#also on there at the tender age of 13 or so i met the first person i actually hated in my life

[yume-fanfare]

Mar I need to know how bad the hetalia hit you because it was BAD with me I tell you

one of those guys is competing with tori for character ive drawn the most in my entire life and i am not sure if tori wins

[bunnybird-afk]

Questions about your Magister (now with +5 more questions🤣):

1. So what's his connection to the Maulers/ Dusk Lord anyway?

2. Does he have a love interest?

3. Is he a Mauler..?

4. If so what abilities or powers does he have?

5. Also like I'm 89% sure it's cannon, but what's his connection to Dura?

6. Does he have a specific magic he uses?

7. Who are his parents?

8. Where did he come from?

9. What's his opinion on holding the title "Merlin"?

10. What's personality?

11. Is he rich...?

12. What's his worst fear?

13. Does he hate any in-game characters?

14. Does he have hobbies?

15. What type of people does he get along with?

Thank you so much for this ask! I am so excited to ramble on about Sena! I have been cooking up his lore for almost a month now but haven't been able to put it together coherently so this really helps!

Warning: Long Post

Some brief background:

Sena is a former 'god' of Esperia, though he technically hasn't held an official place in the pantheon since long before the Divine War, having asked for his name to be struck from the records for certain reasons. While he retained much of his original power at first, his divine core was shattered by Ygdris during the Immortal War, leading to Sena being absorbed into the leylines to rest and heal until the war was over. Afterwards, he awakens with no memories, helps Esperia with its troubles and then returns to the leylines when his life force is depleted. This cycle repeats itself a total of three times so far, with the most recent being the in-game canon.

1) Sena's connection to the Dusk Lord/the Maulers?

While most Esperian's might consider it blasphemous, the Age of the Gods wasn't nearly as prosperous or perfect as one might think. Being a fledgling god who didn't yet have his own title, Sena was often looked down upon by some of the less benevolent deities in Esperia's pantheon (most of whom have been long forgotten).

The Dusk Lord was one of the few gods who viewed Sena as what he was at the time, a child in need of guidance. Thus the Dusk Lord took him under his wing, taught him about Esperia and what it meant to be a god. Even taught him how to fight should the need arise.

Through the Dusk Lord, Sena met the Maulers. The first mortals that Sena ever encountered. The first people Sena ever met. The Dusk Lord taught Sena about his people and about their cultures, telling the godling that his wish was for his people to be strong. To be tenacious so that they could handle the harsh realities of the world even without his guidance.

While the Dusk Lord tried to teach Sena how to be a god, Sena immersed himself in the culture and community around him and instead learnt something far more important. How to be a person.

2) Sena's love interest(s)?

While Sena has had partners over the eons, there where very few instances he could point to that he'd consider love. The first of these instances was a mage by the name of Merlin, the first mage to ever exist in Esperia. Merlin was gentle and compassionate and selfless, and Sena found himself inexplicably drawn to them. They were perfect. But they were mortal... After they passed, Sena took up the title of 'Merlin' as a way to remember them and to continue their mission of protecting and helping Esperia.

During the Immortal War, Sena fought side-by-side with the Celestials, wanting to safeguard Esperia's people from the threat of the Hypogeans. During this time, Sena grew close to Dionel, and while the two may have shared a few tender moments and had occasionally found comfort in each other's arms, they soon realized that their feelings for each other were more platonic than romantic. To this day, Sena considers Dionel his closest friend, and it would seem as though the feeling is mutual.

After losing his memories the second time, Sena wakes up near Holistone and soon meets Hogan who was still a young recruit in the Lightbearer army. Having no memory of his own past and believing himself a mortal, Sena ends up working closely with Hogan and eventually feelings start to bloom between the two (despite a rocky start). Over the next decade or so, Sena and Hogan grow closer and closer, and though they make their affections for each other obvious, the word 'love' remains unspoken. Things between the two 'end' when Hogan gets called to duty, asked to serve the Lightbearer Empire in some scuffles that had broken out with the Maulers near the border to the Ashen Wastes. Hogan asks Sena to come with him, using the excuse that they could use the help of a mage like him. Sena asks Hogan to stay, knowing that he might not make it back alive. They both decline out of a sense of duty, though those feelings continue to linger. To the point where Sena returns to Holistone after the war to wait for Hogan having heard news of his return, though Sena is resting in the leylines again before they can be reunited. (Though, Sena has accidentally acquired an adopted son during his time back at Holistone, one that would soon go on to cause Hogan no shortage of trouble).

3) Is Sena a Mauler?

Not in the traditional sense. Sena's divine form was an almagamation of the different factions, though he doesn't inherently belong to any given one. During his time wandering Esperia, he tends to try to fit in with the people around him, hence him taking on more Mauler like characteristics when in the Ashen Wastes and more Wilder characterstics when in the Dark Forest. Though considering the Dusk Lords words and Sena's own feelings about the Ashen Wastes, in his heart Sena is more of a Mauler than he is any other faction.

4) Sena's Abilities/Powers?

While Sena has the standard Merlin abilities we see in game, he also has a few innate abilities that stuck around from when he was still a god. This includes Sena coming across as very amicable and persuasive, and on rare occasions being able to tap into his Divine Authority. Overall, Sena also exudes an air of comfort, making others around him feel at ease even in the toughest of times.

5) Sena's connection with Dura?

Like the Dusk Lord, Dura was on of the few gods who didn't completely disregard Sena's existence. Though while the Dusk Lord viewed Sena's naivety as something he needed time and help growing out of, Dura viewed it as a reason why Sena needed to be protected and nurtured. In a sense she was another one of Sena's mentors growing up. While the Dusk Lord taught him to be strong, resilient and tenacious, Dura had taught him to be gentle, caring and compassionate. And unlike most of the other gods, Dura seemed to genuinely love her people, wanting to protect them and nurture them, ensuring that they thrived and prospered. And at the end of the day, Sena wanted to help her fulfill that desire though it would be centuries until he could actually be of any assistance to her.

6) Sena's Magic?

Sena's magic is derived directly from the leylines themselves, allowing him to use magic in its purest form, though without his divinity this tends to take an immense toll on him should he overexert himself. Apart from that, Sena has a form of charmspeak that allows him to compell the truth from others, and often persuade them into doing certain things, though he often forgets this ability in his amnesia only to remember it later, though even then he uses it sparingly, not liking the feeling of influencing others free will.

7/8) Who are his Parents/Where did he come from?

Being a former god, Sena doesn't really have parents. Like most gods, he simply awoke one day in the Realm of the Gods, born of a concept that had become prominent enough to warrant having its own deity. Though unlike most gods, Sena had no clue what he was the god of at first, not feeling any real affinity for anything present in the Realm of the Gods.

So in that sense, Sena didn't really have parents. In fact he didn't really understand the concept until almost a millenium later, watching as Mauler father excitedly scooped his cub into a hug after their first steps. Sen had found it heartwarming though still unrelatable.

Though if Sena were to think about it now (once he has his memories back atleast), if anyone had been a father to him, it would have been the Dusk Lord. And well, Dura had always called him her child, even if she hadn't really meant it in the familial sense (though Sena found himself secretly hoping that she did).

9) Sena's opinion on being Merlin?

While the title had started as a way for him to honour somone he cared for, it's since then grown to represent so much more to him. To Sena, being Merlin means shouldering the responsibility for Esperia's well-being. Not just dealing with big threats, but also caring for the Esperian people on a personal level. It represents the wishes of all those who loved him, and now his own wishes too. Afterall, it's his responsibility as Esperia's last living god.

10) Sena's personality?

Growing up Sena had been well-meaning and quiet sharp, though it was usually hidden behind his jovial demeanor. Even back then, however, Sena had a touch of recklessness and anarchy to him that caused Dura no shortage of concern (and the Dusk Lord no shortage of amusement). And though he eventually matured and grew more calm and measured, his charming personality and slight spark of chaos never quiet left him. And whenever Sena loses his memory, his personality reverts to being somewhere in the middle of those two states of being.

11) Is Sena Rich?

Pretty much, though that's more thanks to Dolly than anything else. After becoming Sena's retainer, she took her duties very seriously, handling just about everything that Sena may need help with (excluding magecraft). That included handling Sena and the Mystical House's finances, as well as updating Sena on any news that may pique his interest. She's also the one responsible for helping Sena to adjust to life in Esperia whenever he returns from the leylines, including making sure he has the correct currency and is dressed for the times (thank you, Dolly, for keeping Sena fashionable).

12) Sena's worst fear?

Losing sight of what it means to be a person. Sena has never cared much for his divinity, but he would cling to every last shred of humanity he has in his soul.

13) Does Sena hate any characters?

Berial and Reinier. Sena hates Berial because of the joy he takes in making mortals suffer. He's needlessly cruel, even by Hypogean standards and seems to genuinely enjoy the harm he causes (unlike Phraesto who Sena finds oddly amicable).

He also strongly dislikes Reinier due to his obsession with perfection. While in itself not abhorrent, the lengths Reinier goes to to achieve his idea of 'perfection' is disturbing to Sena who's seen the way his actions have hurt people. And on a more personal note, the way Reinier desecrates the monuments of the old gods, bastardizing their image and deceiving their followers never fails to have pure rage bubbling up in Sena's chest. Blasphemy doesn't really bother him, but seeing this hypogean spit on the legacy of those he knew and loved just crosses a line for Sena.

14) Sena's Hobbies?

Being Merlin doesn't really give Sena a lot of free time, though when he does get it, he's using it to completely immerse himself in the local culture. Talking to people, helping out around whatever town they're in, eating local delicacies, sampling signature drinks, listening to music, and reading their books and poems. In hindsight, being Merlin probably is the best job for Sena considering that it gives him an excuse to travel.

15) What type of people does Sena get along with?

Sena tends to get along with just about anyone so long as they aren't cruel or closed-minded, though he does have his favourites. Usually those who have the same type of well-meaning chaos and recklessness that he does.

[nesiacha]

In honor of Gracchus Babeuf's recent anniversary, here are some informations from his life:

He was apparently born poor. His original first name was François-Noël. He was the eldest of 13 children, most of whom died at a young age. His father gave him a very harsh education: "Education cost my shoulders dearly," he writes, "for to teach me what they did not know, they did so very roughly, and I clearly remember the soldier-like tone and the terribly blunt gestures with which they— I will not say brutalized and repelled, but atrociously tortured my childhood." . It is interesting to note that in the letters Gracchus later sent to his children, whom he loved dearly, he always recommended tenderness and gentleness. I believe he clearly took the opposite approach to his father's upbringing. Gracchus had to work very hard as a laborer from the age of 12 and later became an apprentice to a notary at 17. In 1782, he met his wife, who would be his political right-hand, Marie-Anne Victoire Langlet, a chambermaid working in a castle (a militant in her own right, known for her strong character, and later arrested twice by the Napoleonic police, once in 1801 during the repression of the neo-Jacobins and again in 1808 when they seized all her papers; this couple deserves more recognition—they are just as interesting as other lesser-known revolutionary couples). They had a love marriage. While working, he also continued his education with ancient authors and sought to raise his children according to the principles of Rousseau, a philosopher he admired. He reflected on social inequalities, the misery of peasants, and the abuses of feudalism. He became estranged from the lords and called for the abolition of fiefs during the preparation of the Estates-General. “What a terrible conflagration, if the masses one day came to ask why some have everything and others nothing!”

He was a distinguished correspondent for the Academy of Arras. Gracchus Babeuf became politically involved from the early stages of the French Revolution, particularly by participating in drafting the cahiers de doléances for the convocation of the Estates-General. He proposed additions to the cahier of the Third Estate of the bailiwick of Roye, but his suggestions were rejected. After the storming of the Bastille, he went to Paris, became a correspondent for a newspaper, and publicly criticized revolutionary figures like Mirabeau in his pamphlet La Nouvelle Distinction des Ordres. Before his political career, Babeuf worked as a land surveyor, a role that involved managing legal documents relating to land ownership, earning him the ironic label of "archivist-terrorist." These early experiences and his militant engagement would later lead him to defend radical ideas, especially through the Conspiration des Égaux, advocating for an egalitarian republic.

In July 1789, Gracchus Babeuf was in Paris to oversee the publication of his work Cadastre Perpétuel, which he had developed with the surveyor Audiffred. This book, published in October, proposed an innovative method for measuring land using trigonometry, aiming to rationalize property tax. However, it went further by advocating for a tax reform based on proportionality of properties and, more radically, a redistribution of land—a sort of “agrarian law.” Babeuf defended this idea in response to those who respected private property too much, arguing that the needs of the millions of destitute people must be addressed before they were driven to despair.

Back in Roye, he led a campaign for the abolition of indirect taxes and redeemable rights, organizing a petition in 800 communes and starting a journal, Le Correspondant Picard. Due to his actions, he was imprisoned in Paris in May 1790 but was freed under popular pressure. After a second imprisonment in April 1791 in Roye, he sparked new mobilizations for his release. It is important to note that Babeuf was never really interested in science. In fact, he considered limiting scientific education, arguing that its complexity might create inequalities among students (one of his bizarre and even false ideas). However, on the other hand, he was one of the revolutionaries who truly envisioned property rights in a more egalitarian way, particularly in terms of agrarian laws.

In 1790, he renounced Catholicism and first took the name Camille, after one of the heroes of the Roman Republic. Then, in 1794, he changed it to Gracchus, in homage to the Gracchi brothers, who led a popular party in Rome. He was so fervent about names that he renamed his eldest son Émile in honor of Rousseau, his second son Camille, and his third son Caius. He was unfortunate to survive his two daughters: the first, Sophie, died in 1787 at the age of 4 from an accident that severely scalded her hips, plunging Gracchus into deep despair. His second daughter, also named Sophie, died of malnutrition at 7 years old in 1795. He wrote, "I had a seven-year-old daughter; I soon received the heartbreaking news that she had died from the murderous reduction of two ounces of bread." It was a terrible period because Gracchus was in prison again, and Marie-Anne had been arrested for two days for handling her husband’s journal subscriptions (and for one of Gracchus' escapes, although he was caught again). She was released, and her arrest was criticized by her friend René Vatar and René Lebois.

This must have been the hardest time for him (and for Marie-Anne, the worst was yet to come). Throughout his life during the revolution, he repeatedly went in and out of prison until his execution, continuing his struggle. Contrary to what Zweig or other works might claim, portraying him as simple-minded or mediocre, he was, in fact, intelligent (even though he sometimes made foolish decisions). His ideas on taxes, his views on the assassination of Foulon during the storming of the Bastille, his humanism, and his ultra-revolutionary stance on economic issues (on property rights and taxes) show his sharpness. He protested against unnecessary and arbitrary violence, such as during the repression in the Vendée, and also criticized the violence from the other side. He, along with others, predicted the rise of Bonaparte, reading newspapers in his prison. Yes, at one point, he was manipulated by Fouché (and that doesn’t mean Fouché only manipulated fools), but Babeuf showed him the door once he realized who Fouché truly was. Babeuf was deeply committed to equality and social justice, but he was not naive about the realities of implementing these principles in an agricultural society. He had a clear vision of the injustice inherent in economic inequalities and believed that the social revolution had to occur not only through wealth redistribution but also through a radical reorganization of labor.

The equality Babeuf defended was not limited to formal or legal equality but extended to material and economic equality, which required a complete transformation of society. He believed that equality could only be maintained if working conditions were fair and suited to the realities on the ground, which meant reorganizing production, especially in agriculture. Thus, he proposed the creation of collective farms where labor would be shared among peasants (from an agrarian point of view only). Of course, Gracchus made foolish moves, such as leaving a list of people associated with him, directly or indirectly, in his room, which Pierre Serna suggests was child's play for the police to find. According to Laura Mason, the police found hundreds of documents in an apartment near the center of Paris, including copies of underground pamphlets circulating in the capital, decrees for insurrection, and instructions to the confederates to incite the people to rebellion. Gracchus was irresponsible in this regard, which greatly exasperated his more sensible comrade Antonelle. Antonelle distanced himself from him, particularly in terms of how to achieve the revolution. I simplify, but for this noble revolutionary, the revolution should be saved through the ballot box and by fighting the system from within, even though history would show he was wrong on this point. Here’s what Antonelle wrote: “The act of insurrection is the dream of a sick man… The more I think about this too frivolous subject, the more I remain convinced that this great conspiracy was reduced to the petty annoyances of a few disgruntled minds, the pastimes of some idle people who shared their thoughts.” The problem was also that Gracchus didn't take the necessary measures for a clandestine operation, inadvertently putting many involved—whether directly or indirectly—in danger.

