#alexander the great is my new special interest sorry

[celestialseawitch-ff]

OCs and Worldbuilding: Otis Spratt

Otis Spratt is a character that shows up a lot in my fanfic these days. He's such a lovely, grumpy, and intelligent wizard. I almost always have him paired with Minerva McGonagall, but he's also interesting simply as a stand alone.

He's the Head of the Department of Mysteries. He's old enough that he likely wasn't taught by Dumbledore -- if he went to Hogwarts. He's Asian but has a name with a completely different etymology, which suggests he's from a family of immigrants several generations back. Like there's so much happening there.

But the most interesting backstory to him is that Otis Spratt is actually a rewrite of a character. Originally, the Head of the DoM in my worldbuilding was a character named Alexander Rives. Many of Alexander's key attributes were passed on to Otis -- they're both quiet, serious men. They're both at the very least grey wizards, though Dumbledore would easily classify both as dark or dangerous. Most notably, they both hate Albus Dumbledore.

Another very interesting fact about Alexander Rives is that while he hated Albus Dumbledore, he married Ariana Dumbledore II, Albus' only child. Ariana is an OC I didn't love nearly as much as Alexander. I liked her as a concept because of the interesting dynamic it created in relationships between Albus, Tom Riddle, and other characters. I have an old abandoned Jamione wip (that is actually one of the inspirational stories for The Marked One) where Tom Riddle and Ariana were in love.

Most notable about Alexander Rives is that he originated in a story that is the direct predecessor to the story, Where the Pieces Fall. The original story was a Sirmione (I'm not sorry for abandoning it, it was terribly written) time travel fic where Hermione is severely injured as she is cast back in time. She is hit with a horrible curse that leaves her extremely ill and weak. Sound familiar?

That story was eventually scrapped because of the aforementioned terrible writing among other things. But I provide for you below the introduction scene of Alexander Rives and Ariana Dumbledore II.

“Unspeakable Rives,” Professor Dumbledore greeted stiffly but not unkindly. He paused and his eyes twinkled. “Or should I say, Head Unspeakable now?” 

The middle aged wizard raised an eyebrow. He nodded. “Of course you already know.”

There wasn’t anything that Dumbledore didn’t know. He was worse than the nursemaid Rives had when he was a boy. It rankled him that Dumbledore seemed to know even Unspeakable business before anyone else.

“I make it my business to know,” Dumbledore responded with raised brows, his voice tight. The two did not get along. They hadn’t for a number of years. “I’ve got to keep up on my students, don’t I?”

A slight tension appeared in the creases in the corner of Rives’ hazel eyes at that. He wondered if it was meant to be a threat. 

“I haven’t been your student for a great number of years, Albus.”

The hair at Rives’ temples had grown grey, mixing with the dark brown waves and curls of his hair. Lines creased his forehead. He’d attended Hogwarts when Dumbledore had still only been a Transfiguration teacher. A time before the elder wizard had grown to dislike the new Head Unspeakable.

“To what do I owe the summons?” 

Rives nearly grinned at Dumbledore’s snippish tone. He hated being summoned like some sort of dog. But nothing could be done about it. When the Head Unspeakable requested one’s presence — no matter how much that person disliked said Head Unspeakable — one went.

Rives nodded his head towards the private hospital room behind him. “Thought you might be able to help out with a bit of a missing persons mystery for me. Interested?”

Dumbledore’s eyes glittered with intrigue as Rives knew they would. “Delighted. Shall we?” He gestured to the closed door and Rives nodded once before leading the way.

The private room in St. Mungos was nothing special, simply a space that could always be kept reserved and private for Unspeakable injuries. A small window let in a little light into the sparsely furnished room. A hospitable bed with two bedside tables were all the room contained, that and the young girl within the bed.

Rives closed the door behind the both of them and waved his wand. Unspeakable charms flew up around the small space like a fortress. Only another Unspeakable could gain access while they were in place. No risk of being overheard. 

Dumbledore barely paid the wards any attention. He’d been involved in Unspeakable business before which was one of the only reasons Rives felt comfortable calling on the older man. That and the undoubtable connection between the girl and the Headmaster that Rives believed the two to have. 

Dumbledore’s breath caught and it was obvious he’d found the same connection that Rives had seen the second he’d found the poor girl.

“I’ve never seen her before,” he calmly stated.

His eyes scanned the young witch frantically, despite his calm tone. She was unnervingly familiar. Her brown curls kinked and fanned out across the pillow not unlike how his own had in his youth. Her skin was sickly pale though, and dark shadows were cast beneath her eyes.

Rives nodded once. He had figured Dumbledore wouldn’t recognize her as a student, but he had to be sure. He waved a wand and conjured himself a chair to sit in. Dumbledore did the same. “Could she be a student from another school?”

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps… I’ll send a few inquiries out, if you’d like?”

Rives shook his head. That would only complicate matters. He knew the girl was from the future. He just needed to be sure.

“Do you know who she is? What’s happened to her?”

“She was cursed with a terribly dark spell. They must have been impeded somehow, though. I think she may have tried to deflect it. It would have killed her otherwise.”

Dumbledore nodded once but didn’t ask what the curse was.

“A Death Eater attack?”

Rives learned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Possibly.” He didn’t give any more information. Dumbledore only needed to provide confirmation that she wasn’t a student, anything else and the headmaster was just fishing for information. Rives wasn’t going to feed him anything. 

The headmaster gave the girl another long, piercing look. “She looks just like Ariana.”

Rives stared at the girl as well. “Yes… I’d thought much the same thing.” He glanced at the headmaster. “That’s why I called her as well.”

Dumbledore’s eyes flickered up and they clouded with a bit of anger. Rives leaned back in his chair, unconcerned. He was Head Unspeakable now — despite Dumbledore’s best efforts otherwise — and the headmaster could do little about Rives interacting with his daughter, Ariana Dumbledore II. 

Rives stood and nodded once. “Thank you for your confirmation. I will contact you with further information soon.”

Dumbledore’s mouth pinched into a tight line. He didn’t want to leave. Of course he wanted to know who the girl with the remarkable similarity to the Dumbledore family was and where she had come from. Who had harmed her? But, there was little the old man could do against such a dismissal. As much as he hated to admit it, Rives was the one in charge and he knew no amount of charm would convince the Unspeakable to let him stay.

Dumbledore rose from his chair and nodded once. They headed towards the door.

Just then, the wards fell and the door opened. A small body in an Unspeakable robe slipped in and the wards raised once more. The hood fell back and a head of curly auburn hair streaked with silver fell about the woman’s shoulders. She was petite, with sharp blue eyes and a pretty mouth. Her eyes glittered when she took in the elder wizard standing before her.

“Two Dumbledore’s for one occasion?” Her mouth turned up on one end into a devious little smirk. “This really must be a crisis.” 

“Dumbledore,” Rives greeted with a nod of his head.

Unspeakable Dumbledore nodded once in return, “Rives,” before giving her father a kiss to his bearded cheek. “Father.” She glanced between the two wizards she knew very well hated each other. “Are you leaving?”

Dumbledore smiled kindly at his daughter, pretending the air of animosity between himself and Rives didn’t exist. “I’ve served my purpose, I believe. Your patient has never been a student of Hogwarts.” He turned to Rives, wishing he could stare down his nose at the younger wizard and hating that Rives was taller. “If she needs to be placed within Hogwarts come the fall, please do inform me.” 

Rives nodded once in return. “Thank you, Headmaster. We will be in touch.”

Dumbledore kissed his daughter’s head before departing. The wards snapped back into place after his departure. Ariana turned and raised an eyebrow at Rives, a slow smirk spreading across her face.

Rives shook his head. “Don’t say it.”

“I think you’re growing on him.”

“Ariana.”

“Alexander.” 

His glare was fierce. She chuckled under her breath. “I brought the heredity potion you asked for.” She pulled a small phial of green liquid out of the depths of her robes and tossed it carelessly to Alexander. He caught it deftly and glared at her as she moved past him to the bed. She jerked to a stop once she grew closer.

Alexander came up behind her. He towered over the younger Unspeakable, her head barely reached his shoulder. Ariana was still, her entire body tense. “She’s not me.” Despite the firmness to her tone, there was an obvious question behind it.

Alexander shook his head. His hand came up and touched her arm gently. She softened under the gesture. “I don’t think so. I didn’t know you in school but I think she’s…” His hand dipped into his pocket and he pulled out a phial. He handed it to her.

Ariana turned the small glass bottle over and the sand inside tinkled against the glass. “Time dust? Used time dust.”

“From a time turner,” he confirmed.

“Which only goes back in time.” Alexander didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to. Ariana’s hand tightened on the bottle. “You need a strand of my hair?” She turned to him, her blue eyes bright. “For the heredity potion?”

He nodded. “One of hers as well.”

Alexander leaned forward and gently plucked a strand of hair from the unknown girl’s head. He dropped the long, dark brown curl that looked not unlike his own into the small potion. Ariana dropped in hers as well. A puff of smoke emitted itself from the now bubbling liquid. The cloud was pink and smelled like cherries.

Neither said anything.

Finally, Ariana nodded once, shakily. “What happens when someone travels back in time further than one has been born?” She looked up and met Alexander’s light eyes. 

His jaw clenched. “The person erases everything that came before them… and the Ministry — if they find out — kills that person. The hope is that it will preserve the timeline, but it’s already been shattered beyond repair.”

Ariana’s hands trembled and she squeezed them into tight fists. “They won’t find out.” Her eyes hardened on her boss, well aware she’d just verbally committed treason. 

Alexander did not appear upset. “No,” he agreed, “they won’t.”

A flicker of confusion flashed across her eyes. Alexander turned and opened the drawer of the side table closest to them. From within, he pulled out a long gold chain, at the end of which held a golden heart shaped locket.

“She was wearing it when I found her.”

Ariana’s hand went to her chest. Her fingers slipped beneath the collar of her cloak and pulled out the same gold chain of her own necklace. It also had the same heart shaped locket at the end of it. Both gleamed in the light from the window. 

Ariana shook her head. “You didn’t even need the potion, that’s proof enough.”

“Protocol,” was all he said and she nearly rolled her eyes.

“Was there anything in it?” 

Alexander nodded. He handed her the parchment he’d found inside the locket earlier. The witch quickly opened it and scanned the single sentence within. 

Keep her safe.

It was in Alexander’s handwriting. 

Ariana shook her head. “I don’t even want to know what could possibly be happening in the future that you felt it necessary to send our daughter over a decade and a half into the past — at least.” Her gaze drifted to the young, still unconscious witch. “What happened to her? Where did you find her?”

“In the DoM,” Alexander responded gruffly. “She was lying on the ground, out past the Hall of Prophecies and the Pool of Consciousness.”

Ariana’s eyes widened. “How did she get that far into the Mysteries without tripping any alarms?”

“Technically, she was already in there. The charms work for people entering but… time travel doesn’t work on the wards the same way they do for apparating or portkeys.” Ariana nodded and handed the parchment back. Alexander slipped it into his robes once more. “She was injured. Someone had cast the Conteri Curse on her.” 

Ariana's breath left her in a whoosh. “The Conteri Curse? But - she’s just a child.”

“Apparently, that didn’t matter.” He shook his head. “It was well cast too. She’d already progressed to the second stage of effects when I’d found her.”

Rage burned in Ariana’s heart. She’d never had her father’s cool temper. Blessed, instead, with the hotheaded fury her mother had been known for. “Who the hell did this to my daughter?”

Alexander’s eyes were cold and hard as he stared at the young witch’s torso, where had only hours before there had been a massive, gaping wound. “I don’t know. But I want them dead.”

[keefsteef]

(too new and too much a weenie to not be anon sorry ;-;) I'm rereading Van Halen Rising for 10584 time and gaaaawwwddd I'd give anything for a VH limited series, like two seasons at least to really go through the bands history and everyone's growing up. Also I feel like it could do what The Dirt dropped the ball on and start a empathic Convo about men's mental health and addiction, etc.

But....*sighs* I also don't trust the big wigs to /not/ whitewash Edward and Alexander (probably Edward much more). Like them being Indo-Dutch doesn't have to be a whole statement, it had nothing to do with the music or thier careers,but it is part of them and their heritage and an element of the discrimination they faced especially in early childhood.

DON'T BE SHY COME OFF ANON 🥴❤️ although I feel like I know who you are, and if you are that person thank you for the like-spam haha.

BUT YES! VHRISING is my beloved, I'm reading it again for the second time. The guys are all definitely interesting enough to have their lives as a series special!

Yes, I feel like touching in on David's,,, I don't want to jump and call it narcissism but that's what it honestly seemed like, Eddie's drug addiction, Alex's alcohol addiction and Michael's acceptance to some of the treatment he went through would really start a great discussion on men's health, potential causes, and change perceptions about it. If done correctly by a good director, it'd be trailblazing.

I don't trust them either, I definitely feel like they'd try to wash away their indo heritage!! And the discrimination I'm sure helped build them in many ways, whether the ways be negative or positive, and it'd be extremely important not to leave that out, but you know how hollywood is 🤩✨

[impressionists]

lotor is basically alexander the great of macedon

so I had the privilege of watching the whole of vld while I was studying Alexander the Great and I couldnt help but notice all the similarities between Alexander and Lotor.

Like it’s uncanny. Someone working on vld definitely has an interest in classics!

Im more knowledgable about Alexander than vld so there might be some mistakes but these are all the parallels/similarities between Alexander of Macedon and Lotor.

(I will be referencing from Penguin Classics’ translations of Plutarch’s Age of Alexander and Arrian’s Life of Alexander.)

Half-Bloods

- Alexander was born to Philip of Macedon and his wife Olympias, who was a foreigner to Macedon. Olympias was widely disliked throughout Macedon because of this and even Philip was weary of her AND Alexander, because when she was pregnant, a serpent curled around her while she slept. This led Philip and his followers to believe she was a sorceress and that Alexander was somewhat cursed.

- Lotor’s mother is Honerva/Haggar. She isn’t galra and is also considered a witch of sorts.

- Both were considered unworthy of the throne because of their heritage, but go on to secure the throne by:

Killing Their Fathers

- This is highly debated amongst scholars but Alexander most likely helped plot Philip’s assassination. Alexander had a lot of reasons to do this and felt a lot of animosity towards his father, so the motive is definitely there. Alexander would not have taken the throne and started his Persian campaigns had Philip not be assassinated and the assassins were all close friends of Alexander...

- Lotor does just straight up kill Zarkon and uses this as the reason why he should take the throne. He also couldn’t have taken the throne without help (Philip’s assassins = Voltron)

Speaking of Heritage

- Lotor is very taken by his Altean heritage. He knows a lot about Altean lore, folklore, alchemy, srl.

- Alexander was taught by Aristotle, gave him a lifelong interest in philosophy, and mysticism, also a bit of alchemy too (Plutarch), he literally slept with The Illiad under his pillow.

- Aristotle/Homer’s Illiad = Honvera/Her Work

Campaigning and Tactics

- Alexander and Lotor have the same sort of philosophy when it comes to conquering: surrend quietly and no one dies. They both try to become “allies” with their desired territories before they turn to more violent methods. Both would rather have subservience and respect rather than fear.

- Still, they do use fear to set examples. Alexander’s treatment of the Theban rebels and the survivors of the siege of Tyre can be compared to Lotor’s defeat of Throk and capturing Puig.

- The way Alexander toys with Porus before approaching during the battle of Hydaspes and his cornering of Darius at Granicus so that his chariots would be disabled by the rough ground can be compared to the way Lotor makes Voltron chase its tail for a while, drawing them out and then retreating, cornering them on a planet with combustable gas, srl.

- Both achieve things their fathers could not: Alexander takes Persia and a good portion of India, Lotor gets the Black Lion back in galra hands.

- Battle of Granicus - Alexander’s 40,000 men defeat Darius’ 1 million men - Generals vs. Team Voltron

Allies and Enemies

- Parmenio’s role as the “inferior advisor” is similar to how Zethrid is often disregarded. (“That is what I would do... If I were Parmenio. But I am not Parmenio. I am Alexander.” - Arrian.)

- I would compare Darius and Bessus to Sendak personally.

- In a drunken rage, Alexander murders one of his Companion cavalry and closest friends, Cleitus, because Cleitus criticises his change in character and Alexander fears it will incite a mutiny. The way Cleitus is murdered is very similar to Narti’s murder.

- Narti can also be compared to Philotas. Philotas was considered guilty by association in an espionage and assassination plot against Alexander. Philotas’s execution was one of the reasons Callisthenes started the pages plot, because him and several others feared Alexander would turn on them. So, basically Narti’s death and the generals’ reaction, only the generals were successful to an extent in their mutiny.

Temper/General Character

- The Oriande arc = Gordion Knot, oracle of Delphi

- Alexander uses violence and brute force to try and prove his divine heritage - cuts open the Gordion Knot instead of untying it, physically attacks the oracle to make her confirm his own divinity

- Similar to how Lotor reacts to the White Lion

- The paranoia after one of their close friends “betrays” them

- Lotor is weaker than Alexander but both need to be saved multiple times. Keith saving Lotor at the kral zera echoes Cleitus saving Alexander at the battle of Issus and Alexander being saved during the Mallian siege

Diplomacy

- Alexander adopts Persian customs, replaces a portion of his army with the epigonoi (30,000 Persian boys) and marries Roxane, a Persian, in order to be a more favourable rule to Persians and the Indians

- Similar to Lotor turning Voltron into his victory symbol after taking the throne, trying to recreate Zarkon and Alfor’s alliance and his relationship with Allura

Death and Loose Ends

- Alexander dies mostly from a three day drinking session and his injuries from the Mallian siege.

- Replace neat wine with quintessence maybe?

- Parallels we don’t have yet:

- Hephaestion - Alexander’s lover, he dies from the flu and Alexander dies soon afterwards, thrown into a permanent depression

- Craterus - Alexander’s right hand man, his last words were for Craterus to take over his empire

- Gedrosia, Hyphasis Mutiny - Alexander’s “only defeats”

That’s a good chunk of the main parallels. Some of them might be a bit off or reachy but I just think it’s really interesting how many similarities there are and it couldn’t be a coincidence!

In terms of other classical texts, Lotor also has many parallels to Aeneas from Virgil’s Aeneid but that would be a different meta entirely.

[belorage]

PART ONE of the OC names tag game! (Yes, I ran out of tag space. Only God can judge me. If you’ve an interest in any of my various and sundry non-FC5 children, you can find them HERE, but I would advise you not to subject yourselves to it.)

I was tagged by @blissfulalchemist @adelaidedrubman and @scungilliwoman—most beloved, best of mutuals, etc. I loved this one! Thank you for thinking of me! 🤍

Tagging: @florbelles @honeysides @heroofpenamstan @preachercuster @jackiesarch @shallow-gravy @johnnycranes @themysteriouslou @astarkey @aceghosts @depyotee @vasiktomis @geronimo-11 @daughter-of-melpomene @ma-sulevin @shellibisshe @teamhawkeye @bluemojave @foofygoldfish @smithandrogers @amistrio @cobb-vanthss @strafethesesinners

If you’d like to play, the name of the game is character name meanings and any relevant reasoning you may have for your choices.

Please note that all Brooks-Seed children are co-created and co-owned by @florbelles. If any of the information provided for them is false, she reserves the right to murder me in my own home.

Everyone but Wes is going after a cut, because literally no one asked for this mess. 

FAR CRY 5

WESLEY DANIEL BROOKS Wesley: English origin, meaning “western meadow.” No special purpose on my part. I yoinked it from James Wesley of Daredevil fame because it sounded like it suited him; Google searching the meaning confirmed it. Daniel: Hebrew origin, meaning “God is my judge.” I do not need to explain why I chose this or why I think it’s funny. Brooks: English origin, meaning “residing near a stream or brook.” I simply wanted a water name because he was designed to be a John ship. However, I like to joke that I belatedly realized it was bad commentary on the plot of the game (just drop “rook” in the middle of “BS”).

ANDERSON BROOKS Anderson: English origin, meaning “son of Andrew.” No purpose, derived from the historical figure Anderson Hatfield primarily because I liked the nickname Anse. He was originally an Arthur, which was a reference to The Scarlet Letter. MARIAN BROOKS Marian: French derivation of the Hebrew name Mariam, meaning “bitter” or “of the sea” or “beloved.” Chosen to be evocative of the Virgin Mary. That’s it, that’s the show.

RAFAEL ALEJANDRO ESTRADA DOS SANTOS Rafael: Spanish derivation of the Hebrew name Raphael, meaning “God has healed.” Hilariously, I had not yet decided conclusively that he would be my captain of the New Dawn era when I chose this. I simply wanted a biblical name associated with angels (and I already had a Gabriel). Alejandro: Spanish derivation of the Greek name Alexander, meaning “defender of man.” Again, this needs no introduction. He is my good boy. Estrada: Spanish origin, derived from the Portuguese word meaning “road.” I nearly despaired and cancelled this when I found out it was one of Oscar Isaac’s last names but I liked it too much for FC5—road, path, you get it—so I kept it. dos Santos: Spanish and Portuguese origin, meaning “of the saints.” The purpose is painfully obvious. Unfortunate (both for me and for him).

NOAH BROOKS-SEED Noah: Hebrew origin, meaning “rest.” Shaggy very much disputes this. The under-the-hood reasoning was simply a joke between Stella and I, that Wes offered the name as a nod to his favorite word, “no.” It is also, of course, a reference to the biblical figure who was chosen by God for the perpetuation of life after His great flood. JOLENE BROOKS-SEED Jolene: English origin, derived from the Hebrew name Joseph, meaning “God is merciful” or “God will add.” The “merciful” part is highly debatable, but He sure did add (sorry to Lyra’s womb). Allowing Lyra and John to name her for Joseph is the natural balance to the Noah debacle, and you know how they feel about balance. CYRUS BROOKS-SEED Cyrus: Persian origin, meaning “sun” or “one who bestows care.” This was chosen by Stella as a reference to the biblical king Cyrus, because it evoked themes of rebuilding and restoration. In retrospect, “one who bestows care” is apt because at any given time you can expect him to be keeping his elder siblings out of prison. PHILIPPA BROOKS-SEED Philippa: Greek origin, meaning “lover of horses.” Yes, she was named to honor Shaggy. Yes, it’s hilarious. (And yes, she does love horses.) 

[cobycobsy2k]

COBYCOBS UBERHOOD, SEASON 2:”The Winter of ´85″

Chapter 5, part 1 of 2: “Masquerade Ball”

Capp Mansion

Consort was planning a big party because Cordelia and Goneril had graduated.

Consort: Well dear! I have invited the Hashimoto family and that new couple that has arrived! ...

Contessa (Excited): The Summerdreams? They are too friendly! How nice that you invited them !.

At that moment the blonde-haired woman turns on the television on the news channel.

Reporter: Breaking news! We have been informed of Alexander Goth's disappearance!

Consort and Contessa (Amazed): What!? Goneril, Regan, Cordelia come !!.

The three Capp sisters came as soon as possible, to keep watching the news.

