#also the pain tourism..... can you fucking stop it

[natandacat]

I wish all radfems using the pain of iranian women to feed their fucking agenda a very die

[bengiyo]

Ossan's Love Returns Ep 5 Stray Thoughts

Last week, Maki had to leave for a work trip right as his dad was home alone with back pain. Haruta stepped in to take care of his father-in-law, but Maki's dad was not feeling it. We also learned the sordid details about Izumi's dead lover who was Haruta's doppelganger, and they Izumi is determined to avenge him. We also know that Kiku is in love with Izumi. Izumi offered some insights about Maki's dad via chess that allowed Haruta the honor of being allowed to wipe his father-in-law's butt. Kiku also came clean about their law enforcement role to Kurosawa, figuring he'd just be a problem if he wasn't told. Takekawa went on a bachelor show and was summarily rejected. Also, the chief had a fall and scared us all.

Kurosawa won the vacation voucher!

Kurosawa's apartment layout looks similar to Aoyanagi Hajime's.

OOF. Kurosawa is struggling with loneliness.

Yes, let's follow-up on the butt-wiping and Takegawa getting rejected.

These enormous ongiri are throwing me off every episode.

Wow this handstand is very impressive.

Choko is now the Gay Whisperer, and she has new reasons to despise Haruta;

Oh lord these people are still spying on Izumi and Kuki.

Yes! Everyone go to Atami!

I'm so ready for the hijinks!!!

Episode 5: Take Me to Atami

Atami is very beautiful! Good work on the tourism front.

I will never stop thanking this show for how physically affectionate Haruta and Maki are.

Kurosawa almost falling on the stairs twice would be funnier for me if I wasn't worried about his health.

Maki lost his ring!!!

Guys, do not put the waiter through this!

Poor Maki. This is not what her had in mind at all.

Why is Kurosawa still fanning??

I appreciate that Kiku also has strong feelings about honoring Akito's memory.

Oh shit, I didn't expect Kiku to actually admit it.

Oh, Kurosawa. I'm glad he hugged Kiku as a fellow loser in love.

Now how the hell did both Maki and Izumi fall here.

Chief, you gotta stop putting hands on that man!!

This sloppy brawl is everything I hoped for. Chief and Maki fighting and tearing shit up. Kiku stumbling in drunk. Unexpected wrestling and double pinning of Haruta, opening up a whole can of worms about how Izumi and Kiku probably wanted to fuck Akito. Dragging Haruta for being indecisive. Sloppy crying. Kurosawa had a fan the entire time.

Oh, Haruta. I love how hard you love your husband.

"Make sure to reflect on that." I'm so glad Kurosawa had a good time.

Izumi...bro...

This trip was so much fun. I loved seeing them blend with the neighbors, and I loved seeing Kurosawa get to be as extra as he wanted. He was ready to fight Maki the entire time and he did! I can't believe Maki smashed a fake rock over Chief's back. Incredible. I just know the staff was pissed about them in the morning. Let me not forget Choko, because she is right to be annoyed that Haruta always seems to be at the center of gay drama around here. I'm also so worried about Takegawa.

[lunod]

As a mid support needs autistic who uses a wheelchair you fucking treat us like shit too don't you dare pretend you're any better. The cripplepunk community is rife with fucking sanism to the point I've been told my autism is a privilege or ONLY my deformity matters and I should suck up my severe mental illnesses I have on top of my autism that makes it so I fucking poison myself because I don't have the ability to properly clean my kitchen wear or stop slamming into walls on accident or struggle at times slightly with motor skills. Or idk CSA/trauma related bladder control issues that are just as disabling as my fucking hypothyroidism.

Do YOU care about people like us? Or are you also just using us as a fucking token?

You do realize the post itself was very explicitly stating to listen to ID/DD individuals, as well as criticizing the way the autism community on social media only ever covers the cute and quirky aspects of autism? And you do realize that assuming physically disabled people are mentally well unless stated otherwise is a Huge leap to take given the massive amount of comorbidity physical disabilities have with mental illness and neurodiversity and the high rate of abuse physically disabled people face?

A very large measure of my disability activism and educational posts, in person and online, has been centered on mental health and neurodiversity for the past 10 Years. And I do in fact mean activism, I've done quite a bit politically. Partially because I was in such an abusive household that I was never taken to the doctor for things like TBIs, partially because I was court ordered therapy which means I have been in therapy for also over 15 years, partially because a lot of people only find my mental illnesses interesting and never ask about my physical conditions. I was physically abused so much for stimming that I can no longer do echolalia except in my head because the noise won't come out, that my arm flapping has been reduced to trying to hide very small finger motions. I had meltdowns over my socks not being the right texture and only ate bananas for months. I had and still have interpersonal issues related to me being too literal and lacking social skills and I had and still have huge meltdowns that render the rest of the day nonfunctional. I've had coworkers clock me as autistic, when I was working and not on SSDI. I started attempting suicide at 11, self harming at 7. I have mental health diagnoses that there are only 3 inpatient facilities in the entire country for it and yes I have been to them. I just got done doing pelvic floor therapy because surprise, I Also have CSA-related pelvic pain and incontinence. In fact, wouldn't you like to know that I'm a sex trafficking survivor. In case you didn't notice, it says I'm Filipino--my country is one of the top places in the world for sex tourism and trafficking.