Gracchus Babeuf was often overwhelmed by enthusiasm throughout his life, to the point where, according to some historians, he was even said to have suffered from fevers. He first had an admiration for Robespierre, hated him, then adored him again as a Robespierrist. He formed connections with the Duplay family, though he befriended people from all political backgrounds. Some of his most important "lieutenants" in the Conspiracy, like the Hébertist Joseph Bodson, were anti-Robespierrists. He was very close to the family of Marat, particularly Albertine (who admired Danton), and he formed ties with Lindet, even though he was not part of the conspiracy. It seems that he had a certain talent for allying with others who did not necessarily share the same political views.

For Gracchus Babeuf, friendship did not exclude violent criticism, although this did not prevent him from continuing to hold the same people in high esteem with whom he had formed friendships. One example of this is his relationship with Jean-Paul Marat, as well as the vehement debates he had with Joseph Bodson about Robespierre (Gracchus Babeuf had become a Robespierrist again at that time). He was popular in Picardy.

After the failure of the Conspiracy of Equals, more than 200 warrants were issued. The repression was carried out, among others, by Lazare Carnot. However, there were armed attempts to try to save them, which ultimately failed. A High Court was established to investigate the matter. The conspirators were transported in simple cages on carts. Marie-Anne Babeuf, Gracchus' political right hand, followed the journey on foot, pregnant with their last child, Caius, and accompanied by their eldest son, Emile. It is worth noting that Gracchus was even more concerned about their second son, Camille, and wrote, "What have you done with my Camille? The poor, dear child! Is he the only one who couldn’t follow his dear father... no doubt he will cry for it, he must have cried. His young soul, full of the most delicate sensitivity, has long known the nature of the most touching affections. Why is he so young, so weak, he would have accompanied me with you in these terrible circumstances, and then Gracchus Babeuf would have been too happy." I wonder if madness had seized Camille, or if he never recovered from the trauma of seeing his father arrested, only to eventually be executed.

Marie-Anne Babeuf took the journey to see if she could free her husband, with the help of Pierre Hésine, whom she had settled with her family, to organize solidarity with the accused. She was not the only woman to make this arduous journey; Philippe Buonarroti's partner, Teresa Poggi, was also with her.

Even in prison, Babeuf kept himself informed about the situation. He even wrote to the Directoire: "Look beneath you, citizens Directors, to treat with me from power to power! You have seen the great confidence with which I am the center. You have seen that my party can well counterbalance yours! You have seen the vast ramifications it holds. I am more than convinced, this glimpse must have made you tremble!"

At his trial before the High Court, Babeuf showed remarkable courage, assuming all responsibility for the "society of democrats" while acknowledging all attacks against the Directoire, stating, "The decision of the jurors will solve this problem...: will France remain a Republic, or will it return to a monarchy?" He was sentenced to death with Darthé. Despite being injured by a suicide attempt, he reportedly showed great strength during his execution.

Six men, sentenced to deportation, were imprisoned and chained in caged enclosures. Among them were Blondeau (who escaped from Oléron and later Cayenne), Buonarroti, Cazin, Germain, Moroy, and Vadier. They were initially sent to the fort on Île Pelée, then to the national fort at Cherbourg, a prison of security. In Year VIII, they were transferred to the island of Oléron, before being subjected, for some, to house arrest. At least a significant number of them were acquitted.

Here is Germain's reaction: "The prisoners sentenced to deportation were intoxicated with joy at having escaped the torture that twenty of them knew they were threatened with. Germain, cheerful and full of wit, mocked the jurors. 'They are fools,' he said to Vieillard, 'not to see a conspiracy when there is one of the best-planned ever, and is there anything crazier than acquitting the women who were enraged (sic) and encouraged us all? Now that my life is saved, I will tell them everything I know. Besides, I conspired, I will always conspire. If they send me to Cayenne or Senegal, I will conspire, and if not with men, I will with parrots.'" (Charles Germain, Archives Nationales, F 16/582. C)

Dozens of Babouvists were released, but the last supporters of Babeuf attempted a final uprising by inciting soldiers at the Grenelle camp to revolt. After allowing the insurrection to grow, Carnot, a member of the Directoire, ordered the cavalry's intervention, commanded by Cochon de Lapparent. On October 9, 1796, about thirty insurgents, including several important figures of the Babouvist conspiracy, were executed by firing squad.

Jean-François Baby, an old friend of Vadier, had already been imprisoned in 1795 and denounced by Lakanal before being arrested again. Claude Javogues, a deputy from Rhône-et-Loire, had suppressed the federalist insurrection during the Terror of Foréz, humiliating the local populations by renaming cities. Marc-Antoine Huguet, a deputy from Creuse and notary, had participated in the invasion of the Convention by the sans-culottes on 12 Germinal, Year III. Finally, Joseph-Marie Cusset, a merchant and deputy from Rhône-et-Loire, had denounced the atrocities committed by the Austrian armies in 1792. (These are details I'm uncertain about for these four individuals, so I call for further information).

Interestingly, while Babeuf resented Grisel and Cochon, the police minister, he reserved only mild criticism for Carnot, one of the leading figures behind the Babouvist repression. While Babeuf had harshly criticized other directors of the Directoire, he directed only reproaches at Carnot, but not as harshly as at others. After the affair at the Grenelle camp and the condemnation of the Babouvists (especially since Babeuf endured particularly grueling imprisonment, being transferred in cages on carts while his pregnant wife walked alongside him to offer support and attempt to free him), public opinion was stirred. According to Mazauric, Carnot, despite his conservative stance on many issues, slowed down the repressive zeal of Merlin.

My theory: Babeuf spared Carnot in his final speech, even though Carnot had been a key figure in his execution and contributed to his arrest, which ultimately led to his death. Despite knowing what Carnot had done against him, Babeuf often criticized figures like Fréron, Tallien, Fouché, and Barras. However, he recognized that, for all his flaws, Carnot was more sincere than they were in safeguarding the Republic.

Felix Le Peletier, a close associate of Babeuf, would later become their protector. Marie-Anne Babeuf continued her activism. (I really like the friendship between Marie-Anne Babeuf, a woman of strong character, and Felix Le Peletier, described as a bon vivant). What’s interesting is that in 1808, when the Napoleonic police confiscate her papers, along with Antonelle (coincidence?), did they continue to associate despite Antonelle having distanced himself from Gracchus, though he remained close to Felix Le Peletier? There is a more plausible hypothesis: during the first conspiracy of Malet, the Napoleonic police, especially Fouché, seemed to let the plot develop to suppress any opposition.

Marie-Anne Babeuf was illiterate, likely due to a lack of formal education. However, it appears that she was proficient with numbers, likely from her experience as a servant, as she managed the subscriptions for her husband's newspaper, Tribun du Peuple. This led to her first arrest and imprisonment. She also worked as a seller of toiletries, among other things, to provide for her children. She was considered important enough to be arrested twice and mentioned in newspapers. Despite lacking access to education, she played a major role during the revolution.

Her son Camille went mad and committed suicide ( some said that he was "only" depressed as he could work even if he had to go to Charenton for a moment and kill himself out of sorrow at seeing the Allies enter Paris in 1815 ) . Her other son, Caius, died at the age of 17 during the foreign invasion of France in Vendôme. It’s possible that she outlived her last son, Emile, as despite her strong character and her arrests under the Directoire and Bonaparte, her date of death is unknown. Some say she was still alive when Emile died. She also witnessed many of her friends die under the mockery of justice, including Topino-Lebrun, executed under Bonaparte, or René Vatar, who died in deportation.

Sources: Jean Marc Schiappa Eric Walter Claude Mazaric Pascal Bajou Victor Daline

Sorry if there is any confusion I am a little exhausted at the moment

Here are also some links I've made about Gracchus Babeuf, his followers, and the opinions of certain revolutionaries he encountered:

Gracchus Babeuf’s opinion on the storming of the Bastille and the assassination of Foulon: link

Babeuf’s last letter to his family: link

Excerpts from letters and chapters of historians on the break between Babeuf and Fouché: link

Gracchus Babeuf's opinion on Napoleon Bonaparte: link

Relations between Gracchus Babeuf and Jean-Paul Marat: link

Gracchus Babeuf’s position on women’s rights: link

Babeuf’s thoughts on Danton according to Victor Daline: link

Marie-Anne Babeuf’s revolutionary journey: link

The last letter of Babeuf to his friend Felix Le Peletier and his final moments during his execution: link

Mini post on Babeuf’s opinion of Lazare Carnot at the time of his final arrest, which led to his execution: link

Opinion on Babeuf about Robespierre: link

(In addition to this post, which also touches on the Hébertist Babouvists who were Babeuf’s friends, but they didn’t like Robespierre).

Emile Babeuf and the letter he sent to Lazare Carnot during the Hundred Days: link

On the allies of Gracchus Babeuf:

The life of Antonelle: link

The life of Topino-Lebrun according to Claude Mazaric: link

This post is mostly a request for information on a letter from Felix Le Peletier, but you’ll find a link (unfortunately in French, sorry for those who don’t speak the language) to a study on Felix Le Peletier's life: link

The Affair of the Grenelle Camp: link

[writing-intheundercroft]

20 Qs for fic writers

thank you for tagging me @pluviowriting my fellow toe <3

How many works do you have on AO3? 13

What's your total AO3 word count? - 353,267

What fandoms do you write for? - Hogwarts Legacy but ya girl is starting to dip her toes into other fandoms like Stardew Valley and Ninth House

Top five fics by kudos? - Your Ivy Grows (My Ominis fic, I promise I'll be back for you baby) When We're Older (my Sebastian longfic that is ALMOST DONE) You're Gonna Go Far (Modern AU Ominis) Tis the Damn Season (Garreth Weasley hehe) and The Night Shift (Auror!Seb)

Do you respond to comments? - I try not to go on AO3 every day because I fall into a dark hole of feeling like I'm not writing fast enough. Some comments fall through the cracks if I'm not checking every day but for the most part I do try!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? - Of my published fics, it's currently Bite The Hand (Auror!Seb prologue).

What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? - Either Auror!Seb or You're Gonna Go Far but I promise all of my fics are happily ever afters

Do you get hate on fics? - I have not! and plz don't start

Do you write smut? - my autocorrect changes anything that ends in -ock to COCK so you tell me

Craziest crossover? - House of the Dragon and Hogwarts Legacy (simping over Knight!Sebastian right now)

Have you ever had a fic stolen? - No, and I hope to never!

Have you ever had a fic translated? - I have not but that would be so cool

Have you ever co-written a fic before? - My Modern AU Dad! Sebastian is practically a co-written fic because you hoes keep giving me such amazing ideas

All time favorite ship - Sebastian Sallow x Theo Caulfield duh

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? - Priest!Ominis is one of my most diabolical and sad drafts I've ever written but also one of my favorites

What are your writing strengths? - Tender smut and soft Sebastian. I was also an english major and wrote for a zine in college (jfc did I just say zine) so I feel like I'm pretty good at editing.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? - I wish I could write in another language; I studied french in college but I am pitiful at it in duolingo

First fandom you wrote in? - HP, THG, and the Jonas Brothers (I pulled a muscle in my face cringing at this because its aging me)

Favorite fic you've written? - When We're Older because Theo is my baby and I love her but also In a World of Boys, He's a Gentleman because Leander needs love too

No twentieth question but following suit - thanks to the HL fandom for consistently inspiring me to write. This was my first foray into a fandom, and I've met such amazing people and really came out of my shell in the last year. Ily <3

No pressure tags to some of my favorite writers out there: @blueraineshadows @slytherizz @intotheseas @legacygirlingreen

[popculturebuffet]

Monthly Muppets Madness: Sammy J and Randy in Bin Night (Comissoin for WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy muppety faces and welcome back to Monthly Muppets! My look at all things muppet, from the troupe themselves, to other works by jim henson to the many things inspired by his fine work.

And tonight is bin night as we look at the australian comedy duo of Sammy J and Randy Feltface and their 2012 special Bin Night. I first found out about this duo after Kev had found out about this duo from Lachey V, another long time patron on this blog, and wanted me to cover their show Ricketts Lane, which looks delightfully insane in the vein of british comedies like The Mighty boosh or Snuffbox. Sadly so far we haven't been able to find it anywhere in the us and attempts to rip it off Lachey's dvd's didn't quite work. So while I fully intend to cover Rickett's Lane at some point, for now we're doing Bin Night to still give these boys the spotlight.

The Duo's origin seem simple enough: Randy came from Heath McIvor's long time love of puppetry, having according to wikipedia been practicing since the tender age of 13. McIvor was tasked by a friend to do a show called "what is bullying to you" and needing a third puppet that could be unisex, Randy was born. While the show didn't go off well, McIvor liked the puppet and started performing with him, picking up steam.

He eventually met Sammy J when the two were double billed and they hit it off, soon becoming a double act. Nowadays the two aren't performing together as Randy has moved here to the US and Sammy is still in austrilia doing a show on ABC, but it's clear if the two wanted to get back together they could and it dosen't seem like any big split happened. They simply had other stuff they wanted to do and parted ways. I'm defintely up to look at Randy's solo material eventaully if anyone's intrested

For now we're looking at bin night. Bin Night has a very simple premise: Sammy J and Randy have someone sneaking their bags into their trash bins, and have decide to stake it out. various other nonsense insues including a feast, living shovels, murder, furry cosplay, and trips to machu pichu. You can find out about it all under the cut.

So the setup I mentiond is simple as is the set for this one: i'ts just the duo's yard, their house, and the bin. There's plenty of other props, backup dancers for the feast song, and what have you but it's a scaled down two man show almost entirely focused on these two idiots attempts to make it through the night.

Luckily Sammy J and Randy are strong characters; Sammy J is a tight ass, putting most of his faith in overcomplicated plans that have to go to the letter and annoy randy at how long they take. Randy meanwhile is a bit more loosey goosey and impuslive, the kind of guy who'd gladly sneak into a musuem benifit next to the building he's been peeing on to bum free food.

Sammy J drives most of the plot but it works well. Not only is the contrast of the muppet being the sane one of the two great, but Sammy takes your usual straight man to hilariously up his own ass lengths that lead to Randy barely parsing what he's doing. For instance Sammy J had a security system installed and insists it's state of the art and great.. despite all it's acomplished so far being accusing Randy of being a pedophile due to how the system SHOUTS "alert alert pedophile" for reasons, getting him arrested for trying to get into his own house, and getting him on the sex offenders registry. Not only that you have to close the door JUST RIGHT or your locked out, which naturally happens to our heroes. It's a joke that could easily fall or simply lean on being "lol pedophile".. but just keeps escalting and keeps working due to relatablity: we've seen tons of security system gags and i've had plenty of technology fail and plenty of people assume an overcomplicated system for their house is more resonable than removing it.

The lock out is also bad due to my faviorite gag of the special: the feast. The boys sing an entire song about Sammy J cooking them up a feast. Why he choose feast night to be stakeout night I don't know. And fitting the character he can't even have THAT be simple, forcing Randy to fast for 6 days to properly enjoy it and just.. not admitting he fucked up at any point, preferring to wait on the line to get support instead of I dunno, throwing a rock in his own window. The backup dancers, who get rudely dismissed and the chef's hat are just delightful.

The special has plenty of delightful stage florishes too: they go through their suspect list by having Randy's pupeteer dress up as each one , turning off the lights and using spotlights to simulate a camera flash while Sammy narrates them. My faviorite is the local family man from the family everyone hates whose hobbies include "Cheating on his wife and when not cheating on his wife football, darts and cheating on his wife" We also get extra puppets including a shovel and a pizza box. This show was low budget but you can tell they stretched every dollar they had and it paid off, both being skilled at muppetry. It's an ingenious use of stage and budget.

