#also sometimes I think about how in ancient times there were groups of women who would live in devotion to a certain god and I think

[philsbrownquiff]

Do you guys ever think about how we are a small culture and we have created holidays that we celebrate with each other and sometimes people take off work for them and we have traditions and gifts and crafts that we make for each other

[arcadia-of-pluto]

"Pragma(tic) Love" || Xavier (M)

Pragmatic; meaning "dealing with things sensibly and realistically".

Pragma; one of the eight ancient Greek words for love, meaning "an enduring type of love". A passionate and committed form of love.

Paring(s); LADS Xavier x reader

Word count; 12,398 (GEEZ–)

Rating; 18+ for mature and sexual context; and swearing

Themes; childhood friends to lovers, unintentional flirting, reader isn't an idiot (sometimes), dumb humor, inspired by the webtoon "Childhood Friend complex"

Notes; some dumb humor, Xavier being out of character, kissing, poorly written sex (I haven't written smut in so long), vaginal penetration (finger and p), I could've done more but my Tumblr mobile app is lagging at 12k words–

Characters included; Tara, Jenna, Rafayel, Yvonne, Greyson (mentioned), Jeremiah, anyone else is just random names for other characters!

|| a part of the "tropes d'amour" mini-series ||

|| Main Masterlist ||

You are a rather naive and impulsive woman, no one would argue with that. You knew what you wanted and you were never embarrassed to admit that. Always head-strong and never thinking about the consequences of what comes afterward. You have, also, never been in a relationship, but you can remember the first time you really wanted to be in one.

It was a few years back when you were in middle school. Fifteen and highly impressionable. You were staying the night at a friend's house with a couple of other girls and they decided to have a group viewing of some x-rated videos. Even at fifteen, this was something you never thought of so as you watched with a mix of horror and intrigue, your friends eagerly laughed and made different comments about how hot the actions in the videos were. You, however, were more focused on the kissing scenes. You enjoyed how passionate they looked and you wondered if a kiss would be as nice as it looked. To this day, you barely remember the rest of the video. Only the kiss scene that left an impact on you and made you wish for a relationship, just to have a kiss like that.

Though, back in the present day at twenty-one, you had bigger things to worry about. Like college work and the new gossip your friends had every week.

For example, today, you and your group of three other women were all sitting down in a coffee shop, talking about the different guys at your college. “Oh my god, have you seen how hot Rafayel is? We have two of the hottest guys at our college and I don't see how neither of them are dating anyone,” Yvonne says with an over-dramatic sigh as she tilts her head back. “If I'm honest, their hands are what I'm more interested in,” Jenna murmurs under her breath with her chin resting on her hand. “Hands?” You take a look down at your own as you ask and Yvonne slaps her hands down on the table. “You don't know about hand sizes?! If they have big hands they have a big d–” “Yvonne, we'll be kicked out if you're too loud.” Tara puts a finger to her lips as she looks around anxiously.

“Alright, alright.” Yvonne pouts and sits back down. “Anyway, as I was saying, our college has two of the hottest guys I've ever seen. I'm surprised none of them are dating someone. I'd definitely volunteer in a heartbeat.” “So…I was going to ask this earlier, but who's the second guy?” You ask and tilt your head to the side. “Xavier, of course!” Yvonne looks at you as if you're crazy. “You know, the 6 foot something hunk who is in the engineering department?”

Tara covers her mouth with a hand to hide her laughter as your group leaves the café with your drinks in hand. “Xavier? Are you serious?” You scoff with a hand on your hip and your drink out to the side. “Doesn't he give off, like…delinquent vibes or something? You should really have higher standards.” “Y/n…” Yvonne trails off, pointing at something behind you and you raise a brow, “What's wrong? Can't I talk shi–” You feel pressure on the crown of your head and when you look to the side, you see someone dip their head down to take a sip from your straw. “Ugh, this tastes like shit. You're still drinking crap like this?” You spot the silvery-blonde sticking his tongue out in disgust before you groan and hit him on the head.

“Xavier, what have I told you about sneaking up on me!?”

As the two of you yell and pull at each other's hair, Yvonne takes a nervous glance toward Tara. “They…” “They've been friends since childhood,” Tara says with a small laugh, rubbing the back of her neck.

You don't exactly keep it a secret that you're friends with Xavier. The two of you are just from two completely different departments. His being engineering and yours in liberal arts. You did, however, want to start putting some distance between him since no guys approach you. They always assume you're dating Xavier, even if you correct them, so if you ever wanted a relationship you'd have to distance yourself from him…but that's easier said than done since your mothers were friends.

Your mothers were pregnant at the same time, having met during a pregnant yoga class and coincidentally moved in next to each other, so naturally you and Xavier were practically raised together. You’d even go as far as to say he's like a brother to you.

Back in class, you're utterly exhausted. You rake your hand through your hair with a sigh, holding your face in your hands until you feel someone tap your shoulder. You look up, confused, before you smile up at him, “Hey, Rafayel. What's up?” “You seemed a bit upset, so I was gonna ask if you needed help with something,” the purple haired upper-classman says, his head tilting to the side. “Actually…I need some research files for our essay and I don't have nearly enough time to get everything together.” You collect your things and stand up from your chair, “but I'll figure it–”

“You can borrow my USB,” Rafayel offers, slinging his back over his shoulder. “We'll just have to stop by my dorm.” “Really? Thank you so much. You're a life-saver!” you clasp your hands together. Your facial expression looks a lot brighter, compared to a few seconds ago. “Can we go now? I'm really excited to get started on this project.”

The two of you leave your classroom and head off to his dorm. You were done with your classes for today, but you were a little worried you'd be bothering Rafayel during his off time. Though, it doesn't seem that way since he offered to help you and you don't want to overthink anything.

“I'm sorry if it's a bit messy.” He unlocks his door before opening it. A…bit messy was an understatement. His floor is littered with paint tube lids, a few stray clothing items, a colour pencil or two, there's a spot on the rug from a charcoal pencil. It's extremely messy, but it's the room of an artist so you weren't really sure what to expect. As you step deeper into the room, you're unsure of where to sit until Rafayel points to a spot in front of his bed. “You can sit over there. I have a few USBs so it might take a little time to find it.” He chuckles, seemingly unfazed at how dirty his room really is.

You tentatively sit down and hug your knees to your chest as Rafayel sits next to you with a handful of USBs. As he looks through them, your eyes can't help but be drawn toward his hands. His…hands..That reminds you of something. What was Yvonne trying to say earlier?

“If they have big hands, it means they have a big di–” A big…oh.

Rafayel's hands were big…

You pause your train of thought with wide eyes. “Y/n?” The upper-classman asks, waving his hand in front of your face. You blink a few times, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you quickly stand up and grab a random USB. “Thank you so much, Rafayel, but I've got togonowbye!!”

You don't even give him a chance to respond as you run out of his room. You pull out your phone to quickly shoot a few texts to Xavier.

🩷: “HEY I HAVE A QUESTION”

: “ANSER ME”

: “WHAT DOES IT MEAN IF A GUY HAS BIG HANFS??”

:“XAVIER, I SWEAR TO GOS”

Your stupid, dumb, idiot friend isn't responding, so you decide the best thing to do is barge into his house. You take a few labored breaths, having run all the way through his house and to his bedroom door, before you enter without even bothering to knock. It's not like he could be doing something important, right? Nahhh.

The moment you step into his room, you notice two things. One, he had your messages with your profile picture up on his computer monitor…and two, he has his left hand wrapped around his dick.

“Why the hell is my picture on screen!?” You blurt out the first thing you can think of in your panic as you quickly look away with a red face.

“It's not–” Xavier quickly turns away from you before noticing that your picture was, indeed, on his screen. He scrambles to his feet to fix his pants before words spill from his lips, “It's not like that! I was just…getting off and you were getting on my nerves from all your messages and I noticed you had a new profile picture, and I wasn't even looking at your picture when I was doing it anyways!” His face and ears are a deep shade of scarlet, and you shoot him a scrutinizing look.

“Look, I'm not going to judge you but…” Your lip curls up as you can't decide whether you're disgusted or flattered, but the expression quickly leaves your face as you notice his eyes watering. Is he…crying?

“I already said it's not what you think…”

For the first time in forever, your mind was dead silent. You were a little too focused on the redness in his face and the desperation in his eyes. You needed to leave. Now.

“I'll talk to you later, but seriously don't forget to lock the door next time!” You say your words way too fast, almost unable to understand them yourself, and dart out the house as fast as you can. You only stop once you made it to the gate outside, holding a hand to your chest with reddened cheeks. What the hell just happened?

The next day in class, you're beyond zoned out. You're not sure what to think of the whole situation…but you clearly saw it. His…well yeah. You could faintly picture his hand, fingers that could just barely wrap around his girth-

You smack your hands against your cheeks, snapping yourself out of your thoughts. “Jesus, Y/n! Are you okay?” Tara asks with a small laugh, putting a hand on your shoulder. You groan and tilt your head back before quickly turning to face her. “Okay, so I have a…story. Alright? This isn't about me. It's about a uh– a friend.” “Uh-huh…and what happened with this friend?” Tara raises one of her eyebrows as she looks around the classroom.

“Actually, let's have this conversation outside.” She stands up, picking up her bag before she takes your hand.

Once outside, you sit down on a bench and take a deep breath. “Okay so, this friend of mine…she has a friend she's known for a long time and she ended up seeing his..” you trail off, not wanting to say the word, but you have to say something to make any sense, “..his junk. She saw his stuff on accident and there was a photo of her on his screen-”

“Wouldn't it just make sense to apologize and act like nothing happened?” Tara questions, honestly a bit confused since it seems like it would be common sense to just apologize about it. “But my picture was on the screen. Wouldn't that mean he's into me or something?” You don't even notice your slip up and Tara doesn't care since she already knew this story was about you. “It could mean that, but how about you just hear him out and apologize?” The woman rubs her temples. She loves you to death, but sometimes you can be a little dumb.

“I guess I could do that– hold on, I'll be right back!” You spot Xavier in the distance, quickly putting on your bag before you chase after him. “Xavier!” You shout and the silvery-blonde turns to look at you for a moment. Then, he takes off running as well. “Hey, I need to talk to you!” You yell after him, continuing the chase but you were honestly tired at this point. He clearly wasn't slowing down anytime soon. “Why are you running?” You feel sweat dripping down your temple and he shoots the same question back at you, “Why are you running??”

“Because I need to talk to you!” Your breath was coming out in heavy pants and wheezing, so you probably look a bit crazy at this point. “Well I don't!” “Dude, stop–” As you chase after him you bump into another student. His cold brew coffee spilling all over the front of your white t-shirt. You notice Xavier immediately stops in his tracks.

“Damn it–” You curse under your breath before you turn toward the male student, “Hey, I'm sorry about your coffee!” “It's fine, what about your shirt? You could just give me your number and I could get it washed..” His eyes were clearly trained onto the front of your shirt and you made the horrifying realization that your black bra is visible. Suddenly, a bag is pressed against your chest and you feel a hand grab your wrist. Xavier sighs and begins tugging you behind him as he walks, “Let's go.”

“Go where?” You ask, clearly confused and he shakes his head, squeezing his hand around your wrist, “To the sport's center.” “Dude, you're hurting my hand!”

Xavier takes you to the sports center's locker room and is looking through his locker. “So..what're we doing here?” You stand in the corner with his bag still clutched to your chest. You can hear him let out an audible sigh, “Do you want to walk back to your dorm with your shirt like that?” “You could've just let me borrow your bag..” you murmur with a pout, but Xavier runs a hand through his hair, “You can see everything through the back too, idiot.”

“Thanks..” You finally say after a moment of silence before you set his bag on the floor to look at your shirt. You tug at the soaked fabric with a finger, your nose wrinkling up at the cold feeling. You should probably take it off before it gets your bra and skin all sticky..You pull your shirt half over your body, but then pause because you realized you almost took your shirt off with Xavier in the room–

The two of you have been together practically since the womb, so you couldn't even count how many times you bathed together when you were younger. Key word: younger. But now??

“Hey– don't turn around, Xavier. I already took my shirt off.” You sheepishly laugh, keeping your soiled shirt over your chest as you notice his ear tips turning red. “I– why–” But he can't finish his sentence because someone comes into the room. You backpedal into a locker to hide and listen to Xavier tell the other student that he'll put the guy's stuff away. Once he shoos the guy out, you assume he locks the door behind him.

“Y/n, where'd you go?” Xavier calls out as he walks back to where you are and you kick open the locker with an embarrassed smile, “I'm…stuck.” You hold your hands out for help while keeping your legs against your chest. Your so-called friend laughs at your predicament, about to make fun of you, but then his gaze flits from your face to the swell of your breasts. He quickly shakes his head and clears his throat. “Geez, you really are something,” he sighs before grabbing your hand to pull back with all his strength.

“Ouch, Xavier, that shit hurts– woah–!” You're suddenly flying out of the locker and you land on top of Xavier with your hands on either side of his head. Just as you're about to get up, you hear the door knob jiggling and you jerk your body down as if trying to hide. “Oh shit– you locked the door, right, Xavier?” You ask in a panicked whisper, before realizing you could feel heavy breaths against your bare skin. You turn your gaze down and your eyes widen as you see Xavier's face buried in-between your breasts.

You quickly scoot backwards with your hand over your mouth. “I am so sorry, Xavier…”

Your best friend runs a hand down his red face with a long, drawn out sigh. “It's fine! No, really, it's fine.” He waves his hands before he tosses a shirt at your head. “Now, put that shit on.” The shirt smacks you upside the head and a hiss slips from between your teeth. “Well, I take back my apology now.” You murmur under your breath as you pull his shirt over your head. Though your gaze is drawn to his toned stomach. His shirt must've rode up during the fall and he never pulled it back down. That reminds you of something…

When you and Xavier were in middle school, you remember an old classmate joking about the two of you dating. While you both reacted in disgust, you clearly remember Xavier saying he'd never see you as a woman and then when the friend asked, “You never know. What if one day, you start feeling like she is?” Xavier replied with, “If that happens, I'm going to take my balls off. Both of them.” You were clearly disgusted by this and, albeit, a little offended so you spit back a jab of your own, “I’ll shave my head.” “Dude, I put my balls on the line!” He laughs, “You gotta match me. Or else…are you afraid you'd fall for me?” “You son of a bitch!” You grab Xavier by his hair, “You really think I'd fall for you when you find so many ways to piss me off?? The only emotion I feel for you is rage. You hear me!?”

“Y/n?? Yo, earth to Y/n.” Xavier waves a hand in your face and you shake your head before a book, from the shelf you're leaning against, falls to smack you atop the head. You rub your head as you stand up, then you clear your throat and hold your hands behind your back. “Hey Xavier?” “Yeah?” He glances toward you with one brow raised and you sigh, “I wanted to apologize for leaving like that yesterday. It wasn't fair to not hear you out and to make assumptions on my own like that. That’s what I came to tell you.”

After a few moments of silence and a shocked expression from Xavier, you can't take it any more and you start hitting him on the back, “Seriously, what's gotten into us? All this awkwardness between us just doesn't feel right! Let's forget the whole thing and go back to being normal again, yeah?” With each hit, Xavier says an “ouch” but you keep at it with a nervous laugh. “Anyway, bye!! I gotta go work on a project.” You leave him behind with a dumb expression on his face.

Once back in class, you have no time to dwell on everything that happened because you're busy with an animation project. You're working together with Tara, Yvonne, and Jeremiah. You and Tara are animation majors while Yvonne and Jeremiah are in design. “Do you think we can finish this in time?” You groan, tiredly running a hand through your hair before you get back to sketching. The four of you talk amongst yourselves before Yvonne points out, “You're so good with drawings, Y/n…I can only do stick figures. I didn't know we'd be drawing people.”

“Well, I prefer using a pencil.” You yawn, holding a hand up to your mouth. “I'm awful with 3D software.” Your eyes are a bit blurry from all of your yawning and you squint at your drawing. “What did the muscle look like on this arm?” You murmur. Your pencil completely stops its movements as you were suddenly reminded of Xavier's arm trying to push you away and the bright blush on his face from before.

You really need to do something to stop thinking of your best friend like this…but his abs– No, just because he's got chiseled abs and a nice face…and a pretty voice…Stop– He's just your friend. Your childhood, wombhood best friend Xavier.

Maybe…you could go on a group date? No, that probably wouldn't help much, but you could go just to meet new people!

You shoot Yvonne a text from the bathroom saying that you're going back to your dorm and that you want to be included in that group date tomorrow. You try to emphasize that you just want to go as a potential friend, but she's clearly not listening after that.

You weren't really too thrilled when Yvonne had asked you about the group date, when you guys were out shopping for lingerie– she was going on a trip with her boyfriend, Greyson, and knew it was time. Whatever that meant. You had also bought a lingerie set, just a basic dark red set since you thought it was pretty.

Though, you really hope none of the guys would actually see you as a potential romantic partner, because while you wanted to get those images of Xavier out of your head– you really didn't want to lead some poor guy on.

Tomorrow comes sooner than you expected and it's Saturday now. You're sitting in front of a mirror while Tara applies some light makeup to your face. She's only curling your lashes, adding a shade of lip gloss that matches your skin, and maybe some eyeliner. Nothing too dressy since you're just going to meet new people– even if Yvonne doesn’t seem to understand that.

“So, what made you decide to go on this group date? When Yvonne brought it up at the lingerie store, you didn't seem interested.” Tara points out as she styles your hair. “Well…I wanted to expand my social circle–” “Look up, I'm applying mascara,” Tara cuts you off and you pause before looking up. “Like this?” “I take it back– do what you were normally doing!” Tara holds back her laughter and gets back to your makeup.

“But yeah, like I was saying, my life pretty much revolves around my classes and the dorm.” Once Tara is done, you quickly stand up. “Alright, now let's see if I have anything I can wear..” You muse, popping into your closet before stepping out a few minutes later. “Look, am I overdressed?”

Tara's back is to you as she speaks, “Just dress in something casual. It's a group date, afterall–” Though, she goes silent as soon as she notices what you're wearing. “That's…not what you're actually wearing, right?”

You look down at your red flannel button-up and your blue jeans with a frown. “Is it…too dressy?”

“Too dressy? I–...You're right, it is too dressy. Let me make a few changes.” Tara runs a hand down her face before hyping herself up to create a bombshell of an outfit for you.

“Oh my– look at you, girlie!” Irina, a fellow classmate, exclaims as you step down from the bus at your meeting spot. She nudges her friend, Winona, with an elbow as you look down at your scuffed white sneakers, a bit embarrassed by all of the attention. Tara got you all prettied up, having chosen one of your white turtlenecks, one of her black velvet camisoles, her black sling purse, and a checked skirt that Tara had gotten you a few years back as a gift. Your fingers nervously tugging at the hem of your skirt, worrying that it might be too short.

“You look gorgeous! You should wear that skirt more often,” Winona smiles at you, before grabbing your wrist as Irina continues, “The boys are here already, let's go.”

“Oh, right, I don't think Yvonne told you guys, but I'm only here for–” But you can't finish your sentence as you're pulled into the restaurant. Your phone buzzes in your hand and you notice that ‘Jerk’ is calling you– Jerk being Xavier. You hesitate, wanting to answer, but instead you put your phone in your pocket. Any other time, you would’ve answered, but right now it seems a bit rude towards the others.