You need more mental illness street cred or are you done projecting shit on me? Cool.

[your-cryin-fool]

Married in Vegas

Pairing: Tom Petty x F! Reader

Request: I wish I had copied it down because unfortunately I do not remember it. But I would like to thank @run-down-that-dream​ for requesting it and for being so understanding that it took me until now to finish it

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: Mentions of Tom smashing his hand while making Southern Accents 

Rating: T

Notes:  If you enjoyed this please lemme know! Just a like would be fine, but if you can comment or reblog, or even shoot me an ask about it I’d be so grateful! As much as I am writing this because it makes me happy, I also like to know how it’s being received by all of you! Thank you for reading!!

Tags: If anyone would like to be tagged in my fics please let me know :)

Going on tour with Tom and the band wasn't anything new to you, you'd been with them on their previous tours, but this one seemed risky to say the least. It hadn't been long since Tom had recovered from shattering his hand, though you worried that going out on tour right away would mess something up, but when he assured you he would be okay, you believed him.

You sat next to him on the tour bus, he had his arm around you, your head was turned so you could look out the window and watch the dusty horizon, and he idly twirled strands of your hair.

"You okay?" He asked after a noticeable silence grew. "Seem awful quiet."

"Hm?" You turned to look at him, "Sorry I was zoning out a bit. I'm alright, though."

"Just makin' sure," he smiled then kissed your forehead.

"Be nice to get out of this bus though, I need to stretch my legs."

"Shouldn't be too much longer. You wanna take a walk when we get there?"

"Yeah I'd like that."

He moved his hand from off of your shoulder and held yours instead. You smiled and leaned against him, gently stroking his hand with your thumb. 

You eyed the thin pink line running down the back of his hand, and as you stared you remembered the circumstances that resulted in that scar. Mike calling you from the hospital telling you not to worry while Tom waited for an x-ray. And of course Tom telling you it wasn't a big deal when you burst into the waiting room looking for him. Then, what you remembered most of all and what you never wanted to see again, the pain in Tom's eyes. Not just pain from the injury, but pain from the doctor telling him that they could fix his hand but he may never play guitar again. Pain he hid behind a smart-ass comment. He didn't accept the possibility, you recalled him saying 'Fuck that' and you knew then that he was determined to prove the doctor wrong, and he did.  

"(Y/N)?" 

You snapped out of the memory, "Hm?"

"I was wondering if I could ask you something." Tom's voice was quiet, shy. Not a tone you were used to hearing when it wasn't just the two of you.

"What's up?" 

Just as he was about to speak, the bus stopped. 

He fumbled, almost as if he was counting on the engine to muffle whatever he was going to say.

"Well it's just--"

"C'mon lovebirds, we're here!" Mike beckoned the two of you as the band headed toward the exit.

"Guess I'll ask you later." He sighed, but a smile stayed plastered on his face as he got up from his seat, and helped you up after.

You stumbled slightly as your legs woke up, but Tom just held you tighter to stop you from losing your balance. You smiled at him, then headed toward the exit. When you stepped out you immediately felt the contrast between the nice cool bus to the dry desert heat, but it was only temporary as you headed into the hotel shortly after. 

Once you'd checked in, everyone went up to their rooms to rest from the drive. Your mind was preoccupied on what Tom could have possibly wanted to talk to you about on the bus, to a point where you didn't even notice him leave the room. 

Was it something bad? Had you done something? No, Tom would have told you then and there if there was something wrong between the two of you. Neither of you really believed in going anywhere angry, so if you'd fight, you'd always be quick to make up. And there was a lot of fighting when he was in recovery. 

His frustration with not being able to play anything or do anything, and your inability to help him. To say your tempers and stubbornness would clash was somewhat of an understatement. You knew neither of you meant anything you said, but you still said it, and you both would always apologize as soon as you realized you had said something that hurt the other. 

In all the years you had been with Tom, that was probably your most difficult time as a couple, but through patience and understanding, and beyond all things, love, you got past it.

"Hey, you ready?" Tom asked you after he had come back in, once again snapping you out of your thoughts.

You nodded and took his outstretched hand, then once again headed out into the arid city air.

The two of you walked hand-in-hand along the strip, pointing out the fun looking buildings and funny signs and taking pictures in front of them. 

It wasn't very often that he could go out while he was on tour, but one good thing about Las Vegas was that everyone there was too preoccupied with sight-seeing to pay attention to who was standing in front of them. It was a nice break. 

"So," you began, "What were you going to say on the bus?" 

He rubbed the back of his neck, "Oh right, well I…" 

You couldn't help but think that he seemed nervous.

"It's just that you mean the world to me, you know that?"

You laughed, "I had a hunch."

After a pause, you continued. "Was that what you wanted to say earlier?"

He shrugged, "It's part of it."

"You gonna tell the rest?"

He laughed, "I might." 

The two of you continued walking, and eventually he spoke again.

"What would you say Vegas is pretty known for?"

You looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, casinos?"

"Yeah, but anything else?"

"Strip clubs, tourism, cocaine... wedding chapels."

"Right..."

He stopped suddenly and you looked at him. "Is this still about what you were gonna tell me on the bus?"

"Sort of." He pointed up at the sign on the building you stopped in front of.

You looked up to read it, then looked back at him.

"Wait are you-?"

"Do you want to?" 

You grabbed his face and kissed his lips. "Let's go." 

The two of you walked in and were greeted, not only by someone dressed as Elvis at the end of the aisle, but the rest of the band waiting for you.

"Are you kidding me?" You asked him, "You set this up?" 

"Well, I figured we might as well." He grinned.

"And if I said no?"

"Then I'd be pretty embarrassed I guess. Good thing you didn't."

You stood hand in hand at the altar, listening as Elvis spoke to you about what you were agreeing to, and then Tom asked to say a few words. 

"(Y/N), you helped me through one of the hardest times in my life. Having to go through surgery and relearning to play, I don’t know if I'd have ever been able to do that on my own. I know I probably wasn't much fun to be around, but you stayed by my side the whole time. Without you, who knows what I would have done, maybe I'd have done what the doctors said and stopped playing. But you believed in me, you've always believed in me. And I wanna return the favour, I promise to be there for you when you need someone by your side," he chuckled quietly, "And even when you say you don't. I know you're strong, but you don't have to do everything alone. I'll always be in your corner, I'll always believe in you, and most of all, I'll always love you."

You were fighting back tears, you thought this was a spur of the moment decision, something brought up just because you were going to be here, but he was speaking like he had it written down long in advance. As you dabbed at your eyes with a tissue, he pulled out a small box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a ring you recognized.

"Wasn't that your mom's ring?"

"She loved you, she would've wanted you to have it." He smiled.

The tears you were fighting back almost came out right then and there. You knew how much his mother meant to him, and you knew how heartbroken he was when she had passed away. So for him to give you a ring with such importance to him meant everything to you.

"But how... Did you plan all of this?"

"The guy dressed as Elvis is a surprise." He shrugged then slid the ring on your finger. 

Soon, the two of you said your 'I Do's' and Elvis declared you married. 

You kissed Tom and the guys cheered from the audience, and without really having a plan to do so, you'd just married the love of your life. 

––– 

That evening, you laid in the bed with Tom, tangled up in a cuddle.

"So, we're married," Tom said, a smile growing on his face.

"Apparently." You wiggled your ring finger and smiled.

"Can I talk about it at the show?"

"What, like, tell the whole world now?"

"Not the whole world, just a couple thousand people."

"And the press."

He frowned, "So that's a no?"

"It's a 'not yet', you know my parents, they'd kill me, well they'd kill you, if they found out we got married in Vegas."

"Yeah, I didn't really think of that. My folks would've probably been a little pissed too." He shrugged and his smile returned. "You know what that means, right?"

"What?"

"Means that we have to get married again, just not in Vegas. I'd rather not be killed because I couldn't wait."

"Well, if it spares your life, I guess I can agree to that." 

He pulled you close to him, "I'm glad that I'll get to call you my wife, even if no one knows."

"Well, the two of us know, and the boys."

"And Elvis!"

You yawned. "Right, can't forget Elvis." 

He kissed your forehead, and smiled at you, "Goodnight, Mrs. Petty." 

Just as you were about to drift off to sleep, he spoke up again.

"Can I tell the crowd I proposed?"

You laughed sleepily, "Sure." 

[oumaheroes]

WIP Extract- Breathe

This comes from my fic Reset, which is long and large and something that is most certainly impossible to read in a day.

The fic itself mainly focuses on England and France with FrUK as the relationship, but I enjoyed writing this interaction between Scotland and England and wanted to share. Context wise, England has been shot in the shoulder and has got himself into a bit of a political pickle- Scotland was called in to help dig him out of the very self-inflicted hole.

-----------

Scotland did most of the talking. England was far too tired to argue or to properly conceptualise any next steps that were needed and the only emotion he found distinguishable from bone aching tiredness was deep gratitude. Now that everything was being handled by someone else, and someone else who England trusted to be competent, there was no panic or worry to keep him alert and he was finding it increasingly difficult to stay conscious, let alone remain focused on conversations enough to be able to provide intelligent input.

France was very much the same. He hadn't spoken much more since the motorhome, not even when North had laughed at him for his ridiculously baggy stolen clothes. The location of France's own things was a mystery- perhaps they had been abandoned at the care home or chucked out of the window as they'd driven here- who knew. Technically they were England's clothes anyway, so France wasn't too bothered.

The most France had done was rummage through Scotland's luggage before they set off and triumphantly pull one of Wales’ jumpers out from his suitcase to take for his own.

'If I ever insult the lovely Wales' fashion choices again, please remind me of this moment.'

It was a horribly garish thing, mottled with splashes of bright red and blue. It was entirely the sort of thing Scotland would also eye up and steal. Terrible looking though they may be, Wales' jumpers were, somehow, always the most comfortable and he was frequently annoyed with his siblings for taking them if he left them anywhere for too long, which he often did.