The pizza box comes about because the two consider odering pizza but Sammy's refusal to bend on waiting on hold sadly scuppers that plan. It does lead to a new one as Sammy, being the draconian howard moonian prick he is, threw away a nut loaf Randy tried to sneak in. Problem is BOTH are hiding things from each other, so they don't want to open it. We also get a great gag on Sammy pointing out on how "father time tops up people's life juice." and how he just says "Well that's it isn't it" when confronted with a good rebuttal.

Naturally the second Sammy J leaves Randy gets in the bin and finds BETRYAl: he'd been waiting to hear back from a woman he liked who was in machu piccu and Sammy J sent the letter away.. then wacks him with a shovel. Then decides wether to bury him or.. dis...dismember the corpse? And he chooses the latter?

Yeah we get full on muppet mutilation here complete with the bloody head of randy feltface. Sammy does capture the bin burglaar but as a ressurected Randy explains (Father time does indeed top off life juice), their kinjdly neighbor was a drug kingpin and he neded the money to get to machu picu. HE was in on the bin stuff this whole time. So the two decide to go to macu picu, Randy to find his lost love, and Sammy because "third wheel?".. and because he'll pay for Randy's passport. They miss her by 45 minutes but they had fun.

As you can probably gather this special was both hard to write about, as it's a fairly simple stage show more reliant on letting gags fly and insane. It seemed pretty mundane at first but just..e sclates as it goes and it's beautiful the whole time. Just about every bit they set up pays off some how. They also make out at one point, so they at least got to the point faster than the mighty boosh ever did.

Sammy J and Randy in Bin Night.. is a lot of fun and I recommend it wholeheardtly. These two comics clearly get how to take the muppet style of nonsense and translate it to adult humor without having ot scream

There's a lot of impressive puppets, fun gags and great character work nestled in this special and it was well worth the hour it took to watch it. You can find the special on youtube if your curious. I only wahnt to dig into MORE of these guys work, both as a duo and riding solo, after this magnificent special: it's fun, breezy and a nice mix of the muppets and the mighty boosh. Check it out if you haven't and check your bins. You never know when people will hide drug money or letters int here.

[klmwrites]

Here is the 2nd and final deleted scene from my recently completed fic: When Generation X met Z! Please enjoy 😊

1st deleted scene

DELETED SCENE #2: Lokun's fight with the council (placeholder title) - from When Generation X met Z

“Dooku has defected.”

The woman who was pacing in the middle of the council chambers stopped. 

“I’m sorry?” She then looked towards Obi-Wan first, but when the ginger averted his eyes she made eye contact with the Grandmaster for confirmation on those words. And when he nodded, she froze. How? When did this happen?

“We received visual confirmation of various representatives from Separatist planets landing in Serenno not too long ago, and Dooku welcoming them with open arms.” As he spoke, Mace Windu removed a hologram from his pocket and proceeded to play a holo recording of just that. Indeed, the footage was undeniable - the woman saw Dooku’s signature red and black cape fluttering in the wind as he shook the hands of each representative and ushered them through the double doors of castle Serenno. 

The woman narrowed her eyes. “How long ago was this?”

“A week.”

The woman exhaled through her nose sharply, mastering her best neutral face before turning to face Master Yoda. “Send me to Serenno. I’ll uncover the truth of the situation and report back to the council.”

“Strong faith you still have, for my old padawan.” Yoda observed. “Admire your tenacity, I do. But no longer the man you knew, Count Dooku is. Sending you to Serenno, suicide it will be.”

“Suicide?” the woman asked, intrigued by the Grandmaster’s choice of words. “And why is that? I am a Jedi Knight, and a fully trained espionage agent. I can handle myself.”

“We do not doubt your abilities Ashleigh. That’s not why we are hesitant, rather it’s due to our lack of intelligence on Serennian soil and its defences.” Obi-Wan now spoke up, trying to soften Master Yoda’s words. But Lokun was having none of it. 

"What difference would it make if someone else was sent out? Doing so would also mean certain death for them!”

“We are not sending anyone out to Serenno.” Master Windu’s stern voice cut through the ever so rising tension in the room like a knife. “Serenno is deeply entrenched in Separatist territory, and at present shows little to no regular military activity. It is off limits until we can find out more information about the place.”

“And how in the name of the force are we going to do just that if we are not even going to consider breaching into enemy territory? Information doesn’t just come preloaded into the council’s holocomms, you know!”

“Lokun!” Windu barked back - a feat done so rarely on the part of the older man that it even took his colleagues by surprise. “The decision is final.” Lokun remained rooted to the spot, fists clenched tightly till her nails formed half crescent indentations into her skin. Her head was now bowed downwards - in disappointment or fury was anyone’s guess - and took deep breaths. Anger swirled around the Jedi Knight like a fumes, and like a hungry fire licked the very recesses of her mind, tempting her to open the floodgates she had kept sealed her entire young adult life until now: the temptation to tap into the dark side. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She made a promise - and promises were sacred. Master Katri had taught her this ever since she was a junior padawan, and that breaking one’s promise is a telltale sign of a distrustful person. Distrust is not the Jedi way.

Truth is, Lokun had tapped into the dark side at a really early age. At the tender age of 13, she had tapped so deeply into the dark side that she had managed to conjure force lighting. Watching the streaks of crackling, pure energy shoot out from her fingertips and target her opponent was quite the experience - one that put her in an unconscious state for half a day. Since then, Master Katri had made it her duty to teach her padawan how to contain her anger for which Lokun was grateful. Against all odds; against the naysayers that came in the form of Senior Jedi Masters and even some members of the Council, Katri remained adamant on keeping Lokun as her student. And in a surprising turn of events, Master Yoda publicly backed Katri's decision.

Since that day, Lokun was determined to uphold the Jedi code to the best of her ability - in honour of her late master’s memory. And we weren't about to break that streak now. 

When Lokun looked up once more, she was met with a half observant, half knowing look from Yoda. 

“Want to know why paired you with Dooku, I did?” This question caught the woman off guard, as did the other councillors. Some were leaning forward in their seats, all attention on the little green troll.

“If that is possible, yes.”

Yoda snorted good naturedly. “Paired you with Dooku I did, was to curb his draw to the dark side. Always learning, we Jedi are, therefore though a padawan takes instructions from their Master, the Master should learn from their padawans as well. Learn to contain the dark side since your Initiate days, you have. Hoped Dooku could have learnt from you in that regard, I did.” The Grandmaster sighed. “Too arrogant and self-centred, Dooku had become. More cynical, Qui-Gon’s death made him with the Order.” He now looked towards her, in which Lokun was prepared to swear she saw tears glisten in those big, wise eyes of his. “Failed my old padawan, I have. Failed to look out for the signs, I did.”

The room was silent at the Grandmaster’s confession, each taking in Master Yoda’s words in their own way. Lokun’s heart shattered for Master Yoda, for she of all people knew how it felt to have disappointed others; to be a disappointment when you were expected to be at the pinnacle of things. 

“Master.” The woman now stepped forward and knelt before the green figure. “You have not failed. My Master Yan Dooku was a good man, a good jedi. A man who was excellent in his sabre skills as he was in his mental prowess. He moulded me into the person I am today, and if not for his tutelage i would still be stumbling over my own feet every time I wield my sabre; I would not have been encouraged to pick up Jar’kai, nor would I have had the skills of negotiation that we as an organisation seem to be lacking.” Lokun smiled at the memory of Dooku using the training sabre to swipe her feet the first time they met - how frustrated she was at him back then! “People change, such is the nature of things. After a certain stage, a Master cannot be blamed for the actions of his padawan; such is the necessity of accountability and the understanding of agency.” 

Lokun stood up and gave a sweeping glance towards the rest of the council: Some were looking at her with admiration(Obi-Wan), others with scepticism (Mace Windu). She powered on nevertheless. “Why Dooku defected I do not know. Though I was his padawan, Dooku had always been a private man. I was not made privy to his inner thoughts or feelings throughout my padawanship with him, and such status quo remained long after I was knighted. But what I do know is this: the man defected for a reason. He made his bed, and he is prepared to lay in it in the long run. What I simply wish to know is what motivated him to do so and why.”

Yoda nodded. “Misjudged you, I have. Alot about reading people, I wish I learnt from Dooku.” the green troll chuckled at the hypocrisy of his own words, before giving a discreet glance towards Master Windu, who simply raised an eyebrow. “One observation about you, Dooku made. Told me, he did. And after listening to you, right he is.”

Lokun raised both eyebrows in curiosity. The Grandmaster now hesitated slightly, as if contemplating if what he was about to say was appropriate in the given setting. 

“Little value for your own life, you hold. Onto a higher goal you cling to, so as to feel a sense of satisfaction and purpose.” Yoda’s tone softened, as did his voice. “Always available I am, if you need someone to talk to.”

Normally, most people would feel a sense of relief when being assured by the Grandmaster of the jedi order, but for Lokun it created an opposite effect. She felt disgusted. 

“Excuse me.” And with those words she turned abruptly and left the chambers, leaving behind a worried Master Yoda, a concerned Obi-Wan Kenobi and a frustrated Mace Windu. 

[jeonstellate]

ocean waves & faded dreams — shore xii

johan comes back to borrow a jacket from sergeant barnes.

⚝༄ platonic!bucky barnes x original character (ft. platonic!tony stark x original character)

⚝༄ mentions of murder, kidnapping, human experimentation, torture, memory wipe, & brainwashing

⚝༄ paragraph format — 1.1K words

masterlist | ow&fd masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

⚝༄ think everything in bold is in russian.

⚝༄ kinda crazy how the og ver only had 5 parts w ~5k words, but this one ended up w 13 parts && ~14k words. woa. this had been a wild ride, so thank you sm for reading! :]

The Avengers collapsed on the nearest furnitures as soon as they came back to reality. None of them noticed that barely any time had passed in the real world, even after they viewed years’ worth of memories. They were all exhausted, mental-wise, with the amount of information thrown at them seemingly all at once.

Johan Collins was the daughter of Dawn Collins, a disinherited heiress of a multimillionaire company. Her mother was murdered in front of her at the tender age of four. She was kidnapped by the same HYDRA agents that killed her mother and left in the care of Dr. Wilhelm Fischer.

Johan, presumably soon after her first memory wipe, was permanently housed in a HYDRA base. The experimentations and torture she went through worsened the longer she stayed in their mercy. She became more and more inhuman: without memories of her previous life, without emotions, and without compassion for others’ lives. HYDRA, for an unspecified reason, also replaced her flesh hands with bionic ones.

Johan befriended the Winter Soldier, the deadliest assassin there ever was, and even bestowed him a less terrifying nickname: Win. Despite the presumably frequent memory wipes and brainwashing they went through, she and her fellow assassin remained close nonetheless. The silver of humanity left within them was highly dependent on the other, especially if one was stripped off of their memories suddenly.

But perhaps, the most curious of all was Johan’s unyielding longing for the father she hadn’t met. And her apparent relation to the late genius inventor Howard Stark.

Everyone turned their attention to their resident genius. They didn’t have to confer, all understanding that there was only one plausible way for the kid assassin to be a direct descendant of the co-S.H.I.E.L.D. founder.

‘Stark’ was in English because it was name.

‘Stark’ was part of Riptide’s trigger because HYDRA was amused by the irony. A Stark by blood fighting for the enemies of her forebears with the mere mention of her own name.

Clever. Stark. Orphan.

Someone suddenly cleared their throat, effectively interrupting the trains of thought from leaving the station.

Not expecting anyone else to be in the room with them at this hour of night, the heroes all turned at the exact same second. And there, standing in the entryway, was the person they least expected to see.

It was none other than Johan Collins herself.

"Win— Sergeant Barnes." Before Agent Collins left, she asked the Avengers — particularly Steve — if she could keep the Captain America pajamas Natasha and Wanda dressed her in. When she left with Detective Jessica Jones with them still on, they all just naturally assumed she would go out in public with it. However, she apparently changed out of them sometime between then and now.

"You okay, Johan?" Bucky was seemingly unfazed by her sudden reappearance. Nor by her deliberate choice to address him directly without verbally acknowledging the others.

Johan briefly looked down to her new outfit. "I’m okay . . . physically." Her change of clothes was a short-sleeved romper, which put the scars on her arms and legs in display. Purely based on her body language, she didn’t appear to be uncomfortable with it — as if she was used to having majority of her scars out whenever she wasn’t in her S.H.I.E.L.D. gear. "I just need to borrow a jacket."

Bucky immediately moved to procure the jacket he hanged on the couch’s armrest when he arrived back. "Of course. It must be cold out."

"It is, but that’s not why I need a jacket for." They all saw her eyes swift over the room, presumably analyzing who was in the scene. "It helps if I physically feel lighter after an episode, but I don’t want people to call CPS on Jess." She moved her arms and legs slightly as if she was showcasing them to prove her point.

"Right. We can’t have that." The rest of the team watched closely in the sidelines as the two assassins conversed. As such, they were quick to notice the playful look that suddenly appeared at the corner of his eyes. "You know, you can always come live with me if ever that happens."

Johan had no problem catching his drift, reminding them once more how close they were. "Please," she playfully glared at him, "we’re a disaster waiting to happen together."

"What— We work well together," he faked offense. "Remember Romania?"

"You mean the mission where you— Win went all protective dad mode?" She scoffed softly, amused. Everyone noticed her effort to differentiate between the person she grew up with and the one currently standing before her, at least in terms of the address. "It wasn’t in his mission to be protective of me."

"It wasn’t," Bucky agreed, "but it was mine."

A ghost of a smile suddenly appeared at the corner of her lips. However, as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared just as quick. It must’ve been a trick of the light.

Johan put on the leather jacket as soon as he handed it over. "Thank you." She looked back up to him after she finished adjusting its fit on her shoulders, "Not just for the jacket. For the star rubber band, too, and . . . for sharing your humanity with me."

"It was a two-way street."

Whatever sentimental mood was building in the air dissipated in an instant. She shook her head, "It couldn’t’ve been. All I had was a father I never met."

Some of the Avengers tried to decipher her expression. "We lived in ‘what-if’s then, so of course it counted." However, as a well-trained assassin, she only let her feelings be read whenever she wanted others to. And, at the moment, her face was void of any emotion. "Speaking of . . . you’ll meet him soon, wouldn’t you? You’ve asked S.H.I.E.L.D.."

"I’ve asked to see him, not necessarily to be introduced," Johan corrected. "I highly doubt he’d like an unpredictable, amnesiac assassin suffering from PTSD for a daughter."

They froze. Subtly, they all looked at Tony at the corners of their eyes. No one was certain if the echo was intentional in Johan’s part — or if it was the universe itself projecting. Whatever the case was, it still served as an additional confirmation no one really asked for.

Before anyone — including Bucky — could react, she quickly murmured something about how she "should probably go now" because she had already disturbed their day too long.

"Sergeant Barnes," Johan turned back around to give a mock, yet perfectly formed salute, "don’t die."

The Avengers were left watching Johan Collins’ back as she headed toward the elevator. No one registered yet that she never promised to return Bucky’s leather jacket — nor that she would see them around.

As if Johan knew they’d never cross paths again.

[bethanydelleman]

Lady Susan Readthrough Letters 19 & 20

Summary: Lady Susan confirms to her friend that the idea of marrying Sir James made Frederica elope. Lady Susan ridicules her daughter for falling in love with Reginald and is disgusted by her artless way of going about it. She is not too worried, as Reginald doesn't seem to notice.

Sir James shows up uninvited at Churchill! Catherine thinks Lady Susan is pissed off, Frederica is extremely agitated, and Reginald is watching everything with interest. Lady Susan takes Catherine aside and tells her that Frederica is to marry Sir James soon. She talks him up (though Catherine makes her own judgement), and then thanks Catherine for her kindness.

Catherine is unmoved. She thinks Sir James is an idiot and hopes that Frederica will attract Reginald instead. Sir James invites himself to stay a few days.

-+-

Catherine writes, "The girl whose heart can distinguish Reginald De Courcy, deserves, however he may slight her, a better fate than to be Sir James Martin's wife."