Reporter: The last time Alexander was seen, it was at the Montero girls' residence hall. We hope you can stay tuned for more information!

Goneril: OMG, who can do that to Alex !?, Poor Ekaterina ... you can see that she misses him too much ...

Regan (a little confused): What happened?

Cordelia: Obviously someone wants to do something to the Goth fortune! It's not for nothing that Mr. Goth hasn't given interviews lately!

Cordelia: Well girls, remember that today is the masquerade ball! So please, find your costumes and some very nice masks !.

Goneril: Ok mom ... And one question, did you tell dad the little surprise?

Consort (Confused): Can you tell what surprise they hide from me hehe?

Contessa: I'm pregnant honey! Our baby is a boy !.

Consort (Excited): Really!? I can't believe it! We should name our little son ... Kent!

Contessa: Kent, it sounds great!

At that moment someone knocks on the door.

Cordelia (as she opened the door): I'm coming! Surely it must be ...

Opening the door, the blonde saw Albany.

Albany: Good morning Capp family!

Goneril (Thinking): "Damn it! What the hell is he doing here? Does this moron have no job or what?"

Consort: Albany, welcome to the mansion! I'm so glad you want to live with us.

At that moment Goneril goes to her room, immediately afterwards, little Regan follows her.

Regan: What happened sister Goneril ?.

Goneril: I HATE that asshole! Who does he think he lives with the Capp family !?

Regan: Albany seems like a good person ...

Goneril: That's what he wants you to believe! Soon that guy Albany will steal a lot of money from us and we will become Poor! AND BEING POOR IS SO MONTY !.

Albany: Goneril! Can we talk, your father, you and me?

Goneril: No! What's more, I'm going to be VERY busy !.

Consort (Listening to his daughter's temper tantrums): GONERIL !, RESPECT YOUR ENGAGED !.

Meanwhile ... at the Monty Ranch.

Patrizio: Darling, did you hear that the Capp's will do their ridiculous masquerade ball?

Isabella: Yes haha ​​!, I have thought about infiltrating us, I have heard that there is going to be a luxury lottery.

At that moment Claudio arrives from the family restaurant.

Claudio: Ciao Famiglia !, I have arrived !.

Isabella: Ciao Claudio! How was the restaurant?

Claudio: Actually, it was interesting today ... I saw Cassandra Goth in person !.

Isabella and Patrizio: What!?, Really!?.

Claudio: She invited me to the Capp masked ball!

At that moment Patrizio had an idea.

Meanwhile at the Dunnoff house.

Marcel was talking to Ekaterina, who was putting on makeup.

Ekaterina: My friend Geoff Rutherford is very worried about what happened to Alex ... He created a search campaign ...

Marcel: And who is Geoff?

Ekaterina (lying): It's a man, that Gabriella introduced me to.

Marcel: Okay ... Don't talk to ANYONE at that masquerade! AND DON'T GET CLOSE TO THE PLEASANT FAMILY!

Ekaterina: Okay ... Besides, they won't go to the masquerade ball

Marcel: Well, okay ... Your limo has arrived !.

The blonde got into the limo.

"Mysterious voice": Why did you take too long? You know I was waiting for you ...

Ekaterina: Daniel ... Ours is very special, but, we have to be discreet! My father already suspects you !.

Daniel approaches his lover to kiss her.

Daniel: I'm sorry, but you are too irresistible my love, I love you so much Ekaterina.

Ekaterina (Kissing Daniel): If you love me so much, leave Mary -Sue ...

Daniel: I know dear, but ... I have to stay with Mary-Sue, my reputation would go to hell if I abandoned her, plus she also suspects that I was cheating on her ... You're not upset right?

Ekaterina: No, hehe ... I love you too much !.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story! - pt 15 - Vampire Romance

The story continues!

Masterpost linked here

Enjoy!

________________________

“Class we have two new transfers today” The teacher announced cheerfully, ignoring the excited murmurs around the class. “This is Belaire and Alexander, they are a brother and sister who have recently moved to the area, please make them feel welcome!”  She turned towards us. “Would you like to tell us a little about yourselves?”

I stood up at the front of the classroom, feeling tired.

I hate high school so much.

I glanced over at Alex, like me he had camouflaged his red eyes with illusion magic, looking like a fairly normal seventeen year old male.  He looked over the students, his gaze stopping at the front row near the window, breaking out into a wide smile.

“Hello! I’m Alexander. I’m seventeen years old, and I’m looking forward to getting to know you all much better.” His eyes never left the object of their focus while he spoke, the intensity uncomfortable. I followed the trajectory of his gaze, and let out a sigh.

I guess I underestimated the pull of the heroine. I thought uncomfortably to the scene in his bedroom yesterday. He had woken up this morning perfectly normal, but continued to insist that he would go undercover at the school as well. Any time I tried to object he had grown angry, finally snarling at me to mind my own business. Throwing my hands up in the air, I had given up temporarily.

It’s like the reasonable brother I’ve known these past few days was just an illusion.

Everyone had turned towards me, waiting for my introduction. I sighed loudly. “She told you my name already. I’m… eighteen… I guess? I’m here to focus on learning so please keep your distance.”

There were a few disgruntled murmurs at my impolite words, but I ignored them. I wasn’t here to make friends.

The teacher’s smile stiffened in place. “Very… interesting. As for where to sit…” She scanned the room. There appeared to be two open seats, one in the back near the door and the other…

“I guess we’ll be neighbors.” Alexander grinned at Chelsea and stepped towards the empty seat next to her.

Only to fall flat on his face as I tripped him.

“Sorry, brother dearest, I’m a bit short sighted and need to sit near the front.” I stepped on his back, ignoring his grunt of pain and lightly sat down at the desk next to Chelsea. I glanced back at him, noting his gloomy expression and waved cheerfully.

“You…” His voice was a growl, only audible with my better than human hearing, but I interrupted him loudly, giving him a thumbs up.

“Thanks for being so understanding.”

Alex glared at me, and I smiled brightly back. I might not have been able to stop him from following the plot so far, but I’m not about to let him flirt with a confused adolescent right in front of me.

After a long moment, he stood back to his feet and headed towards the empty seat in the back.

“Wasn’t that a little mean?” Chelsea whispered to me, her eyes following his back a strange light in them. Strangely enough, she wasn’t overly concerned about him. If anything she looked… embarrassed. Compared to her tears and tantrums the last time I saw her, she seemed much more reasonable today.

Maybe she’s just not a night person?

“It was very kind, actually, once you take a longer view.” After all, he had committed double suicide after an unhealthy relationship with her in the original.

She seemed unconvinced. “Then why do you seem so… happy... when you watched him fall on his face?”

Oops, my inner villainess must have been leaking out a bit at that time. It was pretty fun to watch the hero fall though.

“It’s a vampire thing.” I answered finally. “You wouldn’t understand.”

She nodded innocently, not questioning further. I watched as she turned her attention to the teacher, taking notes diligently in a bright pink notebook.

You know, she’s a bit of a brat, but she seems fairly normal today... there may be hope for her yet. With Alexander’s recent changes, I might have more luck approaching the problem from her side instead.

My mind made up, I then looked back at the blackboard, wincing at the calculations written there.

Calculus, my mortal enemy… we meet again.

________________________

After class I grabbed Chelsea’s hand, pulling her into the hallway. I could feel Alex’s angry glare on my back, but didn’t turn back to give him attention. Before we could get too far however, we were stopped by two teenage boys.

“You’re the new girl, right?” The boy flipped his overly long blond curls out of his eyes, leaning on the wall to block our path.

I stopped with a sigh. “So they tell me.”

The other boy chuckled at my words, leaning closer. “You don’t look half bad. How about you skip the next period and come out and play with us?”

Chelsea, looking nervous, hid behind my back at their words. “These two are trouble.” She whispered in my ear. “Their fathers are on the school board, so the headmaster turns a blind eye when they bully others.”

“I see…”

She took a deep breath, tears in her eyes. “If you run away now, I’ll try to distract them.”

Did she forget I’m a centuries old vampire? I couldn’t help but grin. Although this habit of saving people is what keeps getting her in trouble, I can’t help but find it a bit cute. Definitely need to protect the young from my brother.

“Hey, we’re talking to you!” The blond one snapped, growing impatient. “Don’t pretend like you’re not interested.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “If you come with us, we’ll show you a great time.”

“Well although that sounds about as appealing as dousing myself in gasoline and running through a burning building, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to pass.”  I crossed my arms and grinned. “If you don’t like it, feel free to start a fight. It’s been a while since I got to beat up idiots, I’m starting to get a bit itchy.”

“…” Both of them stared in shocked silence for a few moments, until it was interrupted by Chelsea’s laughter. Turning red at the sound, the closest boy raised a fist, preparing to strike me.

“You…”

BAM!

He went flying backwards at a high speed, hitting the lockers behind him with a loud crash, denting the metal in. His buddy fell to the ground with a frightened squeal, staring up at the assailant with horror.

“Sorry.” Liam grinned, not looking very sorry. “Didn’t see you there.”

“W-who are you?” The terrified boy asked.

“I’m the new gym teacher.” Liam cracked his knuckles, staring down at him with a frightening smile. “Looks like you two boys have got some extra energy, trying to pick up my wife… I mean pick up this random high school student that I don’t know at all.”

“What?” The confused boy had no time to protest before he was lifted up by his collar. Liam dragged him behind him, picking up the other that had been thrown into the lockers as well. “Time for some special hell punishment… cough… I mean personalized training.”

“Do you know who my father is?!”

“I’m shaking with fear.” With a cheerful wave back towards me, Liam dragged the two boys away, leaving us to stare after him in silence.

“That’s… your husband?” She asked timidly.

“Yep.”

“He’s human, right?”

“Last time I checked.”

“Is he always so….”

“Yep.”

She grinned. “That’s so sweet. I want to have a romance like yours one day.”

Hmm. 

I pulled her into an empty classroom, staring at her for a few moments. After a short uncomfortable silence, she turned red.

“What is it?”

“Why are you so different today?” I asked quietly. “When you came by that night, you were a lot more… excitable.”

She winced at my words, shaking her head slowly. “I …” She trailed off, obviously unsure of what to say.

“You acted like I was your mortal enemy. Now you’re so friendly, and I’m not sure what to do with it.”

Chelsea stared at me for a few silent moments, and then rubbed her face with her hand. “I don’t know if I can explain this, it seems too strange.”

So says the heroine of a failed novel to a world traveling amnesiac.

I suppressed a smile. “Try me.”

“A few days ago, I woke up in the middle of the night, and something had… changed.” She sighed softly. “I felt panicked, lost. It was as if the world had shifted somehow, and left me without a place.”

“Shifted…” A few days ago… that would have been around the time I woke up in this world.

“I know this sounds crazy. I had already met Alex before this, and thought he was handsome and cool but that was it. He wasn’t that important to me right then.  But after that… shift… I started obsessing over him. Wondering where he was, worrying that he wasn’t thinking about me. I received that letter, and it seemed to confirm my worst fears.” She stood up, pacing around the room uncomfortably. “I was frantic by the time I showed up in front of you. I was convinced that you were trying to separate us, that you hated me because I was human… I wasn’t willing to listen.”

“That’s a pretty accurate description of how you were… so what changed?”

She looked embarrassed. “Last night, it shifted back. It didn’t make sense. I felt a sharp pain, so severe that I thought I was dying. But once it passed, I felt… relieved. The world was right, I was no longer lost. It was like my place in the world was secure once more. When I saw you and Alexander this morning, it was horrifying to think of how I had behaved.”

“…” I couldn’t help but think of Alexander’s episode yesterday, which seemed strangely similar. When he was being reasonable, she felt lost and hysterical. Now that he’s obsessed with her again, she’s back to normal?

Something is wrong with this world.

“I know this doesn’t excuse how poorly I’ve acted.” Chelsea sat back down next to me, her eyes slightly wet with tears. “But I am sorry. I am grateful that you’ve gone to all this trouble to protect me. “

I patted her head. “It’s fine. We’ll help you out.”

“Thanks!”

“I do stand by what I said last time though: you shouldn’t be in a romantic relationship with Alex right now. You are a teenager and he is a centuries old being. Allow yourself the space and time to grow up, to enjoy your life without being pressured into life-altering decisions by an adult who is almost fifteen times your age.”

Chelsea paused at that, and then nodded slowly. “It makes sense when you say it today.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I just don’t know if I’ll still be rational about it later.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you whether you are rational or not.”

“…” Her eyes reddened at my words, and she threw herself forward, hugging me tightly.

“Thank you!”

“It’s fine… could you stop choking me?”

“You’re like the sister I’ve always wanted!”

“Sounds good… please let go.” How many times would I have suffocated in this world if I wasn’t already undead?

She finally released me, sniffing loudly. “So can I consider you a friend?”

I held up a finger. “On one condition:”

She nodded.

“Try to restrain the crying at everything.” If I’m going to be spending my time with the heroine, I’ll need all the crying-free time I can get.

She blinked rapidly, stopping the tears in her eyes from overflowing. “Deal!”

I let out a sigh of relief, shaking her hand firmly. “See, this is nice. I don’t get many nice calm moments like this…”

CRASH!

Four men broke through the window wearing bronze masks and brandishing weapons. “Kill the vampire scum and her minion!”

“… Curse my unlucky mouth! I really need to stop making vague foreshadowing statements!”  I pushed Chelsea towards the door. “Go get Liam.”

She nodded, but then halted at the door. “What about you?”

“I’m a vampire queen.” I grinned, showing my fangs. “You should be worried about them.”

She ran out, and I blocked the men from following her.

“Don’t let her get away!”

“Fool! We need to kill this monstrous hag first, then we’ll go after the brat that serves her.”

I paused at their words. “Excuse me? Did you just call me a hag?”

The leader of the four snarled at me. “Silence, foul demon!”

I grabbed a desk chair, snapping off a leg. “No, no no, don’t go changing your insults now. I already heard it, and I must say that I’m very offended right now!”

I let go of my disguise completely, allowing my eyes and hair to become a bright red once more.

“Unfortunately for you, I think I’m going to take out my frustration at your poor choice of words by beating it out of you.” I brandished my makeshift club.  “Try not to die, okay? I need to get confessions out of you later.”

“Don’t listen to her lies! We outnumber her!”

I laughed out loud, going full on villainess laugh with glee. Snapping my fingers, I spread my dark magic towards the doors and windows, sealing the exits, blackening all the lights.

The room plunged into complete darkness.

“You should have brought more men.”

With that, I leapt forward, club raised.

It was a one sided battle. Unable to see in the darkness, the humans flailed around, trying to corner me by the sounds in the room. To me, who could see perfectly, this provided a  source of amusement, including leading them into swinging at each other and injuring themselves. Eventually I tired of playing with them, and with four hard taps, knocked the men unconscious.  I dissipated my dark magic, just in time for the door to burst open and for Alexander and Liam to rush into the room.

“WIFE!” Liam ran towards me, somehow managing to step on all four assailants before reaching my side. He picked me up, squeezing me tightly in his arms. “Are you okay?”

“… You realize she’s standing calmly in a room with four unconscious assassins.” Alexander knelt next to one of the men. “I’m pretty sure she’s fine.”

“’Pretty sure’ is not good enough!” Liam held me up in the air, turning me around, looking concerned.

“Liam, I’m fine, you can put me down.”

“… Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“I can hold you longer, there’s no need for you to be tired.”

“Remember what I said when I agreed to let you be a teacher in this school?”

“…” Liam set me down, hanging his head. “You said don’t be creepy.”

“That’s right, everyone thinks that I’m a teenager and you’re a student. You can’t act like you usually do.”

“But you’re older than me! And we’re newly married!” Liam scuffed his foot against the ground, managing to grind his shoe on the head of one of my attackers. “It’s not fair!”

“We’re in high school. What ever made you think that life here would be fair?”

Liam tilted his head, seeming confused. “Why do you hate high school so much? Did you even go to one? You were a teenager centuries ago.”

I’ve lived multiple lifetimes as the side character or villainess in the worst version of high school to ever exist: teen romance high schools. I shuddered at the memory, patting his shoulder. “Just trust me on this one.”

“Can we focus, please?” Alex interrupted our conversation with a rude tone. “The important thing is that someone put Chelsea in danger.”

“Actually she was relatively very safe, she left the room before any fighting…”

“She’s such a special person, of course these groups covet her.” Alex looked down at the unconscious men with a sneer. “I have to protect her. I’ll pull her out of school, she can stay with me for now...”

PSST!

I pulled my brother behavior modification tool out of my bag and sprayed his face multiple times.

“BAD VAMPIRE! No stalking or kidnapping teenage girls!”

He wiped his face, his eyes changing back to a bright red in his anger. “Can you cut that out?!”

“I will when you stop being a creep.”

“You’re such a bit…”

PSST!

To my surprise, Liam took out a bottle and sprayed Alex before I could react. Seeing my look of confusion, he smiled. “Selina gave me an extra, said I would need it if you were going to be around so many hormonal teenagers.”

“That reminds me, what happened to those two boys from earlier?”

Liam let out an ominous laugh. “Nothing permanent.”

“Don’t ignore me!” Alex shouted. “This is about keeping Chelsea safe!”

“Exactly.” I waved the bottle of garlic water in the air. “Which is why she’s not staying with you. I’ll protect her.”

“Belaire are you okay?!!” Before Alex could respond, a tearful voice called out from the doorway. I turned, just in time to see Chelsea throw herself at me, crying.

“I was so worried about you!”

“I told you I’d be fine.”

“But you were outnumbered!”

“They could have brought an army, and I still would win.” I patted her head. “Trust in your friend.”

“…okay.”

“Now didn’t you just promise me that you wouldn’t cry so much?”

She laughed stepping away and wiping her tears. “Sorry.”

“…”

“…”

Liam and Alexander stared at us in shock.

Alex recovered first. “Since when are you two so close?”

Chelsea’s smile faded a little as she turned towards him. “We’re friends now.”

“But she’s standing in the way of our relationship!”

“We’re not in a relationship.”

“Don’t lie!”

PSST!

Liam stepped between them, spraying Alex again, looking confused. “Is it just me or did we just have this conversation, but with the roles reversed?”

“I’ll explain it later, dear.” I knelt down next to the unconscious men. “Now help me tie them up.”

As we restrained the men, ignoring Alex’s furious sputters. Eventually, the leader of the group woke up first, his initial confusion fading into horror as he stared up at us.

“Don’t be scared.” I smiled at him. “I’m just going to ask you a few questions.”

Liam cracked his knuckles. “Unless you plan on disrespecting my wife. Then you should be terrified.”

Chelsea also tried to crack her knuckles, looking much less terrifying. “Yeah, what he said.”

“…” Everyone, including the assassin, stopped and stared at her.

I patted her head. “I appreciate the thought, but stick to your strengths.” Turning back towards the captive man, I continued. “Now, who sent you?”

He glared at me. “Vampire scum, my brothers will hunt you down and send your soul back to Hell!”

Liam frowned. “Vampire hunter? I don’t recognize him.”

“Not everyone was willing to work under a traitor like you. His eyes were wide and fanatic as his speech became pressured. “A new world is coming, one which has no place for monsters and human traitors! We will cleanse this world of its filth! The flames of judgment will consume you, and we will watch with joy as you suffer!”

I rolled my eyes. “What a pleasant gentleman.”

“He’s certainly… passionate?” Chelsea shrugged.

The man looked up at her. “Foolish girl. You sided with these monsters. You betrayed your kind, and will be the first to fall!”

I saw something flash by me, and shouted “WE NEED HIM ALIVE…!”

SLASH

The man’s throat was cut, his blood soaking the front of his clothing as his wide shocked gaze met my own. His body slumped to the floor. Alex stepped back, wiping the blood from his hands, seeming calm.

“I won’t let anyone who threatens her to live.”

“Oh, isn’t that sweet.” I smiled, and then reared back and punched him.

As he hit the floor with a groan, I leaned over. “We needed him to talk, idiot. To protect Chelsea, I need to know who is behind these men. You are not this stupid, Alex. What’s wrong with you?”

“You don’t understand!”

I grabbed his collar, pulling his face close to my own. “You’re right, because I’m actually using my brain.”

“We have three other…” He paused looking over, as there were light groans from the other side of the room.

The three other men convulsed, white foam spilling from their lips.

“Poison.” I growled, dropping Alex and stepping away, frustrated. I searched the bodies. Beyond silver knives, there was nothing on their bodies. I turned the leaders head to the side, ignoring the large wound in his neck, and found a marking at the side.

A black rose.

A quick look confirmed that the other men had the same tattoo on their neck.

“Liam, do you recognize this?”

He shook his head, frustrated. “I don’t.”

Liam contacted his group, bringing in men to dispose of the bodies. As they cleaned up the room, he pulled me to the side, a sulking expression on his face.

“I need to return to the headquarters and look into this. I’m worried they might have ties to the hunters.”

I reached out and touched his cheek, smiling. “I understand.”

“It’s not fair! We’re finally married!” He frowned, picking me up and hugging me. “…But bringing a vampire into the hunters headquarters doesn’t seem like the best idea.”

“I’ll let Chelsea stay with me tonight and protect her. Don’t worry, and come home soon.”

He pulled me in, kissing me. “I’ll come back as fast as I can. Please be safe.”

“I will.” I squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I promise.”

________________________

It took very little effort to convince Chelsea to come stay with me that night. I was mildly worried about how quickly she trusted me.

But I guess that’s her problem in the story, right? She kept saving people with ties to the supernatural world and trusting everything they say.

Alex on the other hand, argued heatedly all the way to the castle once he heard she was planning to stay in my suite. As we entered the front hall, he grabbed my arm, snarling.

“This is ridiculous! I should be taking care of her!”

PSST!

Feeling bored, I sprayed him. “Maybe I need to put a more effective fluid in here? Like adding silver powder?”

He shook his head, garlic water dripping from his hair. “I don’t trust you to keep her safe!”

PSST!

Chelsea sprayed him this time. She held up the bottle, grinning. “Your husband gave this to me, saying it was useful!”

“That was the right thing to do.” I smiled back. “You keep that with you.”

“Miss… is this… person… staying here.” Selina arrived silently, a look of disapproval on her face.

“She’s going to be in my suite, Selina, please prepare her room.”

Chelsea turned to her, reaching out a hand. “I’m sorry for my actions the other day, Selina. I hope you can forgive me.”

Selina stared at her silently for a few moments. “Try to keep your hormones contained, teenager.”

“Umm… Sure, I promise.”

“… I haven’t teenaged-proofed the rooms. ” She let out a long sigh. “I’ll go prepare the bed… and place protective coverings on the furniture and carpets.”

Chelsea turned towards me, confused by the obvious hostility of my butler. I patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Selina just doesn’t like teenagers.”

“That’s reasonable. I don’t like them either, and I am one.”

We laughed, heading up together.

“Are you sure it’s okay that I’m staying with you?” Chelsea seemed nervous. “I don’t want to cause you more trouble.” 