“Hey guys!” Irina holds up a hand to wave once you walk up to the table that was seating three other people. You didn't recognize any of them, but maybe it would be easier to make friends that way.

“Hey you!” One of the guys says to Irina and she laughs, “What's up? You should know it's an honor to be set up with design students!” “Hey, PE majors are more popular, okay?” “Ah..Hello!” Winona tries to speak up, not wanting to be drowned out of the conversation, while you didn’t really mind it. You, honestly, almost wanted to just back out and leave, but you decide to stick it out because you could make some friends today. “Come, sit. It's nice to meet you!” The second guy motions toward the table with a nice enough smile. While the other two girls go to sit down, you awkwardly lean over with a small wave, “Hi everyone..”

“Woa–” “H-hello!” Two of the guys speak while the last stays silent, but a smile does tug at the corners of his lips. “What're you still standing there for? Come on, sit!” The first guy laughs and that's when you finally sit down.

You learnt that their names were Damian, Mateo, and Caelus. Damian was the PE major who was talking to Irina. Mateo was the second guy and Caelus was the third one.

“So, now that we all know who we are…let's toast!” Damian holds out his shot glass of soju while you stare down at the cup. You've…never had soju before. You sniff the cup before looking up in surprise as someone asks what you were doing. “Come on, let's toast!” Irina laughs, nudging you with her elbow and, honestly, you felt so drained already. You wondered if you could last the rest of this 'date’. You clink your shot glasses together and, while everyone else downs their drink, you sip on yours. But you get a bit nervous when everyone looks at you expectantly, so you toss your head back to finish it off. Hmm…this is actually really good for getting your mind off of certain things.

A few shots and an hour later, you were drunk– having the time of your life, but drunk. Maybe you shouldn't have drank on an empty stomach.

“Here, Y/n, have some water.” Caelus places a glass of water in front of you before saying, “You're in for a terrible hangover otherwise.” “Oh, You're Caelus, right? Thanks!” You grin at him before taking a sip from the cup. After another thirty minutes of playing around and chatting, Caelus was also a little buzzed.

“Can I ask you something? I hope this doesn't sound weird or anything.” Caelus rubs the back of his neck, nervously, with a small laugh. “What is it?” You were, also, still buzzed and excited about having a new friend. “Um..You don't have a boyfriend, do you?”

You blink in surprise. Oh, right. That was the purpose of a blind date, afterall, but you weren't here for that.

“Ah, me? No, why?” You ask, hoping he wasn't going to ask you out because then that would get awkward really quick. “Well…do you know that seriously good looking guy? He's famous on campus.” “uh..you mean Xavier?” Your eyebrows furrow. You weren't sure where this conversation was going. “Yeah, him! I don't know if you know, but you're sort of famous too. You two are always together and frankly, I was shocked because I had always thought you two were a couple.” Caelus admits and you tilt your head to the side.

Seriously? You weren't aware of that, at all. You and Xavier…together? Half of you wants to vehemently deny it, but there's another part that kind of–

“Don't be silly! They've been friends since they were kids.” Irina laughs, slapping her thigh. Her face was so red, she was probably drunk off her ass. “So…you two aren't together?” Caelus turns back to you, an almost hopeful look in his eyes. “We used to hang out since we were practically babies, that's all. We know and have seen everything about each other.” You shake your head before you pass at your last statement.

Seen everything…

Oh.

You slap your hands against your cheeks to pull yourself out of your inappropriate thoughts while Irina and Caelus are both surprised at your sudden actions. You're now hyper aware of other patrons at the restaurant and how they're shaking condiment bottles, and decide that maybe it’s best to pass out drunk. You grab the soju bottle and tilt your head back to finish it off. The bottle clinks against the table and your forehead on the cool wooden smacks down to join the bottle shortly after.

The table felt so nice, compared to how hot your face felt. You could almost fall asleep. Almost, but the phone buzzing in your back skirt-pocket has you drowsily blinking your eyes and you reach back to grab it. Your blurry eyes scan across the contents of your messages;

💛: “pick up the phone”

: “im @ work”

: "lets get some desert after"

Oh right, Xavier did mention to you last week that he was picking up a part time job…Hmph. Guess he's perfectly fine, even after everything that happened. All while you're trying to make new friends and keep your mind off of it. Maybe you're the problem? That's right! You've got to snap out of it and just act normal like he's doing, but…why can't you do that? Ugh, this is annoying.

A sigh escapes your lips and you feel a hand on your head. “Are you alright?” You hear Caelus ask and you glance over at him. “Doesn't your head hurt?” Now that you think about it…yeah, your head does hurt. Inside and out.

“Everyone else went to get some hangover drinks. How is your head? You hit it pretty hard.” Caelus was clearly concerned for you and that would be sweet– if he were the right guy. “I'm not sure..It does sting,” you murmur, body tensing up as you felt Caelus's hand on your shoulder. Huh?

“Still? Let me see.”

Through your blurry eyes, you can see the man moving closer toward you. Or maybe not. You couldn't tell. Once he got close enough to where you could feel his breath on your nose, the loud clank of a bottle slamming against the table causes Caelus to jerk back. You curiously turn your head to the side, eyes widening because you've got to be seeing things. Right?

“Here are the two beers you ordered.” Xavier and he seems…angry? Upset? Hmm, so this is where he's working.

“Pretty…” You don't even realize you spoke out loud as you drunkenly meet his pretty blue eyes.

“Ah,” Irina exclaims as she stretches her arms up in the air, “That was such a good stroll. I feel so much better…I wonder if Y/n is okay, she had a lot to drink.” “Huh–” Winona quickly taps Irina on the shoulder, “Isn't that Xavier?”

You were still in a daze with your head on the table, but you snapped out of it and sat up so quickly that you felt dizzy. Did you just call Xavier pretty? You really hope you're hallucinating right now. It seems like you still have to get your act together. You look down at the table, contemplating hitting it again to knock some sense into yourself. You close your eyes, ready to slam your head down on the table, but instead of the table, you feel a warm hand on your forehead.

“What the..” You turn your head to the side, resting your cheek on the palm of whoever's hand this is before realizing that it's Xavier's hand.

“Are you drunk?” Xavier asks with a raised brow, “Is that why you're banging your head against the table?” He sighs, turning his head toward the four students, who were waiting to sit down. “How much did she drink?” He points at you as he rummages around in his apron with his other hand. “A-about a bottle and a half? She had soju..” Winona breaks the silence while the others are too stunned to speak.

“Soju!?” Xavier groans before quickly turning to look back at you, “A bottle and a half? Isn't this your first time? Are you out of your mind?” Your friend continues his rant, “Did you forget how you threw up after your first beer? Soju is even worse! Did you brain up and leave you before you drank that shit?? Why can't you learn?” He runs a hand through his silvery blonde hair.

“What're you doing, huh!? You're not my mom! Stop nagging me, I'm having a good time with my frie–” Your whining is cut off by Xavier tapping a cold can against your forehead. “–nds..what's this?”

“Drink this. No more soju for you.” Is all he says and you sigh, grabbing the can as you rub your forehead, “Did you just go out and buy this?” “Of course not, we sell that here.” His head turns toward the door as a bell chimes, signifying that another customer has walked in. “I gotta get back to work.”

After Xavier walks away, you hold the can to your chest. Heartbeat roaring in your ears. “Oh my god, how cute is he?!” Irina whispers to Winona and the other girl shakes her fists, “Even his apron is sexy..”

“Uh…I'm all buzzed out. I'm gonna go get some fresh air, okay?” You stand up, holding the can still, and do your best not to run your fingers through your hair. You didn't want to mess up all the hard work Tara did to fix it.

Once outside, you spot Xavier, who was taking out some garbage. “Hey!” You go to yell at him, but your words fall flat when you notice something sticking out of his mouth. “Are…you smoking?”

“...It's a lollipop.” “Oh..Anyway, why didn’t you tell me you worked here?”

“I did.” He says, dusting off his hands. “Did not!” You puff your cheeks out, trying to remember if he did tell you.

“Why? Are you embarrassed because I caught you acting all girly with some guys?” Xavier lets out a small laugh as he pulls the lollipop from his lips. “Well…Tomboys like you need to play coy to get a date, so I'll let it slide.”

So he somehow got the wrong idea too?

You'd love to tell him he's wrong, but you honestly didn't care at the moment. Instead, you change the subject. “Hey, take this back.” You hold the blue can he gave you back out to him, “You can't just give me this.” “I paid for it, so you take it,” he says as he pushes the can back against your chest.

At your silence, he raises a brow, “You know what? Give it back.” He holds his hand out toward you. “You got me all upset now, so I'll be taking it back.” “What?” You hold the can tighter to your chest, “No way! You said it was mine.” “Come to think of it…Why should I bother? You're too busy partying with guys to even answer my texts.” Oh, now Xavier is definitely pouting.

You quickly open the can and take a few swigs like a dog eating some table-food that hit the floor. “Oh–” Xavier pauses before his gaze squints and he leans forward. “Are you wearing makeup?” “So what? Tara did it for me. What's the problem with it?” You glare at him, immediately getting defensive. “Hmm…you can put makeup on a donkey, but it's still a donkey at the end of the day.” He shrugs as he moves away from you and you punch him in the shoulder, “You wear makeup too, you dick!”

“But I'm clearly not a donkey.” Xavier smiles.

You and Xavier continue to talk for a while, leaning against a green metal fence behind the restaurant. He pulls his phone out from his apron and sighs, “Ah, I'd better get back.” “Woah, how long has it been?” You turn your head to look at him as he puts his phone away once more, “It's been like fifteen minutes? Damn, I lost track of time talking about the beer vomit story.” He chuckles as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Say…Do you like any of those guys?” He asks, thumbs hooked through his belt loop. “Mmh…why?” You could easily tell him now, but you wondered why he asked that. “Just asking.” He shrugs, tapping the toe of his shoe against the pavement. “Anyway, we still on for dessert after my shift?” Xavier reaches down to ruffle your hair and says, “Let me know, but I seriously gotta go back in now.”

After he says what he needs to, Xavier goes back inside and you sigh, putting a hand in your skirt-pocket as you walk back around to the front of the building. “Huh–” you pause as you notice Caelus standing outside as well.

“I thought I'd check up on you since you've been outside for a while,” He easily answers you as if knowing what you were going to ask. “But I was wondering…if we could talk.” He smiles and boy, do you know what was coming. How were you going to let this poor guy down easy?

“So…you and Xavier look really close.” Oh…that's not what you expected. Or was he saying this to lead into something else? “Uh, yeah. We, kind of, grew up together,” You say, slowly, trying to gauge what his next sentence would be. “So you don't have feelings for him?”

Uh. Is this even an appropriate question to ask someone you just met? Sure, it's a good question if you were looking to date someone, but…it still feels weird.

“What?” “I know it's a silly question, but you two seem really close. That's why I asked.” Caelus laughs it off, rubbing the back of his neck. “So that means you're not seeing anyone?” “Well…not exactly, but I'm not here for–” “I'm interested in you.” He blurts out, cutting you off entirely, and you give him a deadpan stare.

“That's…very flattering, but–” “At the risk of sounding too forward, let me ask. Do you want to go out with me?” Your eyebrow twitches in annoyance and you take a deep breath. “Caelus, right?” You plaster the sweetest smile you can muster on your face and tighten your grip on the empty soda can in your hand. “If you'd allow me to finish my god da–” You pause, taking another deep breath before continuing, “–if I could finish my sentence for once, I'm not here to date. I’m not looking for a relationship. I told Yvonne this, but it seems like she didn't give everyone else the memo. I just came here to get out of my dorm room, for once, and make some new friends.”

“Anyway, I'm going back inside.” You clear your throat, after a tense moment of silence and walk past him to go back inside. But you feel a hand catch your wrist. “Y/n–” You jerk your arm out of his grip and turn your head to raise a brow at him, “Hey, did anybody ever tell you that shit only works in k-dramas and romance novels? Don't touch me without my permission. But, now that you've got my attention, what is it?” You cross your arms over your chest and he frowns, putting his hands in his pockets as he murmurs under his breath, “Geez, they always say the worst she can say no.”

“Annnnd that's all the patience I have left to spend on you. Nice seeing you never!” You wave to him as you re-enter the restaurant and go back to your table.

Sure, Caelus didn't seem like a bad person, but the vibes just didn't feel right to you. At all. Honestly, you’d feel a lot better once you got dessert with Xavier.

A few days later, you're chilling at Xavier’s house and eating some leftover cake from that time you went to a dessert café. Your laptop sits open on his coffee table as you're on the floor, in front of it, while Xavier is sitting on the couch behind you. He always liked to watch your work, for some reason. Maybe to make sure you did it right?

You had an empty word document in front of you and you tilt your head back to look at your friend. “Hey, are you gonna work on your assignments too or are you going to watch me like that vampire weirdo from Twilight?” Xavier was mid-bite when he started coughing, hitting his chest because he must've been laughing but choked on his food. “I'll work on it later. What's your assignment on?” He asks, once he's finally caught his breath, and wipes a few stray tears from his eyes. “Ah…it's a report on any classic film. I got a USB of the film from Rafayel, so I'll probably watch that first.” You move to grab the USB from your bag before plugging it in.

“Do you want me to watch with you? I could try and help.” He leans forward, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Uh–” you were startled at how close he had gotten, but you nod your head, “Sure…Huh, it seems like there's a lot to choose from…”

The titles were pretty weird too, but these could just be some indie films. “Animal addiction?” You murmur with a raised brow, glancing over at Xavier out of the corner of your eye and he shrugs, moving his finger to the touchpad to click on it. “Maybe it’s something like the Tiger man documentary?” He questions before both of you go silent.

The film was pretty grainy, appearing like amateur work. This didn't seem like a ‘classic’ film…Then, the camera pans to a woman laying down on a bed. Was she naked?? What the hell is this– a man joins her on the bed and–

“Ooh!” a moan erupts from your laptop. “Ah, yes! Right there!” Wet squelches are audible from your speakers, the sound of skin slapping against skin. “Harder!”

You quickly slam your laptop shut with your face in your hands. “What the fuck did Rafayel give me?” You murmur, face bright red and your heartbeat thundering. “Maybe…it's a risqué classical film?” Xavier offers, trying to hold back his laughter, even if his face was red as well.

You definitely knew it wasn’t a classical film, you recognized it. It was the same one you had seen in middle school!

“He could've accidentally added that to this USB.” You let out a panicked laugh, opening your laptop back up to scroll through the file. “Okay, so maybe…okay, these have numbers and symbols as the name so maybe these are okay?” You quickly click on it and silently take the USB out from your computer before the moans can even start. “...nevermind.”

You run a hand through your hair and rest your head on the couch. “I'm sorry, Xavi..I guess I grabbed the wrong USB.” You sigh, looking up at the ceiling until the light is covered up by Xavier's big head coming into view. No, not that head.

“Xavier?” You question, but he doesn't respond. He leans over you, dipping his head down lower…and lower. Though, you panic and put your hand over his mouth.

“Oh! Uh– sorry,” you quickly say as you move your hands back, holding them to your chest with a nervous laugh as you stand up with your laptop. “Actually, uh Tara– yeah, Tara told me earlier today that she needed her clothes back. You know, the ones that I borrowed! So…I should probably leave and go get those for her!” You clap your hands together, face probably even more red than when that porno appeared on your laptop.

“Y/n–” Xavier goes to grab your wrist, but hesitates. He drops his hand into his lap before he shakes his head. “I understand. Go ahead.”

Huh, why did he do that? He could've just grabbed your hand–oh, could he have heard your conversation with Caelus?

“Thanks, Xavi. I’m really sorry about that! I'll definitely see you later though.”

A week goes by and you finally submit your correct classical film report. You had to sneak the USB back to Rafayel and explain to him that you never even looked at it since you already finished the report. You’d rather not open that can of worms with him, afterall.

While you're leaving your college, you get a text message;

💛: “hey”

: “i got u some food from my mom”

: “come get it or”

: “dont i could eat it”

Oh hell no! If it's his mom's cooking, you definitely want it.

“Hey! I'm here for my food!!” You waste not a single second, having gotten on a bus and ran the rest of the way to Xavier's apartment. It wasn't too far from the school, so you were more than ready to sit down and ea…–

“Holy shit!” You slap your hands over your eyes as you were blessed with the sight of a shirtless Xavier with water dripping down his chest. He was drying his hair off with a towel as he curiously looked over at you. “Hey, you were the one who barged into my house.”

“Why're you naked, though!? My eyes–” You whine and you hear Xavier audibly scoff, “What? So, are you telling me that I can't even shower? In my own home?” Then, after a few moments of silence, you move your hands away from your eyes. Honestly, you loved being over-dramatic. It was like second nature to you. Anything to keep from blushing over your shirtless best friend.

“Forget it. You wanted the food, right?” Xavier points toward his couch. “Wait there, I'll go get my shirt.”

You didn't even realize how quickly you complied to what he said, already finding yourself sitting down not even a few moments later.

He comes back with a white shirt on, grabbing the reusable orange bags and sets them on the coffee table. “So, what's in it?” You ask, standing up excitedly. “Well, you know, only your favourites.” He takes the plastic containers out of the first bag and you rummage through the second one before pulling out a heavy glass bottle. “Huh, what's this?” Once glance was all it took to realize this was a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

“Hey, it's hard liquor!” You show it off to Xavier with a grin and he runs a hand down his face, “Oh…great.” As if he knows where you're going with this.

“Put it back. It's probably your mom's. I must've grabbed it by mistake.” He goes to take it from you, but you look at him with a mischievous smile, “Do yoouuu want to try it?” “I– seriously, Y/n, it's your mom's. We can't just–” “I just looked it up and apparently it tastes good,” you tease, shaking the bottle in front of him before you sigh, “but I guess we can put it back…”

“Well,” Xavier perks up at it tasting good and clears his throat, “I mean we could give it a taste.”

The two of you each fill a cup with the amber liquid and sit around the coffee table with your food-filled tupperware. A nice alcoholic beverage and food always go good together.

“Blegh!” You stick your tongue out, nose wrinkling in disgust, “Why is it so bitter? What's the percentage on this shit?” “Hmm, maybe twenty?” Xavier grabs the bottle to see before he pauses, “oh…forty.”

“This shit is way too strong. You got any soda we can mix with it?” Even though you asked, you’re going straight toward his kitchen as if you live here. “Yup.” He leans back on his hands until you come back, mixing some soda into both of your drinks. You take another sip and nod your head, “Do you wanna try mixing it with other stuff?” “Hmm, I heard orange juice is good with it.” Xavier looks up from his phone. He must've googled it. “Yeah! Let's try out a ton of combos and find the best one!” you cheer, holding a fist up in the air.

Then, you pause. “Wait.” You hold your hand out. “First, let me borrow some of your clothes.” “Why?” “Because my clothes are too snug and I'm gonna eat some of my food– annnd I'll probably stay the night,” you say with a shrug and Xavier points in the direction of his room. “Go find something.” He nurses his drink while you change into the smallest clothes he owns.

Even if they're the smallest, they still practically engulf you. His shirt was loose around your body and his shorts were barely holding up around your waist.

“You look like a hobbit.” Xavier giggles to himself before he motions toward the plates on the coffee table. “Anyway, I unloaded some of your food. You’re sharing, by the way. You don't get a choice.”