'We all know that as soon as you get back to your own clothes you will conveniently forget this conversation.'

France ignored England in favour of pulling the jumper over his head and giving a long sigh of contentment.

'Go on, hurry up,' Scotland pushed past him to the driver's door, causing him to stumble forwards, 'chuck England something to cover the blood and get in the car already. I'm leaving with or without you in five minutes.'

Although they now had the backing of the embassy to explain any erratic and untoward behaviour concerning the general public, England did look particularly horrific and it probably wouldn't end well if they waltzed in looking as they did. There was a high chance someone would panic and phone an ambulance which was the last thing anyone wanted- hospitals were always risky for their kind and drawing more attention to themselves at the moment wouldn't be wise.

Because of this, England before too long thankfully found himself in a hotel lobby wearing an extremely large green monstrosity he was most certainly not going to give back later.

Someone, probably not Scotland because the place was far too comfortable looking and Scotland was always the most careful (England preferred the word stingy) with money out of all of them, had arranged a hotel for them in Le Mans. It wasn't anywhere too extravagant or fancy but it was a bed each and that was honestly all England wanted right now. It wasn’t even that late in the evening but all he could think about was going to sleep somewhere and being left very much alone.

Sadly, he wasn't given that luxury. As soon as they'd checked in and avoided the suspicious eyes of the hotel staff, Scotland had bullied him into his room and through to the bathroom. He'd requested that the embassy bring additional medical supplies when they arrived for their nations to use and whilst England was pulling off the top most layers of clothing he unpacked them on his bed, picking out what he thought they'd need.

'It's not too bad,' England called out to him from the bathroom, giving up on his top completely and cackhandedly cutting his way free with a pair of medical scissors. In the room next door, he could hear the sound of a shower turning on- France must have jumped straight in, 'it'll be fine with a wash.'

Scotland returned with some bandages and antiseptic solution and placed them down on the counter, 'Sure.'

'Honestly.'

'Okay.'

'There's no point fussing, I can do it myself.'

England made a grab for the antiseptic but Scotland moved it back and away, out of easy reach, 'Christ, would you stop?'

'Just give it here, you go check on France or North.'

'No, England sit.'

There was a wooden chair in the bathroom and Scotland pulled it over and tried to push England into it. Too tired to properly fight him England sat, but reached over to the counter to grab for the gauze.

Scotland slapped his hand away and stood in front of them, blocking him.

'Scotland. Let me-'

'Bollocks to that, look,'

Scotland crouched down in front of him and England bristled immediately at the offense, 'Don't treat me like a child.' He wasn’t dying.

'I'm not, just,' Scotland made an exasperated noise, 'calm the fuck down.'

'I am calm, you are what is currently stressing me out.' England grit his teeth and forced himself to sound level-headed and somewhat close to polite. He really couldn't be arsed to deal with any more grief today and his tolerance for his brothers' particular flavour of annoyance was always low.

'No, hear me out for a minute,' Scotland put a large hand on England's good shoulder and let it rest there, heavy, and England tensed at the contact, 'breathe, for just one bloody second. Even before France came back you weren't feeling great and you've had a shit few days. Just breathe, and stop trying to take control of every damn thing.'

Scotland's eyes looked far too serious and, dare he say, concerned and England tried to shrug him off, 'I'm fine, I only got caught in the shoulder- it's nothing any of us haven't had before. There's no need for all of this,' England gestured with his head to the neat rolls of bandages and the bottle of antiseptic. They were modern luxuries to them; effective and modern medical supplies were only things that were easily to hand in the last century. England had received far worse injuries before, hell, had received far worse injuries from Scotland before- this truly was nothing worthy of any particular extra care or attention.

What he wanted was for Scotland to leave him alone and go and check on North, to make sure he was okay and let England pick at his shoulder how he wanted. Scotland wasn't usually one to provide any form of tender affection or coddling, whilst England had been growing up Scotland's method of child rearing at been a firm, rough bluntness that he now found oddly comforting and expected. This sort of behaviour usually came from Wales, so to see it from Scotland was incredibly unnerving.

'I'm not talking about the shoulder,' Scotland only tightened his hold and England tipped his head back against the wall in frustration, 'I can feel you better now that I'm close and you're putting me on edge.'

There were benefits to being in a political union. The UK was made up of four separate countries, four independent states with long, messy histories that intertwined yes, but were still very separate beings. However, under the United Kingdom they formed one nation, one political entity and that caused a strange blurring of self, sometimes. It gave them all a sort of fuzzy idea as to how the other members of the union were doing- how the English banks were faring, how the Welsh harvest was coming along, how much the tourism in Northern Ireland had swelled and boosted the local economy and how much the fishing industry was suffering in Scotland.

It was handy; it was extremely useful when it came to planning and understanding how to best move forward as one nation of 4 people, and it was also a pain.

It was a pain because England couldn't hide himself as much as he wanted to around his brothers these days, couldn't put on an entirely impenetrable mask of indifference as he would like because if there was something wrong then the other members of the United Kingdom would know about it, regardless of how much he tried to cover it up. He was used to this feeling of intimacy with Wales, who had been bound to him since 1301, but Scotland still felt somewhat new. They hadn't always had a peaceful relationship, their people had often been at very bloody war with each other, and at times it still felt odd for Scotland to read him so well, even after three hundred odd years together. Especially in moments when England wanted to come across differently to how he really felt.