“It will be fine.” I grinned, “You’re in the center of my territory now. What could go wrong?”

“... Didn’t you say you were going to stop making vague foreshadowing statements?”

“...” I patted her head silently, having no words to reply. 

________________________

I got her settled into a secure room in the suite after dinner. There were no windows, with only a single entryway through the door. Wishing her goodnight, I set up a chair in front of her doorway, ready to guard through the night.

Fortunately I’m a vampire and don’t really need to sleep.

After a few hours, just past midnight, I heard footsteps leading up the nearby stairs. I jumped to my feet, taking a defensive posture. “Who’s there?”

Alex stumbled up the stairs, his face pale, a pained expression on his face. “Bel?”

“Alex, what is going…”

He collapsed to the ground in front of me, grabbing his head, as I head him whisper.

“Help me.”

[giulsherondale]

"Now she is so glad that we are fighting because we give her what she wants."

I loved how Serkan tried to calm down Eda when they meet Semiha. And he's so intelligent that he knows exactly that grandma is only waiting that Eda go mad and make mistakes. She enjoy seeing her angry and Serkan knows that. My smart baby boy.

"Serkan will be mine."

Balca make me laugh... Dear... Serkan will be your only in your dreams... Perhaps...

"Eda Bolat... Eda Bolat. See how beautiful you smile. This is what we must do in the office in front of your grandmother."

"Serkan..."

"I'm listening..."

"You make me angry."

"Great. That's exactly what I wanted. Therefore I asked to write so. So that you get a little angry, splash out the negative, fell on me and then calm down. But you're not as angry as I expected."

"Because before that, you had already done what I should have been more angry with."

"But still... It's nice to hear that right? Eda Bolat."

"Serkan are we going to talk about this now?"

"No. But face it, I know what I'm doing. Eda Bolat. Anyways... I think this should be our topic for discussion."

Honestly... How many times did Serkan said Eda Bolat? Too many... But... I'm not complaining... On the contrary I loved that. And Eda Bolat sounds actually really good.

"Your grandmother is now a partner of the company, came here and finally show her face, and she will take revenge on me for my father. She wants to bankrupt me, devide us and ruin my life. Right? She won't succeed, so calm down. She can't do that."

I'm not so sure about that but I love that Serkan is so determined and sicure about himself, and I think that he doesn't want to show his worries at Eda.

"She will do what she did to my parents Serkan. But I'm not strong as you."

In this exact moment Eda shoe us that she is only 23. I often forget this because she is so mature but she is actually so young.

"You are the one who destroyed my family."

Semiha broke the flower holder where Serkan has put Eda's flower. I'm so mad and broken. Maybe I read too much in this scene but I think that this is a metaphor to Edser love. So Semiha will destroy Eda and Serkan love.

Aydan and Ayfer are the duo that I didn't know I needed. They are so hilarious, love them.

"What is her problem?"

"The problem is of course me. She came because of me. She will heal my wounds, change, you see. It turns out that you blinded me... She said so."

"Serkan blinded you? She said that."

"Yes."

"So everyone can see that you are madly in love with me except you."

"If you scoff, then I'm leaving."

"Don't go."

"Serkan I'm taking about..."

"What are you talking about?"

"I thought... If I leave the company..."

"What?"

"If I move away from the company, she may change her mind."

"That's it... You quit?"

"I do not quit, but move away."

"I understand you very well."

"Then why are you looking at me like that? What?"

"In this life you can so easily give up on me, is that so?"

"I didn't say that. You misunderstood."

"Yes. Maybe I misunderstood you from the very beginning Eda..."

I felt so sorry for Serkan in this moment. Serkan has always fought for Eda and their love. And now he feels that she is abandoning him, and we know that everyone he loves, in his life abandoned him. My poor babe. Sorry but Eda this time you are sooo wrong.

"Try to understand me. Before you I was like a machine. I was a flesh and blood man who went to work. Then you came and touched my heart and a lot has changed for me. And then you abruptly removed your hand from my heart. I cannot be as automated now as I used to be. And without you I can't bear the burden on my heart. Eda... Let it be your grandmother or any other problem... If your hand is on my heart... Then I'm ready for anything."

THIS SCENE WAS HOTTT🔥

Serkan was so sad in this scene, because he thinks that when there will be a problem Eda will always run away from him. She is his air, he cannot live without her. And he wants to spend the new year night with her😍.

I think that everyone should listen to Leyla, if she doesn't trust Balca and Semiha there is a reason. I repeat we should all listen to Leyla.

Balca make me laugh pt. 2. She is completely crazy, she admits that she knows Serkan only for a few days and says to Semiha that she is not in love with him... But she is right because she is not in love... But now that I think about it she is right... Because she is not in love with him... She is completely obsessed with him. She is so cringe.

"Eda... Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm fine... Tonight I will have nightmares again."

"Nightmares? Why?"

"Because... When I was little my mother bought me a wishes bracelet."

"What is it?"

"On it there are figures, symbols, such as a star or a heart."

"Ah ok, got it."

"These are symbols of your desires. After my parents died, my grandmother came to pick me up, I told you. She wanted to take me to Mardin. At home she talked to my aunt, and I heard everything. I was very young but I remember. They were talking very loudly, I... I run away from home. I run away and began to run. I ran, I ran... There was a hill behind our house. I rolled head over heels from this hill... And when I fell... I broke my bracelet. Lost it. I cried, not because of my wounds, but because I had lost it. And then... In every nightmare I did, I did the same thing. I escaped from somewhere... I run, I run as if someone is following me. All the time I run away and I'm so scared to see the same thing."

"Come here. Come. The Eda Yildiz I know... Doesn't run from anything. So I'm sure you won't run away."

My poor baby Eda. She really has a tough life.

Honestly... The suits scene doesn't has any sense... But the chemistry was on fire🔥

"Serkan doesn't like to spend special days with everyone. Only with the loved ones."

That means not you Balca. So back off thank you.

Serkan face when he sees the throne😂

And obviously Serkan has a plans for grandma situation. I love my smart and calculating boy.

"One time, the most beautiful, the smartes and at the same time the woman who I liked the most told me that lemon reduces stress."

Loving and caring Serkan is the best.

"I'm not an easy target for you Mrs. Semiha. You will give your shares to Serkan and leave."

"So you decide when I have to leave Eda? The time I spend here depends on you."

"How does it depend on me?"

"Are you the lover of this Serkan Bolat?"

"No."

"You are interested in each other."

"We have a past. These are the connections of the past."

"There is nothing stronger than blood ties. In time you will understand this. You deserve better than Serkan Bolat."

"You know me very well. Bravo!"

"I'm trying to find out. I have great ideas for you."

"None of them interests me."

"Okay. I'll ask the questions differently. Are you interested in Serkan Bolat?"

"Let's say I'm interested. What will you do? What will happen?"

"Then I will not beat around the blush. If I notice that you have a relationship with Serkan Bolat I will destroy this holding. Neither his mom nor he himself can handle the failure of the firm. I will destroy their company, disgrace their name, reputation, everything. Overnight. If you don't believe me ask Alptekin Bolat. If he's able to answer you of course."

"Don't underestimate me. I'm not afraid of you Semiha Yildirim."

THAT'S MY GIRL🔥

"How do you understand that I'm interested in astrology? Are you too?"

"I'm interested in ASTRONOMY."

Serkan Bolat ended Balca.

"Eda come in."

"I won't Serkan. Grandmother moved in with us. She will drive me completely crazy. She is an unbalanced, very dangerous woman. Therefore do not be polite to her, just attack."

"Calm down."

"Grandma moved in with us. I'll stay with Ceren. I came to tell you something."

"Good. If you want we'll talk inside."

"No I won't come in. I'll tell you here."

"Okay. What do you want to say to me?"

"Serkan listen... We cannot be together. It doesn't work. We can't. I don't seem to able to. It's all the same, someday we will part. I'm bothering you. You are already tired. Grandma will tear us apart, she will do something."

"Eda..."

"What?"

"Stay here."

"What?"

"Stay here tonight."

"Serkan we cannot be together and you are saying 'stay here'?"

"Nothing will happen Eda. We won't spend the new year together so stay here tonight."

"Okay then. Last time..."

"Last time."

The cuteness of this scene, I was melting.

"We are going to look at the stars."

"I'm already looking at the most beautiful star."

Serkan bought chocolate for Eda. If that's not love I don know what it is. And obviously Balca has to interrupt the romantic moment.

"Eda? Are you okay?"

"Serkan? What are you doing here? It's not been 10 minutes yet."

"She lives close. Candles and all that... Are you comfortable?"

"I decided to take a bath."

"You did the right thing."

"If you leave, I'll come."

"Of course... Give me 10 seconds."

"Serkan... Can you hear me?"

"Okay... I'll remember this moment."

"Enjoy. Do not rush."

CUTE CUTE CUTE CUTE CUTE... TOO CUTE💞

The whole bust scene made mi laugh, but someone can explain to me why Serkan did not for once looked at Eda? I don't understand.

Serkan brings her the breakfast to bed. My caring babe.

"Small steps towards a big goal."

Eda's gift to Serkan is so beautiful. She has this unique capacity to make every gift unique and original.

We don't deserve Leyla, she is too pure and angelic for us. She helped Ferit with Ceren's gift.

Engin has organized all the wedding with just the two of them. I love himmm.

Sorry but we have to take a moment to speak about Kerem speaking in Italian... I'm Italian so when I listened to him speaking in Italian I fainted. He's so sexy🔥

I'm an Ayfer and Alexander stan.

Even Serkan can't stand Balca anymore. She really is a snake, she's worst than Selin. What kind of crazy person are you?

"Serkan where are you?"

"In the place where I should be. Next to you."

"Where have you been?"

"You are so beautiful."

This scene was so beautiful. His gift was so meaningful. There's this thing that I've always noticed, he really listened and pay attention to what she say or do. He never do something by casualties, he's so carefully about her. This is one of the many thing that I love about Serkan. And obviously this beautiful and romantic moment is ruined by the arrival of the police... Arghh grandma what have you done?!

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, incorrect-malec!

For @incorrect-malec. This is the first part to a larger fic which will be updated sometime after the reveal, as the plot ran away from me! I tried to incorporate as many of the proposed likes as I could to make this an interesting and fun gift! Happy holidays, dear giftee, I hope you sincerely enjoy your present ❤️

Minor content warning for some cursing and small mentions of blood.

*****

find me here (amidst the chaos)

“Mr. Lightwood-Bane? You have a special visitor.” 

Alec glances up from the spread of ridiculous red tape sprawled across his desk. An antique grandfather clock nestled in the corner behind him ticks away the idle seconds. 

“Ah.” Alec leans into the high-backed support of his office chair. “Mr. Lightwood-Bane, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Magnus glides into the room, shutting the ornate door behind him with a heavy thud. “You forgot your lunch. I assumed it was all a simple ploy to trick me into bringing some for you.”

“A reasonable assumption.” 

“I probably shouldn’t be indulging in such skulduggery,” Magnus skirts around the desk, his magic tidying the paperwork into neat piles off to the side. “Alas, it has been some long six hours since I last saw my husband, and I’m little other than a fool for love.”

Alec stands and sways into Magnus’ space. “It is known to be a great weakness of yours.”

“Love?” Magnus wraps his arms around Alec’s neck, soothing his fingers against the nape. “Hardly. Love is too often fleeting. You, however?” He brushes the ghost of a kiss against the corner of Alec’s mouth. “You have always been my greatest weakness.”

Alec kisses Magnus, because it says more than words ever could, because there are no words in any language that he knows which could be enough to express how he feels, how his core is alight and burning hot, how he can’t get close enough without knocking them both over, and even that wouldn’t soothe the ache.

“You didn’t even bring any food with you,” Alec points out, pressing a fleeting kiss to Magnus’ temple, lest he kiss any lower and come away with a shimmer upon his lips. His hands are broad and firm against Magnus’ hips, drawing him close until the ornate buckle of his belt is nestled against Alec’s belly button. He’s slouched, relaxed and calm. 

“An easy fix.” Magnus pecks the very tip of Alec’s nose, grinning easy at the way it scrunches. “What are you in the mood for?” 

“I really want to visit Sky,” Alec sighs, his shoulders drawing up. “I miss their chebureki. I’m craving their chebureki. But I have to file through this paperwork, or the Clave are going to be breathing down my neck.” 

Magnus traces the love rune against the nape of Alec’s neck. “I mean this with every breadth of my soul.” He pulls back, drawn to the mirth that draws Alec’s brow together before staring into hazel eyes which have always held his own gaze with such resolve it’s a wonder he ever questioned them. “Fuck the Clave.”

Alec laughs, hearty and full. Magnus kisses the lines of his eyes, warmth cloaking him like a homemade blanket. This, right here. This is all he needs. 

“Is that a proposition? I think I have a form somewhere for interdepartmental relationships, I’d be happy to sign it for you.”

Alec feigns to pull away, his hands falling to his sides. Before he can even turn his body, Magnus takes both of Alec’s hands in his own, kissing the space on his ring finger above his wedding band and the ridges of his knuckles while the other intertwines their fingers, squeezing tight and holding their joined hands against his heart - or, rather, a rough estimation of where his heart is, hidden beneath his unbuttoned silk shirt and floral blazer. 

“Burn it.” Magnus insists, resting his chin on the back of Alec’s hand, still held tight within his own. “Or shred it. Do you have a paper shredder? We can start a recycling plan! Saving the planet is really something the Clave should care about. Maybe they can investigate that, and then while they’re busy saving the world - I know that you Shadowhunters love that - we can steal away and pretend you never insinuated that I would ever break our sacred marriage vows for the Clave.”

Alec leans back, tapping the side of Magnus’ sleek ankle boots. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even joked about it.” 

“I wouldn’t break our vows for anything.” Magnus pulls a face. “Suggesting I would do it for the Clave is just insulting, Alexander. I have far better taste than that.”

“Is that so?”

Magnus hums, turning Alec’s hand to kiss down his wrist. “I’m pretty sure I have a certificate somewhere that proves it.” He murmurs, tilting his head into the cup of Alec’s palm against his cheek. “Unless that’s how you tested out your paper shredder? We haven’t cleared up whether it exists yet.” 

“Your environmental concerns are heard and are being considered by the Inquisitor at present” Alec teases, before adding. “I’m pretty sure that Aline has a paper shredder in her office. It’s definitely the kind of thing that Helen would have gifted. Probably wrapped in a bow, too.”

“That does sound like our Helen.” Magnus steps forward into the gap of Alec’s thighs. “I’m afraid that all I am hearing is that there is in fact no reason why you can’t take an extended lunch break.” He leans forward, teasing a kiss along the cut of Alec’s jaw. “Perhaps we can even enjoy it in the comfort of our own home.” 

They would have, Alec prepared with a half-hearted protest that Magnus would just as quickly swallow, bending the pretence of Alec’s revolve before whisking them away in a portal that would have to be created on the balcony to protect the furniture. They would have enjoyed a lovely meal, and each other’s company, and Magnus would have sent Alec back with a sweet kiss and a promise of reservations for some late night ponchiki, conveniently forgetting to mention that he’s missed a button of his shirt. 

Unfortunately, none of that happened. 

“Inquisitor Lightwood-Bane? High Warlock Lightwood-Bane?” 

Magnus rolls his eyes and steps away from Alec, although his hand skims Alec’s hip. The shadowhunter at the door seems familiar … Montclair something, maybe … yes, Eva Montclair. A sort of glorified P.A for various members of the Clave. Her sudden appearance in Alec’s doorway is not a terrible thing by nature, but Magnus has a feeling given the tightness of her knuckles around the hilt of her seraph blade that it is not good news that she couriers this time. 

Eva inhales deeply, her shoulders curled in defensively. “I was told to come and tell you both immediately, I’m sorry if I’ve interrupted anything.” 

“What’s wrong, Eva?” Alec asks, kind but firm.

“There’s been an instance near Piccadilly. A warlock appears to have recently come into their powers and is struggling with gaining control over them. The Head of the London Institute called them ‘rogue’, but I personally don’t think that’s fair. From the descriptions received all the magic seems to be defensive rather than offensive. The High Warlock there is currently unavailable but suggested that you, Mr. Lightwood-Bane, would be a … ‘fitting substitute’ in his absence?”

Magnus fixes a pleasant smile even as a laugh hiccups in the back of his throat. Ragnor truly says the kindest things. “If this is as you describe, Eva, I’m sure there won’t be any further problems.”

“Please alert the London Institute that we are on our way.” Alec requests. “And please make it clear to them that they are under no circumstances to harm the young warlock. This is no longer any of their concern.”

The hint of a smile toys at the corner of Eva’s mouth, and it’s then that Magnus remembers that she’s married to a warlock herself, and in fact he has met Mars on a few occasions as part of the Downworlder council. Small world. 

“Absolutely.” Eva nods, curtly, and ducks out of the room. 

Magnus nods towards the balcony doors. “Portal?”

Alec sighs, reaching for Magnus’ hand. “This has to be the fifth call this year alone. I’m starting to think those pamphlets aren't working.”

The balcony doors swing open with a flick of Magnus’ hand. 

“Maybe the Institute Heads are just environmentally conscious.”

---

“Angels,” Alec whispers, when they come through the other side of the portal onto a wet cobblestone side-street, the air heavy with unshed rain. “They’re so young.”

The warlock couldn’t possibly be older than eighteen. Their torn jeans are stuffed into worn and muddy old boots, their denim vest is missing sleeves, torn at the shoulder, and the faded band tank underneath looks far too thin for a London evening. Thin, white lines stand out against brown skin, forming stars on their arms like tattoos of varying size, a mark unlike any that Alec has ever seen before and given the slight furrow to Magnus’ brow, it’s not a common one. Their hair is cropped short and pink, which could be a warlock mark, although Alec has his doubts. 

“Their mark is glowing.” Magnus comments. “It pulses, see. It’s directly connected to their magic.”

“Is that unusual?” Alec asks, casting an eye around for anything to gain the warlock’s attention without spooking them. “Your eyes glow.”

Magnus drops his glamour. A point is being made, but it isn’t Alec’s. “The pulse is frantic, like their magic, their emotions. Their powers are so new that they haven’t figured out how to control any of it yet. Warlock marks, although rare, do sometimes come with the magic itself. That’s a lot to discover about yourself at once. No wonder they look so frightened, poor dear.”

Alec’s throat tightens when the warlock grips their head and folds over. “We have to help them. I don’t even know how but … we have to help them.”

Magnus grips the back of Alec’s neck, turning him until they’re facing each other. “We will.” Magnus says, firm but kind. “We are their best hope right now, Alexander, and we will help them.” He grazes his thumb along the column of Alec’s nape. “We’re good at this.”

Alec nods, rolling his shoulders back as Magnus’ hand falls away. Magnus gestures and Alec follows his gaze, towards a portable store sign advertising 25% off coats and knitwear - it’s not terribly wide or tall, but if he’s careful he should be able to hide behind it, if temporarily. The last thing they need is for the warlock to feel as though they’ve been trapped, so letting Magnus talk first and providing support without being obvious about it is their best chance at this point in time. 

The first time they talked a warlock down Alec had gotten his eyebrows singed off for getting too close, too fast. 

“Excuse me?” Magnus has procured a coat, probably from the store behind Alec, his hands shoved into the pockets. 

To the unassuming eye, he probably appears to be a concerned citizen, his eyes glamoured once more, although there is an undeniable electricity to him that couldn’t be mistaken by those who know for a thunderstorm. There is a chance that the warlock, although presumably new to their powers, will be able to sense it as well. If that’s the case, their reaction is anyone’s guess. Alec tightens his grip on his bow.

“I’m Magnus Bane.” The warlock glances up with lightning speed, their arms wound tightly around their chest, as though doing so would keep everything in place. Alec is familiar with the feeling. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. I’m like you, see?”

Magnus must have dropped his glamour, for the warlock takes a step back, but they lose some of the tension around their shoulders. “May I ask for your name?” He asks, rocking back on his heels.

The warlock hesitates, the stars on their arms pulsing even faster. “Nova.” They say, after what feels to be an hour. Alec lets out a heavy breath and relaxes onto his haunches. This is good. 

“Hello, Nova.” Magnus flattens his palm against his chest. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Is it okay if I ask you a few questions? You don’t have to answer any that make you uncomfortable. My only motivation is helping you if I can.”

“What makes you think that you can help me?” Nova spits out. They’re shaking. “I don’t even know what’s happening to me. The other day I was fine, I was normal and then I woke up yesterday and I have these weird tattoos on my arm and today I’m sending things into different rooms with just my thoughts - and none of it makes any sense! None of it!” 

Magnus takes a lone step forward, but Nova doesn’t appear to notice. Alec feels a chill crawl down his spine. “You don’t know me, so what I’m about to ask of you probably goes against every instinct you have. Nova, I need you to trust me.”

“Why?”

Magnus takes another step. The hairs on the back of Alec’s neck stand to attention. “Because I’ve been where you are.” Magnus explains. “Lost. Confused. Angry. I was a child when I discovered my magic, what I could do with it. I didn’t have anybody to help me, and I always vowed that I wouldn’t let that happen to others, if I could help it. I want to help you.”

“What am I?” Nova furiously shakes their head, gripping at their elbows so tight little pinpricks of blood skate down their arms. “Why is this happening to me?”

“I prefer to call myself a warlock. Many of us do.” Magnus explains. He holds out his palm, letting a blue flame collect in the centre. “You can refer to yourself however you like. You can just be Nova, and nothing more, if you want.”

“But the magic … that won’t go away?”

Magnus shakes his head. “No. Take my word for it, you will only cause yourself more harm if you try. It’s not all bad.” The flame in Magnus’ hand turns into a cupcake, with a small sugary rainbow on top of the cream white frosting. “Once you learn how to control it, the things you’ll be able to do are incredible.”

“I lost a mug.” Nova laughs, a fragile thing. “It’s so stupid. I just threw it at the wall, but it didn’t smash or anything it just … disappeared. I looked for hours. It’s not even important, it was a quid or something but it … it’s gone. I did that. I don’t know how but wherever it’s ended up is because of me. What if - what if I do that to somebody? Make them … disappear.” 

“I don’t think so.” Magnus is a few feet away now if that. “The kind of power that takes is … astronomical, not to mention the technical restraint. The worst you might do is cause some minor injuries, but even that is rare.”

Nova’s stars are glowing steadily. “Have you ever made someone disappear?”

“Not without the intent to do so.”

The answer seems to appease Nova. Alec stays hunched down, it doesn’t look like Magnus needs his support, although it would be nice to stretch his back soon, although he still trains from time to time, he isn’t exactly as young as he used to be. 

“Magnus Bane. Step away from the rogue warlock at once. This is no longer an issue for the Downworlder Council to handle, this has become an Institute matter and will thus be handled by Shadowhunters. Your services have not proven useful, and this warlock must be subdued before any harm is caused.” 