This reminded me of this part of Persuasion:

"Lady Russell had only to listen composedly, and wish them happy, but internally her heart revelled in angry pleasure, in pleased contempt, that the man who at twenty-three had seemed to understand somewhat of the value of an Anne Elliot, should, eight years afterwards, be charmed by a Louisa Musgrove." (Ch 13)

This seems like a strange virtue, falling in love with the most worthy person. Love is kind of a random thing but Catherine praises Frederica for falling in love with the right man (has she forgotten that Reginald is the only man present?) and Lady Russell is angry at Wentworth for falling for the wrong girl. This thinking seems to ignore that there may be many different people who are right for you?

This is also a bit of my problem with Fanny & Edmund. Like yes, he is the best man she's met, but she's met like 5 total! Can she have a few more choices before she settles down?

Such was the first distinguished exploit of Miss Frederica Vernon; and, if we consider that it was achieved at the tender age of sixteen, we shall have room for the most flattering prognostics of her future renown.

Again, Lady Susan almost seems proud of Frederica. I wonder if she would love her if they were the same or if she'd be even more threatened by her?

I can only suppose the lady to be governed by the fear of never getting her money

Lol, good call Miss Summers!

To disobey her mother by refusing an unexceptionable offer is not enough; her affections must also be given without her mother’s approbation.

Again, Mansfield Park:

"And you must be aware, Fanny, that it is every young woman’s duty to accept such a very unexceptionable offer as this.” (Ch 33)

I do find it hilarious thought to think that a parent can order a child to fall in love.

Her feelings are tolerably acute, and she is so charmingly artless in their display as to afford the most reasonable hope of her being ridiculous, and despised by every man who sees her.

This statement will be entirely debunked by Catherine Morland, who with the greatest artlessness will manage to marry everyone's dream husband, Henry Tilney.

The poor girl, however, I am sure, dislikes him; and though his person and address are very well, he appears, both to Mr. Vernon and me, a very weak young man.

Catherine pulls no punches.

mixing more frequent laughter with his discourse than the subject required—said many things over and over again, and told Lady Susan three times that he had seen Mrs. Johnson a few evenings before.

He sounds like the male version of Charlotte Palmer.

"When you have the happiness of bestowing your sweet little Catherine, some years hence, on a man who in connection and character is alike unexceptionable, you will know what I feel now; though, thank Heaven, you cannot have all my reasons for rejoicing in such an event. Catherine will be amply provided for, and not, like my Frederica, indebted to a fortunate establishment for the comforts of life.”

Okay, so Lady Susan is not wrong here, Frederica has no fortune (thanks to her mother no doubt) and will need to marry well. I guess the big question is, why is Lady Susan pushing this so hard and why is Frederica so determined against it?

My guess is that Lady Susan's ultimate plan is to leech off her daughter and SIL and drain them dry. Frederica has likely watched her mother do this sort of thing and fears being with a man who is under her mother's power. Or she just really wants Frederica out of her hair. I cannot imagine this move is selfless or rational.

Luckily, Frederica has Catherine fighting on her side!

[mylittlesubtleties]

Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood by Rebecca Wells

Vivi and Jack's Story

Chapter 7

“Then, in walked Jack, Teensy’s brother. He came right into the beauty parlor, where boys never come.

“Hey!” he said, “Brought yall some donuts. Just out of the oven at Mr. Campo’s Bakery. Vivi, I got you a chocolate, like you like.”

That Jack is so sweet. Not sissy-sweet. Just sweet. He is the best pitcher in town. And the way he hits, people call him T-Babe, short for Little Babe because he can slug like Babe Ruth. Jack also plays the Cajun fiddle, but his daddy won’t let him play at home. Mr. Whitman forbids Genevieve to speak Acadian French around him. He says, “Speak English, Genevieve! For God’s sake, speak the King’s English!”

“Yall are a whole lot prettier than Shirley Temple,” Jack said.

Chapter 12

As Sidda bent down to study the photograph, she was startled to see a beautiful young man who was playing a fiddle. Lanky and graceful, he was leaning back against a large tree trunk. His eyes were large and dark, and he had the sensual lips Sidda had ever seen on a man. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of khakis and the expression on his face was one of happy concentration. To his left was a low branch, the kind that old live oaks in the South are known to grow. On the branch sat Vivi at age sixteen. She wore a white peasant blouse, a full skirt, and sandals. Instead of looking at the fiddle player, her head was tilted to the side and slightly down. Her eyes were closed and she was smiling, lost in the music. Whoever had taken the picture had captured a very private moment, and Sidda felt as though she should have asked permission to behold the image.

“No, that’s not my father,” she said, “that’s Jack Whitman. My father never played the fiddle.”

“I don’t know who was behind the camera on this one, but you can tell she loved her subjects,” May said.

Chapter 13

May was correct: the person who snapped the photo of Vivi and Jack on that day 1941 had indeed loved them. Genevieve St. Clair Whitman had captured the image without disturbing the two adolescents. She had snapped it fast and true, and when she advanced the film, she uttered a silent prayer for her son and Vivi Abbott. She did not doubt that the two of them were meant for each other. She had not questioned this since the afternoon she witnessed the two of them sitting in a swing together sometime late in 1938, holding hands, not speaking, swinging in an easy rhythm. She knew her son was born with a well of tenderness that was a curse in his father’s world. Genevieve could not imagine a stronger, more vital girl than Vivi to receive and embrace Jack’s tenderness. Not a women to second-guess her intuition, Genevieve accepted the fact of Jack and Vivi, and she did not stand in their way.

Oh, she had to keep an eye out every now and then. With Vivi constantly at the house, as close to Teensy as any sister, Genevieve had developed a graceful chaperoning – a kind of trust coupled with a few well-timed distractions. Both of them were so busy – Jack with basketball and Vivi with tennis, cheerleading, and the school paper – that she usually didn’t worry. In her prayers, she thanked the Virgin for granting her son love at such an early age.

Chapter 13

Vivi’s head tilted back as Jack kissed her lightly on the neck as they waltzed to “Little Black Eyes.”

“I will always love you, Vivi,” he said. “There is nothing you could ever do that would make me stop loving you.”

The words shot through Vivi’s bones and blood and muscle, and her body relaxed, so that when her feet touched the ground they met the earth differently, as though they had found roots that reached deep down and anchored to something tender and undamaged.

On that late afternoon in 1941, Vivi believed for the first time: There is more that is right with me than there is wrong with me. Jack loves me. He will always love me. To look at Vivi Abbott spinning and smiling, no one on the bayou would have perceived that she had stumbled into love’s seductive offer of bedrock, or how desperate she was to seize it, or how completely she believed that Jack Whitman himself was her terra firma.

With Jack’s love, everything Vivi had not been given could now be made up for. Every reflection of herself that was not mirrored in her mother’s eyes, every curious question her father had not asked, every visitation of the belt on her true-blonde skin could be redeemed. Vivi did not think of these promises on that afternoon with her skirt swirling and her hair swinging, but they curled inside her and attached themselves.

To look at Vivi, it would be difficult to spot the tectonic shift that took place in her that afternoon. But it would render her more vulnerable than a person wants to be.

Chapter 16

Vivi and Jack were sitting in Jack’s 1940 blue-green Buick and LeMoyne’s Hamburger Drive-In. Vivi was leaning against the inside of the passenger door with her feet in Jack’s lap, holding a Dr Pepper bottle in her shaking hand.

After he announced he had enlisted, the first thing she said was, “Why are you leaving me?”

“It’s my responsibility,” he said. “Besides, I want to fly.”

“You’re lying,” she said. “I’ve never even heard you talk about flying.”

Then she sat up straight and hit him hard with her fist. She sucked in her breath and tried to keep from crying. “You don’t want to be a pilot. You just want to impress your father.”

At first Jack did not speak. When he did, he could not look at her. “Mais oui.”

Vivi and Jack and known each other since she was four and he was seven. She had spent at least two nights a week at his family’s home for the past eight years. There was not a lot he could hide from her about his family, even if he’d wanted to. One the other hand, he also knew her well. Knew the unseen marks her mother’s blaming, jealous silence left on her, especially after her sister, Jezie, was born. And he knew the not-so-hidden marks her father’s belt left on her skin.

He looked at her, hoping he could make her understand. “Go to do one thing right for the old fellow, you know?”

Vivi did know, but she didn’t like it, had never liked it. She had always disliked Jack’s father. . . He refused to let Jack be called by his French name, let alone play the Acadian fiddle in his presence.

“There’s one thing right you could do, Jack.” She spoke in a near whisper. “Stay home and love me.”

The back  of Jack’s neck was magnificent to her. She had lived her life flirting with hundreds of boys, and prided herself on having as many dates as she had the stamina for. But the thought of losing Jack made her ache.

“I’m sorry, Bebe,” he said. “It’s already done.”

Vivi closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she could not regain her equilibrium. The dashboard in front of her seemed to undulated slightly; she could not make the objects around her stop moving. It was as if the sliver of fine wire on which her inner balance rested had just been imperceptibly bent. The sensation was vaguely familiar. She closed her eyes again and shook her head in tight, quick, hard little shakes.

“Vivi,” Jack said, reaching for her foot, pulling it slowly back into his lap. “You okay?”

She glanced at him briefly with a look of pure hatred, then turned away.

He began to rub her foot with his hand, a slow, stroking motion. Although she turned away, she could see his hands in her mind. The long, tapered fingers, the short, square nails. Large, graceful hands that knew how to handle a basketball, a fiddle, and her awakening body with gentleness and easy confidence.

“Will you come back?” she asked.

“Are you kidding?! You think I could stay away from you? Of course, I’ll come back.”

“Do you swear to me you will come back?”

He reached over to touch her cheek, but she did not respond. “I promise, Vivi.”

She sat soundless for a moment, perfectly still, staring out. When she turned back to him, she was smiling, her mouth open wide.

“I think I could learn to love a man in uniform,” she said and winked, working hard to sound flirtatious. But there was something in her gaze that was slightly off, as though she had seen something in the brief time she had been turned away from him and could not shake it.

Chapter 16

“When this war is over,” Jack said, stroking her face, “well, would you have me, Vivi?”

This question did not surprise her, and she answered almost casually, sounding utterly sure of herself.

“You are the only man in the world I would ever want to be married to,” she said. “If I can’t marry you, then I’m going to marry the Ya-Yas.”

Jack laughed. He looked into her eyes.

“You could do anything, Vivi Abbott,” Jack said. “You could be anything. Anything you want.”

Chapter 16

For a moment, Viv stopped feeling solid. And then she began a fast free-fall, which carried a shock of impermanence, a panicky jolt of her own temporariness. She clawed to hold on to the moist clouds, to the grand view. She did not want to return to earth.

Vivi thought: With Jack Whitman, my life will be different.

And then Vivi thought: If Jack disappears into the sky, I will shrivel up and die.

Chapter 19

Jack had arrived the afternoon before, home on leave, handsome and tall in his Air Corps uniform, a miracle that he’d been able to come home early for Christmas to celebrate Vivi’s birthday.

The perfect moment of the birthday dance had come just before the band took its first break. To end the set, they played “Deep Purple,” a song both Vivi and Jack loved. In Jack’s embrace, Vivi danced, floating, held safely in the frame of his arms. Her eyes half closed, a tiny smile on her slightly opened mouth, she felt royal. For a moment, the craving to hold on to a moment gave way to simple joy.

Chapter 22

Vivi had done her best to reclaim her old life when she returned from Saint Augustine’s. She had tiptoed back onto the tennis court, where her weight loss and exhaustion embarrassed her no end. She had hung out at Bordelon’s Drugs and drunk Coca-Colas with peanuts plunked into the bottles. She wrote Jack cheery letters at least every other day, and she tried to stay out of her mother’s way. Buggy had refused even to speak to her for the first month Vivi was back home, but as the summer passed, things began to return to want passed for normal life in the Abbot home.

Vivi said regular novenas for Jack, and tried to get excited about the other boys she still dated. But even after she began to eat again, to rediscover some of the energy she’d lost, there was something about her that hesitated, that held back, that hedged her bets. Now she did not know exactly when she stepped away from herself. She did not know if she would ever stop feeling tired. She learned to camouflage her exhaustion with a slightly forced vitality. She became a high priestess of self-presentation, and was rewarded for it at every turn. The town of Thornton, Louisiana, extolled self-presentation. It was a sort of religion.

It had been Sunday afternoon, the third week of June, 1943, not long after she’d returned from Saint Augustine’s. Jack was home for a visit before departing from a bomber based somewhere in Europe. Buggy had suggested that the gang come back to the Abbott home that afternoon for some homemade ice cream.

Jack sat in a straight-back chair in the middle of all them, his fiddle in his lap. Not just any fiddle, but the handmade Cajun fiddle his Uncle LeBlanc had made for him when he was nine years old. The fiddle his father forbade him to play inside the house because it smacked of the bayou, of a world unacceptable to the prosperous banker.

Jack’s French fiddle joined with the music of Harry James to break Vivi’s heart in those days. Once, after she’d sprained her ankle on the tennis court and was laid up in bed in the foulest mood, Jack had played under her bedroom window, making her feel like Juliet. Another time, she put him up to playing during a basketball game half-time in the Thornton High gymnasium. There Jack Whitman stood, waving that bow across the strings, his long legs flowing out of his gold-and-blue-satin basketball uniform, his head tossed back with the music, a wide grin sweeping across his face.

And now he was home again, his father’s pride. Never had Vivi seen Jack so contented. His father had bragged about him all week long. Mr. Whitman, in fact, had been the one to arrange several of the parties. His son was going to fly bombing raids over France. Jack was proud that his father was proud.

The sunlight hit Jack’s jet-black hair. His skin was tanned, and he was thinner than usual. Chiseled down to his essence. He tucked his fiddle under his chin and raised his bow. But before beginning to play, he paused. He glanced at Vivi and smiled. Then, for some sweet Jack reason, he looked over at Buggy.

“Madame Abbott,” he said, “how bout I play this little waltz for you?”

It was the most gentlemanly thing Vivi had ever witnessed. As she watched her mother’s face, she understood for the first time that no one – ever – had dedicated a song to Buggy Abbott. She watched as her mother raised her hand to her mouth, shy embarrassed, and utterly delighted.

Then Jack began to play.

[Vivi] could feel the notes enter her and settle deep into her bones. Jack’s notes tumbled over all of them that afternoon, as if there were an endless supply of music somewhere, waiting to be called forth.

As Vivi listened to the music, she glanced at Buggy, and she noticed a smile she had never before seen on her mother’s face. It was a smile of a girl with her own longings, her own pleasures. It was a smile smiled for no one else. . .For that one moment, Vivi saw Buggy as a person. The music and the fading afternoon light and the berries in the yellow bowl and the sun on Jack’s face, Vivi’s own bony body sitting in the swing surrounded by her friends and family, and the expression on her mother’s face – all of this seared Vivi’s heart for an instant, and she was filled with love.

She credited it all to Jack. That is what Jack could do: he could crack her wide open to more love; he could transform the face of her mother.

When the tune ended, everybody clapped. . .But it was Buggy who surprised Vivi most.

She stepped over to Jack and gave him a kiss on the cheek, something she never did, not even with her own children. “Thank you, Jacques,” she said.

Then she took the corner of her apron, wiped her eyes, and resumed cranking the ice-cream freezer.

It was a small thing. Nobody noticed in but Vivi. Even if they had, they might not have thought it special. But Vivi loved her mother for it. On the day Buggy died, almost forty years later, Vivi remembered the kiss her mother had given her beloved on that day and the tear she had wiped away, and she loved her mother for it. She didn’t forgive her mother for never loving her the way she needed, but she loved Buggy for that one kiss.

Chapter 22

As Pete pedaled, she looked straight ahead, and they did not speak. When they reached the bottom of the circular drive that led to Teensy’s house, Vivi felt dizzy.

“Turn around,” she said.

“What?” Pete said, continuing to pedal.

“I said turn around, Pete. I don’t want to go in there.”

Pete stopped pedaling.

