of her. Marble, glass, and minimalist furniture created a sense of movement and growth. It was futuristic. Innovative. No nonsense. It evoked a feeling of success. Walking straight to the front desk with as much poise and elegance as she could must up, she smiled, “Good morning Natasha.”

“Well look who it is. I’ll let Marie know that you’re here,” said the receptionist, her tone monotonic and expression bored, as she pressed in a number, paused for a few moments, and then spoke into the mic piece of her headset.

“Maria. Grace Caulder is here. Perfect, I’ll let her know.” She ended the call, turning her attention back to Grace.

“She’ll be out in a second—” she paused, looking Grace up and down before a small smile spread across her face “—You know, I was hoping you’d get the job. Out of all the miserable little creatures that walked through here, you were the only one that seemed acceptable enough for the position. I mean, you seriously should have seen the people that Maria had interviewing! I was beginning to think we were doing some sort of outreach program.” Rolling her eyes dramatically, she adjusted the sleeves of her cream colored blouse. Grace smiled at her in amusement, admiring her dark red hair and the way that every curl was perfectly swept into a French twist. Truthfully, she had always wished she possessed the same deep shade of auburn and not her coppery shade.

“You know, I love your blouse Natasha. Is that from Miu Miu’s new spring collection?” She leaned over the front desk a bit to get a better look as Natasha eyed her devilishly.

“Gracie, dear, you are a woman after my own heart. I should have known when you walked in here with genuine Prada donning your pretty little feet, we’d be best friends. We should get lunch some time. I know a great, little tapas place right down the stree—”

“Grace?” Turning, she saw Maria walking towards her. An older woman yes, but she hardly looked it; everything about her was primped and manicured. Grace’s eyes followed her long, sharp acrylics as they tucked a piece of her jaw length mahogany hair behind her ear. Grace took the perfectly manicured hand in her own and shook it firmly.

“Lovely to see you again Maria. I just wanted to thank you for this opportunity, really,” she kissed ass. She hated herself a little for it, but she did it anyway. It’s what these kinds of people responded to best.  

“Oh, the choice was obvious Ms. Caulder. I mean with your level of professionalism and your references! Not to mention when I found out who your father was…well how could I not?” Maria finished, placing her hands on her narrow hips.

Grace fidgeted a little, uncomfortable with the mention of her father. She should have known that they would make the connection.

“Well, come this way. I’ll take you to your new office and show you where everything is. Mr. Rogers should be in around noon. He had a few early morning meetings today across town,” Maria informed her as they walked across the lobby and around the corner. Rogers…every time she heard the name something pulled in the pit of her stomach and the back of her head. Something was so familiar about the name, but for the life of her she couldn’t quite place it.

“And Mr. Barnes?” Grace asked as they entered a small office. Just big enough for a desk and a single bookshelf. Behind the desk was a window overlooking the city. There had to be some perks to the position. She placed her purse carefully on the desk and hung her jacket up a hook on the wall before adjusting her silk blouse.

“Well, he’s in right now actually. Shall we go say hi?” Maria suggested as she turned back towards the hallway, not waiting for an answer.

With their heels click-clacking in syncopation, they walked towards past office after office. Grace wasn’t the only personal assistant on this floor. In fact, the 35th floor was one of three floors at Stark Investments that housed the Managing Directors and their immediate personnel. However, she was the only personal assistant to Mr. Barnes and Mr. Rogers, the two highest paid MDs in the company. Reaching the end of the hall, Maria knocked on the door of the corner office.

“Come in!” called a muffled voice from the other side.

Grace followed the older woman through the door to find a bright, inviting space. Floor to ceiling windows showcased all of New York’s financial district and then some. The office still possessed the same modern flair, but little touches here and there made it feel warmer. A picture frame here, a knick-knack there. Her eyes focused on Mr. Barnes as he stood from his desk. He was tall, and broad through the shoulders, but not overtly imposing. She eyed his suit. Expensive but simple. His face was clean shaven, and his brown hair was cropped short on the sides, the longer hair on top gelled back. There was no denying that he was an attractive man, but so were a lot of people in this business. Good looks and charisma often got you just as far as smarts and a cutthroat attitude.