The electricity in the air gets sharper. Alec hesitates but eventually rises slowly from his crouched position. He catches the minute the Institute Head, Stephen Highsmith, sees him and the flood of blood to his cheeks and forehead. A second later, his head whips towards Nova, who is clutching at their head, their wide eyes caught between the three of them. Alec doesn’t have the time to search for the Shadowhunters positioned around them, knows on instinct that they’re surrounded, that the only way out is through talking and, if that fails, a little violent liberty. 

“The warlock is a child.” He states, stalking out from behind the sign. He grips his bow tight and positions himself diagonally from Magnus, firm in his defence. “Surely you have higher morals than that, Stephen.”

Highsmith, a weasely man riding the coattails of his family name, sneers and draws his seraph blade. He’d never been too good as a Shadowhunter, from all accounts, but power is a currency and money talks. “It was very honourable of you to leave your post and flock to my streets, Inquisitor Lightwood, but I’m afraid your presence is simply not necessary. My men and I have it handled.”

“I’m sure you’re very capable of handling precarious situations, Mr. Highsmith.” Butter wouldn’t melt in Magnus’ mouth. “However, as High Warlock Fell is currently out of the country and has given permission for Alexander and myself to fulfil his duties in his place, I do believe it is a case best left to us. We don’t intend to intrude upon your delicate sensibilities, I’m sure you’re a very busy man who has much better things to do than to waste your time on such a small affair.”

“For the record.” Alec smiles with no heart. “It’s Lightwood-Bane. A simple mistake, I’m sure, but an important thing to rectify. Names carry a lot of importance and weight, you know.”

Highsmith splutters. “I do not have time for this!”

“Neither do we.” Magnus stalks closer, until he’s within arms distance from Highsmith. Alec inches closer to Nova, now bent over with their palms pressed against their eyelids. “This is a matter for the Downworlder council, and as it’s representatives, we will take care of it. The longer you argue and fight with us over this, however, the longer it will take until we are out of your hair.”

The back of Alec’s neck prickles with heat. Magnus continues to admonish Highsmith. “Neither Alexander nor I will budge until Nova is safe. Believe me when I tell you that there is nobody more equipped to handle this than us, and if you don’t take your leave quietly and with what little grace you can summon, you will be responsible for whatever harm or damage is caused.”

“How dare you speak to me like that!” Highsmith’s face is blotchy and red. 

“Quite easily.” Magnus twists his fingers, a white-hot blast landing at Highsmith’s feet. His shoes turn into fluffy bunny slippers. The ears flop when he pounds his feet. “Respect is earnt, Mr. Highsmith, and quite frankly you have done nothing worth receiving mine.”

A low muttering draws Alec’s attention. Nova has sunk onto their knees, the heel of their palms digging into their eyes. Alec quietly side-steps closer, holding his bow behind his back so as not to terrify Nova even more. 

“I just want to go home. I just want this all to end. I want to go home.”

Alec sneaks a glance towards Magnus, still holding defence against Highsmith, who has acquired shocking green hair and a yellow high-visibility vest alongside the bunny slippers. Perhaps it won’t go as smoothly as if Magnus were the one talking Nova down, he can connect with them in a way Alec never would, but he can offer support - just as long as he can calm Nova down, draw them away from the conflict, that’s all … then they can dismiss Highsmith because there would be no ‘warlock problem’ and Nova’s safety and comfort could once again take priority. 

“Nova?” Alec crouches down, rocking back on his heels. “My name is Alec. I’m a friend of Magnus’. We’re going to do our best to get you home, okay?” 

Nova starts rocking back and forth. Their tattoos glow brighter than before, a luminescent blue that pricks at the back of Alec’s eyes. “I want to go home.” They continue to murmur, in a voice that takes on a warbled effect, as though they were speaking underwater. “I just want to go home.”

“Where do you live?” Alec asks. “Do you live in London?”

Nova falls to their knees. In the distance, Alec hears Magnus’ tone getting sharper, although he can’t make out exactly what is being said, it doesn’t fill him with much confidence that a productive conversation is being had. Nova keeps rocking, folded over into themselves. Blood streaks down their forearms, small droplets collecting behind their ears from where their fingers had dug into their scalp. 

“Enough is enough!” Highsmith shouts. Shadowhunters spill out from the dark, armed to the teeth with all manner of weapons, seraph blades and a few staves, the odd throwing star attached at the hip. Archers are scattered across the rooftops around them, arrows notched and aimed. 

“Highsmith.” Magnus’ hands crackle as blue flame licks at his fingertips, wrapping around his arms. “I’ve made an attempt at civility, but you are clearly not interested in politics. Fine. Take this as a warning. Recall your soldiers. Stand down. I cannot guarantee everyone’s safety if you do not heed this warning, and the dangerous consequences your refusal could inflict are limitless. This young warlock is frightened. Let us look after them, and I assure you, nobody will get hurt.”

“I have had enough of your whining.” Highsmith spits. “This is now Shadowhunter business. Perhaps a few days in a cold cell will teach this young warlock how to control their powers.”

It all happens in a flash. Literally, an actual flash. 

Alec rushes forward to protect Nova, futile as it might be, his bow poised towards the nearest threat - a Shadowhunter only a few feet away with a seraph blade drawn and pointed at the back of Nova’s head. A static roaring fills his ears, but he pushes through, hardly aware of his own body as an arrow is sent flying into the Shadowhunter’s shoulder. His skin starts to prick and burn, from his hands up to his neck and rushing down to his ankles like a wildfire coursing through a forest. His heart beats in tune with Nova’s words, I want to go home, thud thud thud thud thud. 

Alec shuts his eyes against a luminescent white light, stumbling as the ground falls out from beneath him and an echo calls out for him, a desperate plea of his name shouted underwater.

Magnus? 

I just want to go home. 

---

Alexander? Alexander!

---

The air smells like metal and thunderstorms. Magnus whirls on his heel, angry tears racing down his cheeks. Hell, hath no fury like a warlock scorned. 

“Listen to me you weasely git.” Magnus spits. “I’m done playing civil. My husband is missing because you wanted to play hero for the first time in your poor, forsaken life. Sad you never got to play soldiers with the big boys? Well, guess it’s your lucky day. I am going to take Nova with me back to Alicante, and while I’m there, I’m going to ensure that my lovely friend Consul Penhallow is updated with everything that occurred here today. Unfortunately for you, her wife has family in the area, some of whom I am sure wouldn’t mind stepping up to keep an eye on you. I’ve seen how you conduct yourself, and if it is any indication of how your Institute is run, I guarantee it is not a position that you will retain for much longer.”

Magnus raises a hand. The Shadowhunters flanking Highsmith sheath their weapons. “Withdraw your forces and go slinking back. This is not a request. You did not heed my warning, but you will weather the consequences.” 

He turns, uninterested in sparring Highsmith another second of his time. Magnus didn’t see the flash, but he recognised the sign of a portal, although … there’s something about this one that is bugging him. 

Today I’m sending things into different rooms with just my thoughts … I don’t know how but wherever it’s ended up is because of me … what if I do that to somebody? Make them disappear? 

“Fuck.” 

Nova is sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring at their hands as though they’re something alien. Magnus collapses in front of them, a mirror-reflection. They’re shaking, tremors like the ground before an earthquake. 

The earthquake has come. This is the aftershock. 

“I don’t know what happened.” Nova whispers, harshly. “I just wanted everything to stop. I kept wishing that I could go home, and everything got really muffled, like I was wrapped in cotton or something, but I was still here and there was so much noise, so much shouting and I was so scared-”

“Might I reach for your hand?” Magnus asks. Nova glances up, their cheeks stained with dried tears. They nod, wordlessly. Magnus turns their palms over, tracing the lines with his fingers where they glow intermittently, as though a light was shining from beneath their skin. 

“You’re not mad?”

“No.” Magnus’ smile is a little thin, a little bittersweet. “Not at you. I know that Alexander is okay, wherever he is, and that’s all that matters to me.”

Nova shakes their head. “He could be dead, I could have-”

“You didn’t.” Magnus assures them. “I would know if he was, as sure as you knew when your magic appeared. Which, if I recall correctly, you said was behaving volatile today?”

Nova’s fingers curl against Magnus’. “That flash. I felt like an exposed wire. I felt…” Nova frowns. “Right as it happened, I felt really calm all of a sudden, but also … like my magic? I guess? Was being pulled out of me. I wasn’t scared anymore, though, I felt … comforted. Safe? But then I opened my eyes, and everything was the same, and all that fear came flooding back.”

Jagged pieces are coming together in Magnus’ mind. It’s a working theory, and a weak one at that, but it’s something and that’s enough for him to cling onto, to keep his sanity. 

“Nova. I don’t mean to pressure you, so please do not take it that way, you are of course free to go wherever you please - I promise the Shadowhunters, the lot dressed in all black with their pointy egos, won’t cause you any harm, but … if you’re willing, I could use your help.”

“My help?”

Magnus wicks a portal into existence. The wind around them picks up leaves and twigs but in the little bubble he creates for them, they are safe. “This is a portal. I sort of invented them. I have a feeling that what you did is not all that dissimilar, but I need your help to figure that out. I hope that I’ll be able to help you better understand your own powers, and get my husband back, but only if it is something you are comfortable with.”

Nova stares at the portal in wonder. They nod, hesitant at first and then firmer with every movement. “Whatever happened … it was my fault. I know you don’t blame me, somehow, but if I can help … I have to. You and your husband were willing to do anything to help me, it’s the least I can do.”

“It only takes a word, if at any point you want to bow out, or you don’t feel comfortable or safe, your commitment ends. There’s no obligation here, okay?”

Nova nods. Magnus stands gingerly, wiping the dirt of the back of his pants and extending a hand to help pull them up. “You’ll need to keep tight hold of my hand.” He instructs. “Don’t let go until I say it’s safe, otherwise I could lose you too.”

Nova squeezes Magnus’ hand. “We’ll find him.” They promise.

“Of course, we will.” Magnus smiles, wishing he could even half-convince himself. 

---

Alec focuses his landing on the balls of his feet, leaning back to distribute his weight to his heels to cushion the impact. It’s fortunate that, despite the length of time he’s spent behind a desk instead of in the field, he’s managed to keep up with his training. That fall could have wiped him out. 

He takes a few seconds to focus on what he can hear, smell, see; the floor beneath him is a dark mahogany, freshly polished, the sunlight leaking in from the north facing window between drawn burgundy curtains. Outside the window echoes a busy street, tolling bells and warm chatter and … horses? 

“Quite a grand entrance. Most people just use the doorbell.”  

The voice, familiar in the wrong ways, sweeps under his feet and knocks him backwards, scattered along the floor. It’s only magic, which he recognises beneath its coldness, that saves him from knocking over a beautiful porcelain vase sat precariously atop an equally beautiful, engraved end table. 

“Then again, I’m not sure I would have invited a Shadowhunter into my home.” 

The voice belongs to Magnus, but he is … not himself. At least not the one that Alec knows. It’s rather like seeing a distorted mirror image for all that stands out to him as wrong. 

The hardened glaze of Magnus’ glamoured eyes. The sneer of his mouth. The white of his knuckles curled around the top of a hardback novel. The muted colours, from his hair to his makeup-free face, to the dark pants with thin silver lines and matching suspenders over a plain black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. The line of his body along the gilded lounge is carefully constructed to suggest a nonchalance which is betrayed by the tension Alec can see in the rigidity of his limbs; he’s poised to attack. 

This is not the Magnus that Alec recognises, this is a stranger with his husband’s face, his history, and his memories but not his present - or, rather, as Alec is quickly coming to suspect, his future. 

“I’m sorry.” Alec tries to stand up, but as soon as his hands touch the floor, they become stuck, as though someone has glued them to the wood. His feet too are rooted in place. 

“Oh, no. Please don’t apologise. It’s not as though you barged into my home, my private sanctuary, with no warning.” Magnus purses his lips. “You did not pull a weapon on me. I will admit that is a nice change.”

Alec can’t feel along his back for his quiver, but he’s fairly certain his weapons hadn’t travelled with him. Magnus had cloaked them to appear when he needed them, but it’s unlikely they were spelled in preparation for a situation such as this. Not that he is 100% clear on what this even is. 

“Who are you?” Magnus waves a hand dismissively. “Please don’t say ‘Shadowhunter’, I am quite aware of that much, even if your runes weren’t visible only child soldiers hold themselves with such rigid arrogance. I will concede the outfit is quite out of the ordinary, however.”

Alec clears his throat. He has to be delicate about this. “My name is Alexander.” He shifts his weight and draws his shoulders in as best he can. “Alexander L-uh, Wayland. Alexander Wayland.”

Smooth.

Magnus hums, folding his book and letting it fall onto the glass table in front of him. “I had suspected for a fleeting moment that you might have been a Lightwood. No matter.” He elegantly sweeps his legs over until both are flat on the ground, his hands clasped between his knees as he leans forward with a seamless, lethal grace. “The real question I need an answer to would be how a lanky Nephilim such as yourself made it past my wards to crash into the very room in which I had been trying to enjoy some peace and quiet. London isn’t exactly known for such these days.”

“London?” Alec echoes, without quite thinking much of it. 

Despite his foolish hope that he might have been wrong, the evidence was insurmountable and quite literally staring him in the face - however it might have happened, when he’d moved towards Nova he’d been sent falling and inevitably crashing into 1884. Magnus had only stayed in London for a year, hadn’t been back since, and Alec has seen the photos of him, Ragnor and Camille, recognises the darkness in Magnus’ gaze as when he first talked about Camille, and how she had torn him to pieces, discarding him without a thought after she was no longer satisfied with him. 

“Magnus, Archibald has two extra tickets for tonight’s - oh. I do not recall you informing me that you were intending on having company for the night.” 

A tall, slender blonde man hovers in the doorway, staring at Alec with equal parts vague intrigue and thinly veiled distaste. Everything about him exudes taste and elegance, but there is a familiarity to his features that itches at the back of Alec’s mind. He knows the man’s face, has never met him, he doesn’t think, but knows him in the distant way that one knows legends and heroes.  

“The tickets are all yours, Woolsey.” Magnus doesn’t take his eyes off Alec. “I am afraid it appears I will be a little preoccupied, I have some unexpected business to take care off. Enjoy the play on my behalf.”  

Woolsey Scott. The founder of the Praetor Lupus. 

This isn’t funny anymore. 

“Of course.” The corner of Woolsey’s mouth ticks up. None of the documentation around him could have ever come close to capturing the real thing. Magnus had mentioned him a few times, off handed, but Alec can see how they would have gotten along. “Don’t wait up, my dear. I certainly won’t be.”

Just as quickly as he had come sweeping in, Woolsey is gone, and Alec is left to sit glued to the floor while Magnus picks him apart by gaze alone. After a few uncomfortable minutes where the distant ticking of a grandfather stirs Alec a little mad, a chair slides across the polished floor, coming to a stop seamlessly next to Alec. The magic around his hands and feet disappear. He can wiggle his toes again. 

“I kindly suggest that you take a seat.” Magnus states in a tone that leaves no room for a refusal. “I have a few questions that need answering.”

TBC on AO3

[petersasteria]

Which Kid’s Yours? - Harry Holland

Pairing: Harry x Actress!Holland Requested? Nah. 1.4k words

Aged up bc why not

* * * *

“Please welcome, Y/N Holland!” Jimmy Kimmel smiled as he introduced you. You waved at the audience as you walked in with a bright smile on your face. You gave Jimmy a quick hug before sitting down.

“I’m so glad that you’re here!” Jimmy said.

“Thank you so much for having me, Jimmy! I’m genuinely glad to be here.” You said happily.

“Before we start anything, I just want to congratulate you on your new movie with Tom Holland!” Jimmy said as he showed the picture of the movie’s poster to the audience. The audience clapped and cheered as you smiled and thanked them. “How was the experience?” Jimmy asked, putting the picture away.

“Um, it was a really fun experience! As some people may know, this isn’t my first movie with Tom. This is actually my fifth movie with him and I just really really love working with him. He’s so kind and funny and I just admire how he works.” You answered truthfully.

“That’s great!” Jimmy nodded. “So, your last name is also Holland.”

You chuckled and nodded, “Yes.”

“I know you have an explanation for that.” Jimmy laughed. “But how do you and Tom react to people who think that you guys are siblings or married?”

“We laugh it off.” You said. “Sometimes, we call each other different pet names just to annoy each other. Yes, we have a good relationship, but it’s a different kind of relationship.”

“Now, I obviously know the explanation. But can you explain it to the people who don’t know your actual relation to Tom Holland?” Jimmy asked.

“I would GLADLY explain.” You said playfully causing everyone to laugh. “I don’t know why not many people know this even though I posted about it years ago, but I’m married to Harry, Tom’s brother. So, Tom Holland is actually my brother-in-law. We met a few years ago when I got casted for a movie that he was in and I was casted as his love interest. We instantly clicked and became best friends and he introduced me to his family.”

“Then, I got to know Harry because we have the same interests and y’know… the rest is history.” You giggled. “Harry and I have been married since we were 26 years old and we now have three amazing kids.”

“That’s great! Good for you, guys. Can you tell us more about your kids? How are they?” Jimmy asked.

“They’re good!” You smiled sweetly.

“That’s good. All your kids are boys?”

“Yes and they’re difficult to handle, but Harry and I are able to push through.”

“How old are your kids?”

“I had kids every two years. We planned them, so my eldest is 10, the next one is 8, and the youngest is 6. Their names are Lucas, Alex, and Kyle.” You gushed.

Jimmy showed your family picture and your face instantly lit up when you saw it. You loved your little family so much.

“There they are!” You smiled.

“Who’s the eldest?” Jimmy asked as he looked at the picture.

“The one on the right next to Harry is the eldest, Alex. Harry and I love Hamilton, so we kinda named him after Alexander Hamilton.”

“So his name is Alexander Holland?” Jimmy laughed and you nodded, “Yeah! Alex for short.”

“The next one is Lucas. He’s the one on the left next to me.” You pointed. The youngest is Kyle and he’s the one I’m carrying.”

“They’re all really adorable!” Jimmy complimented.

“Thank you!” You grinned.

“Someone told me that your kids are here. Is that true?”

“Yup. They’re hanging out backstage with Harry. Tom’s here as well. It’s his day off and he just loves the kids. He’s such a good uncle. The kids absolutely adore him.” You answered.

“Okay, so we’re gonna play a game and it involves your kids.” Jimmy started.

“Oh, god. Okay. What’re we playing?” You said nervously. “I’m kinda scared.”

“Nothing harmful.” Jimmy laughed. “So, you have three kids, right?”

“Right.”

“We’re gonna bring out six kids here and you have to guess which kid is yours while wearing a blindfold. You have to guess who your kid is just by touching their face.” Jimmy said, chuckling as he handed you the blindfold.

“Oh my god.” You said as you took the blindfold from him. “This is not what I thought I’d be doing on a Thursday.” The audience laughed as you put the blindfold on and the blindfold had a really thick cloth and you couldn’t completely see.

The six kids walked in and Jimmy said, “All six kids are wearing special shirts, so the audience would know which kid is yours and which kid isn’t. The ones in green are your kids and the ones in red aren’t yours.”

“What even is this game, Jimmy?!” You shrieked and laughed.

“We’re testing your maternal instinct.” Jimmy said. “Remember, you can only touch their face. I’ll guide your hand.”

The first kid was wearing red and he walked up in front of you and you were nervous. Jimmy guided your hand on the kid’s face. You began feeling the kid’s nose, cheeks, and mouth.

“Can I touch their hair?” You asked.

“Sure! All of them have similar hair, so good luck on guessing.” Jimmy laughed.

You touched the kid’s hair and said, “Nope. This isn’t mine.”

Jimmy said, “Sure?”

“Definitely.” You nodded and the kid walked to the back of the line.

“Okay, next kid!” Jimmy said as Alex stood in front of you. Jimmy guided your hands on the kid’s face and you immediately said, “This is my son! I know it for sure!”

Jimmy gestured to Alex to stand next to his desk as he guided your hands on the next kid’s face. He was wearing red and your shaking hands felt his face and hair.

“I think this one’s mine.” You said causing Alex’s jaw to drop and he covered his mouth. Jimmy laughed and told the kid to stand next to Alex.

Unbeknownst to you, Harry and Tom were watching in the audience right after you got blindfolded. Harry and Tom were laughing quietly as you continued the guessing game.

Lucas stood in front of you and you felt his hair and face. You took a while before deciding, “He’s not mine.”

Lucas face palmed and walked to the back of the line next to the other kid. Harry wanted to melt then and there. Tom couldn’t breathe as he kept laughing.

A kid in red stood in front of you and you felt his hair and face. You immediately said, “This is Kyle! I can also smell, like, a scent that smells like Kyle. So, this is definitely Kyle. The next kid for sure isn’t mine and can I take off my blindfold now?”

The kid in red walked to where Alex is and Jimmy couldn’t even talk because he just kept laughing. “Jimmy, stop laughing!” You chuckled. “Can I take off my blindfold now?”

“Yeah, take it off! You’d be surprised. The ones next to the desk were the kids you guessed as your kids and the ones on the other side are the ones you guessed that aren’t your kids.”

“Oh, god.” You said before taking your blindfold off. As soon as you took your blindfold off, you immediately turned to the kids next to Jimmy’s desk and gasped when you saw only Alex standing there with two other kids who are definitely NOT yours.

“OH MY GOD!!” You shrieked and quickly turned to the other side and saw Lucas and Kyle with one kid wearing red. You stood up and walked to Lucas and Kyle and gave them a big hug.

“Mommy loves you! I’m so sorry!!” You said as you pouted.

“Tom and Harry are actually in the audience and they saw the whole thing.” Jimmy said as he pointed out where your husband and brother-in-law were sitting. You pulled away from the hug and you turned to where Jimmy was pointing and you laughed when you saw Harry and Tom. Harry was shaking his head in shock and Tom was visibly red from laughing the whole time.

Jimmy invited Harry and Tom on stage and you hugged Harry. “I’m so sorry! Please don’t leave me.” You laughed causing him to laugh too.

“I’m not sure if we can go on, Y/N. You don’t know who our kids are.” Harry joked as he carried Kyle.

“I’m so sorry!” You pouted and said, “Is there anything I can do to make up for it?”

“Add in another baby!” Tom playfully suggested.

“That would totally ruin the two years apart thing that these kids have going on.” You said and Harry nodded.

“I was kidding! Relax.” Tom playfully rolled his eyes.

“Well, you guys can figure that out.” Jimmy laughed. “We’ll be right back for more time with Y/N after the break!”