Vivi jumped down from the handlebars, her breath coming fast. She could feel herself begin to sweat as though she had been the one pumping the pedals for eight blocks.

“What did you bring me here for?” she asked him, accusing.

“Cause Teensy wants you.”

“I want to know why. Tell me this instant.”

Pete set his bike down on its side. It seemed to Vivi that it took him an inordinately long amount of time to do it, like everything was happening in slow motion. She watched as he walked over and put his hands on her shoulders.

“It's Jack,” he said, the weight of his hands heavy on her shoulders.

Vivi appeared not to have heard. “What did you say?” she asked.

“Genevieve got a telegram,” he said, choking up.

“You’re crazy,” Vivi said, giving a small laugh. “You’re joking.”

“I wish to God I was,” Pete said.

Tears rolled down onto Pete’s cheeks. “You got to listen to me, baby sister. I am not making this up. This is real.”

Vivi stared at their hands. She stared at her tennis racket, which lay on the ground where she had dropped it. She thought of homemade blackberry ice cream and the way Jack’s face looked when he played music. She thought of the touch of his hand on her shoulder when they danced. A long thread of pain entered her through her feet, and worked its way up to her heart, where it knotted, twisting so tightly that Vivi had to drop Pete’s hands and rub her throat in order to continue breathing.

Chapter 23

Teensy sighted, then took a sip out of her drink.

“Do you miss him?” Vivi asked.

“I miss Jack every day of the world,” Teensy said softly. “But not in the way you do. He was my brother. I have spent my life with the man I love.”

“I can still close my eyes and see Jack,” Vivi said. “See him running down the court with the basketball, jumping off that rope swing at Spring Creek. Teensy, I can still see him – I don’t know if you even remember the time at the Gulf when – “

Vivi paused to look away. “God, am I crazy, still carrying on like this? Am I one of those nuts who never get over high school, for Christ’s sake?”

“My brother was your true love, Bebe,” Teensy said.

“Yes,” Vivi said, and took a sip of her bourbon. “And I would still give everything I have to smell his scent one more time before I die.”

--

I wanted to take a moment to highlight Jack and Vivi's story, which is so short and spread out throughout novel. Short, but absolutely heartbreaking and so sweet.

[caremobile]

1/7/2024

.

C.

I got your message -- in most cases I've found that I'd been paying palimony through my company and my ex's don't even have custody and frankly neither do I.

News that you and Mary Ella have decided to live in the Tuscany house at Johns Hopkins is welcoming news --they're givingg me a porche apprantly and the Provost is the driver -due3in part he needs my protection as an SRR Ghurk.

And so do you and Mary Ella. La vida en la grande fin exito luchar par qual quier vivir en paz de la mente silencio --en la issue

no mi obtene mi respeto de mi padre en mi joven escrito con peqeno pocketas --estudiar computense mi amor un torturado missionare

quien madre (step) morir

con ella son joven

Not much was expected of a poor hungry writer studying computers who was engaged to a raped teacher nun!.

I was 5'9 175-180 Lb and in secret-- my grandmother wouldnt let us in the house after our date to the movies nor did she leave a will.

I have a secret -- That was all I needed that was every motivation that that i needed to fight for for my honour and the one I'd marry.C- the question brought to light --what possesses me to fight much larger foes --I am only at this point 6'3.25 177 Lb

Its because she was a nun she was first true love and she was molested and raped and had herpes and chlymedia --and it made a man of me.

As for you -I have three children with you --Justine/ Durrell and Peter

Salazar. Francisco Salazar the Portugues Dictator was my grandfathers best friend who was his Auctioneer/Antiquing partner he gave my grandfather a gift --an 17 th Century French Imperial Vanity Table which was a family heirloom until my grandfather the Ambassador Emilio Dimayuga Bejasa died in 2014.

After my grandmother died of a stroke in Jaffa Israel at the tender age of 42 having had to raise 13 children one died not long after he was born his name was Pee Wee --my grandfather had a new post in Bonne and he met Baroness Monique Von Kleist who made a wonderful Duck Ala Orange.

And they'd go t Operas and Orchestras together she was the sister of Eric Von Kleist the ring leader of Operation Valkery the attempted Assassination of Hitler. Monique was married to a CIA USAF intelligence officer who died in a car crash before she met the Ambassador.

They moved to New York for his new post in the UN where he was also stationed with the World Heallth Organization they lived at 73rd and York in a White Apartment Complex.

My mother and her sister Gina worked at Bank of New York which ws their first job out of Boarding School from Fribourg Switzerland and studied for a time at Hunter.

[randomshyperson]

hiii hope you’re doing well and drinking enough water!!! I’ve got an idea for high school nerdy wanda that I wanna share with you and you feel free to write it or not! so wanda is nerdy, shy and adorable and reader is popular and actually nice and has always been intrigued by wanda. I was listening to drivers license by olivia rodrigo when this idea came to me so, reader probably gives wanda a ride and it becomes their thing and reader is always saying wanda should get her driver’s license and they eventually get together and it’s all cute and fluffy but there’s this blonde girl (for the sake of the song lol) who’s obsessed with reader and always makes wanda nervous and jealous. so when said girl finds out about reader and wanda (let’s just consider this girl the typical most popular girl in school trope) she threatens reader and makes reader break up with wanda and get with her. you decide what the threat would be. maybe something really personal about reader or wanda’s past that would haunt them if people were to find out. but then reader and wanda get back together in the end of course. sorry it’s so long and again you don’t have to write this!!

Hi, honey, is everything alright? I hope so! I had to listen to Drivers Licence One Hour Version to write this, but I liked it haha This song is great for dramatizing a romance I never experienced, and I hope you'll be pleased! By the way, i kept the original drama of the singers (the whole guy was older and stuff)

Happy reading.

Drivers License - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: 13+, Language, mentions of abuse/sexual harassment, bullying, underage kissing.

Words: 2.642K // Read on AO3 too 

You met Wanda Maximoff in your senior year of high school. 

It was raining heavily, and you had stayed late at school to take care of your responsibilities as leader of the athletic team. You figured that at that time there would only be you and the janitor in school, but as you were leaving towards the parking lot, you bumped into someone.

- Damn it, I'm sorry! - you said, looking at the person. It was a girl about your age, but you had never seen her before. She looked away from you immediately, as she bent down to pick up the books you dropped. - Hey, let me help you with that.

You bent down and helped her pick up the books, and when you stood up, you handed them to her with a smile.

- Thank you. - She spoke softly without looking at you. Maybe she was shy, you thought. 

And then you heard thunder and let out an exclamation, an idea occurring to you.

- Hey, are you driving? - you asked gently, and the girl frowned, but denied it with her head. - I can give you a ride, because of the rain.

- Oh, that's okay. No need. - She denied, blushing. You let out a little giggle when a louder thunderclap sounded.

- It's no bother, really. - You said, smiling. - Where do you live?

- On the Sokovia complex.

- Wow, you see? We are practically neighbors. - You reply cheerfully. - I live two streets away from your house.

The girl nods, looking away. You put your hand in your pocket.

- All right then. - She finally agrees, and you smile as you open the door to the parking lot, and walk out in front with her walking slightly behind.

You walk in silence to your car, but when you start the vehicle, you want to talk to her.

- So, what's your name? - you ask gently as you drive in reverse to leave the parking lot.

- Wanda. - She answers in a small voice looking out of the window. - Wanda Maximoff.

- I've never seen you before, Wanda. - You comment, and then you are outside, and the rain makes a loud noise against the car. 

- I'm a first-year. - She says and you let out a sigh of understanding. That' s why you didn't know her, she was a freshman. - But I know you.

You let out a surprised little laugh.

- Oh yeah?

- Everybody knows.

- Is it bad?

She shrugs, smiling slightly. You think you already like her. You then turn on the radio, letting some pop song play softly, and then you start tapping your fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the song. 

- Since you are a first-year, you must not have a driver's license yet, right? - You comment, and Wanda denies it with a grumble.

- I'm only 15. - she says. You stop at a traffic light.

- Why were you in school until now? - you ask curiously.

- It's the best time to be in the library. - She answers, looking at you briefly. 

You are silent again, and then you arrive in the area of the Sokovia residences.

- Hey, Wanda. - You call out to her before she opens the door. - I can drive you to school if you want. - And seeing her surprised expression, you quickly add with amusement. - Just until you get your license.

Wanda smiles, and nods in agreement before leaving. 

It took 160 rides for you to realize that you were in love with Wanda Maximoff. And you thought it was not surprising at all.

From the first time you saw her, you thought she was impressive. And then every day of the week, you had a vision of her half-asleep leaving the house, and greeting you with a smile. You talked about everything, from the most superficial and random things, to your insecurities and fears. You shared your breakfast, and sang songs together. But then you'd get to school, and your friends would surround you, and Wanda would disappear. You only got her back on the way out, when you gave her a ride home.

You didn't say anything about it, and neither did Wanda. It was as if your car was the safe space in your relationship. And you were completely terrified of messing it up.

And then it rained again, but this time your car was in the outside parking lot. You ran to the car through the rain, and when you finally took cover you were soaked. You started laughing the next second, and when you looked at Wanda, you couldn't control yourself. 

- I want to kiss you. - You breathlessly confessed when you stopped laughing, Wanda blinked in surprise, her face red. - Is that all right?

It takes a moment, but she nods. Then you move on the seat toward her, and she meets you halfway. When your mouths meet, you both sigh. It's sweet and tender, and you part, leaving your foreheads together.

- Why did you stop? - She whispered with her eyes closed, making you gasp. And then you kissed her again, this time until the windows were fogged up.

Unfortunately things don't get amazing after that. The routine comes back to you, and then you are overwhelmed with end-of-year tasks. Even though you are completely in love with Wanda, and steal kisses between one ride and the next, you see the distance between you grow. Maybe it's the way you two act like you didn't know each other at school, or how Wanda won't tell you what your friend Sharon Carter was talking to her about the other day at school, or maybe it's the way you don't tell her that Tony Stark made fun of you for weird freshman.

And then things get much worse when you turn eighteen, because your friends start mocking you with the law on their side. And it's hard to concentrate on the good memories with Wanda while they tease and mock, and you want to go back to the car, but you have to smile and nod politely, because that's what they expect of you, and soon you're graduating.

You receive your acceptance letters from the universities, and you want to tell Wanda, but she is traveling with her family, and you are bored. And so you agree to celebrate with your friends who also got their letters, at some bar in town. When you start drinking, it's easy to dance and laugh all night, and when they tease you again, you want to leave, but there is a gentle touch on your shoulder. Sharon hugs you, and tells you that everything will be all right, that you should go out with someone who looks more like you, who is compatible, and when she says lots of sweet words, you want to remember smiles and stolen glances at school and gentle touches in your car, but your head is spinning and you accept her kissing you.

When you wake up, you are wearing no clothes, and there is a hand on your waist. You want to throw up, because even though you and Wanda never made a commitment, you feel the betrayal burning in your bones.

You want to yell at Sharon and tell her to leave, but then she's threatening you, with pictures you don't even remember taking. And when you get back to school, she tells everyone that you two are dating, and you wait for Wanda in the parking lot, but she doesn't show up.

You cry at your graduation, and not from happiness. And when the ceremony is over, you get in your car and drive one last time to Wanda's house, and you cry against the steering wheel. You are 18 now, with a diploma and a girlfriend. This is over, and you have to move on.

In college you meet someone who helps you, her name is Shuri, and after you have spent the whole first year being completely miserable, you have a literature assignment together. When you are going over the details of the presentation, at the third coffee meeting, you cry when you tell her about the photos.

- My girlfriend is blackmailing me. - You whisper, and she looks surprised for a moment, but then she hugs you, and assures you that she will help you.

There are police for a while, and then courts and court orders, and then therapy. You also make new friends now, good friends who don't judge or make fun of you. And then you pay attention in class again, and agree to join the track team. 

You try not to think that there is only one thing missing in your life, because you have no right to disappear and go back to her life, but you can't help it missing her.

But you swallow your feelings, and try to pay attention to the future.

You come home in the fall, and your past comes back to you. You don't think you've ever talked much to your brother about school, but then you find yourself asking. And as he talks, you ask about Wanda.

- Wow, I remember her. - He says. - That girl you used to drive around with, right? - he asks and you nod. - I never understood why Sharon was so mean to her, but I guess it all makes sense now.

You blink in confusion.

- What do you mean?

- I thought you knew that story. - He remarked nonchalantly while you were in the kitchen, he was looking for cookies. - She used to say such bad things to Wanda, as if she was superior to her, you know? I think she acted completely different around you.

Your heart is racing. Confused and angry.

- Why didn't anyone ever tell me this? - You complain and your brother frowns.

- Look, it wasn't anyone's problem. 

- It was my problem. - You retort. - I would have interfered, I liked Wanda!

Your brother is surprised by your outburst, but says no more. You drag your feet out of the kitchen.

You want to scream in anger, or punch Sharon in the face, but it's not mature and there's a court order. So you throw yourself on the bed, sinking your face into the pillow. When you fall asleep, you dream of Wanda.

On your last day at home, you know you shouldn't, but you drive to her house. You think your heart is going to burst out of your chest, but you swallow your nervousness and get out of the car. Wanda is on the porch, with her brother, and she looks surprised to see you. You assume that she didn't want to see you, but when she is close enough, she hugs you around the waist, putting her face into your chest. Your body instantly relaxes. You don't know if you're blushing from the hug, or from her brother's gaze on you, maybe a little of both, you think as you hug her back.

When you two are left alone on her veranda, you apologize for long minutes, because you're just sorry you lost her. But Wanda smiles, and holds your hand. And you are silent for a while, swinging your feet on the rocking chair. And then Wanda giggles.

- I got my driver's license. - She comments, and you let out a surprised and happy exclamation. 

- Let's drive somewhere now. - you say excitedly. Wanda laughs.

- Where?

- Anywhere. - You answer already getting up, pulling her by the hand.

While you are in the car, she tells you that she is going to a university in the south, forty minutes away from yours, and you can't hide your excitement. And then you are turning on the radio and singing along with Wanda loudly as she drives down a highway.

When she drops you off, you exchange numbers, and you know that this time you're not going to let her get away.

You are busy with college. Very busy. But this time, there are messages and video calls from Wanda almost every day. And then she's in college, and she's just as busy as you are. And you start missing her a lot, and your friends comment that you should tell her how you feel.

So you're driving to her dorm, but when you get out of the car, she's arriving, distracted with some books.

You hug her from behind, lifting her slightly in the air, she is startled at first, but as soon as she realizes it's you, she laughs. She turns around quickly, hugging you by the neck, the books are pressed against you, but you don't mind.

- What are you doing here? - she asks with a smile. You think she looks beautiful.

- I miss you. - You say, making her blush. - Can we go somewhere?

Wanda thinks for a moment, but smiles.

- Sure, I just need to leave some notes with my roommate. - She says. - You can visit my dorm.

You nod, escorting her into the dormitory. When you walk in you try not to get too excited. Everything is so organized, even for a college dorm.

Wanda's roommate is not here, so she just leaves her notes on the desk while you admire her polaroid collection.

- Where did you take this one? - you ask, pointing to a photo where Wanda was wearing a sailor costume.

She walked from the table to you, and let her chin rest on your shoulder. 

- At Sam Wilson's birthday party last year. - She answered, looking at the picture. 

- You look nice. - You commented, letting your gaze wander to the other pictures. Then Wanda's hands encircle your waist, in an embrace, and you bite the smile from your lips. - And this one?

You point to a photo where she is with Pietro.

- Halloween. - She answers after a moment. - I think we were on the street outside the house. - You murmur in agreement, looking at the photos, and then Wanda is moving her face. - You smell good.

- Thank you. - You comment, ignoring the fast beating of your heart. And then your gaze catches an interesting photo. - Ulala.

Wanda looks at the photo you are reaching for with your hand, and lets out a sigh, hiding her face behind your back as she laughs.

- Wanda Maximoff in a bikini, world. - You playfully try to look at her, but she just lets go of the hug, hiding her reddened face in her hands.

You raise your hands to her belly, tickling her until she pulls her hands away from her face. And while you're laughing, Wanda tries to push you away, but you hold onto her waist, and you both end up falling onto her bed. 