As he walked towards them, it was with the air of someone who held a level of self-assuredness. Not cocky, but confident. Mr. Barnes was from money. Only someone who had known the comfort of money all their lives could hold that level of ease and look so relaxed in such a high-stress position. He eyed Grace up and down before addressing Maria, “Who is this? You know it’s not my birthday for another month.”

Maria gave him a stern look.

“Joking as always,” Mr. Barnes replied, tongue in cheek.

Grace watched as Maria relaxed, “We just stopped by because I wanted to introduce you to my new replacement.”

“Replacement? So soon?”

“Well, I leave for Amsterdam next week. I figured it was acceptable timing,” said Maria, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“Right, of course. I guess I just let time slip away from me. Haven’t quite accepted that you’re leaving us.”

“Speaking of which, don’t forget the party is this Thursday. You and Sophia are coming, correct?”

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

Grace fidgeted in her heels, catching Mr. Barnes’ eye.

“How rude. Sorry doll,” apologized Mr. Barnes. “James Buchanan Barnes. Pleased to have you on board.” He shook her hand firmly, the exuding stench of businessman charm nauseating her. He would be the kind to his personal assistant, whom he’d just met, something like doll.

“Grace Caulder, it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Barnes,” she smiled big, making sure to maintain eye contact.

“Oh please, call me Bucky.”

The sound of the door behind them opening abruptly and then slamming took Bucky’s attention away from her. A deep voice, irate and resounding filled the room.

“Buck, I’ve just come from JPMorgan and you would not believe the absolute shit that—”

“We have company Stevie—” Bucky interrupted “—come here and meet our new assistant.” He seemed to be completely unfazed to the loud and aggressive man that had just entered the room. Turning around to meet her second and decidedly angrier boss, Grace froze.

“Steven?” Grace choked out quietly in disbelief.

The tall, blue eyed ghost of her past gave her a look of confusion, “Pardon? Have we met?”

Shaking her head, Grace collected herself, smoothing her hands down her black pencil skirt and stepping forward.

“Sorry. Um, no. Grace Caulder, your new assistant. It’s very nice to meet you Mr. Rogers.”

“I swear to god Wanda, it was terrifying. I’m pretty sure I saw my entire adolescence flash before my eyes!” said Grace as she sunk the sharp chef’s knife through another carrot, cutting the pieces julienne.

“Oh, come on G.C., you’re being a little overdramatic, don’t you think?” Wanda scoffed from her place in front of the stove.

“No! I don’t! You don’t get it Wanda. You didn’t know me back then,” she shuddered at the thought. Grace Caulder. Queen Bee Bitch of Trinity.

“I know you’ve probably blown it out of proportion over the years,” said Wanda tasting the tomato sauce in front of her before adding a dash of salt. Wanda, Grace’s roommate of three years, did most of cooking in the apartment. After several instances of near fatal stovetop fires, they both decided it was safer that way. That being said, Grace could wield a kitchen knife like no other and so she often covered salads and sous chef responsibilities. It was a nice give and take that they participated in.

“I mean, you couldn’t have been that bad,” Wanda continued.

“You would have hated me,” Grace responded, pointing the tip of her knife in Wanda’s direction before stabbing it down into the wooden cutting board. Wanda side-eyed her, challenging her statement with a look.

“I was the head cheerleader, took my daddy’s limo to school every day, and made girls cry for sport,” Grace responded, deadpan.

“Alright…maybe I would have hated you a little.”

“I’m pretty sure a couple girls transferred because of me.”

“Well I’m just going to argue that you’re a pretty awesome person now, so I don’t think you should beat yourself up about it. You were young. People grow; they change,” said Wanda, walking past her to grab two plate from the cupboard. They dished up Wanda’s spaghetti and Grace’s salad before walking to the couch.

“That’s the thing though. I was completely self-aware all those years. I knew what I was doing, and I hated it!” Grace exclaimed before digging into her pasta.

Confusion flash across Wanda’s face as she pressed further, “Then why did you do it?”

Grace finished her bite before taking a deep breath and answering, “Growing up where I did was like being thrown in a shark tank. You either learned to swim or you were eaten alive.”

“So, you learned to swim?”