* * * *

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @sufwubi @abrielleholland @purplepizza-summerrain @euphorichxlland @marshxx @lizzyosterfield​ @justanamesstuff​ @croissantwriting​ @blueleatherbag​

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell @justasmisunderstoodasloki @rubberducky-jrr @allyz @osterfieldnholland @miraclesoflove @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @drie-the-derp @hollands-weasley @itstaskeen @call-me-baby-gir1 @the-panwitch @iamaunicorn4704 @geminiparkers @holland-styles @calltothewild @fancyxparker @herbatkazmiloscia @whatthefuckimbisexual @justanothermarvelmaniac @unsaidholland @musicalkeys @lost-in-the-stars03 @hufflepuffprincess24 @hollanddolanfangirl @parkerpeter24 @bellelittleoff @agentnataliahofferson @aqiise @lexirv @blairscott @hi-im-maddie @xfirstfemale-marauderx @u-rrose

[victimeyez]

Quiet Time

Alexander and Luka time

The synopsis for them is very simple: Alexander saw a man and thought “he’s going to be my new plaything,” and he made it so. “Luka” now lives an unfortunate life as Alexander’s torture pet chained up in his basement. 

This is a particularly brutal chapter where Luka really starts to break. Content warnings include: forced starvation/dehydration, sensory deprivation, gagging, shock collars/threat of electrocution, psychological torture via isolation, suspension, stress positions, bondage but not in a kink way just a really crappy way, chaining, handcuffs, blindfolds, gags, stockholm syndrome, duct tape bondage that I also sometimes spell as duck tape, gags and muzzles, beatings, so many blood, behavioral conditioning

Also it’s hella long but I’m not breaking it up so, end joy

Special thanks to @knivestothroats for being my muse for Alexander and helping me on these pieces, you’re an absolute fucking lad, everybody go read their shit 

tagging @whumpupthejam who requested a trope in here!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wake up.”

Alexander pushes a boot between Luka’s ribs, jostling him in his sleep. He opens his eyes blearily, blinking slowly.

“Good morning.” His voice is raspy with sleep.

“Good morning. Time to get up.”

Luka’s eyes dart nervously to the hook. 

“Do I - do I have to get strung up right away?”

“Why, did you have other plans?”

Luka licks his dry lips.

“Well, I could - I could make you breakfast.”

“You’re not going upstairs, you know you’re not allowed in the kitchen.”

Luka looked pained but nodded and stood shakily from his place on the floor. He had to balance in order to accommodate the short chains between his ankles and wrists while he stood, and almost tipped over when they caught, stumbling towards Alexander for a moment. Xander caught his shoulders, stopping him, and Luka looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I - I’m sorry-“

“Clumsy thing. What did you ever do without me?”

Luka flushed pink with shame, eyes cast down.

“Yes, right...thank you...”

“You’re very welcome.”

Alexander led him with a firm hand between his shoulders over to the hook in the corner. Luka walked as slowly as he could, eyeing the object of his ire with great disdain.

“Could I - could I stretch a bit first? Please?”

Alexander sighed impatiently.

“You’ll be stretched out plenty.”

Luka swallowed his dread but didn’t object. Alexander gestured to the hook, an expectant look on their face. Luka hesitantly raised his hands, laying the length of the chains between his wrists in the bend of the hook. Alexander stepped to the side and pressed a switch on the wall, a grinding sound echoing through the basement as the hook was raised again. It pulled taut, dragging Luka up until he could barely touch the concrete floor with the tips of his toes. He gasped in pain and danced in place, scrambling to get his feet under him enough to relieve the agonizing strain in his shoulders, but he was raised just an inch too high to make it possible.

On a good day, he might be able to balance on the balls of his feet, but Alexander didn’t seem to be in such a generous mood. 

Alexander watched him impassively, but Luka knew the satisfaction he would see in their eyes if he looked too closely.

Luka’s eyes drifted to Alexander’s side, where they recognized the black strap hanging from a loop on their belt. Alexander drew it out slowly, watching his eyes widen, knowing what was coming.

“I’ll- I’ll be quiet, I promise, I promise I don’t need it -“

“Hush.” Xander ordered, stepping behind his victim to slip the black collar around his throat.

“Headache today?” Luka murmured quietly, grimacing as the metal bit of the shock collar dug into his throat.

Alexander didn’t answer, fastening the collar with practiced ease and buckling it tight around his neck. Luka couldn’t help the whine he let out when Alexander finished, stepping back to admire their work. 

Luka was still exhausted, hungry, and in considerable pain from the familiar wrenching on his sore shoulders, and he knew it would only get worse with anything Alexander might have planned for him. Given the collar and the merciless height he was set at, he was guessing it was going to be a very unpleasant day.

Alexander quickly proved him right. 

“Open.”

Luka recognized the mess of straps in his hands and started to sweat. Alexander didn’t often gag him, usually if he really wanted him quiet the collar was decided sufficient enough. 

The bit that actually went into his mouth was metal, and Luka shuddered at the thought of getting shocked with that in. The look Alexander was giving him made it very clear there was no negotiating this, and he cracked his jaw open with chagrin, gagging when the metal bit was shoved into his mouth over his tongue.The muzzle was fastened around his head, and the cold metal made him swallow uncomfortably every few seconds.

He frowned when Alexander returned again with a heavy pair of headphones. As soon as they were secured over his ears, all the normal background sound of the basement was silenced.

Alexander watched Luka’s face closely as he slipped the headphones on him. Luka’s brow pinched in confusion and he made a wordless, questioning noise. Alexander held up a thick black blindfold and Luka started to squirm weakly, turning his head to the side to refuse the blindfold. 

Alex slapped him across the face so hard it knocked the headphones from him and they clattered to the ground. Luka groaned, flexing his already aching jaw, but didn’t try struggling again when the heavy fabric was drawn over his eyes and fastened. He heard some clicking sounds as Alex picked the headphones back up and gave them a glance over. They were slipped back over his head and Alex pinched the cheek he had slapped before his touch disappeared.

Luka was left hanging there blind, deaf, and muted. Alex walked slowly around him in a circle. He snapped his fingers by his ears, but Luka didn’t flinch. Luka flinched at everything

so it definitely confirmed he couldn’t hear. He shone a small penlight around the blindfold, but he still didn’t flinch. Satisfied, he left him there to wait.

It was hard to judge time passing in the basement on a good day, but with all his new accoutrements Luka found it impossible. When he didn’t feel any surprise hits or cuts for a while, he figured Alexander had probably left him there. He tried counting for a while, but he had a hard time remembering which hundred he was on. Without the ability to see or hear, his mind automatically focused on the ache in his jaw, the burn in his shoulders, the discomfort of swallowing around the metal gag. Even with his difficulty, he counted up to ten thousand and still was just left there, hanging untouched. His cheek had started to swell a bit where Alexander had hit him and his face there felt warm. 

He started over counting.

One hundred. Five hundred. A thousand. Two thousand. Five thousand. 9 thousand… ten thousand again. How long was that? If he counted maybe two numbers a second, then ten thousand divided by two is five thousand, divided by sixty was… ugh. He was never good with math. More than an hour though, right? So it’s at least been a few hours.

He let his mind wander a bit. Remember what it felt like to walk barefoot in the cool sand along the shore. He imagined the waves coming in, lapping at his steps and covering his footprints behind him on an unending beach. Trying to remember feelings and sights that were strong enough to recall and try to dwindle on a while. The bitter taste of biting into a coffee bean - bitter, crunchy. Good dipped in chocolate though. The taste of raspberries, tart  and sweet. No, no more foods, it made his stomach start to ache again with hunger. 

Swimming? The smell of chlorine. His highschool pool, which had way too much chlorine in it because that shit could bleach your hair. Standing...standing at the edge of the field behind Pippin’s house. Watching the sun set over the forest. Walking through the sand again, but he’s not to the shore yet, it’s dry and hot, it hurts his feet…

He shifted uncomfortably in his bonds, flexing his numb hands. The pain was getting to him again. Back to counting for a bit, maybe. One thousand...ten thousand. More than an hour, right? One thousand, five thousand, ten thousand… How many times had he counted that already? Most of the day had to have gone by. Eight hours, maybe? Alexander usually didn’t leave him alone much longer than that. 

Picking apples in the orchard on a bad date one fall. They didn’t have the money for the apples, so they’d snuck into an abandoned part of the orchard and stole the apples there. Showing his date how to get the good apples and twist them to break off the stem the right way. His date had driven like an asshole, he didn’t want to see him again after that. 

He’d made his first ever apple pie after that, and it had turned out perfect. He wondered idly if Alexander liked pie. 

Alexander, this morning. He’d been so short with him. Had he done something wrong? Sometimes he would do something that got himself in trouble without realizing it. Sometimes Alexander just felt like punishing for fun. But...he’d never done this level of sensory deprivation before. And usually Alexander let him have a little bit of coffee in the morning, some food if he felt like cooking. But he couldn’t think of anything he had done, and if Alexander just felt like hurting him, he would usually leave his mouth free to beg him not to. 

Even though it was hard to gauge like this, Luka was certain now that time had passed long since when Alexander would usually come see him again. 

Maybe Alexander was just...done with him. Maybe he wasn't interested in keeping him anymore. And it’s not like Alexander would trust him not to go to the police, so he couldn’t just let him go. 

Alexander had just left him here. Unable to see or hear or see or scream for help. If he just left him down here, he would die in silence and dark. Alone. His corpse strung daintily on the hook for whenever Alexander could be bothered to dispose of his body.

You could only survive a few days without water, he could be half dead already. His mouth was dry, when had it gone dry? Was it warm in here? Was Alexander turning up the heat so he’d sweat the last of his life out quicker?

He didn’t realize he was hyperventilating until he was already feeling light headed. Had he felt this weak before? If he died, what were his last words, something he had said to Alexander, about coffee or - no, headaches, but -

He had to get out. He had to get out now.

He scrambled to get his best balance on the tips of his toes and tried to push himself up, tried to pull himself up, if he could get up just a little bit then maybe he could get off the hook - fuck, his shoulders hurt so much, his stomach ached and his legs were so shaky and tired from trying to keep as much of his weight up as he could alleviate from his arms. He barely raised himself more than a couple of inches before his muscles gave out and he dropped back down.

He thrashed madly, grinding his teeth on the metal bit, he needed to see, he needed -

The headphones slipped off and clattered to the ground with a plastic crunch.

Luka froze. No. No, they dropped earlier and they were fine, they’d be fine, right? But they hadn’t sounded like that before. Could they be broken? No, no there’s - no, he needed - 

Whenever Alex came to see him he would see the headphones on the ground and know he had been bad. No, Luka had been very bad. Alexander probably already knew, he was probably watching the cameras, he’d probably be down there to punish him in only moments.

His aching shoulders shook as he sobbed. He could hear now, and he strained his ears to listen for the unmistakable sound of Alexander’s boots on the stairs. He would be in so much trouble, if Alexander wasn’t going to kill him before he would now for sure. Or worse. 

Alexander had an imagination, after all.

He was breathing too fast, panicking now for entirely different reasons. He felt weaker, his hands and his feet were so cold and numb.

For a while Luka wasn’t sure how conscious he was, but some time passed and Alexander didn’t come.

He counted. He remembered. He waited in dread. 

He thought after all this time he’d be ready once he heard Alexander coming down again, but the sound filled his heart with ice. Tears he didn’t know he had welled in his eyes as he heard him reach the bottom of the stairs, heard him draw nearer.

He wished so badly that he could see, see how bad the headphones looked, see the look on Alexander’s face to gauge how bad he would suffer for his indiscretion. Instead he trembled, sniffling pathetically while he waited for Alexander to make a move.

He heard him pick up the headphones, heard a click as he turned it from side to side. Walking away? No. Right back. Right-

He whimpered, urgently trying to explain himself, or apologize or beg for forgiveness, but the only sound he could make was a pathetic whine around his gag.

He flinched hard when he was touched, the cool leather of the headphone pads pressing again to his ears. 

The sound didn’t all go away though, the pads didn’t sit properly again and there was a quiet electronic whine coming from the left pad.

He could still hear the sound, if still muffled, when Alexander ripped a long strip of duck tape open, and wrapped a loop around his head.

The headphones were duck taped securely to his skull, wrapped around over his eyes over the blindfold, over the arch of his nose, over his mouth over the muzzle, again and again until his head was half mummified in tape to keep the headphones on. 

The tape end was ripped off and smoothed over the left of his face. The headphones were now trapped on so tight his head throbbed around the earmuffs. 

There was nothing for a long moment, just his suspense, and the whining sound in the phones. Alex still hadn’t spoken a word.

A fist connected with his stomach and knocked the wind from him. He wheezed for breath between the tape and his gag, but another fist planted squarely in his face, and his nose started to bleed immediately. Then again, and again, and his face felt smashed in. Another fist caught him in the ribs and he twisted in his bindings, desperately trying to wriggle some way out of the line of fire. Another blow in his stomach, two more up his diaphragm, a surprise one back in the face.

Luka wiggled and squirmed, desperate to hide his face in his shoulder, then the other one, trying to pull himself up enough to curl over his stomach. He failed at every turn. A sturdy combat boot came down on his foot, and then again, and Lukas couldn’t feel his toes before they started to tingle and hurt. Anything in his foot left unbroken was quickly righted with another stomp, and then a firm knee to the groin.

Luka couldn’t anticipate the strikes or shield himself as he was beaten without mercy. He couldn’t draw in enough of a breath to scream, which might be fortunate given the sound-activated shock collar still wrapped around his neck. 

His struggles slowed and weakened as the last of his energy was taken from him, wrung from him, driven from him with well-placed strike after strike. Alexander worked him over like a punching bag, so hard Luka idly started to wonder when he would start to tire, too.

Alexander was energized by Luka’s broken cries and pants. They weakened with every blow and his struggles grew weaker in tandem, until he was hanging completely limply from his bindings. He still worked him over, painting him with bruises with a broad brush and an eye for detail. He beat him until he was barely hanging to a shred of consciousness - and then allowed himself to start actually striking in anger. 

When he finally finished, Luka was more meat than man, hanging from the hook without an ounce of strength to lift his own pathetic head. Alexander gripped his chin, raising his blind face to look up at him. Luka was breathing hard, huffing in pained little gasps whatever air he could get through his broken nose. Blood dripped down over the duct tape over his muzzle, soaked into the fabric, which bore too much blood and continued to drip down his neck. 

With his free hand, Alexander grabbed his bloodied nose and set it into place with a wet click.

Luka didn’t have the air to scream, only a weak choked whimper quickly cut off with a new gush of blood.

Luka’s chest was rising and falling shallowly, Alex knew at this point he should be checked for internal bleeding, but he couldn’t care to bother. Maybe in the morning.

He left him strung there, his dead weight burdened across his shoulders and wrists, his broken feet curled unnaturally where they dragged on the ground beneath him. 

Faintly Luka registered that the beating had stopped. His whole body ached and throbbed and burned with agony, and he struggled to sniffle in little gasps of air through his broken nose, his mouth still sealed off.

Sometimes, when Alex left him on the hook overnight, he could start to drift off to a restless doze. He was in so much pain now though, and the taste of blood down his throat made him nauseous.

It was going to be a very, very long night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alexander walked down the stairs, a light buzz of excitement in the back of his head.

Luka was where he left him, hanging from the hook. He’d managed to get one foot under him a bit, but his other foot looked broken and blue. It was hard to see any of his face under the tape and leather, but there was a substantial amount of blood dried down his face from his nose and a few other places where Alex’s hits had split skin. 

He watched him for a moment. He was still breathing, shallowly but consistently. He doubted he was able to sleep like this, and his body was too tense to be resting.

Luka startled when Alexander touched his face, raising his blind head unsteadily. Alexander tugged the end of the duct tape off with a fingernail and pulled it, slowly unraveling it from his head. Blue and purple bruises with angry red edges emerged as he unwrapped him like a gift. At the end of it the headphones fell off and Alexander didn’t move to stop them, they were busted anyways, but Luka flinched hard when they clattered to the ground.

Luka was otherwise keeping very still and waiting patiently without expectation. He was coming along in his training for certain, but he needed occasional reminders of his place, and he had disappointed Alexander with his tantrum. 

He pulled the blindfold off, and Luka’s tired red eyes squinted against the dim basement light from their place deep in two black eyes. 

“Are you going to behave yourself now?”

Luka nodded solemnly, head still hanging low.

“Okay then.”

Alex pressed the latch on the wall and the pulley buzzed to life, lowering Luka to the floor. He crouched awkwardly on bent knees and lowered his arms slower than the hook let them down, holding them up long enough to generate some slack. He closed his eyes tight and lowered his arms stiffly in small segments, easing the tension a little more gradually to spare himself the additional pain. He settled with his hands before him, still resting in the metal hook now laid in his lap, and flexed his numb fingers weakly, empty eyes looking past them to the floor. 

Alexander circled him, stepping behind him to rest a hand on his head. Some of Luka’s hair had been ripped out with the duct tape, all the rest was matted with sweat and blood. Some was caught in the buckles of his muzzle, and Alexander tugged the frizzy locks free as he unlatched them. When they fell free around his face, Luka still didn’t move, even to remove the gag. Alexander nodded to himself and circled back around.

Luka was sitting there with the straps dangling uselessly around the sides of his face, looking ridiculous and pathetic. Alexander stifled a laugh and grabbed it, pulling the muzzle off. Luka released the metal gag with a wet popping sound, to keep from drooling out around it. He looked to tired to be ashamed. Blood caked the lower half of his face like he’d savaged someone with his teeth, the dried rivulets running down to his chest. Alexander sighed, cradling the side of his face in his hand.

“What did we learn from this?”

Luka swallowed dryly and sniffed, eyes casting down.

“I’m helpless without you, and I should be grateful for all you do for me.”

His voice was dry and weak.

“Very good.” Alex patted his cheek.

“And is there anything you want to say to me?”

Luka nodded, eyes still downcast.

“I’m sorry I broke the headphones.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry I - I behaved very badly and wasn’t good for you and my bad actions broke your nice headphones. I shouldn’t have done that and I deserved to be punished and I am sorry.”

Alexander nodded.

“Am I forgiven?” Luka’s low voice dropped to a whisper, but his eyes flashed up to Alex hopefully.

“You think you’re forgiven because you threw a tantrum and broke something? No, no you are not.”

Luka nodded. His face was unreadable and numb.

“Do you think you deserve to be forgiven?”

Alex barely registered he had been pacing, but he stopped now and stood solidly in front of his kneeling captive. Luka seemed to be nervously considering the question.

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted.

“I’d like to be. I’d like to earn it.”

Suddenly Luka lunged forwards, faster than Alexander could react. He drew a fist back to strike him, but before he could he realized Luka was hugging his legs, curling around him and pressing his face into his leg.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll be better, I swear!” Luka sobbed dryly. 

Alexander paused, unclenching his fist and placing it gently on his head, stroking his hair.

“I know, I know you’ll work hard to be good for me from now on, won’t you?”

Luka nodded fiercely, nuzzling against his leg with his mangled face for another moment before he seemed to realize he was doing it. His arms loosened and then slid back down to the ground.

“S-sorry,” he hiccupped. “I’ll be good, I’ll be - I’m gonna be good, for you.”

“Then you won’t make me punish you, and we won’t have to do this again, hmm?”

Luka looked up at him with wide, doting eyes and nodded.

“Thank you, Alexander.”

“You are very welcome.”

[fanfiction-funtime]

Alexander Vodka lines

I did most of the characters, but some I don't know or genuinely can't think of anything. Hope this is good >-<

Hello: Hey there, your that Traveler fella ain’t ya? Hope I don't owe you copyrights for  the name. Hm? I don’t? Well then, what can I help ya with?

Adventures? Sure why not, I could use the inspiration.

Two names: You’re curious why I have two names? Well it's sort of a thing in Snezhnaya that officers and other high ranking people have two names, like how harbingers do. Since I’m a high ranking member of the Schneznayan authors association, well former member, I have the name “Eis Cay’zar” meaning “ice ruler”. And Alexander Vodka is a pen name. Hm? What's my resistance name and real one? Well now Traveler, a man must have some secrets.

Change of tone: Ah yes, people often find the way I change from more eloquent speech to more casual off putting. Well it's the same reason I wear two sets of clothes: sometimes I feel like looking like an old noir hero, other times I like looking like a new age caped crusader. Sometimes I like sounding high society, other times I enjoy sounding like I’m from Khaen’ria.

How do you know about Khaen’ria: Well I was looking for accents and found out about a place called “New York” or something, a bit of investigation and I discovered everything. My source? That's a secret, ehe.

Good morning: Mornin’ Traveler! What's in the mornin’ paper?

Noon: Lunch time, my favourite time of the day. Let’s go get some pizza, I’m famished!

Afternoon: Almost time to punch out, let's go knock some skulls first.

Night: *yawn* Today was fun, thanks buddy. Get some shut eye, or if you can't come meet me at (wanmin/angels share/the tea house), first rounds on me!

When it rains: I am so glad I got over my fear of contacts.

When it rains(with glasses outfit): Hey can we get under something? I can barely see!

When it stops raining: The smell that comes after rain has always been one of my favorites.

When it snows: Perfect weather to bundle up with a nice hot cup of hot chocolate!

When it stops snowing: Do you ever miss home, Traveler?

About freedom: I warned Barbados, you know that? I knew that as long as he saw it coming, Signora wouldn’t stand a chance. But he just looked at me and said, “good, when I’m gone mondstadt will be truly free of the gods”. That’s a man I’d follow to the depths of the abyss and back.

About Venti: Speaking of Barbados, he’s a great drinking buddy. Me and him knock back a couple hundred rounds whenever I’m in Mondstadt! Course I’m always paying the tab, but I consider it a way of repaying him for making songs about my books.

About Kaeya: The cavalry captain? He’s pretty cool if you ask me, modeled as Rex Mondoleon for the cover of a historical fiction book I made. But I’d still like to know what he’s hiding behind that smile.

About Diluc: Don’t tell him I told you this, but one time I found Diluc after he was hit by an abyss spell that made him drunk. While he was drunk he kept ranting about how sorry he is for kicking out his brother. The poor guy has all that forgiveness in him but he’s too afraid to let it out.

About Jean: The acting grandmaster of the knights is someone truly deserving of respect. She leads by being a good person and earning the respect of her people, and she has never once tried to cover up the mistakes of the knights. In fact if a knight makes a mistake she’ll rush out to fix it. Jean should be the grandmaster, not that crooked old bastard.

About Lisa: Lisa was my first friend in Mondstadt. She mailed me about getting copies of my books into the Mondstadt library, I said I’d do a signing to promote a new one, one thing led to another and now we have tea every ninth day of the month.

About Rosaria: Don’t tell anyone, but I’m very sure she’s a vampire. A nice one, but still.

About Barbara: Awe that little doll? I once saw her kill multiple fatui because they threatened some sick and injured travelers. So I think she’s a great person, takes compassion to save lives and guts to handle taking them as well.

About Bennett: Bennett? Yeah I know him, nice kid. He likes my books but kept breaking them, so now I make special enchanted ones so he can’t break them even if he tried.

About Razor: The guardian of wolvendom? He’s a weird one alright, but he’s not a bad guy. I taught him how to read and write.

About Fischl: That crazy kid? I don’t care what everyone else says, she’s nice. People need to learn to just leave people alone, she’s not hurting anyone with her persona.

About Noelle: You will never find someone more dedicated too...well anything than Noelle is too the knights and her training.

About Klee: Klee and I are great friends! Nothing is more stimulating than massive explosions!