As you shamble back toward the coffee table, you have to hold up your borrowed shorts. When did Xavier get so big..? Wasn't this shirt supposed to be a short sleeve? It's almost to your wrists…Hmm…

Where's this tingling sensation in your stomach coming from? Parasites, maybe? Maybe they'll go away if you drink.

“You know,” You slur, holding up an empty glass, “This is supposed to be hard liquor, right? Wouldn't it…be better to call it easy liquor since it goes down so easy?” Your body sways and you set your glass down next to the empty bottle of alcohol. “Here we go again. Do you realize how many times you’ve said that?” Xavier hiccups as he points at a plant in his room. Did he think that plant was you? Laughter bubbles in your chest before it erupts from your mouth and you lay onto the floor as you try to catch your breath.

“Hey..” Xavier brushes his hand across your heated forehead, “Aren't you gonna call your boyfriend?” “Eh? What boyfriend?” Your eyes were closed, relaxing as he played with your hair. “Didn't..well, that guy asked you out, right?” “Mmh…yeah, but I said no,” you say with a small shrug.

You raise a brow after you open your eyes and notice Xavier was smiling. “Why're you smiling? You look stupid.” You reach your hand up to poke your index finger against his cheek. “That checks out. Who would ask you out anyways.”

“Huh, are you trying to fight with me?!” You quickly sit up, body swaying from the slight feeling of vertigo as you glare over at him. “What? You know I'm right. Don't you remember, in elementary school, all the kids in our class thought you were a boy.” “And? All of the girls liked to dress you up in princess costumes because you were ‘pretty as a princess’ or did you forget about that?” You jab a finger against his chest.

“What about your last crush? He only realized you were a girl when you had to wear the girl's uniform.” Xavier leans closer, his face flushed from all the alcohol you both had drank. “Look who's talking Mister ‘I won an all girl's beauty pageant even though I was in the audience’.” Your face equally as red as you kept moving closer until your foreheads touched. “Tomboy!” “Delinquent!”

A silence fills the room as your breath washes over each other's face until Xavier closes the gap. You felt his soft lips against yours before he pulled back. “Huh–” You lazily blink a few times, gaze flitting between his lips and his eyes. You both stare at each other for a few more seconds, and then Xavier leans back in.

This time, he doesn't pull away.

Xavier kisses you softly, your body slowly leaning backwards until you're flat against the floor. You felt his tongue lick at your lips and you hesitate for a moment to let him in.

What…were you doing? With Xavier, of all people?

With another swipe of his tongue, you give up on thinking and open your mouth. Your head tilts to the side as the kiss deepens, his tongue dragging against yours. “Mmh–” a noise escapes your lips as he sucks your tongue into his mouth, tugging on it before he goes back to languidly kissing you. His tongue lazily fighting against yours for dominance, but neither side ever wins.

Your hand moves up to tangle in his hair, nails lightly scratching at his scalp. You shift in his hold, your chest lightly brushing against his and that's when Xavier tenses up. He pulls back, hands gripping your shoulders. “Hey…have your boobs always felt this nice?” He asks, looking down at them to see their stiffened peaks through the thin fabric of his shirt. “Hmm…I dunno since you've never felt them before.” You drunkenly tug at the neck of your borrowed shirt to look down at your breasts.

“Wait–” you squint your eyes as you notice something red coming out of Xavier's nose. “Is your nose…seriously bleeding from seeing my boobs?” You laugh. “What are you, a teenager?”

“Seriously, put your head back. It's getting everywhere.” You wipe at it until Xavier scoots back, “Hey stop–” He falls back against the couch, wiping his nose with a thumb. His legs are spread out with his shirt riding up his chest. His firm thighs…

You move a bit closer, your hand trailing up his shirt. “What're you doing?” He asks, stomach tensing up as your fingers brush against his abs. “I always wanted to feel them,” you murmur under your breath. “They're soft…I really thought they'd be firm.”

You poke at his stomach and Xavier groggily looks down at you, “It's because ‘m not flexing.” “ohh, what happens when you flex?” You already forgot what you were talking about. “My abs get hard.” “Hmm..flex it right now. I wanna see what happens.” Your fingers continue to prod and poke at his stomach. “Yo, you listening?” Your nails lightly scratch against his skin and he catches your wrist, “I heard you, so stop touching me…and this time, let me touch you.” His thumb rubs back and forth against your pulse.

“But…no.” You look away from him and Xavier raises an eyebrow, confused, “Why?” “Then…someone would be touching my body..and that's embarrassing.” You pout, cheeks somehow getting even more warm, as you squeeze your thighs together. “Then…it would be fine if I touch you in a way that doesn't make you shy, right?” He grabs your wrist once more, gently squeezing it before his hands dart to your waist. His fingers dance across your body as he tickles you.

A loud laugh slips from your lips and your body jerks around in his hold. “Xavi– wait!” Your body goes backward and you're back on the floor. Your hands push at his chest as your laughter causes tears to prick your eyes. He catches your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head, as his free hand continues to tickle your body. “Hold on–! Let me catch my breath you, fucking–” More giggles come from your throat as you try to finish your sentence, “–you fucking psycho!”

Xavier finally stops, your shirt up to your neck as your chest heaved from your breathing. “Are..you okay?” He asks, slowly, and you look up at him with (happy) tears in your eyes, “After everything you did, do I look okay to you?” You were out of breath, sides still somehow feeling like they were being tickled. “Well…in any case, it doesn't seem like you're embarrassed anymore.” Xavier trails off, his gaze on your bra-clad breasts. His finger slides under the cups to grab your right breast.

“Ah..” you let out a small noise in surprise, back automatically arching to push more into his palm.

“Fuck..” he breathily laughs before he leans his head down to wrap his lips around your nipple. His tongue flicks across the stiffened peak before he nips it between his teeth. “Ouch, Xav..” you wince before a moan slips through your puffy, parted lips as he swipes his tongue against it to soothe the pain.

“Xavi..” your chest felt wet from more than just Xavier's saliva.

“Hey, lift your head for a sec.” You tug him up by his silvery blonde hair and notice his nose was bleeding again. “Again? Are you exhausted today or do you just go wild for breasts?” You sit up to panic over the poor guy, trying to find something to wipe his nose with.

“No..” but his gaze is drawn to your bare breasts once more and you could swear you saw more blood drip from his nose.

Fuck. You needed to find a tissue for him. Why isn't he helping? You glance over at him and can't help but think that he looks kind of cute in a daze like that. Then, you notice he's getting blood on his white shirt. Ugh. Blood stains are a bitch to get off. Uh…

“Ah, seriously…this is so gross but–” you murmur under your breath before you cup his cheek and lean forward. You drag your tongue up his chin and move along the trail of blood. Moving across his lips…but you stop before getting to his nose because that's…just nasty. You weren't licking his nose. You move back and stick your tongue out. “Blegh. I can't believe I did that. You know blood stains– Mmph” Xavier cuts you off with another kiss. This one was more intense than the last. His tongue sliding against yours as one of his hands holds your face by the chin. This kiss was passionate and wet. Saliva drips down your chin and you greedily swallow any that makes it into your mouth.

You turn your head to the side for air and lightly hit him on the back. “You’re getting more blood in my mouth.” You meet Xavier’s eyes but he's clearly gone, out of it. He dips his head back down to kiss you again, gently guiding your body back to the floor for the third time tonight. Your hand grips the back of his shirt as he kisses you harder, lips sloppily colliding and gliding against one another. You feel his hands make their way up your thighs until he's slipping his fingers under your shorts. One hand squeezes your ass, his fingers pressing into the skin.

Your body jerks in surprise as his fingers slowly move toward your center. Legs trying to close on reflex as you felt his middle finger press against your entrance. “X-Xavier?” You manage to choke out, your breath coming out in small pants. “You're so wet…is this all just from kissing?” He asks, seemingly in a daze as his middle finger penetrates you.

Xavier rests his forehead against yours as he presses his finger inside at a slow pace. The digit curling and pressing at odd intervals as if trying to find something. “A-ah..” you can't help the tiny moans that spill from your lips, your hips jerking with every movement from his finger.

“W-wait a second,” you panic as you feel something warm and thick against your inner thigh, and Xavier pulls back for a moment. Your gaze immediately drops to the front of his sweatpants and your eyes widen. “Oh..” “What're you thinking about?” His pretty blue eyes were filled with a hint of darkness, a bit of lust.

You…wanna try it.

“Xavi…do you have any condoms?” You ask, your hands cupping his cheeks to make him look at you. That's when he frowns. “No…shit, do I need to get some?”

Damn it.

“No, it's…fine. We can uh– ah–!” You cut yourself off mid-sentence as Xavier pushes his finger back inside your pussy, a second finger teasing your entrance. “We can still get each other off though, yeah?” He licks his lips before adding a second finger. His hips pressed closer to you so you felt the warmth of his length against your thigh once more. “S-sure,” you hiccup your sentence out as he begins to move both fingers, curling them to press into that spot. You let out a loud moan and roll your hips upward.

A similar moan slips from Xavier's lips as you unintentionally grinded up against him and he grabs your hand, placing it over his clothed dick. “Please?” he asks with a tilt of his head, curling his fingers against your g-spot for good measure. You quickly nod your head, squeezing your head against his length before you begin to rub it.

The silvery blonde haired man continues to fuck you with his fingers, his thumb swiping back and forth over your clit. “Fuck, Xavier!” You arch your hips up with a small whine as you feel something building up in your stomach. Your hand moves against his warm dick, trying your best to jerk him off without going under his clothes, and it seems to be working because he dips his head down to kiss you once more.

“Come for me,” he murmurs against your lips. “Please? Wanna feel your pussy tremble around my fingers.” You felt the thread in your stomach winding tighter and tighter until…

Your body jolts you awake and you sit up in the bed with wide eyes. A dream? No…your sticky, cold panties were telling you otherwise. You slowly turn your gaze to the warm body next to you. How did you both get up to bed?

Whatever. That doesn't matter. You check your phone, quickly silencing your alarm so it doesn't wake Xavier up and you jump up to get dressed.

Yeah, leaving. That sounds great. Especially when assignments can be used as an excuse! You put your pants up before cringing at your wet panties. You sigh, taking them off. Guess you're going commando today…you put the clothes in his laundry hamper and hurry out the door.

Almost a whole day went by and you didn't get a single thing done. You were sitting in a daze for the most part, but now you were reading a mature romance novel. Tara had left a few behind in the dorm so you were distracting yourself with them. Though…they weren't helping much. You were imagining all of the sex scenes in the novel with you and Xavier instead…

You slap yourself and quickly stand up. Snacks. Yeah, snacks could help.

You throw on a jacket and leave the house with your book in hand. You read a few pages as you step into the store, walking straight toward the snacks aisle but stop in front of the adult section. Your eyes scan over a few condom boxes.

If…Xavier had a condom yesterday, you would've had sex, right?

Your cheeks heat up and you shake your head. Were you always this obsessed with sex?

You pick up one of the boxes, looking at it and murmuring, “Ribbed…for her pleasure?” You tilt your head to the side. Would that feel good..? You kind of wanted to know, but you probably wouldn't ever find out. Who would you even do it with? Well…isn't Xavier a viable option? Do you like him? You, honestly, are starting to wonder at this point. You might.

“He might be interested in it…considering what happened yesterday,” you murmur under your breath. Your head curiously turns toward the door as you hear a ding come from someone else entering the small store.

“Oh–”

You really hope he didn't see the condoms in your hand.

You speed walk to the checkout counter, buying the condoms in your momentary panic and drag him outside.

The two of you sit down on a bench in silence.

Maybe…you could ask him now? Or should you say you like him? Would it be rude to ask for sex without even dating?

“So…about yesterday..” Xavier begins and you excitedly look at him, pretending to play it cool when he looks at you. “We both made a mistake because we were drunk…maybe it's best to just forget about it all together–” Though he pauses once he notices the frown on your face. Your head was spinning and your cheeks felt hot. Did you drink today? It definitely felt like you had some alcohol.

Gosh, you're so embarrassed. Why were you thinking he'd ask to do it again?

“Ah…yeah, of course! We'll forget it ever happened. Yup! Just return everything back to normal, okay? Don't act all awkward when you see me again, you hear!” You awkwardly laugh as you hit his back. “It’s nothing special, am I right?”

“Stop that.” Xavier sighs, body barely moving from your hits. “Oh? Your back muscles are really prominent. Have you been working out again?” Your palm presses against his back and he shakes his head, “You know, it would do you some good to pick up some muscle too. I mean seriously, you–” he pauses as he realizes he has his arm wrapped over your shoulders, fingers touching your waist. Your hand was on his chest with your head resting on his shoulder and…This definitely didn't seem like ‘going back to normal’.

“Anyway, I'm gonna go! It's almost time for the dorm curfew so yeah!” Your ankles twist over one another as you try to quickly escape and you're falling toward the ground. “Hey, be careful–!!”

Xavier's arm wraps under your breasts to hold you up from falling and your hand rests on his elbow.

You both stood there for a moment with red faces until you cleared the silence with a nervous question, “Hey, I…Can I come over to your place..?”

Xavier kicks the door closed behind him, already closing in on you. You trip and fall back, the two of you landing on the floor with his hand cushioning your head. He looks over at the stairs before grabbing your arms. “Wrap your arms around my neck.” He tells you and you do it without question.

Suddenly, you're in the air with his hands gripping your ass as he hurries to his room. You can feel something hard– probably his dick– pressing hard between your thighs before he practically tosses you on his bed. Your body bouncing against the mattress as Xavier puts his hands on either side of your waist. You lean back on your elbows as you look up at him, nervously.

“Should I…take this off?” You tilt your head to the side, unzipping your hoodie to reveal your tank top underneath. “Should we?” Xavier lifts his shirt over his head and tosses it somewhere in the room. Then, he's back on top of you.

He pulls down your shorts and panties in one swipe, then your tank top follows so you're only in your sports bra while he's still wearing his sweatpants. His hand moves down to your pussy, tapping his fingertips against your clit before his middle finger dips past your entrance.

“Does it hurt?” He asks, finger gliding in easily with how wet you were. “N-no,” you choke out, doing your best to hold back any noises as he begins to thrust his finger. “I'm ah okay.” Your hips jerk and he holds them down with his other hand. “You're so…wet. Is that normal?” He asks as he adds a second finger. “How would I know!?” Your nails dig into his shoulder and Xavier lets out a hiss between his teeth, “Honestly…I've been hard since we were outside my door.”

“I know, I felt it.” A moan leaves your lips as he moves his fingers faster. Wet squelching sounds come from between your legs as his palm smacks against your clit with every thrust. “X-Xavier!” “I can feel your pussy squeezing around my fingers, are you close?” He questions as he curls your fingers and your body squirms underneath his grip as you cry out and come undone underneath him. “Ah…you didn't even answer me.” He tsks with a small pout.

“I'm…sorry.” An apology slurs from your lips as you try to catch your breath and Xavier pulls his finger out, bringing them up to his lips. He gives them a curious sniff before licking up his fingers, taking in your taste with a small hum.

“Fuck…are you gonna whip it out?” You sit up on your elbows, eyeing the wet spot on the front of his sweatpants and he chuckles, “Alright, greedy girl. I’m getting it out.”

He moves to take off both his sweatpants and boxers before he gets back onto the bed, stroking his dick with one hand. “Hey, grab the condoms.” He jerks his head toward your bag and you roll over to grab it from the floor. You feel a hard slap against your ass as soon as you grab the square packet and jerk your head toward Xavier. “What the hell?” The culprit holds his hands up in defeat and you hand him the condom as you lay on your back.

Xavier rips open the packet with his teeth, one hand still rubbing his cock before he rolls the condom along his length. His pretty pink tip was already leaking precum. He rubs his cock against your clit, coating the condom in your juices and then lightly presses the tip against your hole. “Ah–” you grab Xavier's shoulders to get his attention, “please be gentle?”

He smiles down at you, nodding his head as he slowly pushes inside. He waits a few moments, allowing your pussy to suck more of his length in as you adjust to his size. “It..hurts..” you bite down on your bottom lip. This was nothing like what the romance novel said. What the fuck. “Breathe,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours. His hand moving down to roll his thumb against your clit. His other hand moves to arch your back, fingers pressing against your spine and a loud moan slips from your lips. Your hands smacking against your mouth in surprise.

“What's this, Y/n?” Xavier scoffs, a grin tugging at his lips. “Does it feel good when I touch your back?” He licks his lips as he lightly scratches his nails against your back. “A-ah, stop–” Another moan leaves you as he begins to move. His hips snapping forward and his balls slap against your ass. “Xav– fuck, please–” You weren’t sure what you were asking for, at this point. He changes the angle of his hips and you gasp out, legs wrapping around his waist as your back arches. “Hnngh!” You roll your hips up to match his thrusts, your gaze on his face to watch as it contorts with pleasure.

“Ahhh..fuck!” Xavier's hips still and you look up at him with a raised brow, “Did you just…” “Fuck, it's my first time too..I'll do better.” He pulls out to tie off the condom and tosses it in his trash can. He leans over to grab another one, rolling it onto his cock as he lines it back up with your pussy.

The pace is as harsh as ever. Skin slapping on skin, wet sounds and moans filling up the otherwise quiet room.

You can't even remember how many times you've came at this point, tied up condoms littering the floor since Xavier missed the trash multiple times. Your hands press against his sweaty chest as your equally sweaty body feels weak. “You said that was the last time!” You gasp out, legs shaky. “You've gotta cum one more time and then we're done, yeah? You can do it for me, right?” He throws one of your legs over his shoulder as he slowly thrusts into you. His thumb rubbing your clit to match his pace. “We'll cum together and then sleep, hmm?” He murmurs, dipping his head down for a soft kiss as he languidly thrusts into you.

You're not even sure if you can cum again, but you can't say no to that pretty face so you tiredly nod your head. Your fingers lightly running through his hair as you felt that stomach heat up. A soft moan slipping into his mouth as you came for the nth time.

Xavier's head turns to the side to break the kiss as he bites his lip and cums at the feeling of your warm pussy spasming around his dick. He pulls out, throwing the condom away once more and collapses next to you, one arm across your stomach. “Night…Xavi.” You yawn, eyes slowly drifting closed.

The next time you wake up, everything comes crashing back to you but you're not as shocked. If anything, you're content with it. You've come to terms with your feelings rather quickly and decided you would run away this time. But when you turn to see Xavier, he’s not there. You frown. Huh…was this how he felt when you weren't next to him before?

You get out of bed, pulling on one of Xavier's shirts as you wobbly walk into the kitchen. He must've cleaned you up since you didn't feel sweaty or sticky. Maybe he's still home..

You pause as you smell something and run to the kitchen like a newborn deer. Xavier can’t cook to save his life so you wanted to salvage the food somehow. You skid to a halt once you notice he's just heating up leftovers in the microwave.

“Oh, so you didn't try to sneak out on me today.” Xavier comments once he spots you behind him, his gaze raking up your bare legs. You snap your fingers and pout, “Hey! Eyes up here, idiot. We're not going at it again yet, I can barely feel my legs.”

“Yet?” He raises an eyebrow, setting a plate down on the counter. “Who says we'll do it again?”

“Mmh..” You pretend to think for a moment before you sheepishly smile, “Your…girlfriend?”

Xavier blinks at you owlishly in surprise before he shakes his head with a small laugh. “Girlfriend…yeah, that sounds nice. Great way to ask someone out, dumb ass.” He carries the plates toward his kitchen table. “Now let's eat before my dumb girlfriend passes away from starvation.”