It sometimes felt even stranger for Scotland to act upon England's vulnerability with kindness rather than take advantage, although England knew that he was being unfair to think that. He hadn't always given his eldest brother the opportunity to demonstrate anything other than what England had come to expect and a lot of that he knew in hindsight was self-inflicted.

As for right now...

England forced himself to meet Scotland’s eye, 'I'll be fine. I just need to sleep and eat something and get home.'

'Aye, I know,' Scotland gave his shoulder a brief pat before letting go, standing up to pick up the supplies on the counter, 'but you feel like you're gonna have a heart attack so until then, let someone else do something for a change. You don't have to do it all on your own.'

England closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the tap as Scotland washed his hands. Scotland was calm and healthy, his banks were strong, his people were happy and he felt steady and familiar- an old ancient lullaby and a well-trodden path to home.

Despite what he said, and even though he wouldn't never admit this even to himself, having Scotland nearby felt good and England had to concede that maybe his brother was right. He took a deep breath in and held it for a moment before letting it go, feeling the tension that he hadn't realised was there lift from his shoulders and jaw.

Scotland made a noise of approval and stepped closer, a calloused hand on England's arm to warn him about the incoming stinging sensation, 'everything is being handled. After this I'll go grab us something to eat, drag North in the shower, and you can go to bed.'

Belatedly, England realised that their entire conversation was being held in Brythonic and although a small part of himself was unamused that Scotland could trick and lull him into passivity so easily, he was mostly grateful for it. A shared history, a collective notion of stability, peace and default comfort wasn't something to take for granted. England couldn't quite bring himself to express this in words, but he hoped that his appreciation for it came across well enough by keeping his eyes shut and doing as he was told.

[du0tine]

well, fuck.

this isn’t great. frankly its horrible.

it’s never fun being suspended so high in the air with the harsh winds blowing roughly in your direction forcing you to seek shelter against the icy and snowy mixture of rock that sits atop the towering mountain.

to be honest, had it been any other day this would’ve been thrilling. being up here in harsh conditions, struggling to hold on and testing my mental and physical capabilities would’ve been so much fucking fun.

but there are days where you just imagine the rope that holds you up so high, snapping and slicing against a sharp piece of rock as you plummet to your death. the sky is the last thing you see, the butterflies in your stomach going mad from the sudden drop and you can’t help but think, “im going to die.”

most people, in this case: climbers that is, don’t want to die. they understand the risks, they know that given what they do things are bound to happen and im someone who understands that concept very well. but some of us are just so desensitized to the point that death feels like nothing, we’re used to losing team mates, friends and lovers. i just didn’t understand why i wanted for it to happen to me so much.

climbing is a large part of my life amongst other things; friends, family and other significant factors. all pieces both large and small that factor into what i call my life, something that i can’t help but be grateful for. but sometimes i realize life is fleeting. i realize just how short it is and sometimes i realize that, you know what? im okay with dying. whether it be today, tomorrow or the day after, i understand that death is inevitable and sometimes i just yearn for it to happen a little faster.

it often comes and goes, starting with tears and ending with cold, blank and rather monotone eyes gazing into the emptiness. i don’t know what it feels like exactly, the physicality is easy to understand but when i have to put into words its too hard. but it feel freezing cold, isolation hurts, solitude is pain. im all alone with nothing and no one and in fact, i do think im alone despite everything.

i just know im alone.

i have so many people in my life but it’s hard for me to understand why they’re here, it becomes difficult for me to keep them in my life. i find it hard to continue to speak with lifelong friends, keep in touch with cousins and other family. my parents and siblings (my brothers only being 3 & 5) being the only people i can speak to without feeling so choked up.

i speak to people ive met here (tumblr) but it never goes past a few conversations that occur from time to time and to those i do talk consistently with i can’t help but feel like i annoy. sometimes people reach out to me for advice, for guidance and of course, i aid them. it only pains me a little to never be asked if im okay in return but whatever right? as long as the people are happy, then im happy.

here in nepal, it’s been nice. people are nice. the way of life is one that no one takes for granted and it makes me feel out of place, like a spoiled brat who just yearns so much to escape but i try my best to just take a deep breath and indulge. the buddhist culture here makes me understand the ways of life, living alongside other climbers and watching sherpas dance to the tune of death, twisting around and just barely sneaking past almost every time.

despite how beautiful it is with the towering peaks, glaciers and fields of luscious green grass. death holds a strong presence here, one that’s covered by the tourism and clusters of climbers. but one that’s never ignored, everything being worshipped. pooja ceremonies being held for safe journeys and honouring the beautiful land, the mother of it all with offerings. mother nature is honoured and yet, she still plucks us one by one.

last year on my winter expedition i met a boy, well a man. someone who was 12 years older than me, someone i grew to have feelings for that in fact were reciprocated. despite seeming inappropriate, it was all consensual, it was positive and perfect. there was no dirty intention behind it and despite the large age gap it quickly flourished into a sweet, relationship but i found myself growing distant.