About Amber: She always has interesting stories to tell, like one time where she got rid of some bandits by making a dummy merchant cart filled with explosives! Or the time she had to help a kid get her pet giant snake out from the cathedral!

About Zhongli: Heh, he thinks he’s slick, but I know he’s Rex Lapis. Gotta say I kinda hate him for just giving up his gnosis, however he did it to free his people so I can’t be mad.

About Ninnguang: Never much cared for economics because I don’t know much about ‘em, so I can’t say anything about her business sense. But I can say that she’s a great leader who puts her people first.

About Keqing: Haven’t talked to her enough to know much, but she’s dedicated to her people and that's enough for me. Her dislike of blind faith in the gods is definitely enough to make me want to get to know her better though.

About Qiqi: Qiqi’s a nice kid, I don’t care what anyone says her being a zombie doesn’t make her bad.

About Baizhu: Snake man? Nice guy, helps me be accurate in my books. Always worry about him though, one hot breeze and he’s out like a light.

About Xingqiu: Xingqiu always tries to hide his good deeds, and while I can respect anonymity I can’t let a hero go unsung. So I’ve written multiple short stories about him using a different name, and put in the beginnings that it’s based on a true story.

About Chongyun: His popsicles are great inventions, I’ve played around with the idea a bit and made flavored ones. So far I’ve got strawberry and grape down and am working on this weird fruit called a..Banananana? I think?

About Beidou: Captain Beidou is so cool! She tells me stories about her journeys out to see and I write about them, but after seeing her in action I can’t really say that I do her justice.

About Kazuha: Kazuha has suffered so much, yet he refuses to give up and curl up away from the world when he so easily could. I have immense respect for him.

About Xianling: You’d be surprised at how good slime and boar tusk can be.

About Xiao: I’ve written down many myths and legends of the yaksha, but sadly I've never seen him in person.

About Verr Goldet: Oh she’s great company! Good business sense, and always polite.

About Gorou: Many people rightly attribute the Resistance’s survival and victories to general Kokomi, but it’s wrong to say general Gorou isn’t a brilliant strategist. He knows how to rally his men against impossible odds, and how to keep them standing against them. I’d follow general Gorou into battle any day.

About Ayaka: Ayaka seems so lonely, I hope when this is all done she can have some form of social life.

About Thoma: Thoma’s as cool as he seems. He always has a level head, and solves problems smoothly and without issues.

About Yoimia: KABOOOM!

About Kokomi: One time I was doing an interview of her excellency, to boost morale and draw new members. I intended on asking for her autograph, only for her to ask for mine! I’ve been riding that high for a while now and still ain’t come down.

About Signora: I hate fatui, but without that she has some good qualities: most of her power is her own unlike most other harbingers, and she’s a sharp dresser. Plus she’s actually justified in her choice to join the fatui, not excused, but isolation can justify many crimes in my book. But no matter what I can’t forgive her. She attacked my friend without a chance for him to fight back, and was unfairly cruel. Nothing can justify that, and I will not forgive her as long as she remains unapologetic for her cowardly cruelty.

About Childe: Fatui are scum, but Childe’s probably the best of them: he personally tries to keep civilians and the weak out of fatui business, and he’s only in it to make sure his family lives well. He also is powerful on his own, but most of his strength is the Tsaritsa’s well deserved gifts. Still though, he’s just a single stressful day from losing all his morals. I can’t leave the fate of my homeland to a madman like him, not unless he gets therapy.

About Scaramouche: Scaramouche...that bastard, it’s been five years and he still owes me 30,061 mora.

About the Fatui: The fatui are really just people who are lost or genuinely believe they’re in the right, and while I can sympathize and respect many of them I can't agree nor can I just stand by and watch. The grunts usually aren’t that bad, honestly they’re more like underpaid graduates new to the workforce, but the fighters you see daily? Almost all of them are scum no better than raiders, and debt collectors are the worst of them because they’ll do anything they can to scam you out of everything in their contracts.

About us-commissions: You know, if you’d like to commission a biography it’s 100 mora per ten pages.

About us-inspiration: You’re a font of inspiration for me, ya know that?

About us-fellow rebels: I’ve been with ya enough to know that this path you’re on, the one to find your sis/bro, you’re fighting against something far beyond my ability to deal with. I won’t abandon you, I’ll be here every step of the way.

About us-friends: We’ve been through a lot pal, I’m glad to call you my friend. Please, call me my rebel name: it’s Belgrade, named after the city where some very brave men took their last stand against oppression.

Hobbies: Well you have reading and writing, otherwise? Can't think of anything.

Favorite food: Grilled tiger fish, come get it while it’s hot!

Least favorite food: I really wanna try it, but I can’t have almond tofu. Or any nuts. Closes my throat right up.

Something to share: Hehe, I got embarrassing dirt on all the harbingers. Signora? She has a Tsaritsa body pillow. Scaramouche? He knits sweaters for his pet pig, cute but he hates letting people know. And Childe? Hoo man, the pics I’ve got on him have put a pretty mora on my head.

About me: Hey have you seen my dice? I wanted to teach the mondstadt kids how to play them...hm? What?! No, not gambling! It’s, uh, a tad embarrassing...h-hey look! Literally anything else, let's pay attention to it!

About me II: Alright! These rolls are great, can’t wait to use them next game. I’m so proud of Fischl, so young yet so imaginative. She’s already-ah! T-traveler! What are you doing?..

You know I’m the one meant to be learning the secrets here.

About me III: Back in Snezhnaya, everyone looks down on things that don’t “conform” where even the most rigid of nations like Inazuma have stopped caring. Adults can't play games, men can’t wear dresses, can’t even have a “weird” sense of humor. No laws against it, but being outcasted is...it’s not good…

About me IV: I wish I grew up in Mondstadt. The kids there are so free to be themselves, and the adults aren’t pressured to be nothing more than working hands. It’s not perfect, after all people are rude to Fischl and Benny for being “different”, but it’s better that’s for sure.

About me V: Hey traveler...this is...no it’s not embarrassing. You’re my friend and I have no reason to be embarrassed by wanting to enjoy time with you! Fischl’s going to run a pen and paper dice game, ever played one? It’s super fun, you get to be anything you want really, and it’s a great way to bond.

You will? Great! I’ll help you make a character!

Alexander’s troubles: It’s so hard to find publishers these days. Noone wants an actual plot, they just want twist after twist. What’s up with that?! Shock value is no substitute for characters you love living fulfilling lives.

Happy birthday: Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday you crazy bastard, happy birthday to you! Seriously pal, you put yourself in harm's way every day it seems, we literally met when you were fighting an actual god! Actually, know what? No danger all day! We’re wrapping ourselves in blankets and just relaxing!

Feelings about ascension-intro: woah, somethin’ feels different. I like it!

Feelings about ascension-building up: man, I’m feeling inspired all of a sudden! Hey traveller, give me a prompt!

Feelings about ascension-climax: HA! I don’t know what high I’m riding but I like it, I just finished writing a whole book series!

Feelings about ascension-conclusion: WOO! YEAH! ULRICH MIKAEL KEEPS WINNIN’!-I-I meant Alexand-ah forget it, I’m feelin’ too good to care!

OCs:

About Louis: That crazy inventor guy from Fontaine? I heard he got used by the fatui, damn shame that. Noone deserves to have their heart played with like that.

About Spritefather: You ever heard of Spritefather? I’ve only heard legends, but the fanmail I keep getting tells me that sometimes things are only legendary until someone writes them down.

About the Storytraveler: There’s this woman who travels from universe to universe to fix things, she’s in Teyvat right now. You should meet her, really nice person. But her powers are a bit weird, why does she transform like that? It takes so much time!

_____________________

Tagging: @love-psxlm, @storytravelled, @genshin-obsessed, @golden-wingseos

[thedarkplume]

Throwback Thursday

Dust off those browsers, friends. We’re gonna travel back in time to the stories that brought us into the fandom or the ones that have stuck with you through the years.

Share your super old faves and reblog them, showing the authors their classics are not forgotten. Leave them a love note showing them how much it means to you.

Then reblog the first story you wrote for your current fandom or even the first one you wrote for each fandom you belong to. The world is our oyster. Let’s rediscover some pearls.

I'm not going to lie. This Ask made me a little bit sad. There have been some really great writers on this site that have left us for unspecified reasons, and some for the childish bullying that seems to be a daily thing.

One of my favorite blogs was @chocolatecherubs. They were a blog that was written specifically for black female characters in the Marvel Universe, with Steve and Bucky as the central love interests, particularly during the 1940s.

However, all is not lost! There are still plenty of blogs that I follow and love and can always count on to provide the most entertainment you can achieve without picking up an actual book. One of the blogs who always delivers on this front regardless of the subject matter is the beautiful and talented @avintagekiss24 . I've been following her for a year and it has been a nonstop rollercoaster of fun, excitement, surprise, and even a little bit of heartbreak.

@avintagekiss24 has so many stories that I reread over and over again, it's nearly impossible to pick just one. But...if I did have to choose a classic in a split-second decision it would be Night Shift. This was my first time ever reading a story about Andy Barber and since then I have not stopped!

As for my own forays into fanfiction, I've written for Twilight, Harry Potter, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Cruel Intentions, a few WIPs for We Have Always Lived in the Castle, Knives Out, and the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and that's not counting all of the stories knocking around in my head vying for attention!

Here is a VERY old Buffy the Vampire Slayer story I wrote.

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Pairing: Buffy/Angelus

Setting: 1700s, New Colonies

A/N: This story is a little different from the others I’ve written. This story is set in the days of Angelus’ life when Drusilla had just turned Spike. Bear with me if everything is not exactly up to par historically – I am not a history buff! NSFW 18+ Warnings for offensive language, subject matter, violence, blood, gore, and sexual abuse.

His features could not be termed uninteresting—there lay in them something bold and daring—but the expression on the whole anything but benevolent. There were contempt and sarcasm in the cold dark eyes, whose glance, however, was at times so piercing that no one could endure it long.

from The Mysterious Stranger (1860) – Anonymous

What is obsession? Is it the madness that consumes a man when he’s confronted with the one thing he knows he is not supposed to have? Is it the burning desire to possess the aforementioned object, ensuring that she will only think of him as he only thinks of her? Angelus paced back and forth in his chosen room of the mansion. Darla was still off reconnecting with Dracula and giving Angelus some much-needed breathing room. While she was off having her own adventures, he moved his childe and grandchilde to the American Colonies. They were in the colony named New York. Angelus loved the New Colonies. The women were not as sexually repressed, and the humans as a whole were more trusting. Since their arrival, government officials, writers, artists, scholars – everyone who held wealth and power had invited Angelus, his “sister” Drusilla and her husband William, to parties. There was nothing Angelus enjoyed more than drunk socialites.

And it was at one of these parties that he saw her. The object of his obsession. Elizabeth Anne Summers. Buffy, to those who knew her intimately. She had long, golden blonde hair, not unlike Darla’s, but hers had more of a silky texture. Her eyes were large and hazel, brimming with innocence. She had sun-kissed skin that seemed to glow underneath the moonlight.

Angelus wanted her. He wanted to bury his fangs and his cock inside her. Her scent proved that she was untried, but that would only last so long. Angelus found out everything he could about her. She was promised to the governor’s son. She lived with her parents Hank and Joyce Summers. She had a baby sister – Dawn – who caught pneumonia and died at the age of six. Her father worked as a developer for the colony and his wife owned a prominent boutique. She had two best friends, Willow Osbourne née Rosenberg and Alexander Harris, husband to the beautiful and licentious Cordelia Harris née Chase.

The first time Angelus spoke to her was at a party that was thrown by an oil barren. Angelus, as usual, found himself surrounded by three potential meals. Drusilla stood by William’s side, smiling proudly as he recited poetry. It was terrible, but the women thought it was the most beautiful thing they had ever heard.

“Do you hunt, Mr. McConroy?” one of the women – Mrs. O’Hara or something or another – said, pulling him from his thoughts.

Angelus flashed an enticing smile. “Why yes, Mrs. O’Hara. ‘Tis one of my many pleasures.”

She wet her lips and fluttered her eyes in what he was sure was meant to be attractive. “Well, in that case, you should come to my husband’s estate in the country. You two can hunt and later you could tell me more about your pleasures.”

“How can a man of sound mind resist such an enticing offer?” he said, kissing the back of her hand.

The woman continued to place unnecessary hints concerning secret rendezvous and Angelus almost lost control and snapped her neck on the spot until one of the younger women spoke up.

“There’s that Elizabeth Summers.”

Angelus’ attention immediately shifted, seeking out his dark obsession. She came in with her parents. Her large hazel eyes seemed sad, and Angelus suddenly wanted to seek out that which had caused her misery and destroy it. He wanted to be the sole source of any pain she felt. But he could not gaze upon his obsession in peace as one of the three women continued her verbal assault.

“How a strange girl like that was lucky enough to have a contract with Governor Finn’s son is baffling.”

“She is a strange one, Harmony,” Cordelia Harris vehemently agreed. “My husband says that she spends all of her time reading. Reading! Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“Well, I hear that she wishes to become a writer! As if any respectable man would want anything written by a woman! A proper lady should spend her time learning to attend a household and concern herself with pleasing her husband.”

“Yes, well, we all know that Buffy,” she sneered the name. “Is as far from a lady as one can be. It baffles me why Alexander enjoys her company so. It’s embarrassing!” she glared as said husband made his way over to Buffy.

“I see nothing wrong with a properly educated woman, Mrs. Harris,” Angelus said, drawing their attention away from Buffy. “It would be refreshing to hear a woman contribute something to the conversation beyond how pretty the dresses are overseas.”

Cordelia Harris’ expression darkened so that if Angelus had been human, he might have been afraid. “Well,” she sniffed, highly offended. “It is upon the hour, and I believe I shall take my leave.” She stood and scowled at Angelus when he broke societal conventions and refused to stand when she did. “I bid you goodnight, Mrs. O’Hara, Harmony, Mr. McConroy.”

“Mrs. Harris,” his flourishing bow was meant and taken in all its mockery. He smirked as she huffed and stomped away. He watched her approach Buffy and Alexander, and used his enhanced hearing to listen in.

“…husband and I must be going,” she said in a clipped tone.

Buffy knew that her friend’s wife didn’t like her, but for Xander’s sake, she at least made an effort. “I am sorry that you must be leaving so soon. I hope you will feel well, Cordy.”

“Oh, Elizabeth, how many times must I remind you to call me Mrs. Harris?” she said tightly.

“Of course. I apologize.”

“Alexander.”

The dark-haired young man looked between his wife and his friend, wishing he could stay, but knowing he would never hear the last of it if he did. “Of course, dear. See you soon, Buffy.”

Her other friend, Willow, who had watched the scene from across the room, performed her usual damage control ritual. “You know I think one of these days he shall divorce her.”

“Willow!” she whispered, linking their arms. “You should not say such things.”

“Well, he should! I’m fairly certain the only reason he puts up with her is for the sex and we both know the pregnancy scare was the incentive for the marriage to start with…”

Angelus watched the two young women disappear out onto the gardens. “Ladies, if you will excuse me.” He left the woman at the table and sought out William. He didn’t have the same mental link with him as he did with Drusilla, but William could feel when his grandsire called him.

“You called?” he said, appearing moments later.

“Yes, I’m stepping out for a moment. Make sure no one sees Dru nibbling on the livestock.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s so special about this bird? I mean, she’s a cutie and all, but is she really worth our queen mother handing you your own arse?”

“What Darla doesn’t know won’t kill me.” Angelus knew William had a point. Darla was extremely jealous and possessive of him, but he was still sore around the edges where she was concerned, considering that she left him to die in a burning barn. Darla was his sire and that was a bond not easily broken, but nothing could reestablish the trust he lost for her. He glanced at Drusilla to see if she was keeping out of trouble and caught her thralling Harmony. “If you want the blonde as a party favor you should take her out of here. She’s as dumb as a post but has a pleasant peach scent to her.”

Angelus left his grandchilde to attend to Dru and followed Buffy’s scent through the large garden maze. She and her friend, Willow sat on a bench in front of a pond talking quietly.

“…says?”

“You mean when she’s not nursing a bottle? She blames me. She says even whores aren’t low enough to chase their own fathers,” she sniffled.

“Oh, Buffy, have you thought about telling Riley?”

“No, I can’t tell him, Will. If he thought for a moment that it’s gone further than a drunken fumbling, he’ll never speak to me again.”

“And right now, he’s your only way out,” Willow sighed in sympathy to her friend’s plight. “You know Oz and I will let you move in with us.”

“People will talk.”

“They’re already talking. One of New York’s most beloved sons married to a kike?”

“Willow!” Buffy admonished. “Don’t ever call yourself that.”

The redhead shrugged carelessly. “I have been called much worse. I am just telling you that Oz and I do not care what anyone else says about us.”

“I appreciate it. And if the wedding was happening later than next month I would say yes.”

“But what if he goes too far before Riley can save you?”

The unanswered question hung heavy in the air. Angelus seethed. He barely restrained himself from going back inside, grabbing Hank Summers and tearing off his worthless cock with his bare hands. It didn’t anger Angelus that the man was taking liberties with his daughter. It bothered him that his touch would not be the first she had known from a man.

“I should get back inside before Oz starts looking for me. Come with?”

“In a little while. I just want a little more time away from the noise.”

“Don’t take too long. Your parents,” she mumbled.

Angelus watched the Osbourne woman return to the party from his place in the shadows. He turned his attention back to Buffy realizing that they were finally alone. She leaned back, her hands flat on the bench and her face turned up towards the starlit sky. Her eyes were closed, and the subtle breeze disturbed the tendrils of silky tresses framing her face. Angelus had the perfect view of the golden skin of her smooth throat. His face shifted as he imagined sinking his fangs into her throat as her naked body writhed helplessly underneath his.

Buffy’s eyes suddenly snapped open. She stood and she looked around her as if sensing she was not alone. “Is someone there?” she called.

Angelus contained his excitement and returned to his human visage. “Just me,” he said, pretending as though he was simply out for a stroll through the garden’s maze. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Buffy stared at the man before her. She was certain that she had never seen him around before. He was tall, very tall. He had long dark hair that was bound behind his head. He had a wide mustache and she wondered if it was as soft as his hair looked. He had dark eyes. Eyes that were mischievous and secretive. She started to believe she was dreaming. She always thought Riley was cute in a boyish way, but this man before her with the long brown hair, his piercing dark eyes and his enticing smirk was…beautiful. His smirk seemed to widen, and Buffy realized with startling clarity that she was rather rudely staring at him.

“No, you did not frighten me, sir,” she recovered.

“You are Elizabeth Summers, correct?”

“Yes, but everyone calls me Buffy.”

He took her hand – it seemed tiny and engulfed by his – and pressed a small kiss to it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Buffy. I am Angelus McConroy.”

Recognition flashed in her large hazel eyes. “Of course, Mr. McConroy! You live in the Crawford’s old mansion. Your brother-in-law, William, is it? He ordered a gown from my mother’s boutique for your sister.”

Angelus suppressed another smirk. He had sent William on that particular mission to scout out the boutique and Buffy’s work hours, and to spread the word to the local undead community that she, her family and friends, were off limits.

“Yes, my family and I moved there a few months ago.”

Buffy fidgeted with her dress before resuming her place on the bench. “Would you…would you care to sit?” she offered timidly.

He flashed a dazzling smile and took his place beside her. “Now what is a lovely girl such as yourself doing out here all alone? It’s really not safe,” said the wolf to the rabbit.

Buffy glanced up at him and flushed as he stared down at her unblinkingly. “Oh, well, I just stepped out for a moment. Just for some air,” she shrugged.

“You don’t truly enjoy parties, do you?”

“They are…acceptable.”

“Ah, but a lass such as yourself would much rather be at home in front of the fire with a book. You prefer the silence and solitude to the noise and excitement.”

She flushed an attractive pink and looked up at him from under her lashes. “I realize that those are not exactly the qualities one looks for in a woman, but…”

“But you are far from a woman, lass. You’re still a wee child.” He watched appreciatively as her skin flushed a darker red.

“Sir, I will have you know that I am of sixteen years and will soon be a wife,” she said, not really succeeding in sounding offended.

“Yes, to Governor Finn’s lad no less. I find it difficult to see what it is the boy could have done to deserve the hand of such a fair lass.”

Her hazel eyes met his and she wore a smile befitting that of the most experienced of coquettes. “Do you tell all your ladies that, Mr. McConroy?”

“Only the pretty ones,” he smirked and wiggled his eyebrows.

She started laughing and Angelus thought it was the most enticing sound he had ever heard. “You are indeed a charmer, Mr. McConroy. If I may be so bold…?”

“You may.”

“Why is there not a Mrs. McConroy? A gentleman such as yourself should have amassed quite the number of prospects from the fairer sex.”

Angelus, seeing his opportunity, angled his body towards hers. “Perhaps it is because a man can only have ale for so long before he starts to long for a fine wine.”

He could hear her heart pounding in fear and excitement as their seemingly innocent conversation began to take a different turn. “But what if you’re not supposed to have the wine?” she breathed.

“That’s when it’s the sweetest.” His hand cupped her cheek and her eyes fluttered from the contact. “Look at me, Buff,” he commanded. “Look into my eyes.” Angelus knew he could have waited rather than jumping at the first opportunity to thrall her, but he was anxious to have her in his bed.

“You have pretty eyes.”

Angelus felt his eyebrows rise. You have pretty eyes? Angelus concentrated harder and Buffy flinched as he suddenly seemed to be scowling at her.

“What? Men can have pretty eyes,” she pouted slightly, thinking he was offended.

Angelus blinked. He surveyed her carefully, playing close attention not to let himself linger on her pouting pink lips. He didn’t understand how it was possible for her to resist his thrall. No one had ever resisted! The girl was obviously human. She smelled human. She had a heartbeat. What had gone wrong? His eyebrows knitted together as he ran through any and all explanations as to why his gift had failed him. He felt her warm hand press against his own.

“Angelus? Is something wrong?”

He recovered, wearing his signature smirk. “You think my eyes are pretty, do ye?”

Buffy fiddled with the sleeves of her dress looking anywhere but at him. “Yes, they resemble little pools of chocolate.” She felt his fingers lace through hers and looked down. She liked the way their hands fit.

“Now which one of us is the charmer here, Buff?” he watched her shiver as his fingers idly stroked hers.

“There you are!”

Buffy stood, withdrawing her hand from Angelus, completely missing his darkened expression. “Riley,” she said, her heart pounding heavily as though she’d been caught doing something terribly wicked.

“I have been searching all over for you, Bethie.”

He took her hand in his own, missing her subtle wince at the nickname she loathed. “Forgive me if I have caused distress. I only stepped out for a moment.”

“Your mother and father are looking for you. They –.” Riley stopped short when he saw movement behind Buffy. “Hello,” he said to the man who sat on the bench watching them unabashedly. “I do not believe we have met. I am Riley Finn, Elizabeth’s husband-to-be.”