I'm gonna post this now, before I update TOF since I've got it done! I'm sorry for the abrupt ending, but I'm glad I finished it because apparently Tumblr doesn't like things over 12k. I gotta take note of that for the future..

I hope you guys don't mind that I couldn't go through and use italics and bold. I would have but my Tumblr is being so laggy from the word count that I honestly can't bring myself to do it. Anyways, I'm not sure when I'll write the next ones in this mini-series, but I hope you enjoyed reading through this! It's a lot longer compared to my usual updates. But yeah! ToF updates later on today so I hope you're ready for that!! <3

[some-teeth-in-a-trench-coat]

Ok I want to actually write some stories about Moth Wizard (no promises, this brain has ADHD) so uh I'm gonna ask because I'm curious what people are interested in and how many are interested. Also this was an excuse to write short introductions for everyone.

Moth Wizard: The protagonist only in a technical sense. He's a kind but clueless and sometimes awkward Jewish Wizard specializing in controlling moths. The story is not about him but the people he meets as we follow him through his post-apocalyptic world in the 6200's.

Esh: They don't make cool, mysterious characters like they used to. These days there's always a cynical twist that says "Just kidding! They're not actually cool haha could you imagine? How naïve to think such a thing would exist!" Esh exists in defiance of this. A powerful wizard who makes it look effortless roams the land cloaked in mystery. Even their gender is unknown even to allies.

Natan: A rather ordinary, or at the very least un-magical, Jewish man who's lived a long good life and it shows. A loving husband, father, and grandfather and altogether a kind and generous man.

Necromancer: Long after Natan's death, his remains were torn from the earth to serve an undead army, but something strange happened... This is the origin of Brakha.

Brakha: This magically animated skeleton mysteriously developed free will and is now burdened by the knowledge that her bones belong in someone else's grave. She's determined to undo the necromancer's work... but could she learn to live if she fails?

Bus Driver: A Jewish wizard specializing in portals and transportation has together with her wife restored an ancient bus, which she uses to help large groups of people travel great distances in no time. Her services are invaluable to her community.

Bus Driver's Wife: A Jewish woman married to the Bus Driver, she helps her wife maintain the bus and is a very skilled artist, decorating the exterior of the bus with beautiful renditions of the two women.

Pathetic Woman: Because where's the feminism if women can't be a bit terrible? A bitter old lady, stubborn to a fault and somewhat self destructive. She'll bite if you get too close. (This post, in which I create her, explains her better)

Wolf Golem: Shameless self-insert in my true form. With glowing eyes, flesh of clay, and teeth of metal, this wolf-shaped golem seems to always appear when it's needed the most, determined to defend its chosen people at any cost, but always hoping its growl will remain a warning.

[lets-talk-spirituality]

What are your favorite books?

Do you have motivational or spiritual book recs?

Hi! Thanks for asking me :)

Ummm I really love A Thousand Splendid Suns, I read it in high school and it just really awakened this warrior spirit in me. It made me really want to go to the Middle East to help people. It’s something I still hope to do one day, go to the oldest places on earth and help women and girls.

Life of Pi, I also read this in high school and it sort of woke me up to how indoctrinated religion is and how we don’t have to follow that indoctrination.

The alchemist and Siddhartha are both sort of spiritual hero journey books that gave me a lot of insight and I really enjoyed.

The awakening by Kate Chopin and A lost lady by Willa Cather were really important to my feminist awakening as they are both books about women going against the grain of their time period to pursue their own happiness.

This year I read Lost Horizon and really loved it. It kinda plays around with the concept of aging and finding heaven on earth.

I love A Separate Peace. Just one of my favorite books in general. The only book where I really fell in love with a character.

I also read codependent no more this year, which I think is a really awesome book for anyone dealing with people pleasing and codependent behavior.

Finally, I read Tales from the Night Rainbow and I’m reading a book called Children of the Rainbow. Both are books that kind of deal with Hawaiian religious and mythological origin stories. There’s a real belief and understanding here that there were people on the islands before the Polynesians came here. Many believe that this group, called the mu, is directly tied to god source and lived very loving and kind lives. Hawaii is thought to possibly be where Lemuria was. Lemuria, like Atlantis, is thought to be ancient advanced civilization that lived within higher dimensions of the earth. Many believe starseeds from other planets were seeded into these societies to help move humanity along but were destroyed ultimately. That’s what many believe happened here as well. The original Hawaiians kind of bred with and took on customs of the Tahitians who conquered the islands. These original people are also sometimes called Menehune which means small person. Which people assume means they were short in stature but in Tales of the Night Rainbow, this oral history passed down from a family in Moloka’i, it’s suggested that the term was pejorative and used as a way to oppress the original inhabitants.

Anyway! I guess those are my suggestions.

[possessionisamyth]

Thank you for the reply. Part of the reason I asked this is while I think maybe Capcom is moving Ada away from the dragon lady stereotype, some elements of it still remain (her outfit is still meant to be very obvious sex appeal for starters). Ada's a character I sometimes struggle in understanding how I feel about and no two fans ever quite seem to agree on what she's all about (I'm not even sure if I can say her putting herself first is a totally accurate reading of her depiction RE2 remake but could apply to RE4 remake) . It can make for a frustrating, interesting discussion or even both.

I guess that's my weird way of saying I hope Capcom develops Ada as a character and makes her feel like a person. I certainly hope she's given an actual origin some time soon given just about every character is. The whole mystery thing is what I think contributes to issues with her character, even more than her sexualized design.

Anyway thanks again.

Oh yeah! I totally get the whole everyone's response to Ada is different when we cut out the people who hate her for misogyny reasons and the people who love her so much they erase all her flaws for ship/slash stuff. The people who have mixed/negative feelings about her due to charged racial depictions and the femme fatale stereotype mix in with the people who have positive feelings about her due to getting any representation or who love women characters that aren't there to serve the stereotypical romantic interest storyline that leads to erased personality + marriage and kids (fuck you boring writers!!!!).

I would argue that even RE2R Ada is still looking out for herself first, but Leon's actions and behavior challenged it in a way she was completely unfamiliar with navigating. Which is why she fails at maintaining the persona, and that's also super interesting to me as it deepens her character. When she swings back into the persona for RE4R, and she's suddenly the one on the opposite side of the RE2R dynamic with Leon, she's forced to push harder in order to dig into the little cracks Leon has, and she's successful! And it's like she's reclaiming that power she probably thought she lost when dealing with him in RE2R.

I know a lot of people were trying to defend the sweater dress in RE4R, but got quickly slammed down saying "no, it's still skin tight, it's still sexualized, let's not do this", and they're right. Not wearing the thigh high boots when I need sturdy coverage and as little restriction to run when dealing with hordes of ganados.

But we're on the same boat! I want Capcom to unfuck her character by maintaining a group of writers and directors who give a shit and want to do better by making her as human and well thought out over the game series as excellently as they did with Ashley and Luis in a single game. I'm not sure about origin stories. This might be one of those copyright owner scenarios where they say attaching characters to a childhood past limits their room to narratively spread as adult characters. Which is a thing. Using Lupin III as an example, fans were super lucky to have gotten Lupin Zero at all. In fact, I have a high suspicion NOT FACT that it's only because one of the ancient copyright holders who would give it the veto might've died.

I don't know much about Capcom and how the copyright holders function, but I do know they tell all the directors what they can and can't do with the characters. So we'll see! Thank you!!!

[openingpandorasbox1]

SCHOOL REUNION Part 3

Not everyone from school turned up, I would say there were about half of the kids from school there and a few teachers turned up as well. Sharon and Keith eventually turned up (late as always). Sharon and Keith were nice towards me that night thankfully. I didn’t need their bullshit that night (I don’t need their bullshit any night) but the reason why they didn’t give me grief that night was because I wasn’t isolated and there were always others around (people who they didn’t know too well) and I also had Daisy with me. There were some girls that were bitchy towards me and giving Sharon and me dirty looks, but some people just remain trashy for life. There was this guy that Katie used to have a crush who she nicknamed him “Speedy Gonzales” after a cartoon character she liked. There was this other guy who was there who sort of knows this girl I know Judy (Judy didn’t go to school with us) he’s a nice guy and drives buses. My stepsister Autumn had him as a bus driver a few times and she thought he was cute. He used to get picked on sometimes as well from what I can remember. We were standing around this table outside where Sharon and Keith were smoking. He came up to us and started bitching about these people from school who were bullies. I didn’t know about it when he was doing it, I wasn’t really paying attention to him, I was chatting to Daisy. Sharon told me about it the next time we caught up. Simon had paid a photographer to turn up to take our photos and we had a group photo taken. I didn’t want my photo taken so I attempted to hide. Even though Keith didn’t go to our school he posed in our school reunion photo with us that were kinda funny. I can imagine all the kids I went to school with, trying to work out who that guy is in the photo. I didn’t drink too much that night but I don’t need to drink too much red wine for it to get me tipsy. I’m a cheap drunk (as they call it). I drank enough to lose my anxiety and by the end of the night I was taking photos of everyone. I approached my history teacher and told him I still love history and I told him how I’m a big fan of the Tudors and Anne Boleyn. He said, “Anne Boleyn is that the girl who had her head cut off?” and I said “yes”. What kind of history teacher doesn’t know who Anne Boleyn is? I think he preferred Ancient Rome and Australian history from what I remember. I remember this girl we used to hang out with in high school had a huge crush on him and she once told me that she used to ring him up on his home phone number to ask him questions relating to her school work. I didn’t think you were even allowed to do that. Sharon told me that he would have sex with his former students after they left school. I don’t know if it’s true or not.

                During the end of the night Simon and his girlfriend (who also went to our high school) gave a speech and thanked everyone for coming. It was during his speech Sharon taped me on the shoulder and told me that she and Keith had just got engaged (again). This wasn’t the first time she has told me that she and Keith had just got engaged. The first time she told me was years previously when we were at the club, we were sitting around drinking (Matthew was in England at the time) and she told me that she proposed to Keith because she said on a leap year (or something like that) it was okay for women to propose to men. Sounded like a bunch of patriarchy bullshit to me. It doesn’t matter what gender you are or what time of the year it is, if you want to ask someone to marry you just do it. She didn’t have an engagement ring that time and I don’t even recall her ever having an engagement ring or celebrating their engagement. I don’t even recall Keith saying anything about the engagement back then. So at the reunion Sharon told me she and Keith had just got engaged (she must have forgotten about the previous time they got engaged). I told her congratulations and I was happy for her and Keith. She told me the ring was still at the jewellers. They never celebrated their engagement and that was the only time it was mentioned. The engagement ring never showed up. Even though Sharon always calls him her husband, they’ve never been engaged or married.  They are probably better off not getting married, they are probably sensible that way. I think Sharon wanted to marry, but Keith was never interested.

There were a lot of people who had to travel from different states to go to this school reunion and were staying at motels. People made effort to come to this thing so it was a good turnout. Simon should be proud of what he did, it was well organised and people had a good time.

#schoolreunion #schoolreunions #howtosurviveaschoolreunion #thelogcabinhotel #penrith #emuplains #yorkpublicschool #southpenrith #jamisonhighschool  #romyandmicheleshighschoolreunion

[morifinwes]

wangxian fic rec list!

aka in which i read fics, write some recs down for aamna and share them!! they're all wangxian fics and uhh @yibobibo i hope you'll like them!!

modern

wolf devours playboy bunny by @greenteafiend (5K, werewolf!lwj, getting together, idk if anyone needs to know that but there's nudity just not uhh explicit)

Lan Zhan has wanted Wei Ying as long as he has known him, and the worst part is that he thinks Wei Ying could want him back.

Too bad he could never in good conscience let himself go there—Wei Ying has a debilitating fear of all things canine, and once a month, Lan Zhan is the exact, precise thing that Wei Ying’s nightmares are made of.

Aka, Lan Zhan is a werewolf.

between the lines by @jywait (19K gaming au!!!, i'm always down for a good gaming au, lwj is the best aksks he's such a good boy)

☆yilingpatriarch☆: pls...give me some face, help me fight these monsters...I'm gonna die

Bluetooth: no.

"You have died." The screen said, and Wei Wuxian threw his hands up in frustration.

resonant frequencies by chinxe (15K, college au, fake dating au, tw mention of cheating but it's brief and no one was cheated on i promise)

In which Wei Wuxian decides that the best way to deal with being in love with Lan Wangji is to pretend to date him for three weeks.

It goes about as well as can be expected.

drift compatible by windoworwhatever (5K, poetry, fluff, drunkji, getting together, college au)

"It was just a fact of life. The sky was blue, university stipends for graduate students working in TA positions barely covered rent, bisexuals cuffed their jeans, Lan Wangji had a massive crush on Wei Wuxian, and spent his time pining and writing research papers about gay subtexts in ancient poetry."

OR

Lan Wangji is in love with Wei Wuxian, and everybody knows, except Wei Wuxian.

the bunny next door by detailsinthefabric (43K, this is mostly fluff and very light angst, and they were neighbors!!!, rabbits!!, aka wangxian's bunny children, this is... so cute i just have to rec it)

Lan Wangji did not know what he was doing. He did not know what he was going to say. He was frozen in place, puzzling over the situation. Maybe he had made the man uncomfortable, which is why he wanted to leave? But his tone had still been so friendly—maybe…

“Would…” he paused, swallowed, forced the last words to come out of his suddenly parched mouth, “would you let me pet him?”

-------------------------------------

Lan Wangji, who doesn't know how to socialize and whose icy demeanor scares everyone away, lets down all his defenses when he meets the bunny next door...oh, and also its owner, Wei Wuxian.

leading tone by silencemostofall (32K, everyone is a music student? or something like that akskk, curse fic, tw panic attacks, tw child abuse, small scene of drunkji, wwx has low self esteem, bro this was so painful to read)

The first time you touch someone you're fated to love, you leave a mark on their skin. If they will love you in return, they'll mark you where you touched them. The deeper the color, the deeper the connection.

Wei Ying has no marks at all.

public places, private thoughts by leahelisabeth (for the love of camelot) ( 8K, cherry magic au, getting together with like... immediate upgrade to fiance status, the author is wrong i crave good wangxian cherry magic aus even tho i haven't even watched cherry magic)

Wei Wuxian had heard the story of course. It had made its rounds through his high school and followed him into his college days. He didn’t think there was any possibility it was true. Virginity was a social construct, invented by creepy old men to exercise dominance over women. The idea that a simple lack of sexual activity before the age of thirty could give one magical powers was absolutely ludicrous.

Wei Wuxian believed this until the morning of his thirtieth birthday.

AKA the Wangxian Cherry Magic AU that absolutely nobody asked for.

i'd be all right (if i could see you) by @thirtysixsavefiles (16K, this was nice, i read this at 6am but it was cute, (while writing this post i must admit i don't remember anything but 6am-me said it's good))

The younger Lan brother is something of an enigma on campus; while Lan Xichen can sometimes be seen in the company of other graduate students or conducting a seminar, Lan Wangji appears to spend all his time in class or in the library. He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t smoke. He doesn’t attend social events. He doesn’t do anything for fun, as far as Wei Wuxian can tell, and it’s driving Wei Wuxian just a little bit up the wall.

Or, Wei Wuxian convinces Lan Wangji to come to a house party, and then they're assigned to the same group project. Wei Wuxian tries his best, but he is not in possession of all the facts.

axe on leg by itszero (4K, i still don't get why wwx did that but it was nice seeing him jealous for once, jealous!wwx, lwj i love you....)

Wei Wuxian pressed his face into his pillow and screamed. He paused to take a few deep breaths, partially hindered by the pillow, and listened to the sounds of Nie Huaisang slurping his iced coffee, from his seat on Wei Wuxian's desk chair.

Having caught his breath, he resumed his screaming and did not stop at the sound of his dorm room door opening.

"What's wrong with him?" He heard his brother, Jiang Cheng, ask.

The slurping stopped. "He's an idiot."

"He's always been an idiot. Why is he bothered about it now?"

"He forced Lan Wangji to go on a date," Nie Huaisang replied, shaking the ice cubes in his drink.

"Okay and…?"

"With someone else." The slurping resumed.

Wei Wuxian, in all his glorious dumbassery, convinces his boyfriend to go on a date with someone else.

these two most powerful by @stiltonbasket (4K, amnesia, wangxian with children!!!, aksksk this was adorable, dadji!!)

When Lan Wangji went to bed last night, he was alone in a tiny guest room with nothing but the howling of the wind in the mountains and his own lonely thoughts for company.

 

But when he opened his eyes in the morning, Wei Ying was asleep beside him.

 

(In which Lan Wangji loses twenty years' worth of memories after a night-hunt gone wrong, and his life as a doting father and husband continues without a hitch somehow.)

good things come to those who wait [but i ain't in a patient phase] by @cerlunas (4K, getting together, pining lwj)

Lan Wangji can't take it anymore.

 

“I love you”, he says, and god, it feels terrifying. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

“Lan Zhan…” Wei Wuxian starts, but Lan Wangji doesn’t want to hear it.

He grabs his cup and drinks everything. He doesn’t know what face Wei Wuxian is making at him right now, and it’s okay. 

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian repeats louder, but it’s too late. He is already falling asleep.

Or, even after 13 years, Lan Wangji is still in love with his best friend. Maybe it's time to open up.

wei ying, will you marry m- oh my god he swallowed the ring! by selene210 (2K, marriage proposals, crack, marriage proposals but.. they go wrong)

“A ring?”

And indeed it was. The ring Lan Wangji was going to propose to Wei Ying with. That the man had now choked on.

“You swallowed it.”

“It was in my soufflé! Why did you put a ring in my soufflé Lan Zhan- oh. oh”

of glittery valentine's cards by @soft-fics (3K, valentine's day, this was adorable aksk, a-yuan best boy!!)

Lan Zhan didn't want to know what his best friend had planned for Valentine's Day; his heart would simply not be able to handle it. When his son tells him that he made Wei Ying a Valentine's Day card, though, Lan Zhan decided to bring it over anyway.

of coffee and white tea by @soft-fics (9K, fluff, lwj doesn't like coffee, wwx buys him coffee, then they switch drinks, again and again and again, the staff ships it lmao, tbh jc shouldn't have done that like wtf)

For the fourth time this week a stranger orders him a cup of coffee. Lan Wangji wonders how exactly to tell this man to stop ordering him coffee he doesn't even like. Turns out, buying the other white tea and switching drinks is not the best way to go about it

canon setting

on the importance of restraint (or lack thereof) by nixthothou (4K, in which sizhui snaps, i love that boy, no like seriously he's the best boy)

Lan Sizhui does not usually find himself in the company of Sect Leader Jiang.

Suffice to say, Lan Sizhui's feelings toward him are conflicted.

lan wangji is wei wuxian's baby by lilycs (3K, i was craving fluff while reading this, lwj my beloved, drunk!lwj)

Lan Wangji gets drunk from barely a cup of alcohol, becoming a whiny baby and asking his husband for cuddles.

one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (8K, wei wuxian & lan sect, 5+1 things, in which they learn to love him, they're all part of the wwx protection squad lead by lwj, wangxian isn't the focus but !!! THIS)

Times change, but some people remain the same.

The Lans are nothing, if not aware of this.

For one of their own, they will stand against the world.