we were both sponsored by the same company which is how we met, the both of us being skiers and climbers. people who understood the dangers of venturing out into the wild, knowing what it meant to leave it all behind and pursue your wildest dreams.

he was perfect for me and yet, i broke up with him while living in nepal. i didn’t know why i did at first and it took me a lot of thinking. a lot of time being alone and realizing that throughout my whole life id been accustomed to supporting myself, knowing that there was no one else for me but me. perhaps it was the mixture of dreadful trauma id faced when i was younger, things i never told anyone, things that i only now realize just how bad they were.

regardless, the past is the past and i know i can’t let it hold me down and yet it’s just so hard to keep living when you know just how gravely you’ve been damaged. but i always tell myself that there’s someone out there who’s got it worse, someone who hasn’t stopped suffering from the day they’ve been brought into this world and until this very day.

like them i also wander the earth and yet i have an advantage, one that i should never take for granted and that being that everything that had happened, is over. i shouldn’t let it bring me down and ruin all the good things i have now.

so anyways, what lead to me ultimately breaking down was when i found myself like i mentioned before climbing upwards, fifteen pitches ahead in the air with my team around me. belayed upwards as i find myself freezing momentarily when the snow from above comes falling down, raining down on me as the wind whips me in the face.

it felt so cold, i couldn’t help but press my forehead against the wall and look downwards at my dangling feet. my hands were numb, my ice pick wedged into the snow and ice, my toes just barely warm. i just found myself observing how far away the ground was from where i hung. the distance from where i spiralled about to the ground was like how disconnected i felt from the earth. physically i am here but mentally im lost. where am i? i don’t know, maybe ill know someday? but what if i just don’t try anymore and let it all go, the place im in isn’t a bad place to die in fact, it’s beautiful.

but i can’t let myself plummet to the ground in front of people i know, i can’t traumatize them. i can’t be selfish and hurt others, id already done it once and that was to the man i loved.

pushing forwards we finished climbing, taking in the air at the top and looking down at everything. feeling like we were in fact on top of the world when really this was only one of the peaks we decided to acclimatize to in preparation for the everest/lhotse push that would happen in the next two months.

the feeling was the same as always, a feeling of satisfaction. you feel unstoppable at the top of the mountain, like there’s nothing and no one in your path and yet for the first time i felt anxious.

i felt like i was going to throw up. it didn’t feel great to be up here, i didn’t know why at that moment but when we began rappelling downwards i couldn’t help but think about how cold hearted i was for breaking up with him. there was no reason for me to do so and yet, i just did. it wasn’t right and it took me sometime to realize why. i needed to make sure i could at least put in the effort to do something.

the trek back to base camp was agonizing. i felt like i couldn’t breath properly, falling out of tune with my surroundings and just marching forwards. my team looking like blobs of colourful parkas. silently i felt myself weeping and just feeling like shit. i hated this.

it was embarrassing, i always made sure to peel myself apart and cry when there was no one around and yet here i was crying with people i knew and got to know around me. one of my leaders, who was a single mom that was a total badass in the mountains and one of the best ski mountaineer ive met (she’s also my team lead) spotted me falling apart and staggered behind to talk things out with me and i began to find comfort in consolidating in someone.

this was something i never even did with my own mother. this was the first time i looked for guidance in someone who’d lived longer than me and understood how grief, sadness and just a clusterfuck of emotions works.

with every step i took i slowly pieced the answers i needed for my puzzle piece and now here i am sitting inside my tent typing this foolish rant. my fingers lingering over the call button of the contact id for my ex boyfriend.

i think ill call him and apologize.

it’ll be a good first step.

update: things have been solved (relationship wise) but i don’t feel too good mentally nor physically. unfortunately, i received heartbreaking news that my bestfriend passed away and i feel lost. i don’t know what’s going on, what’s going to happen and i just feel guilty and pathetic. despite that comment, the less people see this the better, it’s not good energy and it’s just negatively going to affect others but i can’t dip without an explanation.

things are on a queue.

[trh-thesussexes]