Grace scoffed, “Worse. I became a shark. God…there was always all this pressure from my mom and dad to look a certain way, act a certain way, be friends with certain people, date certain people. Those people weren’t always the nicest, but if I wanted to make my family proud and keep them off of my back, I had to play nice. Of course, playing nice usually involved an array of status degradation rituals very specific to teenage girls.” She shook her head trying to free herself of the memories.

“G.C. that’s some intense shit. No wonder you don’t like to talk about home.”

“Yea and now that I’m at this new job it just feels…I’m just worried I’m gonna turn back into that person. I mean you wouldn’t believe how easy it was for me to slip my Grace Caulder mask back on. Everyone there just cares about money, looks, and status!” She took another bite of pasta, chewing angrily.

“I’m sorry G.C., if I had known I never would have let you take the job. Quit! Don’t work there, we’ll figure something ou—”

“Don’t—" Grace interrupted. “—I don’t want to hear another word. It’s not your fault they cut back your hours and I’m not gonna let you get a second job while you’re trying to get your Masters.” Grace sighed, looking down at her lap, “I always knew that freelance work wasn’t going to pay the bills forever. Maybe, this is a wakeup call. Maybe I just need to realize that I’m not cut out to be a writer, ya know? It’s a hard career and I probably shot above my head. We need this job. We need the money. I’m not gonna let either of us live on the streets. I can do this. I just need to swallow my pride first…and a whole bottle of pills.”

Wanda gasped, picking up a pillow and hitting Grace with it, “Not funny G.C.!”

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop with the suicide jokes…for now. But seriously, I have a way for us to live comfortably; it would be selfish not to take advantage of it.”

“Okay enough sappiness. I can’t handle it! So, this Steven, are you sure that he’s your new boss?” Wanda asked, putting her plate of pasta on the coffee table.

“I don’t know! I mean, there has to be a million Steve Rogers in the world, and it didn’t seem like he recognized me.” The topic had been melting her brain to mush all day. After their brief introduction, Maria and she had left Bucky and Steve to talk. She hadn’t seen him at all the rest of the day, but her mind kept going back to the absolute lack of recognition in his eyes when they shook hands.

“Well that’s good then! It’s probably not him!”

“Yea, I wish it was that simple. Here, look up ‘Steven Rogers Stark Investments’ on your phone really quick. I’ll be right back.” Grace ran to her room and dug into the back of her closet. After some effort and a lot of dust, she pulled out the item she was looking for. When she reentered the living room, she found Wanda with her eyes glued to her phone.

“You’re in trouble. Why the hell did you not tell me that your new boss is gorgeous?!” she spun her phone around to reveal a picture of him on the cover of Global Finance.

“I’m sorry Wanda. I was a little too preoccupied seeing this when I looked at him,” Grace retorted before opening her old yearbook and thrusting it in her face. It was a page out of the clubs’ section. This particular club was Art Club and there stood Steven. Standing barely five feet tall, thin as a rail and sporting some very ill-fitting, obviously second-hand clothes.  

Wanda let out an audible gasp that turned into a giggle.

“Wow. He’s just a little guy!” she turned the yearbook back to Grace. Snatching the book out of Wanda’s hands, she flopped onto the couch next to her roommate.

“Shut up! For your information he happened to be really sweet and smart and funny…” Grace looked down at the face of the boy she had left long behind.

“Oh my god, G.C.! Did you have a crush on him?”

“Yes. Which meant I was worse to him that anyone else. No way I was going to let my friends know I liked Teeny Tiny Rogers.” Grace scrunched her face in distaste.

“Teeny Tiny Rogers? I thought you said you went to a private prep school; doesn’t that require some skill?” Wanda gave her a disappointed look.

“Wealth doesn’t always equate cleverness Wanda.”

She watched as Wanda’s eyes flicked between the yearbook and her phone, concentration on her face. “G.C. they do look a lot alike. I mean, give him a major growth spurt and about ten years in the gym and this could be him…”

She groaned, “That’s exactly what I was hoping you wouldn’t say. So, what do I do?”

“Well…you said he acted like he had no idea who you were. Maybe he’s forgotten?” Wanda suggested.

Grace let the idea bounce around in her head, “I’d like to imagine that he did, but considering the amount of development that happens during that time in adolescence…memories stick. I mean what do you remember most about high school?”