Your laughter slowly dies down, and you realize that Wanda is on top of you, your faces close together, and you swallow dry.

- I want to kiss you. - She confesses with reddened cheeks. - Is that okay?

You sigh and smile.

- Of course.

She smiles before bringing your lips together. It's as good as you remember, and then you're kissing until you're breathless, and Wanda sits on your lap at some point, and when your hands are on her waist and your fingers are through the fabric, you remember:

- I thought we were leaving. - You play out of breath.

- You're not going anywhere. - She replies with a smile and her lips swollen, before kissing you again.

Many dates happen after that, and two weeks later, you come back late from one of these, and you were planning something beautiful and impressive, but Wanda is smiling as she says goodbye and the words just slip out:

- Will you be my girlfriend?

Wanda blinks in surprise, taking her hand off the doorknob.  And then she smiles, and advances against you, kissing you on the mouth.

-Of course, you idiot. - She says against your lips, kissing you again.

And you are smiling, and kissing. And you don't want to let her out of the car, but you do, knowing that she would come back.

[palettepainter]

I’m dubbing March 6th as Riley’s official birthday! I can’t remember when I first made her ref sheet as I don’t think I uploaded it anywhere other than Twitter, so March 6th is now Riley’s official birthday!

I posted this to my Patreon at the start of the month so thank you to everyone who subscribed to my patreon to see this early it means a lot! I also added some extra notes here that I couldn’t put in the Patreon post, for some reason Patreon didn’t like the name Yuri for some reason as whenever I typed her name out a small message would pop up saying I couldn’t post the drawing. 

Notes:

-Some more info on the genetic cloning method, the method in which Riley was born through: This method of making an offspring is primarily used for parents struggling to have children or for same sex couples. How the process works is the couple have to fill out a lot of paperwork and wait for the approval of the organisation for them to even be allowed onto the cloning program. Tests are then run to see if the couple are mentally and financially stable enough to raise a child; the approval process can take up to a year. When the paperwork is all sorted and the final approval has been given the process can begin. 

At the time of Ectoplasm and Powerloader volunteering, the chances of having healthy offspring were low; many had to be monitored before they could be given over to their families. When Riley was ‘born’ she was very small and had trouble breathing at first, leading to her having to stay at the hospital until she was stronger. Ectoplasm and Higari are informed that the process was successful, but that Riley wasn’t the strongest. But through some miracle, Riley improves, and is able to go home with her new parents

-Riley currently attends Mutsufasa Private Middle School (13 years old) and is one of the top pupils in her class. She’s very smart but her laid back attitude often leads to her not taking tests seriously as she always does well on them. Her true passion is dance and hopes to one day become a professional. This is something she is not confident to talk about with her parents, both being retired pro heroes and teachers Riley feels like she has a lot to live up too and thinks that if she admits her passion for dancing her parents will be disappointed

-Her two closest friends outside of her cousin Hoshi are Tensai Iida (son to Hatsume Mei and Tenya Iida, he was named after his Uncle) and Yuri Todoroki (daughter to Tensai Iida and Fuyumi Todoroki). Tensai and Riley have been practically raised together since they where babies and thus are very close, they make up two halves of one idiot and bond over their shared love of tinkering and video games. Yuri, like Riley, is also one of the top pupils in her class. Yuri and Riley met in primary school when Yuri’s glasses got broken during a small scuffle on the playground, scared and confused Yuri clings to the closest thing for safety: Riley. Riley helps Yuri through the school and playground until the day ends and she can get some more glasses at home - ever since they have remained close. Yuri, despite being a bit of a grouch, is rather protective of Riley knowing she can sometimes be picked on her for teeth, and when alone with Riley and Tensai can be rather sweet

-Riley has a huge sweet tooth, but sadly has a bit of a tender tummy and unintentionally ends up making herself ill when she eats too many sweet things at once. For some reason this doesn't apply to really spicy foods, as Riley can eat spicy food with ease

-Riley is a dinosaur and insect nerd. When she was little she liked to collect snails from the garden and try to bring them inside, her dads of course are able to stop her before she can bring any slimy creatures or creepy crawlies inside. She has a small collection of dinosaur figures in her room which she takes great pride in - this is something that often got her bullying from other girls her age

-Riley hates the dentist and hair dressers and as a child often had to be dragged by her parents when it was time for her dental appointment or her hair needed a trim. Thankfully Riley has pretty much grown out of her fear, but she still doesn't like going

-Riley attends gymnastics club and is very flexible, she does this to keep active as Ectoplasm and Powerloader since Riley was little have encouraged her to attend after school clubs

-Her favorite weather is rain, since being little Riley has been a big fan of puddle jumping and messing about in the mud and this has stuck with her all her life. She has a bad habit of  dragging mud back into the house which often upsets her parents

-She's a big fan of pro hero Centipeder and other pro heroes with mutant quirks

-A big music and dance lover, not much for singing as she gets embarrassed but often dances in the kitchen to music  

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 21 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Unfortunately, a new case couldn’t have come at a worse time for Reader, who’s starting to feel that dysphoria Spencer’s always warning her about. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Adults w/ Age Gap (10yr), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, BDSM, Daddy Kink, D/s relationship, degradation, brief mention of consensual dub-con, aftercare included, Sub Drop! Word Count: 6k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

The television was playing for itself, the sounds only serving as the background soundtrack to Spencer’s lips as he kissed his way down my neck and over my shoulder. I wanted to be angry or annoyed, but each time his mouth met my skin, my body gave in to him.

And when you gave this mouse a cookie, he took everything else with it. Within a single second of my hips rocking back against him as we lay together on the couch, Spencer’s fingers dug into my hip, forcing me against his painfully obvious erection.

“Spencer!” I whined while my hips continued to move with him, “You said you would watch the movie.”

I had known it was a lie when he said it. We both knew it was always going to end like this. But at the same time, I enjoyed teasing him over the fact that out of the two of us that night, he was the one who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

“Then tell me to stop,” he slurred between his kisses that were sure to leave bruises behind. “Tell me that you don’t want me to do this.”

We both also knew there would be no protest from me, and yet Spencer deemed it necessary to continue to shift the odds further in his favor. The same hand that had pulled me to grind against him pushed forward at a torturous pace until it slid into my underwear.

Once the soft whimper left my mouth, he knew he had won. He’d barely even touched me, and I was already a mess. The flashing colors on the LCD in front of me looked just like the backs of my eyelids. I could hardly tell if my eyes were even open anymore.

“How quickly you change your mind when I do this,” Spencer breathed into my ear as he finally slipped a finger inside of me. “I might be flattered if I didn’t know any better.”

It wasn’t the first time we’d had sex since the disaster; it had been a few weeks since, although it had felt like a lifetime. A lifetime that led us back to where we’d begun, wound so tightly together that my mind couldn’t follow his hands or his lips as they traveled wherever they could, memorizing the way each muscle tensed and twitched in response to his ministrations.

“Please, I—“

“Please what?” he ordered, “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“Whatever you want.”

There was nothing else to say. It was, apparently, both the right and the wrong answer. I say that it was right because I felt his cock twitch against my backside, and I heard the way the breath shuddered from his lungs. But it was also wrong, because I could hear his teeth clack shut and grind together as he growled, “Do you know what you’re asking for, little girl?”

I wanted to be a brat— to remind him how well-acquainted I was with his methods, and that he’d really mostly been all bark and no bite— but something in the rough drag of his finger against my walls made me pause.

So, I said nothing. That wasn’t the right answer, either.

Everything about him became more feral with every passing second. His breath fanned against my ear and burned my already heated skin. When he spoke, the words felt similarly laced with a heat and rage that almost seemed foreign, “Do you have any idea how many filthy, disgusting things I’ve dreamed about doing to you while I couldn’t touch you?”

What was I meant to say? My throat was closing around any options, insistent that my mouth could only make mistakes right now. I could hardly coordinate my lips to my mind, let alone say something witty. And Spencer hardly seemed in the mood for my usual bratty behavior.

My mind flashed back to the last time he was like this. At the time, it had been a result of something terrible. But this time? I think it was actually a part of something beautiful. Despite the trouble that had originally led to him shoving my face into the sheets so he could find some relief, I couldn’t deny that it had felt good to be that reprieve for him.

I couldn’t imagine how good it would feel this time, with no hurt between us except the kind I trusted him to administer.

“Tell me,” I whispered.

“I have a better idea,” he answered quick enough for me to question if he had actually read my mind. Removing his fingers suddenly, I swear I heard a laugh as he whispered, “Let me show you.”

My vision rocked as my body flipped, and before I knew it my hands were scrambling to grab something, anything, to regain control of the situation before I tumbled off the couch. But I should have known better; Spencer wasn’t going to let me fall.

Just as my nails dug into the cushions, he dropped his weight onto my back. I struggled to breathe for a number of reasons, including the fact his fingers had once again found their way into my underwear.

“Remember the last time you let me use you?” he chuckled, bringing his other arm up to cage me in even closer. “You looked so fucking pathetic. Shaking and begging, even as I split you open.”

The only thing I could do was whine and wonder how he managed to maneuver the little space between me and the couch. If he was still worried about hurting me, he didn’t make it obvious. Nothing about him was gentle; he was ruthless and insistent in the most satisfying ways. As he ran his finger back over my sex, a groan rumbled through his chest.

“And you pretended like this isn’t what you wanted? You’re a filthy liar. You’re practically dripping, little girl.”

“Please—” I tried to appeal, but he must have heard it in my voice. I didn’t want him to stop any more than he wanted to. And he didn’t. With all the force I knew him capable of, Spencer’s free hand covered the back of my head, which he promptly shoved down against the cushion.

“I don’t want to hear your stupid fucking excuses,” he spat, his words laced with greed and vitriol that made my stomach and heart do flips in my chest. “Give me your safe word right now,” he ordered, “before I change my mind and leave you a disgusting, whimpering mess right here.”

I turned my face just enough to breathe, loving the way the friction felt on my already flushed cheeks. “S-Starship,” I said through a pleased gasp.

“Look at that. You aren’t completely clueless,” he laughed.

There were no words for how it felt to be crushed beneath his weight while his fingers worked inside me. I still couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t want to, either. It was just another reminder that he didn’t need his hand around my neck to take anything away from me. I was helpless to his whims, and in that cage, I’d never felt freer.

Still, his hands managed to switch between doting and domineering, and he almost seemed merciful when he cooed, “So then what’s your excuse for lying to me? For pretending like you weren’t begging me to do this?”

“I don’t have one, sir,” I slurred, my lips dragging on the cushion with every movement. I could hardly focus on that, though, when Spencer’s weight was lifted from my back. My lungs quickly tried to fill with deep, desperate gasps.

“Wrong answer, little girl.”

The oxygen I did manage to bring in left just as fast when he grabbed my hip, lifting my bottom half until my knees were settled on the couch and my arms were bent by my head. Even when he started to tug my pants and underwear down my legs, he kept his other hand thrusting rhythmically between my legs. I could feel how close I was to losing myself completely to him. I didn’t even fight it, letting all the keening cries and whimpers fall from my lips without any hesitation.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” I sobbed, keeping my face down as hard as I could while I started to shake. But then his fingers stopped, slowly dragging out of me and dragging a wet finger down my leg.

“‘Daddy’ isn’t going to get you out of this one,” he growled.

The burning in my body was unbearable. I couldn’t even push myself back against him or appeal to him in any way. His hand splayed over one cheek dug into the skin and I felt the crescent shapes as they dutifully marked my skin. They were followed by the snapping sound of a firm slap against skin.

There would be so many marks, but all I could think of was how I wanted more.

“I’m sorry,” I cried again, trying to look up at him with that pitiful pout he loved to see.

“No,” he corrected, “You think you’re sorry now, but you aren’t. You will be, though.”

There was no other warning, no further preparation for the feeling of him stretching me open. He was kind enough to move slowly at first, although that tenderness was contrasted by the way he left welts in the wake of his hands, which trailed down my back at the same torturous pace.

Once we were entirely connected, he let his hand drift over my jaw, brushing my hair out of my eyes. I couldn’t keep our gazes together for too long. It felt dangerous, like looking directly at a predator. A challenge to his authority.

But where else could I look, if not at him? My eyes immediately fell forward at the reflection of the two of us in the glass panes of the entertainment console. What I saw sent a shiver down my spine as my desire reached impossible heights.

Spencer felt it, too.

“Go ahead and watch yourself,” he said with equal parts cruelty and kindness, “Watch what you make me do to you.”

So I did. I watched the way his hips carefully pulled away just to snap forward again, burying himself in me and eliciting a pained cry from my throat. Each thrust went just like that, with him bottoming out with a small jolt of pain. I couldn’t complain though, not when I saw the way his head fell back and a moan tore through his chest.

He was beautiful like this. Completely unhinged, animalistic, and… different. Every time I’d found myself at the receiving end of his pent up rage, I wondered which of his personas he related to more, the cool collected FBI agent or the sensual and cocky dominant. Or hell, even the awkward, insecure dork he was at his most comfortable. I was sure that my answer changed with the days, but I couldn’t ignore the freedom we both seemed to achieve in moments like this.

“Spencer,” I whined, my legs pressing back against him. I just wanted to feel him all. I wanted to take him in and keep him safe in my arms. But he was in a less than romantic mood, and before his name could fall again, he cut me off.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Daddy,” I corrected. My eyes left the reflection long enough to glance up and spot his cheeky little smirk.

“Good girl,” he praised. The words caused even more pleasure than the rest of him as he continued to fuck me into the couch. “That’s the only word I want to hear from you. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut.”

I tried to nod, but his hand returned to my head, pushing me harder into the cushion. Immediately, my instincts kicked in, causing my whole body to squirm underneath him. It wasn’t that I was necessarily trying to get away from him, but for a brief moment, I struggled to regain some control. But that seemed to only encourage Spencer’s desire to completely dominate every inch of me.

His hands only got tighter and his movements rougher as he sighed, “Enough. I want to enjoy this.”

Eventually, that fight left me. My body settled into the couch and felt the warmth of his thighs pressed against me and the still growing friction of the fabric on my skin. I focused all attention on the way we looked, lost in each other and the bliss we were creating on a dreary Friday night.

I had no idea how much time passed, but it felt like a lifetime that would never be enough. Every inch of me was brimming with love. I could feel it, the tingling covering me like a sheet. With each thrust of his hips, I felt impossibly closer to Spencer.

But the fight started to leave him, too. That darkness had spread between the two of us and dissipated in the process. All that was left was the two of us, tangled together with his movements beginning to falter.

“That’s it, little girl. You’re doing so good,” he groaned, his jaw clenching shut as he tried to fill hungry lungs without stopping. “I’m almost done. Just hold on a little while longer.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I replied, surprised by the tremble in the words. We were both so tired, so ready to fall apart and come back together again in the aftermath.

And that’s exactly what happened. Spencer waited until he felt the telltale tremors right before I peaked. He rubbed the marks he’d left moments before and repeated my name over and over until I was on the brink of tears and something else.

“That’s it, little girl,” he whispered again, “Let go. Daddy’s got you.”

The words were like magic. With just five words, Spencer brought me with him over the edge. He dropped his hand to mine still gripping the couch, holding onto it as his body tensed above me.

I could feel each muscle as it twitched before it calmed. I could feel everything, every point of contact all at once. I felt the way he filled me from inside and dug his teeth into my shoulder. I wanted to take that moment in forever, to never be farther away from him than I was right then.

But we couldn’t. Time rudely continued without our permission, and once he regained his strength, he pulled out of me so gently I had to laugh at the juxtaposition.

“Don’t move yet, beautiful. Stay right here,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss onto my head before he left me shaking and panting on the couch. Thankfully he had the decency and self-preservation to hurry before we made too much of a mess. Lord knows I didn’t want to spend our time together removing any hint of what we’d done in our time alone.

Then again, I did love the way he cared for me after. There was no way to really describe it— the love that was in his touch during the aftercare. I soaked in the pure elation I derived from his adoration, closing my eyes and trusting him to put me back together.

After he’d dressed me and positioned me just like a doll, my eyes finally opened again.