Or, 5 times the Lans defended Wei Wuxian, and the 1 time he was there to see it happen.

so why not crack your skull when the mind swells by @greenteafiend (13K, love curse, post cql canon, curses, getting together, fluff, so much fluff, lwj tries to talk about his emotions!, lwj pov)

Lan Wangji detects the curse trying to curl through his heart meridians like smoke. A love curse, then. It must have been cast remotely somehow to have found him in his bed in Cloud Recesses. No matter. Lan Wangji crushes it easily, enveloping it in his spiritual energy, and then squeezing. Curse averted, Lan Wangji closes his eyes and goes back to sleep. He thinks no more of it.

Two days later, Wei Wuxian arrives in Cloud Recesses.

Or, Wei Wuxian is cursed to feel terrible pain when he and Lan Wangji aren’t touching.

i started from the bottom / now i'm rich by x_los (57K, time travel, fix it, jealous lwj, crack treated serious, god this is so good tho, wwx/wrh & wwx/jgs but like as a joke and it doesn't really happen, but it has its purpose!!)

“First, you get the money. Then you get the power, respect - hos come last.”

 

Wen Qing traps Wei Wuxian in the Demon Slaughtering Cave, but Wei Wuxian isn’t interested in being the beneficiary of the Wen Remnants’ noble sacrifice. His efforts to free himself accidentally send him back to the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. Coreless but armed with demonic cultivation, knowledge of the future and his wits, Wei Wuxian takes advantage of this opportunity to come out on top of both the war and its aftermath—before either has a chance to happen—by marrying and swiftly burying the cultivation world’s worst men.

Lan Wangji is confused, hurt, and uncomfortably aroused by Wei Wuxian’s improbably elaborate series of Sect-themed bridal negligees.

lead me on through by mrsronweasley (55K, they're in love your honor, arranged marriage but they don't know to whom, basically wwx & lwj want to practice kissing which then goes beyond kissing but not the whole way y'know, lxc the best wingman tho)

"Who do you think your betrothed is?" Wei Wuxian asks, sprawling out in front of Lan Zhan and enjoying the prim thinning of his lips at the question. He shouldn't be sprawling—they're in the library, for one, and Lan Zhan is studying, for another—but he can't help himself. Wei Wuxian is a sprawler.

"I do not believe this to be of importance," Lan Zhan responds, without turning his gaze away from his book.

"What!" Wei Wuxian sits up. "How can you say that? Of course it's important! This is the person you'll be with for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan."

[scorpio-marionette]

31 Nights of Head Canons - Night 5

Night 4

~

A/N: At some point I hope to stop posting these things at 1 in the morning, because if keep doing that I will fall a day behind

~

Night 5

Who is your favorite villain?

~

Dio

The Joker from DC Comics would be Dio's favorite villain. Just don't expect him to go advertising it. The choice is way too mainstream for our resident emo-revolutionary, but he can't deny that he, like the character, feeds on the chaos he creates. It is his life and he wouldn't give it up for anything.

~

Omar

As a fan of the Hobbit, Omar loves Smaug the dragon. He's always had a love for the giant, winged lizards. Smaug was more than that though. He could talk, be doused in melted gold and shake it off with no problem, and see through the invisiblity of the one ring by use of senses. His presence as a character raises so many questions. Where exacly did he come from? How did he actually get inside the Dwarf mines? What happened to the rest of his species? Omar thinks it's a shame there weren't more dragons in the franchise, but none would have compared to Smaug.

~

Zach

The Organization, or the secret international groups of people who are ritualistically killing people for the Ancients, interests Zach quite a bit. Cabin in the Woods created a very interesting world that he would like to delve down deeper into. After all, the world presumably ended at the of the movie. They could do a prequel to show the origins of the society.

~

Oberyn

Oberyn respects that sometimes you have to do bad things to get good results. Probably why he gets along with Tyrion. However, Oberyn has no respect whatsoever for BAD MEN. Men, and times women (*cough, cough* Cersei), who truly treat life with so little love and civility are dead in the prince's eyes. They are a waist of breath and good wine.

~

Marcus Pike

Marcus is more of a hero man himself. There are some cool antagonists out there that he likes. Maybe some anti-heroes, but not really villains.

~

Max Phillips

Beetlejuice is Max's favorite. He loves the crazy, chaotic, and theatrical nature of the character. He relates quite a lot to the character's behavior and actions. I mean if you think about it, Beetlejuice must be summoned and Max must be transferred before thet can start the death and destruction.

~

Pero Tovar

Pero can't stand real bad men. He's not going to like a villain. Hell, sometimes I don't he can ever stand himself with all of the wrongs he does.

~

Javier Peña

That's right. Javi is a Lord of the Rings nerd, and his favorite villian is the giant eyeball in the sky: Sauron! Of course, this character used to have a body and what not, which only makes his story more interesting to Javi. Tolkien does explain some, but what if there's more to than that?

~

Jack

Muriel, the Grand Black Witch from Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters, was surprisingly a favorite of Jack's. She doesn't really do much in the movie, but her presence is memorable. She doesn't let you ignore her when she's on camera. Even if you look away, your eyes return to her. She's also beautiful when not revealing her corrupted face from her years of using black magic.

~

Ezra

The Domergue Gang from the Heateful Eight tickled Ezra's fancy, as do most stories of Earth's "Wild West Days" usually do. It got him through his time on the Green moon. Hearing how they concocted their scheme makes Ezra feel like a cowboy himself. He thinks he could've done the job better even.

~

Dave

If Dave ever had to have that awkward attraction to a person you shouldn't find attractive, it would be Missy Armitage, the mom from Get Out. Why? Because of her command over the situation. She's calm, focused, one with her practiced skill, and it's hot! Dave may prefer a submissive woman to pour his dark affections into, but he also loves a strong woman who can take him on.

~

Frankie

Blackheart, specifically from the 2007 Ghost Rider movie, was a pretty cool character. The powers and goal of the character were fun to watch be revealed. Frankie especially found the possession/absorbtion of all of the souls from the town at the end incredibly interesting. The special effects team did great. The character is different in the comics though.

~

Max Lord

Max was already the villain in his own story. I don't think he cares to enjoy a villain. Though he will say that Scar from the Lion King has a very catchy song that he cannot get out of his head.

~

Marcus Moreno

After watching Maleficent with Missy, Marcus likes that they made King Phillip the bad guy. It's an interesting take. Playing with perspective to show that fairy tales, like all stories or news, are onesided and at times fabricated. He's curious to know if Phillip never loved her or if his greatest mistake was letting her go for power of his own.

~

Din

Din has no time for heroes or villains. The world is far too dangerous for him to indulge in such stories. Besides, what with having his son again, why would he identify with a villain when all he wants is to be a hero to Grogu?

~

Nico

Lord Blackwood from Sherlock Holmes. Nico loves Sherlock for his cunning wit and obervent gaze. Nico loves Blackwood for his master trickery and use of quite literal magic tricks to conceal his crime. Blackwood is resourceful, creative, and ultimately a mere piece to a bigger mystery.

~

Dieter

Dorian Tyrell was Dieter's favorite because when faced with a magic mask that could bring out your deepest and at times darkest desires, he had no questions and just went with it. He was also or less completely unphased by the fact that his adversary, was a cartoonish bank teller with weird powers.

~

Javi Gutierrez

Van Pelt from Jumanji is a favorite of Javi's for much of the same reasons he likes Alan Parrish. Van Pelt represents the strained relationship Alan has with his father. Javi also has a difficult time around his father. He sometimes wishes he could stand up for himself like Alan.

~

Joel

The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man is a nostalgic dream for Joel. He loves the comedy in the idea that a giant marchmallow has come to destroy you. Even in a zombie infested world, it still seems super ridiculous. Though he would take the marshmallow over Clickers.

[ironwoman359]

This is probably not the best place to ask, but you’re also a Christian woman too. I was wondering what you thought about what the Bible says about women and how we must submit to husbands and some other stuff that has me (a potential ace) Christain woman kind of terrified. I would go to my church but social anxiety and my church is pretty conservative. I don’t want to think that we’re just second rate citizens with this. Um…that’s all. You don’t have to answer. Love your Tumblr. It’s one of the main ones I look at. Thanks for countless enjoyment!

— — —

(I’m responding on the submission and not the ask because the ask refused to post properly, I think it was too long for Tumblr’s fancy)

So I know you just asked for my thoughts and not a biblical interpretation lesson, but I didn’t spend 3 months writing an exegesis in college for me to never use those skills again, so buckle up for something of a long answer! (literally, this is almost 3 thousand words, so....sorry about that) *rubs hands together* The thing we need to take into consideration when reading the bible is Interpretation; any truly honest biblical scholar would tell you it is a mistake to take every word in the bible at its literal face value, ESPECIALLY since most of us are reading translations of scripture, not the original ancient hebrew/greek/aramaic/whatever else. So when interpreting scripture, we must consider these things:

Author (Who wrote it?)

Audience (Who was it written for?)

Context (What is written around it?)

So the verses you’re referencing are Ephesians 5:22-23, and in the NIV, they read as follows:

22 Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. 23 For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. 24 Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.

Isolated from author, audience, and context, they sound pretty sexist, don’t they? And male authority figures have used these verses as justification for the oppression of women for centuries, just as white men used the passage only a few verses away, Ephesians 6:5, as justification for the oppression and ownership of black people (Slaves, obey your earthly masters with respect and fear, and with sincerity of heart, just as you would obey Christ). So let’s look at each of the points above in regards to Ephesians 5 and 6. First, who wrote it? Sometimes that can be a tricky question to answer, but in this case, it’s actually very easy (though there is still a bit of fuzziness/debate). Traditionally, Ephesians is one of the Apostle Paul’s letters to the early church. Specifically, to the body of believers in Ephesus, a Greek city that was a part of the Roman Empire at the time. According to two different study bibles I have, the letter of Ephesians was not addressing any particular problem that the church in Ephesus had (as was often the case with Paul’s letters), but was meant as an encouragement of faith and to increase his readers’ understanding of what it meant to be a follower of Christ. So now what about the Context? Why are the verses at the end of chapter 5 and beginning of chapter 6 so damning to our modern sensibilities? To answer that, we must look at the passages both in context to the verses around them, and in historical and cultural context (which is where 1 & 2 come into play again). Going back to the beginning of chapter 4, which is subtitled “Unity in the Body of Christ” (and remember, these subtitles and groupings were come up with LONG after they were written; we grouped sections together in a way we thought was most logical, which honestly for a book as short as Ephesians I would argue is barely even necessary), we can see that the letter from chapter 4 onward is about living a Holy and Godly life. Chapter 4 urges us to be “completely humble and gentle, be patient, bearing with one another in love” and warns us against living “as the Gentiles* do, in the futility of their thinking.” *Gentiles in this case meaning not neccesarily all non-Jews, but non-believers. AKA, we should live like Jesus lived, WWJD and all that jazz. If the Holy Spirit is in our hearts and our relationship with God is at the forefront of our lives, then that should show clearly in our actions. The very first verse of chapter 5 reads “Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.” Chapters 5 and 6 especially are meant to act as a sort of guide for how a follower of Christ should act. There’s some stuff about obscenity, greed, sexual impurity, 5:15 sums it up pretty well basically, “Be very careful, then, how you live- not as unwise but as wise,” and then we reach the all important verse. Ephesians 5:21, “Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.” That’s a full sentence, just that there. Submit to one another. The following three sections are all subsections of this point: one for Wives submitting to Husbands, one for Children submitting to Parents, and one for Slaves submitting to Masters. But when looking at all of these, bad shepherds (ie, racist, sexist assholes) like to ignore that first bit, submit to one another, just as they like to ignore 5:28, which says “husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself;” or they ignore 6:4 which says “Fathers, do not exasperate your children; instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord;” and they ignore 6:9, “Masters, treat your slaves in the same way. Do not threaten them, since you know that he who is both their Master and yours is in heaven, and there is no favoritism with him.” I do highly encourage you to read chapters 4, 5, and 6 in full, or at least start at 4:17, which is where Paul starts talking about “Living as Children of Light,” because it makes the intent of these apparently damning verses much more clear. Paul is stating that as Christians, we should treat everyone around us with honor and respect. According to one of my study bibles, the grammar of the original Greek suggests that the “submission” involved in all three sections is intended to be mutual submission, and is to come from a filling of the Holy Spirit. However, to be quite frank, Paul still Lived In A Society. A highly structured, patriarchal society, in which all members of a household (women, children, slaves) were expected to submit to the patriarchal head of that household. Male children until they reached adulthood, Slaves until they were freed (remember that, while by no means a purely morally good thing, the system of Roman Slavery was VASTLY DIFFERENT from the Atlantic Slave Trade that men later used this passage to justify existing), and women, unfortunately, for their whole lives. In another one of his letters, what is now the book of Galatians, Paul says in chapter 3 verse 27-29 that “You are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.” This would have been radical at the time. Paul is promising all people of all genders and classes that, in the eyes of God, they are Equal, One, and all “sons,” meaning that they all have a right to the Inheritance of the Father (remember, at this time and in this culture women did not get any inheritance, and younger sons got significantly less than the firstborn. Paul assures the believers that they ALL are equal receivers of the Promises of God). But this equality that Paul speaks of was, in his eyes, a spiritual equality. He was not particularly concerned with overthrowing the earthly patriarchal society that subjugated women and lower classes, but rather instructed all members of that society who also were Believers to submit equally to one another out of love and respect, for they were all Equal in God’s eyes and would be Equal in heaven. This is why he both tells women to submit to and obey their husbands, but also husbands to love, cherish, and care for their wives. Children, obey your parents, but Fathers, don’t be dicks to your kids. Slaves should obey their masters (slavery was much more like a job that you weren’t allowed to quit until your boss said so) but Masters shouldn’t abuse their slaves. There are Societal Authorities, and Paul is telling his readers “look you can’t just go around not respecting those Authorities, but also hey, if you’re the Authority? That’s not a free pass to be an asshole.” As one of my study bibles puts it, “Paul counseled all believers to submit to one another by choice…this kind of mutual submission preserves order and harmony in the family while it increases love and respect among family members.” Paul is basically saying “it’s better for everyone if we all get along, and remember that Christ had a servant’s heart, and intentionally lowered himself for us, so we should do the same for each other.” And while a patriarchal class system is still super sucky for like 80% of the people involved, at least it’s a whole lot more bearable if everyone involved is being a Nice, Good Member of that Society. You mentioned being worried about being treated like a “second rate citizen.” The fact of the matter is that when this was written, women were second rate citizens; that is the context in which Paul is writing. And while I firmly believe that that was wrong, in every sense of the word, Paul wasn’t especially concerned about challenging that aspect of society. Priority one was “Spread the Gospel” and Priority two was “Don’t Get Killed while Spreading the Gospel.” Speaking of Paul, let’s talk a little more about Saul of Tarsus, shall we? In all literary analysis, it is important to examine the author’s beliefs and what biases may have made their way into the work. And while we believe the bible to be a Holy Book, it can and should be subject to the same rules of literary analysis as non-religious texts. First, you must ask yourself, what do you believe about the bible? There are four general ways of looking at it (which are called Theories of Inspiration).

The bible is the Divine Word of God, dictated word for word across centuries directly to its human authors by God Himself.

The bible is the Divine Word of God, written across centuries by men Inspired by the Holy Spirit. While they are writing in their own words, this Inspiration means that the bible is Wholly Perfect with no errors.

The bible is the Divine Word of God, written across centuries by men Inspired by the Holy Spirit. However, because they are imperfect, fallible men, there is a possibility of errors in the text, both in the account of events that happened and in the teaching therein.

The bible is a collection of accounts written by men, with no Divine Intervention from God. It is not Holy, God’s Word, or Infallible.

I was raised to believe theory 2, but now I personally believe theory 3. And since I’m the author of this analysis, it is through the lens and bias of theory 3 that I now present my next point: Paul was sexist. I don’t think he was maliciously so (see again, Galatians 3, and the statement in Ephesians 5 that men should honor, cherish, and care for their wives), but he was a product of his time who had ingrained ideas about women and their place in society. This does not A) mean he was right about how women should act OR B) mean that we should toss out everything he had to say, about women or otherwise, because he was Problematic. Most biblical authors were, in fact, Problematic. Either by our modern standards, due to the time in which they lived, OR by the standards of their own time, because God liked to use Imperfect People (we’re all imperfect, but He liked particularly imperfect people) in His plans. David was an adulterer and murderer. Paul happily sent dozens of Christians to their deaths. Peter was hotheaded and super prejudiced against Gentiles and Samaritans. And most of them were, in one way or another, sexist, racist, and homophobic. These biases then found their way, intentionally or not, into their writings, and then other racist, sexist, homophobic men used those writings to justify systemic oppression of anyone who was not like them. Oppression that is not Christlike. So where does that leave us, in our 21st century application of scripture to our daily lives? We must examine how it was to be read at the time (which we have done), and then see what we can apply from it to our own lives. For myself in my marriage, I look again to the original grammar of Ephesians 5, that indicates the submission is to be mutual. I “submit” to my husband, and he “submits” to me. In other words, our relationship is built on Trust, Clear Communication, and Respect for one another. Sometimes we have to compromise, and I have to put aside my own desires for his sake, or he must set aside his own desires for my sake. It is a willingness to listen to one another, to approach conflicts with an open mind, to consider each other’s feelings before we speak. It is an equal, mutual submission based on love for each other, which doesn’t contradict what Paul says at all. God created all people to be equal. Humans are stupid sometimes and try to insist that we know better, try to create hierarchies and use the bible to try and justify that, but that doesn’t mean those humans are right. If your church is trying to make you feel less than because of your gender, or if you date somebody who pushes TradWife rhetoric and tries to use Ephesians as their justification, then you Run, and feel justified in doing so. (Especially if they also try to use Paul’s words to tell you why you owe your partner sex; see again, Paul was not only sexist but also lived in a patriarchal time when women were second class citizens that had very specific expectations placed on them AND he wasn’t even in a relationship himself, forgive me if I take his advice on my sex life with a grain of salt. Without doing this whole process again, a good modern reading of “don’t deprive one another” is “don’t use sex as a weapon in your relationship/withhold it for bs reasons when you’re mad at each other, etc. Like all other relationship things, sex (or a lack thereof) with your spouse should be based on mutual trust, communication, and love, not petty arguments or the standards of others.)

Trust me, as an ace woman myself, I totally get the fear. I’ve felt it myself, in the past. But God’s intentions for you are not that you become a doormat or servant to a man. If a romantic relationship (or any other partnership) is part of His plan for you, then the bible clearly states, both in Ephesians and elsewhere, that it should be one built on Love and Trust, not Subjugation and Servitude.

I hope this helped you, and again, sorry it was so long XD. Have an amazing day! <3

[pochiperpe90]

Here comes “The Old Guard”. Marinelli goes to Hollywood, alongside Charlize Theron.

“Alone, fragile and immortal.”

A story of love, friendship and compassion with an ancient warrior and a young African American, who has just discovered she is immortal, as protagonists. Because the world needs women and courage knows no gender differences. 20 years after “Love & Basketball” and after “The Secret Life of Bees” and “Beyond the Lights - Find Your Voice”, Gina Prince-Bythewood comes to the action movie with very clear ideas on how to reinvent the rules. We talked to her over the phone while she was in Los Angeles during the lockdown. 

A superhero movie that doesn't look like a superhero movie. Is that why you decided to make it? 