“Elizabeth Germer. She told everyone that I was born with a tail. I had people oinking at me in the hallways for years…okay I get your point.”

Grace buried her face in the pages of Trinity School 2010, “Wanda, this is a disaster!”

“Well maybe he’s forgiven you. Maybe pretending to not know who you were was his way of saying it’s all water under the bridge. I mean, obviously he’s doing okay. More than okay! You’re working for him. He’s won!” Wanda stood, grabbing their empty dishes and walking towards the kitchen. Grace followed her, thinking over her point.

“But what if you’re wrong? How am I going to walk into that office tomorrow and not act like I didn’t torture him for four years? What do I do?” Grabbing a sponge and the soap from under the sink, she turned on the water and began to wash the dishes as Wanda stored the leftovers.

“You want to know what you’re gonna do? You’re going to stop acting like a giant, overdramatic baby and stop whining! You’re going to put on your overpriced, big girl panties, slip on an expensive dress, step into those ridiculously high heels and go to work. Do your job. Act like nothing is wrong. In fact, you’re going to treat him like a complete and total stranger. Okay?” Closing the refrigerator door, Wanda turned to face her, clearly having heard enough on the subject. Grace rinsed the last dish and put it on the wrack before drying her hands. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at her roommate.

“Okay. You’re right. You are completely right. I’m obviously not going to quit so I just need to do my job. Play the game for a little and if I eventually have to face up to what I did then…so be it,” she decided. Wanda walked towards her, arms outstretched, bringing Grace into a big hug.

“Don’t worry G.C. Everything will work itself out. I promise and besides you aren’t even sure it’s the same guy. I mean sure, they look alike but plenty of people do. Maybe you just happened to find his incredibly good looking and successful doppelganger.” Patting her on the back, Wanda walked past her and towards her bedroom. As she stood there, in the kitchen, by herself, Grace wouldn’t help but think about her new boss. Was he the Steven she’d known all those years ago? The sweet and sincere dork. Or was he some freaky ripped lookalike that happened to have the same name? She couldn’t know for sure, but what she did know is that night she laid awake in bed trying to convince herself that incredibly attractive doppelgängers did exist.  

Marvel Taglist: 

@caffiend-queen​

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall​

[wirebeauty64-blog]

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[baldwin-montclair]

Baldwin’s Nightingale (Part 5)

Characters: Baldwin Montclair/OC

Timeframe: After the S1 Finale, TV Show canon only (haven’t read the books yet)

Summary: Alisha weighs up Baldwin’s offer whilst dealing with the potential result of making the ‘wrong’ choice.

Tag requests: @christi14 @poemfreak306 @pookie-cleary

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

Alisha woke up to her phone alarm and in a room bigger than the small house she shared with Michael. The bed was a massive, oak, four post affair with sumptuous curtains.

The water temperature in the raindrop shower was perfect, no jiggling taps or sudden cold and hot shocks, just relaxing and blissful. After drying her hair, she decided to check out the fridge to see what she could whip up for breakfast.

Glass of orange juice and a bowl of greek yogurt with strawberries and raspberries, all enjoyed whilst taking in the morning view from the tall windows. Luckily, she had figured out how to close the roof window to avoid freezing the night before.

The night before.

First date and he offered her the world, in exchange for control over a part of it. She understood his message better now in the clear light and with a clearer head. His conditions didn’t seem like much of an imposition. Christina was nice enough and she’d most likely answer if he called anyway.

It’s not like she enjoyed taking the subway.

Her musings were interrupted by the ringing of her phone and, excitedly she checked the caller ID.

Michael.

“Hi.” She answered trying to not sound as disappointed as she felt.

“Don’t ‘hi’ me, the hell are you?” He sounded more worried than angry.

“I texted you last night that I was staying over.”

“What? I didn’t get a...” he trailed off, the sound of button presses replacing his voice, ��you’re staying over at ‘Baldwin’s place’, see me tomorrow.” He read the rest of the message he had clearly just seen.

“Mike, chill, I’ll be over in a bit.”

“As soon as possible, there’s much you don’t know.”

“Fine. Bye.” Alisha hung up and called Christina, deciding to honour the promise she’d made Baldwin the night before.

“Good morning Alisha.”