“Oh, yes, the governor’s boy,” Angelus said, taking in the blue-eyed baby-faced boy with mocking eyes.

Although the sarcasm went completely over the boy’s head as he puffed out his chest and stood a little taller, Angelus smirk only grew when Buffy gave him a warning glare.

“Yes, yes, I am,” he said proudly.

“Riley, this is Mr. McConroy.”

Riley tensed slightly, something neither Angelus nor Buffy missed. “McConroy. You purchased the old Crawford Mansion.”

“Yes,” he confirmed, his eyes glinting slightly.

“Well, it was nice making your acquaintance, Mr. McConroy, but Elizabeth and I must be going.”

“Of course. Nice meeting you, Finn.” He turned his penetrating eyes to Buffy. He picked up her hand and gave her a lingering kiss that left her near breathless. “T’was a pleasure makin’ your acquaintance, Buffy.”

“Mr. McConroy,” she blushed.

Riley’s jaw clenched as he led Buffy away. But his annoyance over what he saw as a threat to his future wife was nothing compared to Angelus’ fury over Finn impeding the progress he had made.

“I do not trust that McConroy fellow,” he confided when they were of a safe distance away from him. Or so he thought. “He worries me.”

“Riley,” Buffy sighed. “Mr. McConroy is a nice man.”

“You know him well, then?”

“No. We only made acquaintance tonight.”

“Yet he already calls you Buffy.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Riley Finn, I do believe you are jealous.”

“Perhaps I am,” he admitted. “Do you find him attractive?”

Buffy blushed and lowered her eyes. “He is…agreeable. But it is you who will become my husband. Your name I will carry and your children I shall bear. Tell me once more why you are jealous?”

With a few well-executed words, Angelus could see Finn’s worries and inferiorities fade away. He leaned down and kissed her lips as carefully as if she were made of glass.

“Bethie?” he whispered, still holding her close.

“Yes?”

“If I asked you to do something, as your future husband, would you do it?”

Buffy tensed. Her small hands fisted the sides of his shirt as her mind twisted and turned over in itself. As her future husband, he could ask almost anything of her, and she was duty bound to obey. She trembled against him and swallowed the bile suddenly flooding her mouth. “Yes.”

“I wish for you to have no further contact with Mr. McConroy or any of his family.”

Buffy stepped back from him so that she could see into his eyes. “Riley, I have already told you that Mr. McConroy bears no threat to us.”

“But he does,” he argued. “Have you noticed the strange occurrences in our town?”

“Are you referring to Madeleine Archer?” Maddie Archer was two years younger than Buffy and had gone missing from her bed in the dead of night.

“Yes, as well as Rebekah Harte, Joshua Black, Edward Morton, Christine Adams, and countless others.”

“Riley, how do these unfortunate people pertain to you desiring distance between Mr. McConroy and myself?”

“They all vanished or perished inexplicably after McConroy, and his family took residence in the Crawford Mansion.”

“You are not suggesting…?” she gasped.

“There is something amiss about them. His sister is said to be touched in the mind, but there is more. She speaks in prophecies. Her husband, William, the poet, who may I say is not very good, he was seen with Rebekah Harte before she went missing. Then there is your new acquaintance. He never leaves the mansion during the day. He does not work and yet he attends every party and somehow amasses enough wealth to support his family. They have no servants or cooks. Their skin is unnaturally porcelain – must I go on?”

“Are you suggesting to me that Mr. McConroy, his sister and her husband may be…nefarious individuals?”

Riley smiled humorlessly. “Why does it frighten you to speak the word, Bethie? You once told me that what most would believe to be a monster, you see as a beast maintaining his nature.”

“I was referring to the work of Bram Stoker, Riley. Beasts exist, yes, but not of that sort, and certainly not amongst Mr. McConroy and his family.”

“You have always had faith in the most undeserving of creatures, Bethie.” He reached inside his trouser pocket and withdrew a silver cross on a chain.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I wish you to wear it whenever you leave the mansion.”

“Even in the sunlight?” she quipped.

“Even in the sunlight,” he answered, unaffected by her glibness. “All of the victims’ blood was drained through small punctures to the throat.”

Buffy paled as she gasped. “What? But you never said anything!”

“My father thought it was best that the families were not informed of this. It would lead to panic and at this time, the authorities have declared it a beast. Wear it. For me.”

“Okay,” she whispered, still struggling with the concept of the creatures she learned of as a child could truly exist beyond the pages of a novel.

Riley secured the cross around Buffy’s neck and exhaled in relief. “Now I believe we should find your parents. They can hardly fault a man for enjoying the company of his love.”

The couple left the garden arm in arm, completely oblivious to the heavy stare on their backs.

Angelus was beside himself with fury when the Finn’s and the Summers left the Hardy Mansion. He had covered his tracks and the tracks of his childe and grandchilde carefully. Yet, the Finn boy seemed to have linked all of their victims back to them. Although he tried his best to come across as noble and caring in Buffy’s eyes, the boy was far more concerned with her affections rather than her safety. The thought in itself caused a malicious smirk to befall his angelic features. They would have to be careful. Meticulous. One mistake and all would be lost. Nevertheless, Angelus would have Buffy Summers…even if he had to eviscerate every townsman to get her.

Angelus itched to relieve his fury and he knew just how to do it.

“Margaret, is it?” she was nothing. An aide in the Hardy household with the burden of a fatherless son. She was not remotely attractive, and her blood was not in the slightest appealing. But her polite smile and cautious eyes appeased him.

“Yes, sir.”

“I regret to bother you as I can see you are terribly busy, but I am afraid I require your assistance.”

“In what way, sir?” still so trusting.

“Come with me, please.”

Ah. There is the hesitation. “Very well, sir.”

He led her to a dark corner underneath the stairs hidden from the rest of the intoxicated socialites. “Ah, that’s better, isn’t it? Not complete privacy, but it should do for what I have in mind,” he said, letting his eyes drift over her, hoping to discomfort her. She predictably squirmed under his gaze, unaware that her used and aged body held no appeal for him.

“Sir, I…I should get back,” she stuttered, her heart pounding beautifully, forcing her blood to flow quicker through her arteries.

“Why not stay a while? After all, you did say you would help a fellow with his problem,” he purred, moving even closer to the frightful maid.

*“Sir, please, I should return to the party.”

*“Margaret, Margaret, there’s no hurry.”

She tried to pull away from him, hoping that someone might see. *“Mistress will be wondering…”

*“Sshh,” he cooed. “Mistress will be wondering how to get the good Reverend Chalmers into bed and will not notice the absence of canapé.” He stroked her chin for good measure, and she shuddered in spite of her fear. “Stay with me,” he urged.

Angelus could tell by her eyes that she was considering it. How could she not? A lowly maid, past her prime, receiving the attentions of the young and wealthy Mr. McConroy, a man that all women, be they married, betrothed, or divine worshippers, have attempted to lure into their beds.

*“Sir, people might talk,” she weakly protested. “I’ll be put out on the streets. My little boy would…I can’t lose this job,” she said, forgoing any thoughts she might have had about taking a chance with the beautiful Angelus McConroy.

Angelus, sensing her resolve, lost his temper. He grabbed her arms. *“Then you must keep quiet.”

*“You’re hurting me!” she said, speaking a little louder than she intended.

*“Ah! Cry out. Call for help. I’m sure Mistress will believe your behavior beyond reproach,” he sneered.

*“Please!” she gasped, wriggling in his embrace.

Angelus shook her roughly. *“Come, make a scene, huh?” he taunted. “Shall I?”

Margaret hesitated. *“No,” she whispered.

*“No, no. We’ll be as quiet as mice.”

Margaret lowered her head. Her shoulders sagged in defeat. If she closed her eyes and didn’t put up a fight, maybe it would be over soon. No one would believe her if she said their familiarity was forced.

Angelus could almost taste her defeat. His face shifted and when she looked back up at him, her fear and terror flooded his senses. *“No matter what.”

*“Sir!” she trembled, tears welling in her eyes. “My son!”

Good, he had almost forgotten. *“Oh, he’ll make a fine dessert, huh?”

He grabbed her, sinking his fangs into her throat before she could scream. He drained her quickly. She was unsatisfying and not at all fulfilling. He released her, letting her body fall carelessly to the floor. He tucked her away in the corner, knowing one of the other servants or perhaps her Mistress herself would find her. Angelus maneuvered around the intoxicated guests, following Margaret’s scent to the servant’s quarters. He found Margaret’s whelp sleeping in his bed. He was a boy of no more than seven years. His hair was curly like his mother's and a brighter shade of blonde. Margaret’s pallet lay positioned beside the boy’s bed. The boy clutched a worn brown bear that was missing its left eye. He was a beautiful child, clearly taking after his father. The boy opened his eyes and startling emerald green eyes met his own.

“Are you an angel?” he whispered.

His lips twitched as he fought the smirk that threatened to reveal itself. “An angel?”

“Mum says when it’s time an angel will come and take me to see my Da. Will you take me?”

He arranged the boy’s body in his bed and retrieved his mother, placing her on top of her pallet. From a distance, it would look as If they were merely sleeping. He returned to his mansion an hour before sunrise.

“Daddy, we saved her for you!” Drusilla called over the screams.

He strolled down to the “playroom” in the cellar. The room smelled of sex, blood, and fear. The young woman from the party, Harmony, was naked and railroad spikes had been driven through her hands and ankles, courtesy of William. Her legs and stomach were flayed, and Drusilla greedily lapped up her flowing blood.

William leaned against the wall, a pipe in his hand. “How did it go with the bird?”

Before he could answer, Harmony turned towards Angelus. Her face had been clawed, most likely by Drusilla, and her right eye hung out of its socket and lay limply against her cheek. “Mr. McConroy, help! Please help me!” she whimpered.

A cold smirk drifted on his lips as he played with her blood-soaked hair. “I could help you, Harmony, but you would have to do something for me first,” he taunted.

“Anything, anything.”

“Open your mouth.” A single tear fell from her good eye. She opened her mouth without hesitation. Angelus released his semi-hard cock and shoved it into her mouth. She choked and gagged as his hand knotted in her hair. “She resisted my thrall.”

William pushed off from his relaxed stance against the wall. “Resisted? How the bloody hell did she do that?”

“Gee, William, I have no idea. I’ll be sure to ask her next time,” he growled, shoving his entire length down Harmony’s throat.

“She’s not like the others,” Drusilla whispered. Her eyes were wide and unfocused. She was having a vision.

“What do you see, pet?”

Just as Harmony’s heart stopped beating, Angelus felt his seed spurt into her mouth. He pulled out, using her hair to clean himself off, smiling lightly as his seed and her blood dripped from her mouth.

“She was almost Called.”

“Called?”

“As in…?” Angelus had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“But the Powers…she was unworthy…innocent blood on her hands…now she is just a human.”

Angelus ran a hand through his hair, attempting to process what they had just learned. Buffy was meant to take the Calling. She was to be a Slayer, but she killed someone. The Powers deemed her unworthy and now she will never be a Slayer. But even though she didn’t have the Call, she was still equipped with the typical Slayer attributes. A mental block to resist the thrall. Possibly strength to fight against any demonic creature.

“Darla is going to kill you,” William snickered.

“Darla is too busy fucking Dracula to care what I do!”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Drusilla hunched over, moaning and hugging her stomach. William’s good mood faded quickly as he and Angelus flocked to her side protectively. “What do you see, Dru?”

“Bad man…bad man…bad man…”

“What bad man? What is he doing?” Angelus questioned her as she leaned against William.

“Touching…bad touch…bad touch…wants to keep her…wants to hurt her…!” she moaned.

Angelus growled deeply, startling his childe and grandchilde. “Hank Summers is a dead man. William, at first dark, I need you to do something for me.”

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Darkstache Week Day Seven: Ordinary People

Days: 1, 2 , 3, 4 , 5, 6, 7

At last, the final prompt of the wonderful event hosted by @projectdarkstache! Thank you so much for encouraging everyone to create such fantastic pieces and I hope all the works can be cherished by their creators! You’ve all done fantastic!

~

After years of causing chaos and trouble as the Actor, Mark uses his new freedom to bring the fictional world he ruled back to the modern real world. But what about Dark and Wilford?

Word Count: 2,437

(while not necessarily a warning, this does contain sympathetic!Actor becoming Youtuber!Mark in the timeline my stories are written in.)

-

If he was asked, Mark would admit he had no idea when he felt like ‘himself’ again. It had been decades since the troubled actor’s heart was shattered, the will to live had vanished, and the ability to die eluded him. His broken soul was utterly consumed by the terrors of the Manor’s arcanic past until he became a god-like figure in a world of his own creation. Former friends were moulded and reshaped into characters to suit his schemes. Poor, innocent souls over the decades were pulled into the cat-and-mouse plot to populate the worlds. Drama and chaos were on the regular schedule, and how the Actor thrived!

But now… Peace. And Mark was baffled by it.

He remembered standing at the edge of the city, watching the sun rise like he had never seen the day before. In all the years of darkness and being pulled like a puppet by unseen forces, maybe that was the truth. A new life, a new start. The ‘performances’ he had been part of were failed attempts to gain control over a world that had torn him to pieces and tossed him in the trash. All they achieved was pain and suffering. As he recognised this and wanted to do good, the world he had mastery over was fading and merging with the real world - the one he had left behind. With new independence, he was losing grip over whatever powers he had before. No more would he be able to cheat death or restart time. This was it, the final ‘act’. He didn’t feel sorry for himself. Mark was finally ready to break free from the puppet strings and start over… But there were two in particular he needed to apologise to. Trying to face Dark or Wilford now would result in mockery or gunfire (or both). However, from his spot on the hill, he could see a new opportunity. He could reverse the crimes that were cast. Let them and all their old friends live the lives they were meant to in this new, modern world.

Mark opened his arms wide as the light of the morning sun hit his weary body.  At last, the game was up. He could set everything right.

--

--

“Ah, there’s the man of the hour, Damien himself!” A familiar voice sang as he entered the office with his usual dramatic flair. 

“It’s ‘Mayor Brooks’ while you are here, Mark. But it is good to see you.” Damien countered, playfully rolling his eyes. Even if Mark was a big internet celebrity, he made it his mission to check in regularly on Damien. It was a nice relief, even if the pair were trying to regain grounds on their friendship. Mark had dated his twin sister in university, but the manner in which the pair broke up was so dramatic, it caused a rift between the two young men. At least a friendship from childhood was not one that could be broken forever. He saved the document he was typing and closed the laptop. “If you are here, can I assume there is some great problem going on in your world?”

“Oh, no no. All good on my end!” Mark slumped onto the sofa to the side of the office with a laugh. “I recorded one huge game over the weekend and scored myself some free time. What better way to spend it than with my favourite politician?”

“As much as I appreciate the compliment, I would gather that your other friends are busy and you don’t have anyone else to turn to.” However blunt the statement might be, there was a smile on Damien’s face as he fell back onto the free half of the couch. Mark responded with a loud gasp and a hand on his chest, which only prompted Damien to lightly push him.

“How dare you! I’ll have you know I came here to see if you wanted to grab a coffee with me. I found ten bucks in my pants pocket this morning and I wanna splash out. Come on, Dames! Doesn’t your favourite coffee place have the best pumpkin spiced latte on this side of the city?”

“Mark, it’s May. They aren’t going to make that for you.” Now it was Damien’s turn to be pushed as Mark waved the ten dollar bill in his face.

“I think you’ll find myself and mister Alexander Hamilton will disagree with tha- HEY!” Letting his guard down was a mistake, as Damien took the chance to snatch the money out of his hand and jump onto his feet. “You crooked politician! Stealing the money of an innocent, hard-working man like me!”

Damien fetched his coat with a chuckle. “For someone who wants coffee, you don’t seem very keen in moving for it.” It worked, and a childishly offended Mark pulled himself off the couch. The money was returned to Mark as the pair exited the office. Damien did need a break, he decided as he locked the door after him.

-

Mark was an interesting man. He could act loud and brash, but it was only a mask that hid a soul that seemed older than thirty. Damien used to joke that Mark might be an old man stuck in a young body. The walk to the coffee shop took the usual diversion through a nearby park so they could swap stories and chat without the rush of the world shoving them forward. Mark and his content creator friends were busy working on a variety of projects, and he himself admitted he was feeling happier in himself than he had been in recent years. Likewise, Damien had been working on completing some important jobs around the city and trying to get some new schemes underway.  It was busy, but rewarding. In times like this, neither had to play the part cast for them by society. They could be themselves, just like old times. It meant that Damien was more relaxed and jovial by the time they reached their destination.

The coffee shop had the familiar busy hum to it as the pair entered. Since Damien was a regular, there was never any fanfare of the mayor visiting their business. Mark’s ‘perfect’ disguise of a worn baseball cap and his glasses seemed to do the job of keeping a low profile. Surprisingly, the barista did indeed agree to make a pumpkin spiced latte for Mark, as well as Damien’s regular order. Both drinks and two large muffins were covered by the ten dollar bill, much to Mark’s delight. For now, they simply had to wait for their drinks.

“- And still no sign of a special someone?” It was a question Mark frequently asked. Damien seemed content to be ‘married’ to his work, but Mark would argue that the companionship would make the heavy workload more bearable. They both knew it was true, but Damien was a stubborn man. He was too proud to deal with blind dates, and seemed insistent on waiting for ‘the right person’. Instead, Damien countered with a question about Amy and how she and the two dogs were doing. A simple diversion, but a wholesome one, as Mark could share silly moments and photos on his phone, and Damien could enjoy the tales. How could he not be happy for his friend? It seemed like things were finally looking up for him.

At that, Mark’s drink and the muffins were ready, but there was no sign of Damien’s drink. He insisted Mark go fetch a table while Damien continued waiting. Several long minutes passed as people who ordered similar drinks received theirs, and Damien was tempted to ask one of the staff about his drink. Just as he was about to, the door slammed open as a man stumbled in.

“Geez, man! Could you not break that door, please?” The manager shouted at the stranger, who hurried over and apologised profusely while ordering his ‘usual’ summer iced drink and telling a story about a kid outside throwing ice-cream at him. Damien pulled out his phone to try and look busy, but his eyes strayed from the screen and darted to the man.

The stranger was a head taller than Damien and had a broad build that was emphasised by the fitted white t-shirt and jogging pants he was wearing. His black, curly hair looked somewhat erratic, while the large, bushy moustache reminded Damien of the chief of police from a TV show he loved. Facial hair of that style wasn’t in season anymore - not to mention this wasn’t as eloquently groomed as other moustaches would have been - so it was likely something important to the man. His face was framed by a sturdy jawline, which gave a somewhat intimidating air. But his eyes… Were looking in Damien’s direction. Oops.

The Mayor gulped and returned his attention to his phone.

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” Damien jumped at the sudden voice and presence beside him. The stranger had stepped closer without him realising it. “Is something wrong? Did that kid get ice-cream on my shirt?”

“No, your shirt is fine.” Damien responded quickly, intending to leave it at that. But the stranger stayed firm, bringing a sigh out of the politician. “I’m sorry. I know it’s rude to stare. I thought I recognised you, that’s all.” 

“And do you?” The stranger sounded genuinely curious. That was enough to prompt Damien to lock and pocket his phone.

“I’m not sure. I feel like I do, and I wouldn’t forget a moustache like that, but I can’t place anything… Even if it feels like it’s on the tip of my tongue.” Realising how odd that sounded, his shoulders slumped in resignation. “I’m sorry, this all sounds rather bizarre from a complete stranger -”

“No!” Both men were taken aback at the stranger’s interruption. “Er, no. Sorry. It doesn’t sound weird. I feel the same. I feel like I know you -”

“I’m the Mayor. That’s hardly a surprise.”

“- yeah, but like I know know you, you know?” The stranger shook his head, curls bouncing with a nervous chuckle. “I think this is a sign. Maybe we ought to get to know each other properly, just in case we met in a dream.” A large hand was offered to Damien. “The name’s William Barnum, but friends can call me -”

“The Colonel.” Damien finished. Confusion was mirrored on both faces.

“How did you -”

“I don’t know?” No matter how he tried to place a specific memory with the phrase, nothing came to mind. Instead, he pushed it aside. “My name is Damien Brooks. Despite the rather odd circumstances, it is a pleasure to meet you.” The large hand was taken, and they gave a firm shake.

Immediately, a memory crossed Damien’s mind. This man had pink in his hair. His own hands were gray. Mark had a shadowed, wicked grin on his face. But as soon as it came, it vanished, like trying to recall a fading dream. 

“Hey, Damien?” William’s dark eyes had drifted aside as he tried to encourage the words to come to him. “Do you want to go out for lunch this week?” A simple question made Damien’s heart skip a beat as an all-too familiar sensation of butterflies in his stomach manifested.

“Are - are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah… Is that too forward? I feel like it’s the right thing to do. You’re very handsome.” 

Strange. Why did Damien feel like William had complimented him like that a hundred times before? Stranger still, why did it make him feel so happy to hear the nervous rambling? He reluctantly pulled his hand away so he could snatch a napkin from the counter and the pen in his pocket. A phone number was hastily scribbled on it, before it was scratched out and written neater. Just in case, his name was noted underneath.

“Here. Text me later. If you’re free, we could always… Go for dinner?” It also felt like the right thing to do, like it was a regular event. William seemed to agree, as his face lit up. Upon receiving the napkin, it was treated like something sacred by William, who carefully folded and placed in his wallet.

“Yeah! That’d be - I’d really like that - Bully.” That exclamation of relief shouldn’t bring a familiar tugging of heartstrings to Damien, but it did. Only that he was with Mark (and that he has a job to return to), Damien would have gladly gone wherever William was going. 

Both names were called as the drinks were finally ready. Each one was lifted, and the pair gave their parting words and a promise to arrange something as soon as William returned home. But just as Damien was about to turn and walk to the table, William leaned down enough to kiss him on the cheek, hurrying off before anything else could happen. All Damien could do was watch the larger man disappear with a wistful smile before turning to find Mark at the table.

“You’re putting the local tomatoes to shame. You okay?” Mark asked, innocently sipping his latte. It was still mostly full. The drink itself looked hot. How long had that moment actually lasted?

“I’ve got a date tonight.” Damien was so embarrassed after blurting his answer, he didn’t notice how Mark’s surprise was an act. “I started talking to a guy up at the counter and - well, we’re meeting for dinner.”

“I’m so happy for you, man. Look at you, getting out there and being ambitious! I’m sure he’ll be a great guy!” Mark grinned, letting the topic drop so the Mayor could get his head around the ‘unexpected’ event. 

While they were talking after the drinks were finished, a text arrived on Damien’s phone. Mark noticed there was a number rather than a name, but it brought a smile to Damien’s face. The Youtuber waved his hand and insisted Damien needed to ‘urgently’ answer it. As the Mayor did so, Mark noticed how the shadow that was always looming over Damien finally dissipated. At last, the malicious claws from a lifetime ago were gone, and with that, Mark’s own powers.