Absolutely yes, when I read the script I realized that despite the fantastic genre there was a very realistic background. These characters are real and it's easy for the audience to relate to them despite being immortal. They fight for goals and reasons that people understand. The more realistic the film, the more viewers can reflect themselves in the protagonists. 

In fact, the most fascinating aspect of the characters is their vulnerability: they are immortal, but up to a certain point, which is a paradox. They too have to deal with the sense of the end. 

There is a possibility that they may die, that their immortality is interrupted, that they still suffer from their wounds, and this brings them closer to us. The public still feels sorry for them when they see them in danger.

Immortals suffer, and not just physically.

Many think that being able to live forever would be extraordinary, but no one asks what this really means. Immortality has consequences: it can be a gift, but it can also be a curse.

And we don’t know why immortality fell to them. 

The thing I loved about the graphic novel and the script is the fact that there is no explanation. Not only do we not know it, but neither do the protagonists. But it is a trilogy and therefore there is still a lot to tell.

Could you offer your contribution to the script? 

It was a great script, with great roles based on the graphic novel so I stayed very true to the text. With the author, Greg Rucka, we wanted to reflect on the fear of taking someone's life, the one that sometimes overwhelms soldiers in war, whose psychology is often neglected. Hollywood films have never been very concerned with this aspect, as if killing had no consequences. The protagonists are forced to kill, but if someone has been doing it for centuries, for others it’s the first time. 

What struck you about Luca Marinelli? 

I could talk about him for days, I love him, he's the actor that all directors dream of having on set. He loved the character and gave him life in a very credible way. Between him and Marwan Kenzari is born a great complicity, necessary between two people who have been together for centuries. Luca's eyes are full of soul, his Nicky is the heart of the group, he’s the most sensitive character of all of them. 

Charlize Theron, who is also one of the producers, has an increasingly and more torn body.

Charlize has already played roles like this one, she is very credible in the genre of action and has been helpful to who had never faced it before. From her, who really worked hard, others learned to do the same. She is very credible in the role of a woman who lived for thousands of years.

Matthias Schoenaerts, on the other hand, has an insidious role. 

He embodies the tragedy of immortality, loneliness, betrayal. He is the actor who most resembles his character in the graphic novel. He wanted to make the film at all costs because he had never measured himself with the action genre and felt he had things to express. 

The film underlines how today it’s no longer possible to hide, images can capture you at any time. 

In a scene near the end, when the immortals look at photos and articles about them, they truly become aware for the first time of everything they have done to protect humanity. They understand the power of images from which they continually try to escape in order to hide their identity. 

And then we talk about science and profit. 

In the film, people from different places join forces to protect the world, a need even more relevant today. Yet it is increasingly evident that profit matters more than human lives. 

Do you think the film industry is becoming more inclusive with women? 

Things are finally changing and I am grateful that, despite having no other action films on my resume, I have been entrusted with The Old Guard. I am grateful for the trust they have placed in me. It should be taken for granted by now that women are capable of coping with any film genre and I think how much pressure from the industry Patty Jenkins, who directed Wonder Woman to success and opening the door for many of us, went through. But the door must be wide open because there are still few who have such opportunities. 

In your opinion, have opportunities grown with the arrival of platforms like Netflix? 

Netflix wasn't afraid to trust a series of directors. Which studio would have produced Roma or Irishman? He has the courage to make films that Hollywood deems too risky.

The Golden boy

“Luca Marinelli, as we have never seen him before: in his Hollywood debut, he becomes an immortal and fights with Charlize Theron to save the world.”

Just before the lockdown he was one of the jury members of the 70th Berlinale in the city where he has lived for years - and he swears he had so much fun watching three films a day. The audience awaits him in theatre in the role of Diabolik, in the film directed by Manetti Bros., but on July 10th he arrives on Netflix with The Old Guard, the action movie that sees him alongside Charlize Theron. And where he plays the Italian Nicolo, Nicky for the group of immortals he belongs to. Directed by Gina Prince-Bythewood and based on the graphic novel by Greg Rucka and Leandro Fernández, the film offers Luca Marinelli an insidious superpower, an endless love and a new opportunity to demonstrate his talent as a true champion. We reached him on the phone and he, less shy than usual, told us how he became a secular "superhero".

How did you get to the project? 

I auditioned in London, where I later returned and met the director. Lastly, there was a final meeting between me and Marwan Kenzari. We made a scene together and then they announced to me, "We'd love for you to be Nicky." 

What struck you about this character? 

The story fascinated me because it tells of immortals as if they were the damned. Nicky and Joe live this condition as a gift because they are linked by a wonderful love story and they are not alone. They met in an absurd and paradoxical situation, during the Crusades, ready to kill themselves. They did it a hundred times and then they looked at each other and fell in love. But others suffer from it, like Andy and Booker. In a beautiful scene, Booker, played by Matthias Schoenaerts, explains what happens to them: they see the people they love die and blame them because they cannot prevent it. And they are tired of watching the world repeat itself following the same dynamics. They fight to save people, but everything seems to go on the same way. Only in the end will they discover what they have done and what they are doing. 

How did it go with Charlize Theron? 

Well, it was wonderful! As I read the script I said to myself: am I really going to make a film with Charlize Theron? And hug as well! I was very excited and intimidated already while reading. She is an extraordinary actress. In the scene where we are at the table and everyone tells Nile something about us, Andy tells her what we are and it was nice to see her running and venturing into the midst of emotions and thoughts. Sometimes I got distracted and didn't say my line. But Charlyze is also a crazy athlete. You have to be really athletes, otherwise you don't survive at the end of the day. And Charlize is an athlete of the body and the heart. 

What about her athletic training? 

We got together a month before shooting to start working with the stunts. I had to get some athleticism back: when I arrived and they looked at me I think they were a little worried. We had to become familiar with martial arts and then we switched from the sword to other weapons and to hand-to-hand combat. We prepared scene by scene, including the choreographies, different for each fight, and each of us had his own rubber reproduction of the sword. It was an unforgettable training.

The immortals come from different places in the world. How much of Italy is there in Nicky? 

Apart from the pronunciation? They still laugh at some of the things I said. Marwan and Matthias, but also Charlize, speak Italian at different levels and every now and then I enjoyed shooting a few sentences to which they could answer me. 

Did you offer your character something that wasn't in the script? 

Well, being in such a group, shy as I am ... I tried. I have always focused on the bond between Nicky, Joe and the other members of the group, because I am interested in discovering what is inside a character, his feelings, how he looks at the world, what excites him. Nicky has lived for centuries, but still greets the people he meets in the desert with a smile, inside him there is the flame of an infinite good. Each character has a different sensitivity and their own armor. Nicky is perhaps the least armored one.

The challenge was also to make people believe in a love story that has lasted for centuries. 

Marwan recites a beautiful monologue in which he talks about their love story. I hope that each of us, in their short life, can say the same thing about the person they love. 

You’ve already had superpowers in “They Call Me Jeeg”. What is your relationship with this genre? 

I like it very much and I think that both films, very different from each other, have a very interesting soul. In Jeeg Robot, Enzo Ceccotti uses his superpowers to help others, taking on a social responsibility. In The Old Guard the protagonists put themselves at the service of others, even if no one has asked them to. “This is what we do,” they repeat over and over to each other. What they do is save people, participate in what they think is right. 

How do you think they would react to protests on American streets and around the world?

I don't feel like playing games, mixing reality and fiction on a terribly real subject like this. I think that in reality, outside of any cinematic fiction, it’s fundamental to fight for equality, within society, but also within ourselves. To go back to our film, if in a microscopic way we manage to carry a message in that direction, I would be very happy. 

What director was Gina Prince-Bythewood? 

She is always ready to listen, and I am someone who asks a lot of questions even at inappropriate times. She always had great patience and was very attentive to the emotional side of the film, to the interiority and beauty of the characters.

CIAK Magazine - Luglio 2020

Just wanted to translate this old interview for the non-italian’s fans ^^ (sorry for my English)

[333sth]

dove. (frankie morales)

chapter i. previous.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n.

warnings: mention of ptsd/military service, language, violence, brief mention of torture/kidnapping, injury detail, fighting.

summary: frankie was going to propose, until dove found the ring and ghosted. even santi can’t track her down.

rating: mature. wc: 1.6k

next

Dove was a nickname coined by an old general during her training. He was a traditional man, though not disrespectful. It was a term of endearment that probably softened the influx of powerful women breaching into the male territory. He’d drawled, ‘I ought to call you Dove – I ain’t never seen a girl so swift, yet so fuckin’ lethal.’ She kept the boys in line too, he’d noted. When Benny got too reckless, or Tom’s temper ran away with him, she was the first to snap them out of it. In environments where peace was a very distant concept, she played the peacekeeper.

One time, during a two-month deployment in Nigeria, the group was shoved in the back of an ancient pick-up truck for six hours. Dove was wedged between Will and Frankie, sweltering in the humid air. The stale smell of sweat mixed with blood and diesel was permeating the air, and they were three hours from the nearest checkpoint. To pass the time, she asked them what they’d do if they weren’t special forces.

That was easy for Will – he’d be a teacher of some kind. Benny waffled about sports, making some brash comment about how he’s got to channel all his aggression somewhere. Tom and Santi couldn’t come up with anything that suited them more than the forces, which was not surprising. Frankie would still be a pilot somehow. Dove had never seen him more comfortable than in the pilot’s chair.

Dove dreamed of owning her own bar or café, somewhere relaxed and laid-back. A beach perhaps, somewhere quaint and peaceful, where the air is warm well into the late evening and the waves are gentle, collapsing onto the sand like white noise. She imagined the hum of conversation meeting tinkling music, beach lanterns dotted around the decking to cast an ambient glow beneath the stars. Maybe a chef on weekends could make bar snacks. Tom had snorted at that, throwing a jab about how she can burn the water they use to make their dried food sachets.

The men had recalled this conversation, desperately trying to fathom where Dove might have taken off to. It was met with an aching nostalgia for the type of teammate she was too. That conversation had been a tactic, a peaceful one, to prevent the terrible concoction of adrenaline, exhaustion and heat forming an argument in that truck. She was a natural tactician as well as a good friend.

Frankie had recounted each country they had been stationed and exactly how Dove had felt about them. She had loved Argentina, even when she got shot and Will spent three hours with his finger crammed in the wound to stop the bleeding. But she also liked Jamaica, Brazil and Hawaii. None of their contacts in the forces had any trace of her, not even Santi’s in South America. Her family were none the wiser – they brushed it off, her dad mumbling something about it sounding like her usual antics. 

All he had was a scribbled note that read, ‘I need space. I’m safe. I love you.’ It was folded neatly in his wallet, like he was carrying the last piece of her that he had. 

*

Mexico. That was where she was. A small town on the West coast that had enough life to keep her occupied, and the guarantee of anonymity.

If people asked, she was a retired nurse, which wasn’t entirely untrue. She told them she spent a lot of her career in humanitarian aid, to explain the occasional jitters on a rowdy Friday night and the nasty scars. There was a particularly gruesome one leading from the base of her throat up to her bottom lip from a knife fight. She told them it was shrapnel, flung from a collapsing building, and she was lucky it didn’t catch her jugular. The locals had gasped in awe at her heroism. She’d flinched against the memory of how her own knife buried into her attacker’s throat instead. 

A few days into her move, Dove had found what could only be considered a derelict shed on the beachfront. It was probably the remains of an old boathouse. With some help from the locals, she had restored the ageing planks of wood. What was spare formed the bar and some rustic furniture. She pieced together a jumble of second-hand bar stools, chairs and lanterns that made for an eclectic combination. It had character and history in its walls, rather than some swanky, expensive build devoid of any personality. It was exactly what she had dreamed of, huddled in hypothermic temperatures or insomniac in her cot at base, sleep beyond her reach.

It didn’t change the fact that every time she entered her bedroom, the old polaroid of Frankie pinned to the wall hits her like a ton of bricks. Frankie knows she took it – it was pinned to the fridge at their home before she left. It’s quintessential Frankie, sat with his arms folded to his chest, biceps straining slightly against an old denim shirt that was getting a little too snug post-retirement. It was at a barbecue, his skin tanned and flushed from a day in the sun drinking, tousled hair peeking out from the sides of a dog-eared cap. Every time Dove glances at it, she wonders if he still has that hat. 

‘Of course he has,’ the voice in her head snaps back. Any piece of clothing she’d suggest replacing would be countered with, ‘over my dead body’. The man was sentimental, a little too attached to his home comforts. She’d also bought it him in a seedy gift shop in the middle of nowhere as a joke. 

“To add some variety,” she’d said. He would never let it go now.

Once, Veronica had eyed the photograph on her mirror and asked, “Who is he then? An ex?”

Veronica, or Roni for short, had lived in the town her whole life until university. When she graduated and moved home to save money, she needed a job. Dove needed a friend, so she took her on as a bartender. She was young and giddy, but harmless. More importantly, she was too self-absorbed to notice or even care that her thirty-something year old boss had bullet holes in her back.

“Something like that.” Dove had replied, rifling through her sorry excuse for a makeup bag. She’d closed the bar early to have a rare night off in the next town over, which had considerably livelier nightlife. 

“You never talk about relationships. Or men.’ Roni observed, peering over Dove’s shoulder to eye another photograph. It was a group picture of the boys, huddled in the same fraying booth in their favourite bar back in Florida. “Looks like you were spoilt for choice.”

Dove scoffed, meeting her friend’s twinkling gaze in the mirror. “Shut your mouth. They were friends from work.”

“Were? Does that mean you can’t set me up now?” 

“They’re almost twice your age. You’d tire ‘em out.” Dove set down the lip-gloss she dragged out for special occasions. “Come on, I’m not getting any younger either. It’s already passed my bedtime.”

Thankfully, that was enough to amuse the younger girl into linking her arm and hauling her out the door to the taxi, no more questions asked.

*

The hollering of spectators and thudding of skin slapping against the mat was reduced to a distant buzzing in Frankie’s ears. It was dimmed by the incessant ramblings of Santiago and Tom, discussing the files Santi had put together on Lorea. He could feel the reawakening of his rusty military senses as he follows the familiar tactics, mentally registering his agreement or noting what he might do differently. He doesn’t vocalise it though, because he hasn’t even agreed yet. Joining the debate would inadvertently signal his agreement. He didn’t want that.

There was a shadow lingering in the space on the bench beside him. It was an empty presence, not Will, who was hooked on the cage of the ring yelling encouragement to his brother. Not Benny, thumping his leather gloves together with his teeth pulled harshly over his mouthguard, judging his competitor with a predatory glint in his eye. 

The opponent was a monster, but he lumbered like his limbs were filled with lead. Frankie notes that Benny, nimble and tall, will have a breeze tiring him out. Dove would have joked that it wasn’t worth coming, that they’ll be sat here until their asses are numb watching Benny play cat and mouse. His chest twinges. Sometimes it’s too easy to remember what she’d do, what she’d say. He wished he knew what she’d make of Santiago’s proposition. She always saw through Pope’s glamourisation and Tom’s greed. 

What Frankie misses while he observes his pitiful surroundings is Tom and Santi descending into a hushed conversation. Tom nudges Santi, “You got anything on Dove?”

Santi sighs, long and solemn, “Maybe.” As Tom’s face quirks in interest, he holds up his finger, “It’s just a hunch.”

“A hunch is better than what we’ve had in the last year.”

Santi takes a sip of his beer, casting a glance at Fish, whose eyes are trained on the floor and the swirling contents of his cup. He knows him well enough to know his thoughts are the only thing that have his attention.

“I worry about him. We all do.” Tom whispers. “Getting busted just made things worse.”

“Don’t get his hopes up, man. It’s nothing solid. It’ll crush him if I’m wrong.” Tom nods solemnly before Santi continues, “A friend of mine saw an ex-Delta in a bar, a woman. He knew ‘cause of a tattoo she had on the nape of her neck.”

Tom’s eyes widen. In front of them, Benny lands a sickening punch on his opponent’s nose, complimented by an audible crack. He’s barely breaking a sweat, dancing around as the guy heaves and stumbles forward. 

Santi’s gaze doesn’t break from the ring. “Mexico. I think she’s in Mexico.”

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

I'm asking this in good faith because it's something I've always struggled with as a new follower of Hellenism but how do you interpret all the myths where the gods do immoral things?

yeah. this is obviously a complex issue. and christians who oversimplify it are as bad faith and cringe as atheists who oversimplify christianity. i could easily point to questionable shit in the bible and be like "kinda fucked up bro". but obviously that would miss all kinds of complex rationalizations (justified or not). it's a shallow interpretation of things and says a lot more about the accuser than the accused. but as was pointed out, i was foolish to expect any genuine engagement on this side of tumblr.

with that out of the way, let's get to your question. so the first and most obvious way to approach this question (and imo the least interesting) is that the originators of these myths simply lived in a different culture where rape was okay. i don't think this is very compelling though, because they definitely understood rape to be wrong. at least rape of women within their in-group. rape of the out-group is another thing, but that's normal for pretty much every society at the time. even ancient israelites, god's "chosen" people. the bible has passages outlining how the israelites are to take women of conquered people. point is, they didn't see rape in all instances as morally wrong. there is no "thou shall not rape" commandment. in any case, i generally find moralizing about history very boring so i don't want to focus on this too much.

another major issue here i think is that most people are coming into paganism from a christian background and so their default assumption is that your beliefs require literalism if they're genuine. this has always seemed a bit silly to me. as if christians are somehow more enlightened because they literally believe in talking snakes and the world being created in literally 6 days and literally believe a man built a boat that could fit every animal and that men used to live centuries and so on. but the primitive pagans?? ha! they didn't even literally believe their myths. they thought of them as allegories hiding deeper, symbolic meaning! what a bunch of fools!

so the idea is that the ancients didn't believe the god's literally came down and took physical form and literally raped women. these were myths to explain the origins of heroic bloodlines or a cosmological explanation for other gods/principles or perhaps simply narrative devices to instigate some drama. because it's important to remember a lot of myths as we know them are explicitly inventions of poets created for the sake of entertainment. or sometimes they explain some aspect of life or the world around them.

hesiod's theogony even opens with the muses saying "we know how to tell many believable lies, but also, when we want to, how to speak the plain truth.” so were the muses telling the truth? or were they lying? a mix of both? there's no way to know! we just take what we can get and make the most of it. the ancient greeks were comfortable with not knowing everything.

again, too many people come at this from a christian perspective. they are expecting the gods in myths to be moral role-models and for them to lay out commandments about acceptable codes of behavior but that's not how ancient morality worked. ancient morality was more philosophical than religious (this is actually kind of a false dichotomy because the ancients saw religion and philosophy as entwined) and there were a great many different schools of thought about it. there were actually some greeks who did believe the gods were purely good and that they were models of moral righteousness and the myths were wicked lies. which is another point: the ancients weren't a monolith. there were all kinds of different perspectives.

and here's another point that i've seen a lot of christians utilize for their own god; who are we to criticize the gods anyway? who are we to question their actions? do we know better than them? the god of the bible sometimes comes off as cruel and capricious, but christians are eager to handwave it as all a part of god's plan or how he's the font of morality so anything he does is good and just by definition. who are we to judge the judge? is this not the highest form of hubris?

i'm not saying i find this point convincing, but it's an argument. so far i haven't really given my own personal views on the matter (i will in a moment). i'm just pointing out the issue is complex and there are many different ways of approaching it. the points made above aren't even all the possible points. the ancient greeks debated these matters extensively. and many christians adopted these debates and applied them to their own god and are still debating them today (like the euthyphro dilemma, for example). and they've had two thousand years to work out all the kinks in their theology and apologetics, and again even to this day there is much disagreement. so i think you can hardly fault the greeks for not having some definitive answer to these very complex questions. we can definitely get into the weeds of it and examine these questions (which we will on my discord server someday) but that's outside the scope of this ask right now.

personally, i understand myths allegorically. true, but not literally so. i don't believe gods became physical beings and physically raped people. i think these are just allegories for divine inspiration, the imbuing of divine blood within heroes, or as cosmological explanations for aspects of the world. also sometimes myths are just good, complex stories with the possibility of all kinds of interpretations.