“Uh, hi, listen, I hate to be a nuisance but-”

“I’ll stop you there, you’re not. Now, are you ready to go?”

“Sure, where will I get you?”

“You just wait there, I will come collect you from the apartment.”

“Don’t you need like a key and code?”

“Mr Montclair charged me to be your protector, Alisha, I have a key and code.” She explained cordially.

“Oh, makes sense. Well I guess I’ll just hang here.”

“I should be there in fifteen. Until then.” She hung up and Alisha wondered where she was that she could be there so quickly.

It was, however, enough time to tidy after herself, wash up the dish ware and cutlery, and both glasses from the previous night.

Alisha could tell Christina was about to object when she took shotgun position instead of backseat passenger but didn’t say anything.

“Did you sleep well?” She asked after some time.

“I did, strangely. Usually I can’t sleep well in an unfamiliar place but I was out like a light.”

“I’m happy to hear it.” There was no tone of sarcasm in her voice, just the same friendly yet formal manner.

Although the rest of the journey passed in silence, it was not uncomfortable, in fact, she felt oddly at ease with the other vampire, another mark in the ‘pro’ column.

When they pulled up at the door, Michael got out almost right away, clearly hoping to face Baldwin but faced Christina instead.

“Kris?” He stared in disbelief.

“Hello Mikey!” She smiled, seemingly forgetting her formality.

“Mikey,” Alisha repeated, “you know each other?” She asked.

“Somewhat.” Michael answered guardedly as Alisha tried to get out of the car but found it locked again.

“Are you kidding?” Alisha groaned in annoyance when Christina opened her door.

“Never about security.” She closed the car door behind Alisha and walked back around to the driver’s side.

“So you’re doing Montclair’s errands now?” Michael jibed.

“Bye Mikey, Alisha, you call me if you’re going anywhere!”

Alisha nodded and watched her drive off before turning back to Michael.

“Inside, we need to talk.” He moved aside to let her in and closed the door behind them.

“Look, if this is a lecture-“

“Alisha, stop, I need to tell you something, what I actually found in Venice.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I used to be on the Congregation,” he blurted out, taking a seat in his armchair as Alisha sat on the couch, “it was before I agreed to be your mentor but I was there and I still have my contacts.”

Alisha remembered Baldwin mentioning that she should speak to Michael regarding developments.

“Okay, so what’s the news?”

“A witch found the Book of Life, basically tore the entire congregation apart when she skipped off with Matthew De Clermont, your boyfriend’s brother.”

She understood a little more about Baldwin’s statement regarding his brother calling him rarely being a good thing.

“Where are they now?”

“We don’t know. Initially they went to France but where after that, the Daemons weren’t informed.”

“When you say ‘skipped off’.”

“Mated, apparently.”

“A witch and a vampire?” She asked, incredulous.

“Aren’t you seeing a vampire.”

“Neither vampires nor witches hate us, they just don’t consider us a threat.”

“I think Montclair knows more about their location than he claims.” Michael states, watching her carefully.

“He hasn’t mentioned it to me if that’s what you’re suggesting, nor will I ask him.” She stated defiantly despite knowing that Michael may be correct in assertion, given Baldwin’s concern and admission that they were ‘beyond his protection’.

“Okay!” Michael help up his hands in mock surrender.

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

“That? No, that was just recent developments. I wanted to talk to you about this.”

He opened his laptop and showed her the same fresco from the previous night. A very beautiful depiction of the Roman goddess Diana with various animals surrounding her.

“I’ve seen this already.”

“I know, but look at this!” Michael tapped a button and an overlaid pattern of Latin characters over the animals. Beneath the photo he had arranged the letters in a line.

“Hold on,” she noticed the significance of the letters, “you think that’s music?”

“Maybe, can you play it?”

“Sure.” Alisha went to her room and retrieved the old violin her parents her bought her, it was her practice instrument.

She studied the notes before playing the melody, a beautiful, haunting and almost familiar song before stopping abruptly.

“Where’s the rest of it?”

“That’s it.”

“No, there’s more, the melody is not complete.” She answered with forceful confidence.

“Okay, I hear you. There were two other sites he was going to show me, I haven’t decoded the second one yet and the third one, the property had been closed off due to the purchase of the building.”