“Does anything hurt?” he asked, already busy working to massage my tired, angry muscles.

“No,” I murmured. I didn’t realize just how tired I was until I could barely get through the word. The panic set in again, and Spencer narrowed his eyes as he sat me up to inspect my face from a closer distance. It seemed silly, though, to look down at him on his knees in front of me right after he’d done everything he could to dominate me.

But then here he was, worshiping and worrying over me.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm, just a bit delirious,” I explained through a yawn.

“I’ll take care of you. Lay down,” he urged as he helped me back down on the couch. When he kissed my forehead that time, I could tell he wasn’t just trying to show me affection.

My suspicions were confirmed when he wordlessly left my side, only to return with a thermometer and a bottle of water. Through laughs, I slurred, “What are you doing?”

“Taking your temperature,” he said like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Sexy.”

He laughed with me, then, although I could tell it didn’t do much for his nerves. “I want to make sure I didn’t aggravate your wound,” he muttered with more guilt than I thought was possible. It broke my heart, to hear him speak through such a pathetic little pout. It was my turn to lay on the praise, although we both knew I’d never be quite as good at it as he was.

“I’m okay, Spencer. Seriously. I’m just tired and…” my words fell off as I tried to put the feeling into words. That comfortable, buzzing blankness that came from only the most powerful catharsis. I ran my fingers over his cheek while I thought, and giggled at the way he pressed harder into my touch. The words came to me so naturally then.

“I’m just thinking about how much I love you.”

With a small nod, Spencer accepted my answer… with some conditions.

“You have to drink a whole bottle of water and give me at least ten kisses before I let you sleep,” he shyly mumbled against my palm that he’d dragged over his mouth.

“You drive a hard bargain, old man,” I whispered, tossing my arms around his shoulders. He caught me before I fell, just like he always did. Together, the two of us stayed twisted up as we stumbled through the halls to my room. I truthfully had no idea how he managed to have any coordination, but I was grateful for it.

Once he had me tucked into the sheets, he took a moment to appreciate the sight before him. I tried to give him something better to look at, but all that I could muster was a dopey smile and a bit of a laugh. He still seemed to appreciate it, nonetheless.

“Stay awake. I’ll be right back,” he instructed, pulling the blankets up around my shoulders one more time before he pointed to the bottle on the bedside. “And drink that water!”

I tried to listen— really, I did— but I mostly ended up almost spilling the water down my chest as I sat up to sip at it. I had to focus all my energy on the first order to stay awake, and I was dangerously close to failing at it when Spencer walked back into the room with a thermos in his hands.

“What’s that?” I laughed, pleasantly surprised by how nice the warm cup felt against my still shaking hands.

“Hot chocolate.”

“…Why?” I mean, it was appreciated, but it was strange. He hadn’t treated me quite so sweetly since the first week I came home from the hospital.

And while I understood he felt guilty, I wasn’t helpless. If anyone looked that way, it was the man who was barely able to coherently reply, “Because you need it.”

“You look exhausted, old man.” Mirroring his previous actions, I covered his forehead with my hand. He didn’t lean into it that time, though. He just slumped into the bed beside me, curling into a ball at my side.

“I really am,” he admitted.

It was a rare thing to hear, and so I wasn’t going to try and convince him to stay up for my sake. I would finish the drink he’d made and simply enjoy the way it felt to have my boyfriend clinging on to me like a magnet.

“Go to sleep,” I basically ordered, following it up with a much nicer, “and let’s sleep in all morning.” Then, deciding that was too nice, I tacked on, “I’ll even let you make me more hot chocolate.”

Spencer’s laughter shook both of our bodies, and I pulled him even closer. Like the few inches would help the sound last longer in my memory.

“How are you feeling? Seriously,” he asked again, looking up at me through half-lidded eyes that barely kept open through his yawn.

“I’m fine. Just like I told you I was.”

“Okay,” he conceded hesitantly, “Tell me if that changes.”

“Promise,” I said, letting my hand run through his hair and enjoying the way his whole body wiggled from the attention. He looked up at me from his position with his head resting against my heart just as the goosebumps spread over his skin.

I almost let him off the hook. I almost let him drift off to sleep then, but that look he flashed me filled me with such an undeniable, uncontrollable love that I couldn’t let him forget the very order he’d given me.

“You owe me more kisses, you know.”

We didn’t keep count, but I was certain we passed ten by the time we both fell asleep.

—————————————————

There was nothing quite like being woken up by the horrible buzzing of Spencer’s phone. I understood that the whole point of having the ringtone and vibration set to be so loud was precisely to be annoying enough that it couldn’t be ignored, but it didn’t mean I had to like it. Especially not that morning.

I barely remembered the night before, still stuck in a sleepy haze, but I was able to recognize that, for whatever reason, his phone was on my side of the bed.

“No! It’s Saturday!” I whined, tossing in the bed so I could throw my arms over him, “That’s not fair!”

“I know. Life isn’t fair,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes and mostly ignoring me as I draped over him. “Give me my phone.”

Glancing back at the offending device, I noticed for the first time just how hard my heart was beating. Not only was it loud in my ears, but it also caused a vague discomfort in my stomach.

“Do you really have to answer?” I asked quietly.

“You know I do,” he responded in that stern tone of voice that never accompanied anything fun. 

I relented, taking his phone gently and handing it to him without another word. He stayed in bed for a second longer, his hand running over his face to try and wipe the exhaustion off. I watched him from my position shrunk under the covers.

When he finally put the phone down, he sighed, “Shit. I have to go.”

Spencer sat up so quickly that my hands that were settled on his stomach slid from their spot before I could try to hold him tighter. The chilly morning air caused goosebumps to burst all over me, but I ignored the chattering of my teeth as I threw my entire body over him.

“Wait!”

To his credit, he didn’t really try to fight it. With another heavy sigh, he dropped his body back onto the bed and closed his eyes. I could feel the annoyance quickly building, but I suppressed the sadness it caused. I tried to stay lighthearted, leaning over him with a soft plea, “Kiss me before you go.”

“I know that voice,” he warned, sitting up and grabbing hold of me. For a split second, I thought I might get what I wanted, but then he just picked me up, plopping me back down onto the bed beside him.

“I don’t have time for this,” he said.

My heart leapt into my throat, and I could feel my pulse just as hard there. It felt like I was suffocating on the words that couldn’t make their way out. In fact, everything about the situation felt bizarre— like there were some invisible high stakes. Like I needed Spencer to look at me and touch me or else I might actually shatter to pieces in my bed.

The bed that he was leaving.

Jumping up from my spot, I threw myself at him for the second time that morning. I caught onto his arm with a heavy enough grip that I almost succeeded in forcibly dragging him back into the bed.  

“Come on! It won’t take that long,” I appealed, my voice growing more frantic with every syllable, “If you’re going to leave for god knows how long, they can wait an extra... 15 minutes!”

There was no pause or sympathy when he replied, “Cut it out.” He just pried my hand off his arm and continued on his way through the rushed version of his morning routine.

“What are they going to do? Leave without you?” I called.

“Yeah, they might.”

I was getting nowhere. I didn’t even really know why I was so persistent, but the only words that were forcing their way through the blockage in my throat were words I didn’t want to say. They were words that made me feel weak and clingy and stupid. I knew he could hear it in my voice, too, although to him I’m sure it sounded more like my normal whining.

“So let them leave,” I mumbled, dragging myself from the bed and padding over to him as he threw on a shirt. “Then we would have plenty more time.”

Spotting my next move in the mirror, Spencer placed a forceful hand on my chest to stop me from wrapping my arms around him. “Stop it, (y/n),” he said slowly and lowly, “I am not playing with you. I don’t have time for this.”

A chill ran down my spine that was immediately replaced with a burning heat in my face. I wasn’t blushing, and I wasn’t angry. It was a terrible, horrible, indescribable feeling. The feeling of being forgotten.

But that wasn’t fair, was it? He was just trying to go to work, so why did I feel so empty? It wouldn’t be the first time the BAU had interrupted our plans.

“I just want to be helpful,” I muttered under my breath.

Spencer had already looked away.  

“Then get back in bed.”

I looked over at the disrupted covers and had the sinking realization that no amount of comfort items would make me feel better. The very idea of returning to his bed without him brought honest to god tears to my eyes.

“B-But if I do that then you’re going to leave me,” I blubbered. I’d never felt more pathetic. My boyfriend was almost at the end of his patience, and my hands were still clinging to his shirt and leaving even more frustrating wrinkles in the fabric.  

“Well, I’m doing that either way, so you might as well not throw a tantrum.”

He wasn’t wrong. If I’d taken a step back and looked at myself, I would have seen how ridiculous I was being. My brain was screaming at me to let him go, to just climb into bed and cry by myself until I got over it. It wouldn’t take that long, right?

But I’d never felt like that before. I’d never wanted to cry like that before.

“Please don’t leave me,” I whispered into the sleeve of his shirt before he gently nudged me away again.

“What?” he said with a tired sigh, “I can’t hear you when you whine like that. Please just get back in bed. I know you’re tired.”

I stared at his profile, recognizing the exhaustion clear in his eyes that could barely stay open. His jaw was clenched shut, and his hands were sluggish. He was tired, and it was all my fault. I’d kept him up taking care of me, and now I was making his morning worse, too.

I didn’t know how to make it better. I didn’t know what to say or do to show him that I appreciated him, but that there was something else inside of me trying to break its way out. It was working, too, as the sadness started to pool in my eyes. I buried my face into his back, my arms wrapping around him and halting his movements again.

It was the last straw for an exhausted, annoyed Spencer. Pulling my arms off him, he finally turned to face me. His hair was still ruffled and his voice crackly from the interrupted sleep.

“What has gotten into you?!” he shouted, unable to control his crankiness any more than I could control what happened next.

“I don’t know!” I yelled.

His eyes went wide as I crumpled forward, sobs taking up all of my breath as I covered his shirt with tears. I clung to him tighter than I had all morning, giving everything to the last attempt to stop him.

“I just really, really don’t want you to leave!”

Spencer became absolutely panicked, his arms wrapping around me faster and tighter than I thought he would be capable of in the current state.

“Oh, little girl,” he cooed, stopping me from falling to the ground with a bit of a chuckle. He clearly didn’t mean to laugh at me, it was more like one of those self-deprecating laughs he gave when he realized how stupid he was being. But he wasn’t being stupid, I was.

So why was he being so nice?

“I didn’t realize, I’m so sorry,” he whispered into my hair. He began gentle strokes along my back while the two of us moved back to the bed. He waited until I stumbled backwards and took my seat before he looked at me.

With all the tenderness he could muster on an early Saturday morning, he swept my messy hair from my face and told me, “I’m not mad at you.”

“What’s wr-wrong with me?” I sniffled and choked, not even bothering to clean my face. His hands were already busy trying to wipe away the tears.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with you.”

I almost believed him. He let out a soft, stuttered breath before he kissed me. Then, as he had before, he kissed me again, and again, and again. He kept laying the tiny pecks all over my lips and cheeks until I was able to flash him a half-hearted smile.

“This is totally normal and it’s going to be okay,” he assured with one final kiss on the lips.

It felt like things were going to be okay when it was just the two of us. But then Spencer looked down at his watch, and the rest of the world joined us in his room. It was too small for everyone to fit.

“I’m going to get you in trouble,” I whined as the tears sprouted anew, “This is so stupid! I’m being so stupid!”

“Stop that. You’re not stupid.”

Then, with perfect timing, that horrible ringing of his phone was all I could hear.

“Shit!” he cursed under his breath, pulling the phone from his pocket. Even though Spencer didn’t point out to me exactly what was happening, it was clear that he thought it was serious enough to consider the one thing he was so dead-set against a few minutes earlier. He looked down at his phone that was still ringing, then back up to me.

“Just go. I’ll be okay,” I said with as much confidence as possible under the circumstances.

It didn’t work. 

“No, you won’t,” he corrected. There was a pang of guilt present in all his features that was only getting worse. Before I knew it, he had his arms around me. “This is my fault, I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s fine,” I laughed, my mind already trying to find a way to shove the sadness down long enough that I could see him off with a smile. “I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.”

Spencer laughed, too, although it was obvious that he didn’t buy my usual act. I’d blame it on the therapy that I’d started to attend, but the truth was he’d noticed my tells long before that. He was just willing to ignore them up to a point. This, clearly, did not qualify.

“No, I’m not doing that to you.”

He didn’t say anything else before he stepped away. He let our fingers linger together until they couldn’t reach anymore. Even that made me miss him, despite him barely standing a few feet away. I figured he didn’t want me to hear the other half of the conversation. So, I just sat there, crossing my legs with my hands between them and trying not to look as embarrassed as I felt.

“Can I—“ he muttered into the receiver. I didn’t meet his eyes, and soon heard him continue more confidently, “I’ll meet you there. I’ll take a commercial flight.”

My body perked up at the implication, and a dopey smile covered my face as I realized just what he was sacrificing for me. But then any sign of happiness was crushed by the guilt that immediately followed. He had shirked off so much of his job for me. I was just always this big, annoying inconvenience. He was important, and I was monopolizing his mind and his time just so he could wipe away my tears.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said before clearing his throat, “And uh, Hotch? I don’t need a room. I’ll get my own. Yeah, everything is fine. I’ll explain when I get there... Alright, bye.”

“What are you do—?” I started the second he hung up the phone, but Spencer shook his head, raising his hand to cut me off.

“Come with me,” he said, rushed and exasperated.

After a brief moment of silence, I laughed. I figured it had to be a joke, or some offer I was always meant to deny. But when he just kept staring expectantly, hopefully, I blubbered back, “W-what?”

“Come with me, on the case,” he repeated with a scrunched up smile, “I want you to come with me.”

“Can you even do that?” I asked cautiously, covering my chest with my arm. I think he could see how badly I wanted to do it, but he had to realize how uncomfortable the request made me at the same time. I mean, how would he explain it to the team? Would he keep me a secret? What was I meant to do while they were working?

Spencer saw the questions rolling through my head. He came back to me, his hands cupping my face and making me look up at him. “I don’t care,” he whispered, “I won’t leave you like this. I can’t do that.”

I inspected his face for a long while. I let the silence settle over us and tried to find a reason to say no. I searched for the courage to say no and the stubbornness I used to have. But then my mind flashed back to the only arguments we’d had. They always revolved around this, around our insistence that we handle things alone.

Why? I reminded myself, I’m not alone. I don’t have to be alone.

So, with a trembling lip, I mumbled, “O-okay.”

“Okay,” he returned. And for a second, the tension melted from him. Closing his eyes, Spencer let out a deep breath and pulled me closer in a small hug that didn’t last long enough. But once it was over, I realized why. He had practically dragged me off the bed by both hands, guiding me over to my closet and pulling out my barely-used suitcase.

“Hurry up and pack a bag for at least five days. Anything you forget we can just get there.”

I nodded, releasing his hands yet again. Except this time, it wasn’t a goodbye. It was something entirely different. It was taking another step into the future with Spencer Reid. It was thrilling and strange and welcome.

Welcome, I repeated in my mind. It wasn’t a word I would have used comfortably before. As I packed my bag, I felt my boyfriend glancing over at me every few seconds. Like he was waiting to see how I assimilated into his life. I found myself hoping that I was passing the test, although I knew this wouldn’t ever be a normal occurrence.

“Are you ready?” he asked. The question brought another heavy feeling into my stomach, but this time it wasn’t necessarily a bad one. I looked down at the suitcase in my hands, and then back up to him.

Am I ready? The question was meant to be about our impromptu trip; I knew that was all he meant. But as I stood there contemplating a future with Spencer Reid, I asked myself if I was ready for a number of things I hadn’t ever seriously considered.

Am I ready? I prompted myself again.

“Yeah,” I said with a relieved sigh, “Yeah, I think I am.”

 —————————————————

| Part 22 |

[lin-nin]

Tribulation & Tenderness - Chapter 1

Ship: Main Technoblade x Reader, some Dream x Reader

Plot: You're a princess in a Kingdom suffering a years long famine. In a desperate attempt to help your people, you accept one simple offer: Marriage to the crown prince of a neighboring kingdom. Anything to help your people survive. Surely it can't be too bad, can it?