Inside Duchess Meghan’s Emotional Farewell to Royal Life at a Private Engagement

It was supposed to be a quiet day off in the countryside until my phone went berserk—the staccato buzz I set for palace correspondence almost sending it off the table. “His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales is delighted to announce the engagement of Prince Harry to Ms. Meghan Markle,” the November 27, 2017, email read, followed by a note inviting royal correspondents to join the couple for a special photo call to mark the occasion. A few road rules may have been bent to make the 80-ish mile drive from Oxfordshire to Kensington Palace—in traffic—but it was worth it. Standing by the lily-covered Sunken Pond as Harry shared his joy at finally finding his teammate, it was the perfect start to a chapter that would finally bring the royal family into the 21st century. Over the months and years that followed, I closely shadowed the work of the Duke and Duchess of Sussex, getting to know the couple better through their humanitarian endeavors, engagements, and overseas visits. Their high-energy work ethic and passion for social justice attracted a new, more diverse demographic of royal watcher to the scene. As a young(ish), biracial royal correspondent, the change was exciting. And as their popularity grew around the world, so did a new golden era for the House of Windsor. Never did I expect that less than two and half years later I would be standing in one of the State Rooms at Buckingham Palace as the Duchess of Sussex emotionally bids much-loved aides farewell, with her flight “home” to Canada leaving in a matter of hours. But then, neither did the couple. After starting the year with a formal proposal to move into part-time working royal roles, and bring some much-needed privacy and safety to their family life, Harry and Meghan’s hopes were quickly dashed by an institution seemingly unable to accept change as a viable option (even though some royals across Europe—and even other members of the British royal family—have succeeded in balancing duties to the crown and individual careers). To say they were crushed is an understatement. It’s a decision that the couple still feel wasn’t necessary, but also wasn’t a surprise, given the lack of support they received as they were relentlessly attacked by sections of the British press with almost daily mistruths and hateful commentary. While recent tabloid coverage has made it seem like the Sussexes’ half-in-half-out bid was about wanting it all, the reality was a couple who were left with no other choice but to create their own change after being left to fend for themselves against impossible circumstances—even during her pregnancy. They knew something had to change, but they also didn’t want to stop supporting the queen. One can’t help but wonder if things might have been different if a family member or two had stood up for them during the darkest times. Despite the pain and difficulties behind the scenes, work has continued to be a priority for the duchess, who is excited to be carrying over her four royal patronages into the Sussexes’ new chapter. It’s also the reason why I was at Buckingham Palace's 1844 Room on Monday, having been invited alongside two other journalists to cover Meghan’s final engagement as a senior working royal: meeting 22 students who have received scholarships from the Association of Commonwealth Universities (ACU). As their royal patron—a role she took over from the queen in 2019—Meghan will continue to prioritize the organization even after officially stepping back on March 31, especially given her position as the vice president of the Queen’s Commonwealth Trust and a former scholarship student herself. In fact, Meghan’s time at Illinois’s prestigious Northwestern University, where she majored in international relations and theater, is what drew her to the ACU in the first place. “The value and importance of higher education is why it should be accessible to everyone, no matter your background,” she says. For Commonwealth Day, March 9, the ACU brought together some of their brightest minds for a private meeting with the duchess, ahead of their attendance at Westminster Abbey’s Commonwealth Service, where some would bear the flags of their countries. The students are all studying masters or PhDs in the U.K. after receiving scholarships from the ACU’s three programs—Commonwealth Scholars, Chevening Scholars, and the ACU Blue Charter Fellow. “That’s what so powerful,” says Meghan, a long-time champion of the importance of universal access to higher education. “This incredible union and the ability to gain so much knowledge and to be able to take that back home.” Chatting with the scholars, the duchess is eager to hear more about how their studies will contribute to tackling the many challenges our world faces today. As she talks with the students, it becomes clear that she’s already done her research on why each guest was invited. It’s inspiring to seeing someone so prepared for these types of engagements, as opposed to just showing up for the photographs. But Meghan doesn’t know any other way of doing it. “I think it’s so important to actually engage with people,”she explains.“I care about these things!” The ACU has seen over 90,000 scholars come through their administered programs, and those invited to Monday’s meeting represent 11 Commonwealth countries in total. Halima Ali, a lawyer from Kenya who is currently studying for her masters in energy and natural resources law at London’s Queen Mary University, says Meghan’s role as patron is hugely important. “For Commonwealth and also Africa countries,” she says,“to see her, her interest, her participation, means a lot to us.” Meghan seems particularly impressed as she chats with Archana Kaliyaraj Selva Kumar, a chemistry student at Oxford University, who has devoted much of her time to using her research to create a new sustainable energy-storing battery that can help communities back in India without wired power. She is also an advocate for helping more women get into science. “What an incredible role model you are,” Meghan tells her. “And seeing is believing. Others see you and ... seeing someone in that space is so inspiring.” During a conversation with a female PhD student from Kenya, Meghan’s eyes light up when the subject of sustainable travel comes up. “That’s something my husband is incredibly passionate about,” she tells the Sheffield Hallam University student. “During our travels to Botswana and different parts of Africa, we’ve seen the link between tourism and how much money is going outside of the country instead of back to communities. There has to be a symbiotic relationship.” For her own travels with Harry, Meghan prefers to move around in a way that allows them to integrate with the locals. “When we go to Botswana, we grab a backpack and pitch a tent!” Meghan laughs. “It’s not much, but that’s how we like it!” Standing at the side of the room, I spot Secretary General of the ACU Joanna Newman looking on proudly. She came to know the duchess well from their numerous ACU engagements and meetings together, and is excited about their relationship continuing long into the future. “She has been a fantastic amplifier of ACU messages to much broader audiences for us,” she tells me, adding that her patronage has given the ACU coverage in places they could have never reached before, including Harper's BAZAAR. She calls Meghan a powerful spokesperson, recalling how she started public conversations about the lack of Black professors and even period poverty.