“So? Just talk to the owner-”

“No, I won’t be doing that.”

“Why?”

“It was purchased by another member of the Congregation, Gerbert D’Aurillac, vampire, not to be trifled with.”

“Why does he want it, what’s it for?”

Michael glanced at her then away, as though weighing up his options.

“Michael, what is it?”

“Something big,” he answered cryptically, “something that explains our place in this world, something that’ll make the witches and vampires see us as equals, not as pawns in their power struggle.”

“What does this Gerbert guy have to do with that?”

“I don’t know yet but I’ll keep working on the second fresco.”

She nodded in agreement, heading out the room towards her bedroom to get ready for that night’s performance.

“Do me a favour,” he stopped her, “don’t tell Montclair about this, or Kris or anyone for that matter. This knowledge could be dangerous in the wrong hands.”

“Fine,” she answered simply, “this is your wheelhouse, not my secret to tell.”

“Will you be back later?”

“Yeah, I’ll be home after the show, you just get that finished, I wanna hear the next part.”

“Yes Ma’am!”

The gathered orchestra stood in the amphitheatre having been directed there by a notice on the backstage door, no other explanation.

After a few moments, a short, elderly man joined them, a daemon, Alisha’s senses picked that up when he glanced around the group and landed on her.

“My name is Brian Cassidy. Unfortunately, Jonathan had to be let go and I will now be standing in as musical director as per request of the board.”

A confused murmur rippled amongst them.

“I understand this is sudden but we want to get back to normalcy, yes?”

Unenthusiastic agreements responded to his request.

“Splendid, that is all.” He dismissed them.

“What’d Jonathan do?” Susan asked nobody in particular but Scott responded with a shrug.

“Beats me, he was a stand-up guy.”

“Yeah, this new MD seems like a total-”

“Alisha Black,” he again addressed the crowd, “where is Alisha, I’d like a word.”

“Great!” She told her colleagues with a considerable amount of sarcasm and approached the fellow daemon. He waited until everyone had left before he addressed her.

“I think we can dispense with the formalities, Alisha.”

“Okay...” she responded, unsure what he was getting at.

“I am the primary shareholder of this company and I am concerned about the attention you are bringing to our door.”

“What kind of attention are you concerned about?”

“I prefer to remain outside of creature politics, having a daemon associated with a vampire on the congregation is not desirable.”

Alisha stared at him in shock.

“Have you been spying on me?”

“Call it protecting an investment.”

“Listen-”

“No, you listen! It’s not just about the politics, if you were seeing a witch or any other vampire, I wouldn’t even be here.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Baldwin Montclair, de Clermont, is the ruin of our kind, the reason we cannot gather in communities while the witches and the vampires do as they wish. You are a talented musician but I will not have De Clermont’s pet lead my orchestra, I would shut the doors first.”

“Are you firing me?”

“I’m warning you. If you do not cut ties with him, I will be forced to let you go, it’s your decision. I expect it by tomorrow.” He walked away, leaving her dumbfounded.

Two ultimatums in as many days.

Alisha did not want to talk, or think. She didn’t call Christina, instead, she allowed Scott to drop her off by the subway.

By the time she walked in the front door she just wanted to collapse on her bed, go to sleep, wake up the next day with all the answers.

Unfortunately, she caught the subtle scent of incense from Baldwin’s coat and it stopped her in her tracks.

Could she walk away from the first chair, a position that took years to earn and would take years to earn again in a different company?

All for what?

She didn’t know what the terms were, the assurances or what happens when he gets bored of her, how many ‘Nightingales’ does he have, all questions to which she knows no answers.

Yes, she was extremely and hopelessly attracted to him but that wasn’t reason enough to abandon everything she had worked for, that would be insane.

“Michael, what exactly is a ‘Nightingale’?” She called out before entering the living room, she would at least get the perspective of someone who was familiar with the concept.

There was no answer.

Alisha rolled her eyes, Michael got into a flow whilst working where he could not hear anything and instead prepared herself to shake him out of it.

What greeted her instead, was a scene she could never prepare herself for.

Papers and books lay strewn around the room.

Michael lay amongst the mess, eyes open and empty of life, an obvious bite mark on the side of his neck and a smashed computer beside him.

———

PART 6