But what did the loss of powers matter when he was able to use them to help Dark and Wilford start a new relationship together? They could live as normal, ordinary people, just like Dark had always vowed when confronting the Actor. Today: the Actor was dead, Mark was alive, and the curse holding them all down had been broken for good.

Now, if only Celine would talk to him so they could become friends again...

[jj-lynn21]

Holiday with the Skarsgard Gentlemen: Part 2 Gustaf and Princess

Notes:  This has a little bit of everything for my readers. It is about friends  on holiday that end up running into Alex, Gustaf, Bill and Valter at a  bar they stop at in Stockholm. I got the info about Sweden from google so I hope it is not to unreliable. I shouldn’t need to say but it is  AU. Pure fantasy folks. It is subdivided into what kind of night You  have with your favorite guy. Flirting, giddiness, sex,  dancing, ice skating, and fireworks. “It will be a great adventure.” I say in  character as one of your friends on this adventure with you.

tags: @dragsraksllib​, @super-pink-a-palouza​, @skarsjoy​, @loomiz​, @bskarsgardlove92​, @grandpa-sweaters​ @romangodfreyownsmyass​  @hausofobsession​

Part 1 Alex and Kitten

Gustaf pulls up a chair beside you when he joins your table of friends. His smile brightens as he waves to everyone. “Hi, I’m Gustaf.” He looks to you. “What’s your name, Princess?”

“You can call me Princess if you want to.” Your cheeks burn with shyness.  

“Alright that’s a deal.” He turns his attention to the others. “Sit down baby brother. Don’t be so creepy.” Most of your friends giggle even you. But one rolls her eyes and gets up to go to the bar. Valter takes her seat. “Maybe your friend will get the turtle at the bar out of his shell.”

“I think she can do that.” You smiled dreamily at him before looking away as his eyes caught yours.  

His hand stroked your cheek lightly. “You don’t need to be shy with me. Princess. How about you look this way and tell me about yourself, maybe a few hopes and dreams?”

You could not look him in his lovely eyes at first when you turned to speak. After a few minutes of him listening to you, you felt much more comfortable. He really listened. He asked follow-up questions to let you know how much he was curious about things you were saying. Then you got around to asking him some questions. You were mostly curious about his envirmental adventures. He passionately explained his thoughts on climate change. You were just fascinated by his intelligence.  

“I can go on sometimes.” His hand in yours. “How are you enjoying Sweden on your holiday?”

“We really have not explored much.” Your eyes batted. “We just arrived late this afternoon.”

“Well, will you trust me to remedy that, Princess?” He got up, extended his hand and bowed.  

You took his hand with a giggle. “I do.”

While one of your friends had disappeared with Alexander, another was chatting up Bill at the bar and the other was snickering at whatever Valter was whispering in her ear.  

“Hey Valter, you cool with getting home tonight if I take off in the SUV?” He glanced over to Bill, but he knew he could take care of himself.  

“I think we can figure out something.” He grinned as your friend giggled.  

“Be mindful.” Gustaf reminds him. “You do represent this family. What one does, we all did.”

Valter rolls his eyes and mocks him to your friend quietly. Gustaf ignores this escorting you out. He always hopes Valter will listen to his wisdom but of course he cannot force him. He makes sure your coat and hat are on you snugly before you step outside and opens the passenger door for you helping you up into the large vehicle.  

“I will show you how special it is here during the holiday season.” He pulls out to the street carefully. “Then we will park where there is a perfect view of the fireworks tonight. I think you will love them.”

“Sounds fun.” You watch out the window at the lights.  

Gustaf gropes for your hand to hold as he drives. “Those girls over there are celebrating St. Lucia. The one with the candled on her head is the Saint and the others are part of her procession. She was a young girl Christian girl who was martyred in 304. She would secretly bring food to the persecuted Christians in Rome, who lived in hiding in the catacombs under the city. She wears candles on her head to light her way and have her hands free to carry thing the people needed. The procession is usually just on December 13th, but some do it throughout the holiday season.”

“That’s interesting.” You watch them as they walk towards a small church in the distance. What about the ice sculptures up there?” You point. “Is that a tradition?”

“Of sorts.” He pulled into a parking area. “It is an ice-skating rink. We all learned to skate here. Or learned to fall on our asses gracefully.” He chuckled. “Do you skate?”

“I have a long time ago.” Maybe you have and maybe you haven’t but the thought of holding on to him while skating is great. ”Can we go?”

“I have my skates in the back, but we are going to have to find you a pair at the Market.” He got out of the SUV and came around to help you out.  

“I can’t just rent them?” You shivered from the cold.  

He wrapped his arms around you. “We don’t do that here, Princess. It is free to skate here. You need your own skates. Good news is I am sure we can find a place that has them in the marketplace. It is a little touristy around here so call me Bob.”

You laugh. “Okay Bob. Let’s go shopping.”

You easily find the ice skates in your size. When a group of fans start flashing cameras Gustaf’s way, you grab his arm and loudly announce, “Thank You Bob Henry. This is such a fun vacation.” You could almost hear the frowns rise on the fans faces. Gustaf answering, “Yes’em” in an American southern accent that crushed their hopes he was him once and for all.  

You both laughed walking over to the ice-skating rink. He put your skates on for you tying the laces up snugly before putting his on. You wait for him to stand first because you are unsure of your footing once you stand. You take the hand he offers wobbling a bit as your ankles try to get used to the one blade. You take a few steps on to the ice and fall into his body.  

“Don’t worry, Princess, I got you.” Gustaf lifted you upright. He turned your back toward him and grabbed your hips. “Just relax while I push you. It will help you get the feel of the ice.”

Light music was playing. His hands on your hips. Your hands over his. You let him glide you across the ice. Your smile widens as he skates faster. There are only a few others on the ice due to the late hour. It is really exhilarating. When you slow down, he turns to skate backwards keeping his hands on your waist. You lean forward almost losing your balance.

“Upright, Princess.” Gustaf instructed. He took your hands as you straightened. “That’s a good girl”  

You get your bearings. When he slowly lets you go turning to face away you slide right up to his back laying against him. His hands move around to touch you. It is comforting and free as you skate as one. He turns easily keeping you close. You look at each other. He stops you both in the middle of the rink. Hands warm your freezing cheeks. He kisses you as the fireworks go off somewhere above.  

“That was nice, Princess.” He escorted you off the ice. “Let’s grab some warm glögg and gingerbread.”

You sit on the bench for him to take your skates off. “I never tried glögg. I love gingerbread.”

He ties your skates together to carry. “You will love it.” He took his skates off and carried both pairs while holding your hand to the nearest café. “Ska vi ta en fika?”

You tilted your head questionably.  

Gustaf looked at you, he smiled. “I’m sorry, Princess. Just asking you properly to have a break with me.”

“Of course.” You take his hand from across the table. “I should learn some better Swedish, so you are more comfortable.”

“That is nice of you, but I am comfortable speaking whatever language my friends do.” He patted your hand before going to get drinks and treats.  

He came back. You breathed in the steam from the heated drink. It smelled so good. When you sipped it, it was even better. You tasted the cookie. It brought joy to your taste buds. You talked more about the beauty of Sweden as his fingers fumbled with yours. You were so enthralled with his stories you barely felt the fidget air.  

When you were done with that little social break you headed back to the car. The music playing as you passed the rink inspired him to twirl you. You land back in his arms. His one hand cups yours while other rests on your lower back dancing slowly. For the most part the crowd ignores you as they rush around the “silly couple” in the middle of the walkway.

When the song ends, he rushes you to the SUV. blasted the heat which warmed up in minutes. You snuggled close to him, hand drifting between his thighs. His eyebrow raised inquisitively as you looked up at him for approval. He caught your chin to lay a passionate kiss on your lips. It is all the approval you needed so you undid his belt, unbutton and unzipped his pants to get to the gift you had always wanted.  

“You want to drink your fill from my cup, Princess?” He rasped as your hand brushed over his engorged member still hiding beneath his tighty whities.  

“You are so poetic, Gustaf and yes.” You lick your lips.  

Gustaf uses one hand to free himself as the other palms the pack of your head easing you to go down gently.

Part 3: Bill and Sweetheart coming soon

Part 4: Valter and Babe coming soon

[dantays-inferno]

Taylor Swift: Art Historian

All my art historian acquaintances might hate me for this title because their job is *incredibly* serious, but I don’t like most of them anyways.

Anyways, it is my belief that Taylor has incorporated many references to art and literature within reputation and Lover, particularly in the music videos for each album cycle. To the extent that I wonder if all this time she has secretly been getting her B.A. in English Lit...or she is making her way through all the Great Courses.

That is all to say...the music video Easter eggs aren’t merely cats and 13′s. Sometimes they are, I don’t know...diptychs of the Apocalypse. 

Here is perhaps the most iconic (and brilliant, imo) image of the “Look What You Made Me Do” music video. Sear it into your memory before we proceed (if Taylor and Joseph Kahn haven’t already done it for you by producing a work of art so brilliant that you can’t stop watching on repeat.)

Okay, when I first saw the video, I thought, “That’s a play on some painting I can’t remember.” I tried to look for it when beginning my research for this blog, but I couldn’t find it for the life of me. Was I making it up? No, my co-author swore it was inspired by a painting. My mom did too. Finally we came up with this, Jan van Eyck’s The Last Judgment, painted in 1441 and 1442. It hangs at...the Metropolitan Museum of Art. AND it was profiled in the New York Times on Feb. 2, 2016, when the painting was part of a special exhibition at the Met. Of course, Taylor was gearing up to help host the Met Gala in the spring too.

The painting is a diptych, meaning it has two panels, so focus on the right panel.

I’ll zoom in for ya on a relevant section

Feel a bit familiar? Here’s a later painting inspired by this one that has even more of the same feel as the music video:

(This is Peter Paul Rubens’ The Last Judgment.)

Anyways, there are a couple other paintings I found by Rubens on the same topic with similar compositions...writhing bodies attempting to climb upwards but falling down instead.

(Also, I’m sorry you had to see those fairly disturbing images up close.)

At the top of the painting sits Christ overseeing the aforementioned judgment. 

Here we see the cross that shows up in LWYMMD, plus the image of someone standing above mountain, almost blissfully unaware of the drama and turmoil going on beneath.

What gets more interesting is this figure in the middle of the painting, below Christ but above the hellscape.

So it’s an angel cutting down anyone who has been condemned to hell, preventing them from reaching the light of day and the love of Christ. 

I freaked out when I noticed this angel because...

Exhibit #1: End Game music video

Exhibit #2: reputation magazine

The colors in this look the most similar to the angel in the painting, and the hair is even done the same. I have a theory that the different photos in the reputation magazine are different characters or people discussed in the song corresponding to that page in the other edition of the magazine.

She also is in the same pose as the figure on the top of Taylor Mountain.

Exhibit #3: Karlie Kloss walking in Alexander McQueen Spring/Summer 2008 show

Kloss named this as one of her favorite runway shows in an interview with British Vogue in 2019. She also shared that she lit her robe on fire by accident backstage, and put this particular dress on the wrong way round and had to switch it last minute. Feels like the kind of story you would tell at every party you went to.

So basically we have a rainbow angel who ruins people’s lives.

Alrighty. Let’s delve into why I think Taylor used this imagery. As a disclaimer, this is just my analysis, and you can take it or leave it. I’ve put hours of thought and research into this because I’m unemployed and in quarantine, so I’m not just pulling this out of my ass, but I’m also not Taylor, so nothing I say is gospel truth.

Analysis

My theory is that the figure at the top of Taylor Mountain is standing in for the roles that Christ and the archangel are playing in the painting. The figure--we’ll call her Rep--is essentially condemning all the Old Taylors to no longer see the light of day (or come to the phone.) The archangel in the van Eyck painting prevents people from ascending out of hell while Christ is presumably the one who condemned the people to hell and now stands above all, nonplussed.

But in an interesting twist, Rep stretches her arms out to crucify herself as she shouts, “bad dreams!” At this, the Old Taylors begin falling off the mountain, and we get the iconic “the old Taylor can’t come to the phone right now” line. Not coincidentally, the other panel of the van Eyck painting depicts Jesus’ crucifixion.

Why is the crucifixion part significant beyond just being a perfect transition in the music video? First off, it obviously points to the younger Taylor being sacrificed unjustly. A theme of reputation and Lover seems to be remorse for losing Taylor’s sense of self and a desire to shift her focus from the trappings of fame to the people who truly care about her. Many people interpreted this song as Taylor announcing that she was a new “bad girl” Taylor, shunning sparkle guitars, unrequited love, and general girl-next-door vibes (which would be a shame because these are some of the best things in life.) But I think this video and album are more retrospective than active. That is to say that Taylor is realizing that she lost her old self in the years prior to reputation, and now she regrets that they can’t come to the phone.

Beyond that, I think the crucifixion moment in the video points to the idea of being a martyr--and not in a good way. This ties into my theory that all of the characters in the video that aren’t a specific Old Taylor (from Taylor’s music videos, tours) are actually meant to be Karlie Kloss. I have one other post about this on my blog now, and I intend to write more.

So let’s say it’s Karlie standing on the top of Taylor Mountain (and saying the old Taylor can’t come to the phone.) She essentially crucifies herself, making herself a martyr--someone who was killed unjustly. In my ongoing analysis of the album, I think this ties in to the song “So it Goes...” in which Taylor sings, “Come here dressed in black now / Scratches down your back now.” While this is generally interpreted to be a sexual scene, I think it depicts Karlie coming back to Taylor after the two have had a falling out, and acting like she is the victim in the relationship (black being a color of mourning) and that Taylor inflicted pain on her (scratches down her back.)

What’s more is that scratches down her back ties in with the crucifixion/martyrdom idea...Jesus was whipped/flogged before being crucified, which obviously leaves notable scars that would not look dissimilar to scratches. So basically Karlie is acting like a martyr and a victim in the relationship, when, according to Taylor in the LWYMMD video’s narrative, Karlie was the one who helped “kill” Taylor’s true self.

Plus, the video also implies that Karlie exploited her relationship with Taylor for fame and financial gain and became controlling and even tried to sabotage Taylor’s relationship with Tom by calling the paps on them. Sounds like a pretty toxic relationship, and people who are emotionally abusive often use the tactic of flipping the script on the person confronting them.

I know these are harsh accusations, but they’re in the video just beneath the surface concept of “look at all these controversies.” The more I delve into the album, the more I see that Taylor is trying to process her toxic relationship with Karlie even more than her breakup with Tom. (Sorry, no Joe.) I’ll be writing more posts to explain all this, but keep an open mind. I think Taylor hid a lot in reputation and Lover that we haven’t necessarily unearthed yet.

[hms-chill]

RWRB Study Guide, Chapter 8

Hi y’all! I’m going through Casey McQuiston’s Red, White & Royal Blue and defining/explaining references! Feel free to follow along, or block the tag #rwrbStudyGuide if you’re not interested!

James I (203): James I/VI (First of England, Sixth of Scotland) is known for both translating the Bible and being just... so, so incredibly gay. The book mentions that he promoted a dumb jock to gentleman of the bedchamber, but it leaves out that 13-year-old James would just make out with dudes in public, and that the dumb jock (George Villers) was James’s third serious adult relationship. His friends introduced him to George because his last boyfriend was bad for the kingdom. 

George Eliot (205): Mary Anne Evans wrote under the pen name George Eliot to escape the stereotype that women could only write romances. She wrote seven novels, of which Middlemarch is the most famous, known for their realism and psychological insight.

Daniel Defoe (205): A pioneer of the English novel, Defoe wrote Robinson Crusoe as well as a series of divisive political pamphlets and tracts.

Jonathan Swift (205): Irish political writer most famous for A Modest Proposal, a satirical piece that suggests cannibalism of infants as a more humane response to the British treatment of Ireland than letting them grow to starve in adulthood.

Dickens... “woman who languishes away in a crumbling mansion wearing her wedding gown” (205): Charles Dickens wrote stories concerned with the lower classes. This quote in particular refers to Miss Havisham from Great Expectations, who was left at the altar and refused to take off her wedding dress or even put away the food set out for the wedding.

Sense and Sensibility (205): This is probably Austen’s second most popular novel (after Pride and Prejudice); it follows the four Dashwood women in their move to a new home following the death of Mr. Dashwood. Like most of Austen’s novels, the opinionated narrator follows the women through a series of romantic mishaps, culminating in a happy ending.

Green American Money (206): Fun fact, British money is blue and orange and purple and all sorts of fun colors! It also all looks different, because (at least in Scotland) four banks are allowed to print pound notes, so there are four different designs all in circulation.

Sean Hannity (206): A conservative American political commentator.

Harvard rowing (206): Rowing is like... the bougiest of sports.

Pleiad (206): In Greek mythology, the pleiades were the daughters of the titan Atlas who became stars following his entrapment under the earth. They are remembered for their beauty and loyalty. Myths of the missing pleiad explain why only six of the seven stars are visible to the naked eye. According to some sources, the missing pleiad is Merope, who was shamed out of the sky for her relationship with a mortal.

Minute Maid Park (206): The baseball stadium associated with the Houston Astros baseball team; it seats just over 41,000.

Politico (207): An American political opinion news source.

Drop-kick Murphys (208): An American Celtic punk band. (listen here and here)

The Klan (209): The Ku Klux Klan, an incredibly racist organization that has been responsible for the lynching of thousands of people of color.

Kim Nam-June (210): Kim Nam-Joon, known as RM or Rap Monster, is the leader and rapper of the K-pop group BTS.

Milwaukee (211): The largest city in and main cultural center of Wisconsin, which is a “swing state”, meaning that it could go either way politically in a national election.

Seth Meyers (211): An American talk show host and comedian whose creatively titled show, Late Night with Seth Meyers, is liberal-leaning. He hosts celebrities and often chats about politics or the news.

Clear Crystal Quartz (211): Apparently the most “iconic” crystal, it is believed to be able to help with clarity and the achievement of goals.

Wimbledon (213): The oldest tennis tournament in the world, considered by many to be the most prestigious.

Royal Box (213): The royal box at Wimbledon is a section of the best seats, reserved for royalty and specially invited celebrity/politically powerful guests.

David Beckham (213): A former professional soccer player and current fashion icon known for being hot and wearing nice suits.

McQueen (214): Alexander McQueen was an openly gay British fashion designer who rose from a lower class background to become one of the most famous designers in the world. Though he died in 2010, his brand continues to be known for unconventional fashion shows and theatrical imagery. 

Dashikis (215): A colorful, ornate piece of clothing somewhere between a shirt and a tunic originally from West Africa.

Orangery (218): A very large greenhouse or conservatory designed for growing orange trees.

Woman at her Toilet (218): This painting shows a woman in her bedroom putting on her socks with a little dog next to her; you can see it here.

Baroque bed* (218): Baroque art was designed to show off a monarch’s power; it is incredibly extravagant (Versailles is pretty much the iconic Baroque thing; you can see more about it here).

The Killers (219): An American rock band formed in the early 2000s and known for having donated over $1 million to charity (they did “Mr. Brightside”). (listen here and here). According to McQuinston’s twitter, the song Henry plays is “When You Were Young”, which you can listen to here.

Dred Scott (219): In the 1857 Dred Scott v. Sandford case, the US supreme court ruled that the constitution did not extend to or protect Black folks. 

Nina Simone (219): An American singer/songwriter/political activist whose music spanned a variety of genres and whose activism focused largely on the civil rights movement and was largely influenced by her “friend” Lorraine Hansberry, a Black lesbian playwright. (You know Hozier’s “Nina Cried Power”? She’s Nina) (listen here and here)

Otis Redding (219): Considered one of the greatest singers in American pop music and was one of the foundational soul artists in the US. (listen here and here)

Brahms (219): A German composer known for sticking to more classical forms of music while his contemporaries often leaned toward more dramatic or opulent styles. (listen here and here)

Wagner** (219): A German composer who wrote both the music and the librettos for his operas; his works tend to be very complex, and he has been credited with beginning modern music. (listen here and here)

Romantic (219): Artistically, the Romantic movement was a direct response to industrialization that called for a return to and celebration of nature. Queerness was very much a part of this movement, as it was seen as a return to or celebration of one’s natural state (think Byron).

War of the Romantics (219): A music history term used to describe the split between conservative composers like Brahms who wanted to stick with the Baroque, opulent styles of the past century and radical progressive composers like Liszt, who favored newer styles that blended music with narrative and morals.

Liszt (219): A Hungarian composer known for a diverse body of work and his position as the leader of the radical progressive group in the War of the Romantics. (listen here and here)

Alexander Scriabin (219): Russian composer known for his atonal or dissonant music. (listen to the piece Henry mentions here)

Elton John’s “Your Song” (219): A song written before Elton John came out, but with his queerness in mind. In a 2013 interview, John referred to it as “a perfect song”, and that the lyrics (written by Bernie Taupin) got even better as he got older and sang it more. (listen here)

Consecrated (220): made holy.

DNC (221): The Democratic national conference, when members of the Democratic (liberal) party get together to prepare for a presidential race.

College Republicans of Vanderbilt University (221): Vanderbilt University is a private (and therefore more expensive) school in Nashville, Tennessee. Its location in the South and its price tag would both mark it as being more conservative.

Cage match (221): A type of wrestling match that takes place inside a steel cage; the most common way of winning is by escaping the cage, usually by climbing over the top.

Paul Ryan (222): A conservative retired politician and former Speaker of the House.

The Second Amendment (222): The second amendment grants Americans the right to bear arms (have guns).

Salon (222): An American news and opinion website with a politically liberal editorial stance.

Air Force One (222): the president’s plane

“My Canadian girlfriend” (223): A running joke that someone (often a high schooler) whose partner goes to another school or lives somewhere else is made up.

Five Guys (225): Five Guys Burger and Fries is a popular fast food burger chain across the US.

Vampire Weekend (225): An American indie rock band.

The general (226): the general election in November, when Americans would vote for their president

Plainclothes (226): out of uniform

The Beekman (226): A very fancy hotel in Lower Manhattan, near the Brooklyn Bridge.

NATO (233): the North Atlantic Treaty Organization; an intergovernmental military alliance between 29 North American and European countries.

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*every time I read this, I flinch just a little bit. Baroque architecture is just... so much, and the concept of a Baroque bed when beds/bedrooms are supposed to be simple to help you rest... It’s just so much and I hate it with all of my being. I’m sorry if you like Baroque furniture, but especially for Henry, who dreams of a simple life where he can just write and be anonymous... It’s a big yikes.

** Literally no one asked, but his stuff is just... it’s so boring? Like I’m sure it’s great to fall asleep to or calm down to, but I tried to listen to it while I wrote this and I just couldn’t. Liszt is better, but he’s no Mozart. Also? Mozart wrote BOPS. ONLY. “The Birdcatcher’s Song” slaps and no one can change my mind on that.

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If there’s anything I missed or that you’d like more on, please let me know! And if you’d like to/are able, please consider buying me a ko-fi? I know not everyone can, and that’s fine, but these things take a lot of time/work and I’d really appreciate it!

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Chapter 1 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 9