Chapter List: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 Disclaimer:   Cross-posted on Wattpad (discontinued) and Ao3. This is based off of everyone's CHARACTERS. I do not write fanfic based off the actual people.

This is a kingdom AU of DreamTeam & SleepyBoisInc’s characters! These are not the real people and I tried to portray them as how their characters are in the SMP as best I could. I took some small liberties to fit this specific plot line. I am also not caught up with the SMP since it is a lot to watch. In all honesty, at time of reading this Jschlatt has only just joined the server in regards to where I’m at.

How am I writing about characters I haven’t even met yet? I know enough vaguely about them to do so.

Also the kingdoms, in the original draft, are not named as I don’t know what to name them yet. This may change later.

Thanks for reading, though!

--

Chapter 1: Betrothal

"What?!" You heaved a sigh at the voice, moving your fingers from your hair as you turned to the rather affronted voice. In front of you stood your childhood friend, Dream. A scowl marred the visible portion of his face, one green eye narrowed at you. His distaste was clear, and you could only sigh again.

"We need to end this famine, Dream. Besides, a convenient marriage is a convenient marriage. I'm the age to marry. I have no one I want to marry. I'll marry who I need to assure the safety and security of my people." It was something so simple. Your people were currently starving, barely managing by. Even the castle and the nobles felt the waves of this. One of the neighboring kingdoms had offered help, but at a hefty price. Your hand in marriage to their crown prince.

"It's just a bad harvest! You can't go there to those warmongering monsters. Have you ever even met them?" His arm flung towards the wall, a vague gesticulation towards the other kingdom. He was right, you had never met someone from there. They had a grim past of war and conquest. Another reason it was convenient for you to go.

"It's been a bad harvest for a few years. While their values may differ from ours, marrying their prince has its perks. It should protect us from war with them, at least while I live." You walked to Dream, lowering his arm gently. A soft but firm hold. "I'll be fine. Besides, I'll be meeting them within the week."

You knew very little of this country, truly. They had differing reputation. The men called them monsters, while older soldiers said they were savages on the battlefield. Working women in the village insisted that they were just like any other country, but they at least had an attractive royal family. The servants in the castle seemed to agree with that sentiment. You? You had cause to believe both.

"A week? You- A week?!" Dream stammered in anger, or disbelief. Maybe both. He pushed your hands away from him, turning to pace around your room. Another sigh fell from your lips, eyes traveling from the axe bouncing against his back to the open door. Castle life was resuming as normal. Like their only princess wasn't being carted off soon to some foreign kingdom for marriage. This kingdom would be fine. Your parents were great rulers, and your older brother would be as well. You just worried about your future more than you would admit.

"-unknown kingdom run by fucking brutes, and you're giving me a week with you before I never see you again?!" Dream's rising voice ripped you from your thoughts, gaze finding him again. An enraged green eye focused solely on you, and you could only take a deep breath. He always had a volatile anger.

"You'll see me again, I'm sure. I'll be sure to write,” You soothed softly, offering up what you could only hope was a reassuring smile. There was no telling if it actually did, either. He definitely did seem to calm a little at that, at least. A little wasn’t quite enough though.

“It’s not the same. What am I supposed to do once you’re gone?” He grumbled, looking down at you with a furrowed brow. You resisted the temptation to laugh at the expression and general cluelessness. This wasn’t the time to tease him. He was like a puppy sometimes. 

“I think you’ll manage just fine. You could always go annoy George.” A smile graced your lips at the thought. George was your older brother, crown prince to the kingdom. He and Dream got along fine, thankfully. You were sure that he would keep your friend in check while you were gone. Dream would just have to get over it all once you had left.

“It’s not the same, he has responsibilities to attend to,” He huffed, head shaking.

“As do I. That’s why we’re having this conversation. How about your other friend?” You turned from him, moving about your room. You needed to think about what you would have to bring with you. Which dresses and which jewelry. You didn’t even know what the court was like over there. 

“Maybe. Are you sure you’ll be fine? You’ll come back if something happens?” He was calming down, it seemed. Good. You could do without him being frantic and yelling. It was always exhausting when it got like that. You paused and thought about his words. Would you even be able to come back? You had an inkling of a feeling that once you were married, you’d be stuck there. A white lie for the sanity of your friend wouldn’t hurt.

“Of course I will, Dream. If anything is wrong, you’ll be the first to know. I won’t stay where I’m in danger.” You turned to him, once more offering a soft smile. There was no telling if you were right in your words. Would you return? Would you be safe there? No one knew, and only time would tell.

Next Chapter | >

[faraway-wanderer]

BOOKS BY ASIAN AUTHORS MASTERLIST #stopasianhate

In light of recent events and the growing anti- Asian hate in the US and UK over the course of the pandemic I wanted to put together a masterlist of books by Asian authors. Obviously, it’s not extensive and there are HUNDREDS out there, but supporting art by Asian creators is a way of showing support; read their stories, educate ourselves. It goes without saying that we should all be putting effort into reading stories of POC and by POC because even through fiction we’re learning about different cultures, countries and heritages. So here’s some books to start with by Asian authors!

Here is a link also for resources to educate and petitions to sign (especially if you don’t read haha). It’s important that we educate ourselves and uplift Asian voices right now. Your anti-racism has to include every minority that faces it.

https://anti-asianviolenceresources.carrd.co/

for UK peeps, this is a good read: We may not hear about the anti Asian racism happening here, but it is definitely happening. https://www.harpersbazaar.com/uk/culture/culture-news/a35692226/its-time-we-stopped-downplaying-the-uks-anti-asian-racism/

 THE BOOKS:

·         War Cross- Marie Lu ( the worldbuilding in this is IMMENSE.)

For the millions who log in every day, Warcross isn’t just a game—it’s a way of life. The obsession started ten years ago and its fan base now spans the globe, some eager to escape from reality and others hoping to make a profit. 

·         Star Daughter- Shveta Thakrar

A beautiful story about a girl who is half human and half star, and she must go to the celestial court to try to save her father after he has fallen ill. And before she knows it, she is taking part in a magical competition that she must win!

·         These Violent Delights- Chloe Gong (I told my little sister to read this book yesterday bc she has a thing for a Leo as Romeo- so if you want deadly good looking Romeos, badass Juliet’s and to learn about 1920s Shanghai- this is for you.)

The year is 1926, and Shanghai hums to the tune of debauchery. A blood feud between two gangs runs the streets red, leaving the city helpless in the grip of chaos. A Romeo and Juliet retelling.

·         The Poppy War- R.F Kuang (My fave fantasy series just fyi- it’s soul crushing in the best way. Rebecca Kuang is a god of an author).

A brilliantly imaginative talent makes her exciting debut with this epic historical military fantasy, inspired by the bloody history of China’s twentieth century and filled with treachery and magic, in the tradition of Ken Liu’s Grace of Kings and N.K. Jemisin’s Inheritance Trilogy.

·         Loveboat Taipei-  Abigail Hing Wen  (Really heartwarming and insightful!)

When eighteen-year-old Ever Wong’s parents send her from Ohio to Taiwan to study Mandarin for the summer, she finds herself thrust among the very over-achieving kids her parents have always wanted her to be, including Rick Woo, the Yale-bound prodigy profiled in the Chinese newspapers since they were nine—and her parents’ yardstick for her never-measuring-up life.

·         Sorcerer to the Crown- Zen Cho (if anyone is looking for another Howl’s Moving Castle, look no further than this book)

At his wit’s end, Zacharias Wythe, freed slave, eminently proficient magician, and Sorcerer Royal of the Unnatural Philosophers—one of the most respected organizations throughout all of Britain—ventures to the border of Fairyland to discover why England’s magical stocks are drying up.

·         Emergency Contact- Mary H.K. Choi (very wholesome and fun rom-com!)

For Penny Lee high school was a total nonevent. When she heads to college in Austin, Texas, to learn how to become a writer, it’s seventy-nine miles and a zillion light years away from everything she can’t wait to leave behind.

 ·         Jade City- Fonda Lee (I am reading this currently and can I just say- I think everyone who loves fantasy and blood feuds in a story should read this.)

JADE CITY is a gripping Godfather-esque saga of intergenerational blood feuds, vicious politics, magic, and kungfu. The Kaul family is one of two crime syndicates that control the island of Kekon. It's the only place in the world that produces rare magical jade, which grants those with the right training and heritage superhuman abilities.

 ·         A Pho Love Story- Loan Le

When Dimple Met Rishi meets Ugly Delicious in this funny, smart romantic comedy, in which two Vietnamese-American teens fall in love and must navigate their newfound relationship amid their families’ age-old feud about their competing, neighbouring restaurants.

·         Rebelwing- Andrea Tang

Business is booming for Prudence Wu. A black-market-media smuggler and scholarship student at the prestigious New Columbia Preparatory Academy, Pru is lucky to live in the Barricade Coalition where she is free to study, read, watch, and listen to whatever she wants.

·         Wings of the Locust- Joel Donato Ching Jacob

Tuan escapes his mundane and mediocre existence when he is apprenticed to Muhen, a charming barangay wiseman. But, as he delves deeper into the craft of a mambabarang and its applications in espionage, sabotage and assassination, the young apprentice is overcome by conflicting emotions that cause him to question his new life.

 ·         The Travelling Cat Chronicles- Hiro Arikawa

Sometimes you have to leave behind everything you know to find the place you truly belong...

Nana the cat is on a road trip. He is not sure where he's going or why, but it means that he gets to sit in the front seat of a silver van with his beloved owner, Satoru. 

 ·         Super Fake Love Song- David Yoon

From the bestselling author of Frankly in Love comes a contemporary YA rom-com where a case of mistaken identity kicks off a string of (fake) events that just may lead to (real) love.

  ·         Parachutes- Kelly Yang

Speak enters the world of Gossip Girl in this modern immigrant story from New York Times bestselling author Kelly Yang about two girls navigating wealth, power, friendship, and trauma.

·         The Grace of Kings- Ken Liu ( One of the Time 100 Best Fantasy Books Of All Time!)

Two men rebel together against tyranny—and then become rivals—in this first sweeping book of an epic fantasy series from Ken Liu, recipient of Hugo, Nebula, and World Fantasy awards.

·         Wicked Fox- Kat Cho

A fresh and addictive fantasy-romance set in modern-day Seoul.

 ·         Descendant of the Crane- Joan He

In this shimmering Chinese-inspired fantasy, debut author Joan He introduces a determined and vulnerable young heroine struggling to do right in a world brimming with deception.

 ·         Pachinko- Min Jin Lee

Richly told and profoundly moving, Pachinko is a story of love, sacrifice, ambition, and loyalty. From bustling street markets to the halls of Japan's finest universities to the pachinko parlors of the criminal underworld, Lee's complex and passionate characters--strong, stubborn women, devoted sisters and sons, fathers shaken by moral crisis--survive and thrive against the indifferent arc of history.

·         America is in the Heart- Carlos Bulosan

First published in 1946, this autobiography of the well known Filipino poet describes his boyhood in the Philippines, his voyage to America, and his years of hardship and despair as an itinerant laborer following the harvest trail in the rural West.

 ·         Days of Distraction- Alexandra Chang

A wry, tender portrait of a young woman — finally free to decide her own path, but unsure if she knows herself well enough to choose wisely—from a captivating new literary voice.

·         The Astonishing Colour of After Emily X.R Pan

Alternating between real and magic, past and present, friendship and romance, hope and despair, The Astonishing Color of After is a novel about finding oneself through family history, art, grief, and love. 

·         The Gilded Wolves- Roshani Chokshi

It's 1889. The city is on the cusp of industry and power, and the Exposition Universelle has breathed new life into the streets and dredged up ancient secrets. Here, no one keeps tabs on dark truths better than treasure-hunter and wealthy hotelier Séverin Montagnet-Alarie. When the elite, ever-powerful Order of Babel coerces him to help them on a mission, Séverin is offered a treasure that he never imagined: his true inheritance.

·         When Dimple met Rishi- Sandhya Menon

Dimple and Rishi may think they have each other figured out. But when opposites clash, love works hard to prove itself in the most unexpected ways.

·         On Earth we’re briefly Gorgeous- Ocean Vuong

Poet Ocean Vuong's debut novel is a shattering portrait of a family, a first love, and the redemptive power of storytelling.

·         Fierce Fairytales- Nikita Gill

Complete with beautifully hand-drawn illustrations by Gill herself, Fierce Fairytales is an empowering collection of poems and stories for a new generation.

 BOOKS BEING RELEASED LATER THIS YEAR TO PREORDER:

·         Counting down with you- Tashie Bhuiyan- 4th May

A reserved Bangladeshi teenager has twenty-eight days to make the biggest decision of her life after agreeing to fake date her school’s resident bad boy.

How do you make one month last a lifetime?

·         Gearbreakers- Zoe Hana Mikuta- June 29th

Two girls on opposite sides of a war discover they're fighting for a common purpose--and falling for each other--in Zoe Hana Mikuta's high-octane debut Gearbreakers, perfect for fans of Pacific Rim, Pierce Brown's Red Rising Saga, and Marie Lu's Legend series

·         XOXO- Axie Oh- 13th July

When a relationship means throwing Jenny’s life off the path she’s spent years mapping out, she’ll have to decide once and for all just how much she’s willing to risk for love.

·         She who became the sun- Shelley Parker-Chan- 20th July

Mulan meets The Song of Achilles in Shelley Parker-Chan's She Who Became the Sun, a bold, queer, and lyrical reimagining of the rise of the founding emperor of the Ming Dynasty from an amazing new voice in literary fantasy.

·         Jade Fire Gold- June C.L Tan- October 12th

Two girls on opposite sides of a war discover they're fighting for a common purpose--and falling for each other--in Zoe Hana Mikuta's high-octane debut Gearbreakers, perfect for fans of Pacific Rim, Pierce Brown's Red Rising Saga, and Marie Lu's Legend series

  Keep sharing, signing petitions and donating where you can. The more people who are actively anti-racist, the better. And if your anti-racism doesn’t include the Asian community then go and educate yourself! BLM wasn’t a trend and neither is this. We have to stand up against white supremacy, and racism and stereotypes and we have to support the communities that need our support. Part of that can include cultivating your reading so you’re reading more diversely and challenging any stereotypes western society may have given you.

 Feel free to reblog and add any more recommendations and resources of course!

[kaosketches]

Testing different expressions in some sort of age timeline for the AU cast (and Valentino is absent because space and I’m still fully figuring out how to draw him at a younger age). 

I wanted to focus in ages 10, 13, 17, and 23 (so, at that “age 23″ point, Ellie and Carla are more closer to it because it’s quite less than 2 years before current events in AU... while Riley and Santiago are 4 years older and "wiser”, although that last statement miiight be a bit of a stretch?, but barely look THAT different).

This was also one of those moments where I feel like I forgot how to draw, because some of the sketches look kinda weird to me 😩 .

So... Riley and Ellie’s younger designs are the ones I already had on mind and figured them out much more earlier than the others. My favorite versions of them (besides their adult selves) are still their teens’ version. Like... drawing Riley with longer hair (his hair grows fast) with a headband because of his bangs... or Ellie wearing longer hair when she was in middle school, were the very first things I thought about them as teens, lol.

Then, there were Santiago and Carla, since I had very vague ideas of what to do with them. Santiago, given his curly hair and the fact he wears it longer as an adult, made me think of how he might have looked younger... besides, what a cutie :’) (and later I decided to give him acne as a pre-teen cause why not  😭). It’s very obvious he and his bestie got their respective “glow ups” when high school happened, lol.

Carla, on the other hand, I always had this silly idea of her being the typical girl who always got good grades on Elementary School, but somehow, somehow, started to rebel at the tender age of 13 (when she was vaguely knowing what to do - hence the black nails) and she couldn’t stop there (and she remained a very smart girl with good grades... but she had that “edge” of spice, you know?)

At this point I’m not sure if I will draw all of them in their younger versions besides obvious main OCs, and their respective times when they met their respective long time friends... but I guess it’s my guide about them looking like this?