[drosera-nepenthes]

A Royal Recluse: Princess Clotilde

Just at the time when, in consequence of the weakness and folly of the republican government, certain French Monarchists are looking to Prince Victor Napoleon Bonaparte as the possible savior of their country, the Prince, whose marriage to Princess Clementina of Belgium recently brought him before the public, was watching by the deathbed of his mother, Princess Clotilde of Savoy, who breathed her last on June 25. The story of this royal lady is a pathetic one and, apart from the interest that is attached to her as the mother of the imperial candidate to the French throne, her personal character was one of rare beauty.

She was the daughter of Victor Emmanuel II, first King of Italy, and of Adelaide, Archduchess of Austria, and was born at Turin on March 2, 1843. Her mother died in 1855, leaving five young children, of whom Clotilde was the eldest, the others being Humbert, the future King of Italy ; Amadeo, Duke of Aosta ; Maria Pia, the queen dowager of Portugal, and a son who died in childhood. The Queen of Sardinia (Victor Emmanuel had not at that time laid violent hands on the independent states of Italy) was an exemplary wife and mother, and her orphan daughters were carefully educated by the attendants whom she had placed about them.

Never was a princess more ruthlessly sacrificed to political interests than the eldest princess of Savoy. When a mere child of sixteen, Clotilde was chosen to cement the alliance between France and Sardinia, and was promised in marriage to Prince Napoleon Jerome, nephew of Napoleon I and first cousin Napoleon III, the reigning sovereign. Princess Clotilde was connected with the Bourbons, her very name was French and was given to her in memory of the French Princess Marie Clotilde, sister of Louis XVI, who married a King of Sardinia ; but allied as she was by close ties of blood to the Bourbons, she had nothing in common with the Bonapartes who occupied their place, and a more ill-assorted couple never existed than the middle-aged, violent, cynical and free-thinking Prince Napoleon and the daughter of the most ancient royal house in Europe, who traditions and surroundings were strictly conservative and religious. Their marriage took place at Turin on January 30, 1859. The bride was sixteen and the bridegroom thirty-seven. He had a handsome presence and was intelligent and well informed and well informed, but neither his private life nor his freely expressed opinions on public matters made him estimable or lovable. His attitude with regard to his cousin, the Emperor, was one of constant opposition, and it was reported that his anti-religious views led him to take part in the banquets organized by a group of free thinkers on Good Friday. Under the Second Empire the French Government was officially Catholic, and Prince Napoleon's hostile and aggressive attitude was pronounced ill-bred, if not worse. Throughout France he was distinctly unpopular.

The young bride, married to this unsympathetic nephew of the great Napoleon, probably had few illusions as to the sum of happiness that awaited her in her new home. There are still some old men living who remember her when she took possession of the Palais Royal, Prince Napoleon's Paris house.: a slight, pale girl, with fluffy, fair hair and bright eyes, not pretty but singularly attractive. Her high breeding stood her in good stead in the somewhat parvenu atmosphere of the Court of the Tuileries, she had a royal dignity all her own, and her simplicity of heart was combined with much quiet firmness. From the first she ordered her life according to the principles in which she had been educated. An early riser, even at the Palais Royal, she gave much time to prayer and to works of mercy, but her piety, says M. Emile Ollivier, a former minister of Napoleon II, “never made her tiresome or intolerant. She believed that the most useful sermon was the practice of the virtues that are taught by faith.” Her husband, although so widely apart from her, acknowledged her goodness. “Clotilde is a saint,” he sometimes said ; “if there were many like her, I believe I myself should end by becoming devout.”

When the disastrous war of 1870 brought terror and shame upon France, the Princess was in Paris. During that fatal month of August every day came news of a fresh defeat, and the revolution that was to break out on the 4th of September was already distinctly perceptible; the infuriated and terrified people made the imperial government responsible for the reverses that so keenly wounded their patriotic pride.

Princess Clotilde was alone at the Palais Royal ; her husband was with the army, her three children she sent to Switzerland, where Prince Napoleon had an estate; but she steadily refused to leave Paris while the Empress Eugénie remained at the Tuileries. There was not much personal sympathy between the two; it was Princess Clotilde's feeling of loyalty that chained her to the post danger as long as there was a semblance of imperial government in Paris.

In vain her husband wrote imperious messages bidding her join her children at Prangins; in vain her father sent the Marquis Spinela to Paris to escort her ; the Princess so yielding in everyday life, was unbending in her decision to remain at the palace as long as the lonely woman at the Tuileries was the nominal ruler of France ; she had shared the splendors of the Empire, and it went against her noble spirit to desert the Empress.

The letter this young woman, a stranger in a strange land, wrote to her father on August 25, 1870, has been quoted by the French papers. It is a right royal letter worthy of the daughter of kings:

“I am a French woman,” she says. “I cannot desert my country. When I married although so young, I knew what I was doing and if I did it, it was because I wished to do so. The interest of my husband, of my children and of my country require that I should remain here. The honor of my name, your honor, my dear father, and that of my country also demand it. Nothing will make me fail in what I believe to be my duty to the end... You know that the house of Savoy and fear have never gone together, and you would not wish that they should meet in my person.”

At last, when the Empress was driven from her palace by the mob, the Princess considered that she was free to follow, but how different was the departure of the two women!

The brilliant and beautiful sovereign, closely disguised, was only able to leave Paris owing to the assistance of her American dentist, Dr. Evans; her young cousin made her exit as a princess. In an open carriage, accompanied by her lady in waiting, she drove to the railway station in broad daylight. The excited people, awed by her courage and dignity, saluted her as she passed out of their sight, a truly royal and saintly figure.

Princess Clotilde lived for some years at Prangins, near Geneva, where she devoted herself to the education of her three children; then, when her husband was allowed to return to France, the difficulties of her married life were such that by mutual consent she retired to the Castle of Moncalieri, near Turin, with her young daughter. Here, in the home of her childhood, she spent nearly forty years. They were years of peace, largely marked by sorrow. Four times only did she emerge from her retreat, once in January 1878, when she heard that her father lay dangerously ill in Rome. She had suffered cruelly from the spoliation of the Holy See by the house of Savoy, and the remembrance of her father's part in the matter prompted her to fly to his bedside. On the way she heard that he was dead, and she sadly returned to Moncalieri. In 1891, she again started for Rome, this time to visit her husband, who lay dying at the Hotel de Russie. Those who saw the Princess during those solemn days can never forget her sweetness, earnestness and gentle patience. What passed between her and Prince Napoleon none can tell, but Cardinal Mermillod a frequent visitor to the sick room, professed himself satisfied, after two private interviews, that the dying man was fully conscious. The Princess, whose married life, it is well known, had been a via crucis, remained near him to the end, praying incessantly for the soul that probably owes its salvation to her intercession. Again in 1903 and in 1904, she left Moncalieri to visit her sister-in-law, Princess Mathilde Bonaparte, whose deathbed she attended.

Her life, as it neared the end became more and more that of a recluse. Her sons lived their own lives in Brussels and in Russia; her daughter, having married a Prince of Savoy, was near to her, and their visits, occasionally brought an element of joy into the silent castle. Last autumn, Prince Victor Napoleon's marriage to the Princess Clémentine of Belgium gladdened his mother's heart. It was celebrated at Moncalieri, and to those who attended the ceremony the most striking figure present was the slight, gray-haired lady, plainly dressed in black, whose eyes had the far-away look of those who are nearing the eternal shore. Even in the days of her youth Princess Clotilde's spirituality struck M. Emile Ollivier. It gave her, he says a singular insight into all questions that touch on right and wrong; she possessed the gifts of the true mystics, “who judge human affairs with a clearness and rectitude born of detachment.” Her chief link with the outer world during the long, silent years of old age was her love for the poor, to whom she gave royally, with a loving kindness that made her gifts more precious. Their grief was great when they heard of her death, and their prayers will follow her remains to the royal mausoleum of La Superga, near Turin, where the daughter of the Sardinian Kings sleeps with her ancestors.

America. United States, America Press, 1911.

[osferth]

the haunting of cookham house: chapter 1

summary: In the midst of an exhausting flat search, newlyweds Sophia and Anjali Abbot suddenly inherit a large country house miles away in the serene village of Cookham. It proves to be much more than the couple bargained for, however, when they arrive to find it already occupied... by nine ancient ghosts.

tagging: @lauwrite1225​ @maggiescarborough @morosemagick @solinarimoon @lannisterdaddyissues @firexfate @93xdiagonxalley @aadmelioraa @emilyhufflepufftlk

“Won’t be long now,” murmured Finan.

The laboured breaths of the elderly woman began to slow as the ghosts grouped around her bed watched over almost reverently.

“She had a good life,” Uhtred said quietly.

“At least she’s comfortable,” Sihtric added.

“Yeah, there are worse ways to go,” Osferth pointed out, gesturing to the arrow lodged in his chest. There was a mumbled chorus of assent amongst the ghosts before Hild shushed them all.

“Quiet,” she hissed.

“I think it’s happening,” said Father Beocca. “Look.”

Silence finally fell as a bright light began to emanate from the woman’s body, Beocca making a sign of the cross as her spirit rose up to face them all. “Who are you?” she asked.

Everyone immediately looked toward Uhtred, who for some reason was still considered their unofficial leader despite being… well, dead.

“I was once the lord of the village you call Cookham,” he began ostentatiously, “true Lord of Bebbanburg and a warrior with great reputation, now forced to wander the lands where I was slain as a ghost for all eterni-”

“And she’s gone,” finished Father Pyrlig unceremoniously.

“This always happens,” muttered Uhtred, staring at the patterned wallpaper before him. “I do not understand.”

Pyrlig shrugged. “Yeah, well, the rest of us do.”

“I have always thought not everyone seems to enjoy your speeches as much as you think,” commented Skade, appearing suddenly behind Osferth and making him jump.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that all the time,” he grumbled.

“Oh, honestly!” snapped Hild suddenly, glaring at all of them. “The woman has barely passed on! At the very least, we should show some respect.”

Father Beocca nodded. “The abbess is right. I shall say a prayer for her soul.” He cleared his throat slightly before beginning. “Our Lord in Heaven…”

Finan leaned across to Sihtric. “Bagsie her room,” he whispered over the prayer, to which the Dane only rolled his eyes.

“Amen,” said Beocca finally.

“Amen,” chorused the ghosts, Finan a little louder and later than the rest. With nothing more to add, silence returned for a brief moment until it was broken by Osferth.

“I wonder what’ll happen to this place once she’s taken away.”

Pyrlig looked sideways at him. “Well, I imagine someone else will move in,” he said dryly.

“All of you!” said Hild exasperatedly. “Please! Her body is still warm, for goodnessʼ sake.”

Looking appropriately chastised, Osferth looked down at the floor. “Perhaps one of us should say a few words,” he suggested. 

“I shall do it,” said Uhtred immediately, straightening up. “As the lord of Cookham, I…” 

“And he's off again,” muttered Pyrlig, shaking his head as he left the room. The other ghosts quickly followed suit amid murmurs and eye rolls, although Uhtred did not notice as his speech grew more passionate and heartfelt. 

“Who will be the one to reclaim this as their home?” he sighed finally, looking through the window at the overgrown front garden. 

~~

“Um… let’s take a look at the view, shall we?”

The estate agent led Sophia over to the window with an apologetic look on his face, Anjali trailing slightly behind with about as much enthusiasm as you would expect when buying a cramped, one-bedroom flat in the middle of nowhere. 

Peering over Sophia’s shoulder, she was greeted with the scenic image of a local chip shop sandwiched between a defunct barber shop and a Londis. Just on time, an old poster tacked onto the front door swung off one corner and was quickly carried down the street by a gust of wind.

“Well,” began Sophia uncertainly, “at least we won’t have to go far for groceries. Or fish and chips.”

“I don’t like fish or chips,” Anjali muttered.

Sophia squinted at the shop sign. “They also do kebabs,” she suggested, although she did not sound too keen.

“I’ll leave you two to have a chat in here,” said the estate agent tactfully. “Just give me a shout when you’re ready, alright?”

Anjali watched him disappear into the kitchen before turning to her wife. “I do like kebabs, I s’pose,” she conceded. Sophia smiled slightly, but before she could reply, her phone started buzzing.

“Hang on, I’ll just… hello?”

“Hello, is this Sophia Abbot?” asked a slightly-garbled male voice.

“Speaking,” she replied.

“I’m calling about a house.”

“We’re only looking at flats, we can’t afford to buy a house.”

“This one’s not for sale.”

Sophia frowned. “Well then, why are you calling?” she snapped, ending the call. God. Some estate agents really were the worst-

Her phone buzzed again before she could have a chance to think. Still irritated, she picked it up but did not answer.

“Sorry, I think we got off on the wrong foot,” said the same man quickly. “I’m a solicitor at Willard and Phillips and I’m calling to inform you that you have, in fact, inherited a house.”

~~

The moments after that were a blur for Sophia and, after being informed of the news, for Anjali, too. Their estate agent simply seemed relieved to not have to accompany the couple on visits to flats that had, quite frankly, seen better days.

An appointment was scheduled for the very next morning. It all felt wildly surreal to Anjali and particularly Sophia, who was baffled upon being informed that the previous owner of the beautiful Cookham property was actually a distant great-aunt… or something along those lines, anyway. Even the solicitor seemed to be having trouble connecting the two, but as there was no other living relative, the house was legally Sophia’s. 

Unable to contain their excitement, they promptly called off the flat search and decided to move in that same afternoon. Neither of them were familiar with Cookham, but the further they drove through the more they grew to love the village. With its gorgeous landscapes and old-fashioned architecture, Sophia and Anjali felt only enthusiastic to be able to call this place home.

“Feels like we’ve gone back in time, doesn’t it?” Anjali sighed, gazing out of the window.

“Yeah,” smiled Sophia, “it’s nothing like Croydon.”

Anjali consulted her phone, reading through the Wikipedia entry on Cookham. “It’s got a lot of history to it,” she said. “Listen to this: ‘By the 8th century there was an Anglo-Saxon abbey in Cookham and one of the later abbesses was-” sorry, no idea how to pronounce that- ‘widow of King Offa of Mercia.’ It’s still there, I think. We could visit at some point!”

“8th century,” repeated Sophia. “Bloody hell, it’s ancient, isn’t it?”

“Ooh, look: ‘It became the centre of a power struggle between Mercia and Wessex. Later King Alfred made Sashes Island one of his-’ er, berrs? Boors? Dunno- ‘to help defend against Viking invaders.’ This is so cool!”

“Is there anything a bit more recent?” Sophia asked. 

Anjali rolled her eyes, skimming over the rest of the article.

“Nothing interesting… ooh, except,” she snickered, “a ‘Miss Isabella Fleming in 1869, who wanted to stop nude bathing at Odney.’”

Sophia snorted. “What?”

“Yeah, there is zero elaboration on that one.”

“Shame.”

~~

“That yellow wagon’s given me an awful headache,” Finan complained, rubbing his head. 

Brida looked disdainfully at him. “That’s not possible,” she said flatly. “You’re dead. And I believe they called it an ambulance last week.”

“Well, I would’ve had a headache if I was still alive,” muttered Finan. 

Beocca sighed. “I am beginning to miss her already.”

Uhtred nodded, although the other ghosts suspected that had more to do with her being an indirect relative of his rather than him having any actual interest in her as a person. It was taken for granted that he continued to behave as though he still had ownership over the cottage - and indeed the village itself - even if he was because he was physically unable to leave it.

A creak sounded from the far corner of the room suddenly, startling most of the ghosts. Skade looked up from her seat by the table, a vase slightly out of place, as she met them all with narrowed eyes. 

Thoroughly unsettled, Uhtred and all three of his men turned around without a word. Brida shook her head at all of them and marched off to sit beside Skade. Their relationship had been rocky at first, certainly characterised by animosity while they were still alive, but spending over a millennium together had softened it somewhat. It was more to do with the fact that nobody else, other than Hild and sometimes Osferth, tended to visit the lake she haunted. While Brida spent the most time at the lake, Hild had started venturing out to visit every so often, her hatred of the seer lessening as her curiosity grew. Osferth’s visits were still rare, however, given that he remained wracked with guilt. 

“I wonder-”

“Who will come to reclaim this place as their home,” Pyrlig said, interrupting the former Lord of Bebbanburg, “yes, we wonder that too.”

Despite their respect for him, Finan and Osferth snickered.

“Well,” said Hild, “I don’t think we’ll have to wonder for much longer.” She waved all of them over to where she was standing by the window, Brida being the last to get there - the last they looked, Skade remained in her seat.

Standing near the back, Osferth suddenly felt a presence on his left. He jolted upon seeing the seer standing only inches away, smirking. 

“Y’know, I’m beginning to think you enjoy this,” he grumbled.

“Looks a bit like that medical wagon, doesn’t it?” Finan commented, watching the car pull into the driveway.

“Ambulance,” Brida supplied flatly.

“I don’t think that’s an ambulance, Brida,” said Uhtred wisely, blind to the dirty look she gave him.

Hild shushed them as two women climbed out. One was considerably shorter and clad in an oversized jumper and jogging bottoms. Her skin was brown and her hair dark and wavy, curling over her shoulders. The other was slightly taller, dressed in jeans and a lilac knitted jumper. She was dark-skinned and her curly hair was pulled back, away from her face. Her arm was around the other woman’s shoulders as both gazed in awe up at the house.

~~

“I think - this is it!” Sophia announced, slowing down as the car bumped over the gravelled drive. “Oh, wow.”

Parking the car, she turned the ignition off and opened the door to let herself out, taking in the sight of the grand house before them.

“It’s even prettier than in the photos,” Anjali sighed dreamily. “And it’s all ours.”

“I still can’t believe it,” said Sophia, breaking her gaze from the house to look at her wife. 

Anjali beamed, pressing a little kiss to her lips. “Well, shall we?” she said, offering Sophia her arm. Sophia smiled and hooked her arm in Anjali’s, the two of them making their way over to the door. 

As she turned the key in the lock, she felt a strange sensation from above, almost as though she was being watched. 

Anjali shook her arm a little. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said quickly, “it’s nothing.” Shaking her head, she pushed the door open. 

~~

“Did you see that!” Finan exclaimed, watching the young couple before them briefly kiss before disappearing under the doorframe.

“I think we all did,” said Osferth dryly. 

“Times have changed,” Uhtred said thoughtfully. 

Sihtric rolled his eyes. “Have they?” 

He was the only one who noticed the way Brida had begun looking longingly towards Skade, the seer seemingly having tired of tormenting Osferth for once. 

“Well, it’s been a thousand years,” Father Pyrlig pointed out snidely, missing what was going on. “Obviously they have. Jesus.”

Clearly in a rush to get a closer look at the people who had ‘reclaimed his home’, Uhtred quickly left the room - prompting the other ghosts to follow.

“He was never one for patience, was he?” huffed Father Beocca as they descended the stairs. 

Hild raised her eyebrows momentarily. “I’m afraid not.”

~~

“How old did they say the actual house was?” Sophia inquired, peering over Anjali’s shoulder at her phone. 

“Er… oh, yeah, here! It was built in 1808 and renovated in 1953.”

Sophia grinned. “Reckon it’s haunted, then?” 

“Probably,” Anjali said, all-too serious. Out of the two, she was the believer - Sophia was the staunch sceptic. Anything even slightly out of the ordinary terrified Anjali, from flickering lights to objects moving without cause, while Sophia always had a rational explanation handy. Perhaps it was a good thing, then, that this fear did not extend to spiders - those were Sophia’s weakness. 

The chess board was what caught Sophia’s eye first. “This is so cool,” she murmured, leaning over to pick up a pawn. Upon seeing that it was coated in a thin layer of dust, however, she pulled away. As she did so, she felt a strange sensation course across her forearm, almost as though a cold breeze had blown its way over. Ever the sceptic, she assumed there was a window open nearby and thought nothing of it. 

~~

Finan shuddered, backing away from the chess board. “God, I’d forgotten how awful that feels.” 

Pyrlig rolled his eyes from where he was standing a safe distance away.

~~

Just as Anjali was about to collapse onto the couch with the golden-gilded legs she had been eyeing for several minutes, Sophia pulled her away.

“It’s all dusty down here,” she explained, her voice muffled by the hand she was using to cover her nose. “Let’s dump our stuff upstairs and take a look around.”

“Won’t it be dusty upstairs, too?” Anjali dubiously pointed out.

“Nah, they'll have cleaned the bedrooms out at least,” said Sophia, “‘cos the last owner died up there.”

Anjali stared at her. “What?” she exploded. “Which one? I don’t want to sleep in the same room where someone died, what if-”

“It won’t be haunted,” Sophia quickly reassured her, “‘cos we’re not gonna stay in that room, not if it scares you that much. Ghosts aren’t real either way, so... you’ll be alright.”

“Agree to disagree,” mumbled Anjali, letting Sophia lead her upstairs anyway. As she left, she felt the uncomfortable sensation of being watched. It could have been simple paranoia, as Sophia would explain it away as, or it could have been something Anjali did not even want to consider - but either way, she was beginning to understand exactly why old houses gave some people the creeps.

[random-thought-depository]

It occurs to me that one relatively sympathetic aspect of these people might be that, their founding population having been abducted as small children and raised by an inhuman monster, they might lack a lot of the stupid prejudices that regular humans in a low-tech setting are likely to have if real history is any guide.

Think about what’s going to happen with that first generation. It sounds to me like the dragon abducts them when they’re very young, the better to brainwash them. The dragon is probably both ignorant of and uninterested in a lot of human culture, it just wants to raise up some dragon-worshipping brainwashed thralls. Which is probably going to be bad in a lot of ways, but it also means the transmission chains of a lot of stupid prejudices get broken. There’s no-one around to tell those kids that darker-skinned people are inferior. There’s no-one around to stigmatize left-handedness and force the left-handed ones to hide being left-handed. There’s no-one around to socialize them into complicated and rigid gender roles and tell them men should be in charge. There’s no-one around to tell them they shouldn’t share a washing bowl with a Cagot. There’s no-one around to tell them some people are Untouchables and karmically deserving of low status and suffering and you should take a ritual bath if one of them touches you. The dragon probably doesn’t even know about half that stuff and doesn’t care about most of the other half. The dragon might actually actively discourage a lot of prejudices like this if they do show up, because they’d interfere with its human stock being efficient thralls (“You’re telling me you want to reduce the military effectiveness and productivity of my dragon cult because you don’t want to share tools with people who have a particular surname? Yeah, no, we’re not doing that; any tool that is not personal property belongs to me and will be used by any of my thralls who is doing work that requires it”).

What happens when these kids reach puberty? The dragon probably wants its dragon cult making babies, so it’s probably going to tell them how baby-making works and make it clear it expects them to make some new thralls for it sooner or later, but as long as the thralls are making approximately the right number of babies and aren’t killing each other it probably won’t care much about the details. So... These people are going to start experiencing attraction to each other and sometimes falling in love with each other, and... Some of them are going to fall in love with people of the same sex, and there’s no-one around to tell them homosexuality is wrong. Some of them are going to fall in love with more than one person, and there’s no-one around to tell them they aren’t allowed to have multiple partners, and there’s no-one around to tell them that people who already have a partner are “taken” and off-limits, and there’s no-one around to tell them that if you’re a man another man having sex with your female partner is a huge deadly insult to your honor. The original write-up talks about dragons selectively breeding their human thralls, so there might be significant reproductive control and coercion happening, but it’s probably pretty orthogonal to the sort that happens in patriarchal societies.

This is simplifying in ways that might paint an over-optimistic picture. Even small children may have picked up some prejudices from the societies they spent their first years in. And some of that stuff might get reinvented. Children often detect and react with hostility to difference even without much or any prompting from adults, and I suspect some prejudices of this sort are ultimately rooted in that sort of reflexive xenophobia. And I think at least a rough “men do more of the fighting and heavy labor, women do more of the child-care and less strength-intensive work” division of labor is probably going to emerge, because it’s a natural and logical reaction to physical sex differences in a low-tech context. Though on that note, I can think of a few factors that might work to keep dragon cults more gender-equal than regular human societies:

Dragons likely won’t want their cults getting too numerous. A numerous cult would be harder to control and more likely to develop power centers independent of the dragon. Dragon cults would also be more secure against external threats than other human groups of their size, because they’ve got a giant fire-breathing monster on their side, so they wouldn’t have as much pressure to make sure they’ve got lots of fighters to defend their land (though the dragon would likely be a “tall poppy,” it’s likely that lots of people will want to kill it to stop its depredations and plunder its hoard and have the glory of defeating it, so that’ll partly cancel that out). Put this together, dragon cults might be at least a little less pro-natalist than their regular human neighbors. I mean, they’ll probably still have big families by modern standards because of how many people die young in low-tech societies, they’ll probably still need to have 3-5 children per couple just for replacement rate, but this might make at least a little difference. And high birth rates, large families, and pro-natalism are an important load-bearing pillar of strong gender roles; it’s not an accident that we started treating women a lot better after we invented or popularized vaccination, antibiotics, indoor plumbing, and birth control pills (the first three things made high birth rates unnecessary and even undesirable, the last thing made low birth rates easier to maintain). Compared to other human women, dragon cult women might have more time and energy to devote to things that aren’t making and raising babies.

I think dragon cults are also likely to be socially hierarchical but economically communalistic, with little private property and relatively high social mobility. From the original write-up it sounds like dragons want totalitarian control over their cults, so they won’t want their cults to have power centers independent of the dragon. Dynastic families and sizeable accumulations of private property are power centers independent of the dragon, so the dragon will discourage their formation. In low-tech male privilege societies powerful families and stable inherited property are major bulwarks of patriarchy; they make it important who your father is, and they make it important to avoid family instability that may result in division of the property or otherwise endanger the family’s claim to the property. If patrilineal descent chains don’t matter much, women are likely to have more sexual freedom and by knock-on effects of that more freedom in general and are under less pressure to marry early and produce lots of potential heirs for their husbands.

Finally, the write-up mentioned dragons selectively breeding their human thralls for size and strength, and maybe implied also selectively breeding them for precocious physical maturity. If they’re doing that, dragons might also selectively breed their thralls for reduced sexual dimorphism. From the dragon’s point of view, why wouldn’t you want to double your pool of potential strong fighters? So after two or twenty centuries of selective breeding dragon cult women might have size and upper body strength a lot closer to males. Dragon cults would probably still have some kind of “men do more of the fighting and women do more of the work compatible with having a baby or child in close proximity” gendered division of labor, but reducing sexual dimorphism would tend to weaken gendered divisions of labor and hence gender roles in general.

I mean, we’re talking about a creepy high-control cult here. And “nobody was there to tell them...” would definitely have potential dark sides, like “nobody was there to tell them rape and incest are wrong” and “nobody was there to tell them that an adult shouldn’t casually slap around or beat up a child when they’re angry at them.” They’d probably develop some taboos on that sort of stuff just to keep their society somewhat functional, and the dragon would probably give them rules against the aspects of that sort of behavior that might lower their efficiency as thralls or endanger the viability of the dragon cult, but “basically functional levels of rape, incest, and casual physical abuse of children” might look pretty horrifying (though given what a lot of actual historical societies looked like I’m not sure they’d really be worse on the rape and casually beating up their children fronts than their non-dragon cult neighbors). So this isn’t going to be any kind of utopia. If dragon cultists showed up in a story they’d probably be bad guys. But, like:

“And because they serve dragons, they sometimes get the good stuff. Picture a 15- year-old kid with the physique of Conan, wearing the golden armor of ancient kings and armed with magic spears. The kid is also illiterate, covered in fleas, and thinks that humans were created by dragons.”

I suggest that this kid might be a girl, who has a girlfriend and a boyfriend, in a world where a female person being a warrior and interacting on a footing of easy familiarity and equality with rough violent men and having multiple partners is very much not a regular thing in most human societies. And while from one point of view this person is a brainwashed slave of a giant fire-breathing mammal-like reptile, she can look forward to having a lot more personal freedom than most non-dragon cult women (e.g. the 15 year old farmer’s daughter whose father and older brother she just eviscerated). Would fit into: “And its not hard fascism either.  Their barbarian tribes don't chafe at the collar.  They've believe in their dragon.  And when you stand in front of a dragon, you can see why.” If that girl has some idea of how much less freedom and power she’d probably have if she’d been born into one of the surrounding more normal human societies, that knowledge surely cements her loyalty to her dragon. It’d make the whole thing more insidious in a way.

-----

Aside: the one thing that kind of bugged me about the Goblin Punch post is where it says dragon cultists “never build cities or roofs.” So what do they do when it rains, or is freezing cold, or burning hot? I’m interpreting this as they live in tent-like structures and don’t build permanent houses with thick walls, cause otherwise that bit is just grimderp.

[lailoken]

“Stones of Power:

The Flints which find their way to the surface of the land are beautiful and varied but nevertheless quite small. The few larger stones which are found around Norfolk are mostly glacial erratics. Due to their relative rarity, such stones are considered remarkable and are rich in history, often having been meeting places where significant decisions were taken. Unsurprisingly, they have much magical lore associated with them and retain considerable power, which can be drawn upon for magical purposes. This sometimes involves spells but is more often a means of developing our understanding of unwritten history. After all, the memory of stones is deeper and denser than the Mercurial gifts of pen and ink of of the whispered word. The sonorous voices of these stones have a language of their own, unfettered by grammar and vocabulary. They "speak’ to one another across the landscape, maintaining, not only their ancient kinship, but also an intricate pattern of silent power lines. The following examples represent just a small selection. There are more which can be sought out.

The Cowell Stone

This stone is to be found on Swaffham Heath, about 150 yards from the B1122 road to Downham Market. It stands at a truly liminal spot, marking a hundred boundary, as well as those of the parishes of Swaffham, Marham and Narborough. Part of the Icknield Way, marked as Peddersty or Saltersty, and the East-West Fincham Drove, which is a Roman road, pass very close to it (Clarke and Clarke, 1937). Its magic draws together the footsteps of the many who have trodden these paths and lived and died in the surrounding parishes.

The origin of the stone's name has a number of possibilities. Ben Ripper (1979) suggests it is named after Cow Hill, or a corruption of coal, since the stone once guided pilgrims to a beacon hill near Colkirk (Coalchurch). The stone used to be situated in a field nearby, where workers sat on it to eat their dinner. However, in the 1980s, it was moved by two local historians, Ben Ripper and Peter Howling, as it was considered to be at risk of damage from ploughing. The move seems not to have disrupted its energy in any way, perhaps because it was conducted with respect and honourable intentions. It has a warm, welcoming lenergy, one which encourages the seeker to both broaden and deepen their quest for knowledge, not just of stones, but of all aspect of the magic of the land.

The Merton Stone

The Merton Stone, nestled in a shallow marl pit, just off the Peddars Way near the boundary of the parishes of Merton and Threxton, is thought to weigh between twenty and thirty tons and to be the largest glacial erratic in the United Kingdom.

Some people say that to stand on it is a chilling experience, where the presence of malevolent spirits can be felt. However, on a warm, sunny day it is more likely to be a very pleasant, and indeed healing experience. It is well known that, continuing a centuries-old tradition, young ladies wishing to fall pregnant still sit on the stone and find its magic effective. The plants around it, especially the Mugwort, seem to derive extra energy from their proximity to such a powerful character.

There is a long-held local belief that, if the stone is removed, the waters will rise and cover the entire Earth (Clarke and Clarke, 1937). Moving the stone was apparently attempted by the 5th Lord of Walsingham, one of the ancient de Grey family. He assembled all the local men and women, together with much beer and many ropes, but the failed attempt ended in an "erotic debauch". Another attempt to move it, in the 1930s or 40s, this time using a large rotary plough, was equally unsuccessful (Burgess, 2005b), although I have been unable to find out whether this ended the same way as the previous escapade.

The Stockton Stone

The Stockton Stone currently stands on the raised grass verge of a lay-by on the A146, between Beccles and Norwich, just outside the village of Stockton itself. This lichen-covered, sandstone glacial erratic weighs several tons and is said by some to have been an ancient track marker. According to Michael Clarke, it marks the old meeting place of the Clavering hundred, possibly the place where the 10th century Danegeld was paid, although Geldeston, near Beccles, might be a more likely candidate, given its name.

Like the Merton Stone, the Stockton Stone has a curse upon it that anyone who moves it will fall victim to terrible misfortune or death. Much to the consternation of many local people, it was indeed moved, in the 1930s, to accommodate the widening of the road. Not surprisingly. one of the workmen involved collapsed and died.

In spite of its unfortunate location, so close to a very busy road, this stone retains an amazingly powerful energy and people still leave small offerings there. While paying our respects recently, a group of us found a rather attractive blue stone egg, which looked as if it had not been there for very long. Moved by the moment and by the atmosphere, one of our party suggested that we should hold hands and dance around the stone three times, which we duly did, much to the amusement of passing motorists!

The Great Stone of Lyng

This is another erratic brought to us by the glaciers of the Ice Age. There are many local tales surrounding this mysterious Stone, which is said to bleed if pricked with a pin. Some claim the blood is that of victims from a time when the stone was used as a sacrificial altar, while others are of the opinion that it is the blood of those who fell during a ferocious battle between King Edmund and the Danes. Others tell of treasure hidden beneath it and how the landowner has never been able to move the stone to unearth the spoils (Burgess, 2005a).

The grove in which the stone stands, almost hidden beside the path, does have a rather unnerving feel to it. One can "see" all too easily soldiers struggling up the steep escarpment and the bodies of the slain sprawled on the bank to the other side of the path. Rod Chapman informs me that, not so very many years ago, some of the children of the village had to walk through the grove, past the stone, in order to get to school and, in the winter, these children were allowed to leave school early so that they could walk through before it was dark. This is completely understandable. On climbing out of the hollow to the fields above, the atmosphere suddenly changes completely. There is almost a sense of relief and a feeling that one no longer needs to speak in hushed whispers.

There is a recent tale of a brave, tough, yet inexperienced witch who was determined to camp out for a night by the stone, in order to become better acquainted with the ghosts and spirits of the place. He pitched his tent right near the stone and was confident that he would have an interesting and informative night's vigil. However, he became so frightened by the eerie sounds and the terrifying atmosphere that he was forced to run from the place and ring a fellow practitioner to come with their car and rescue him! The stone does look something like a Dragon and has a hole in it just where the eye would be, which is deep enough for an adult to insert their entire arm. Quite a few people I know have done this and come to no harm, although it is not a pleasant experience.

Not far from the grove, in the middle of a field, are the ruins of a nunnery known as St. Edmund's Chapel, which was said to have been built to honour those who died in the battle.

It has been suggested that Blood's Dale, between Drayton and Hellesdon, on the slopes leading down to the River Wensum, where the Danes are also said to have fought the Anglo-Saxons, may have been the site of King Edmund's death in 896 CE. Abbo of Fleury (870 CE) tells us that King Edmund died at Hellesdon, and Joe Mason (2018) argues convincingly, that the unusual number of churches dedicated to St. Edmund along this stretch of the River Wensum is significant. The survivors, having found the King's severed head with the help of the Wolf, could have taken his body upstream to Lyng, to the aforementioned chapel. Although not fully excavated, some pottery dating from the time of King Edmund, has been found there. Furthermore, an old tithe map refers to the Grove as King's Grove and a map published in the Eastern Daily Press in 1939, names the Great Stone as King Edmund's Stone. Perhaps this would have been a suitable burial place for the miracle-working king? (Mason, 2018) Some of us would like to think so. Certainly, the Ash keys collected from a tree growing on the ruins of the nunnery are particularly effective in assisting those who wish to speak with spirits of the dead.

The Aldeby Rune Stones

Not all our standing stones are ancient, and just as exciting are those being erected now for the benefit of ourselves and of future generations. Aldeby, in South East Norfolk, is a wonderful such example. Here, seven standing stones have been carved with runes and with Christian symbols, and placed around the parish boundary as part of a Millennium project, known as "Pathways in Stone". The runes spell out the name of the village but are also related to the powers of the stones themselves. The Stone of Dawn, for example, features the Day Rune (dagaz) and a Medieval symbol of the World and the four Elements, while the Stone of Wisdom has the God Rune (ansuz) and the square and circle symbol for the material and spiritual worlds. One stone, the Stone of Destiny, combines all the symbols found on the outlying stones, with the addition of the othel rune, symbolizing ancestral land and heritage. The stones are carboniferous limestone, so had to be brought in especially for the project, but in spite of having been in place for a relatively short time, some of them are already giving off some very interesting energy.

These stones form a pilgrimage walk around the village and are best seen in the Winter when they are not obscured by vegetation.

The Druid Stone of St. Andrew's

When Ray Loveday pointed out to me his "Druid Stone", at the North-east corner of St. Andrew's Church, in the centre of Norwich, I was astounded that I had walked down St. Andrew's Hill so many times, admiring the cleverly-knapped Flint of the church wall, without noticing this stone. It is another of those magical items which are hiding in plain sight, but once the attention is drawn to it, the remarkable ancient power it holds becomes apparent. This stone, at least what can be seen of it above ground, is not large, and has a fairly flat top with a number of circular indentations which are often filled with' water, and work well as scrying pools. Ray is unsure whether they are a natural feature, were deliberately carved out or have developed over centuries as a result of water dripping from the church roof. There are several smaller, less well-rounded dips too, which tend to get rather muddy. The stone, which has a very feminine feel to it, welcomes small, discrete offerings, such as a ring of twisted Periwinkle stems or a little Daisy chain; nothing too elaborate or containing any artificial materials. It certainly deserves respect and attention, as it appears to form part of the magical foundation of the city.”

—

Chapter 2: ‘Sacred Places: Stories Within the Landscape’,

Of Chalk & Flint:

A Way of Norfolk Magic

by Val Thomas