>“The headlines haven’t been about what our patron is wearing or the official engagement started at this time and ended at that time and there was a cup of tea in the middle, it’s about why we are doing what we do and why ACU exists. She’s been a real champion of the work that universities do.” The ACU meeting came at the end of what Sussex aides have nicknamed a “farewell tour” for Harry and Meghan—a chance to tie up loose ends at the palace while taking on a slew of final royal engagements. The itinerary has been packed, starting when I joined the Duke of Sussex in Edinburgh, Scotland, on February 26 as his sustainable travel initiative, Travalyst, entered its next development phase. The ambitious project will be a key component of the Sussexes’ philanthropic portfolio, and it’s become extremely clear just how important the cause is to Harry, who regularly takes part in meetings behind the scenes. Chatting with him one-on-one recently, I was struck by how knowledgeable he has become in this field; his many trips to Botswana inspired the beginnings of the initiative more than a year ago. As one of the attendees at the Edinburgh work summit whispered to me after his speech, “He’s about to change the game for good.” Reuniting after five days apart, Harry and Meghan’s showstopping arrival at the Endeavour Fund Awards served as a reminder of their ability to command the world’s attention. “Nothing to see here, just Meghan Markle showing the fuck out during her final round of royal duties,” wrote a Twitter user, as the pictures of the couple beaming under their umbrella went viral around the world. Inside the ceremony, the focus was firmly on the veterans being honored, all speaking highly of the duke, or Captain Wales, as he’s better known in the veteran community. It’s that mission to support servicemen and servicewomen that has seen Harry pledge to continue to support the community in his new non-working royal life, not just in the United Kingdom but also in North America too. The first task? Bringing the work of the Endeavour Fund and Invictus Games, both of which he helped establish, closer together. Harry’s lifelong commitment is why Saturday’s Mountbatten Festival of Music was a particularly difficult moment, wearing his Captain General of the Royal Marines uniform for the last time. Giving up his royal duties has resulted in his military honors coming to an end—a particularly tough pill to swallow and something that has been just as difficult for his wife to witness. It is, a source close to the couple tells me, a wound that will take time to heal for Harry. Meghan’s surprise appearance at an East London school for International Women’s Day and more traditional royal engagements such as Harry opening an immersive British motorsport museum alongside Lewis Hamilton (“There's nothing better than officially opening a building that is very much open,” the duke joked about the Silverstone Experience, which first opened its doors in October 2019) that rounded out what has been a roller coaster of a farewell visit for the Sussexes. Getting on with the work has always been what it’s been about for Harry and Meghan, but behind the smiles of the photos has been a vulnerable couple who are still very much hurting. Back at Buckingham Palace, the ACU students now en route to Westminster Abbey and Harry quietly slipping through the door to say hello, the reality—and the emotions—finally set in as I give Meghan a goodbye hug. She’s flying back to Canada on the last commercial flight of the day, eager to be back in Vancouver Island to be there when Archie wakes up. For a couple who only ever wanted to focus on their work and bring good to the world, it seems like an unnecessarily cruel ending to their royal lives. Forced to give up roles they’re incredibly proud of after sacrificing so much to get there. At this point, the grand Drawing Room is almost empty and tears that the duchess had been bravely holding back are free to flow among familiar faces. As she embraces some of the loyal staff she will most likely not see again, I can’t help but feel sad for the dedicated team members whose tireless efforts—to promote the couple’s work, launch landmark projects, and deal with the near-daily crises brought on by tabloid lies—have come to an abrupt end. Compared to other royal households, it was a smaller operation, with less resources than the more sophisticated offices at Clarence House and Kensington Palace, but in the short space of a year since setting up, Team Sussex had become like a family, looking out for the couple as much as they could. While the weeks and months ahead will no doubt present new challenges for the Sussexes, the couple genuinely feel a sense of excitement about what’s to come, which includes the freedom to work at a pace that suits them, no longer weighed down by protocol or threatened by toxic agendas. And while much has been (incorrectly) speculated about specific commercial endeavors they might be taking on, both Harry and Meghan are eager to get stuck into their work, which will still revolve around their humanitarian efforts and helping amplify the voices of young people around the world on a wide gamut of issues. “The terrain may be a little different but their priorities are exactly the same as before,” a well-placed source tells me. “Keeping the family, most importantly Archie, safe is what will make all of this worth it.” (x)

[marauders-groupie]

I would love some 'director's commentary' on A Long and Happy Life 😊

Oh my God, I LOVE that fic! Thank you so much! <3

First things first, I started writing A Long and Happy Life after I spent an entire afternoon listening to Carrie Underwood and Miranda Lambert songs. 

It’s why I call it a country-song fic. Let’s be real, it has all the makings of a country song:

Running from your own wedding

Stuffing your engagement ring down your bra

Homemade whiskey

Cowboy boots

Cop cars

And what I feel could be Southern vocabulary

[DISCLAIMER: I am not from the States.]

I mean, it happened pretty naturally. I got this image of Clarke with her tears behind the steering wheel, and a cop car is stopping her while she has to get away from her huge, loud family. Then it turns out Bellamy is the sheriff!!!

“Still, she knew she'd have to leave the fancy C-suite titles to Finn. He always minded that she earned more than him and, from what his mother told her, Clarke would have to fight tooth and nail to hang on to her ambition.

It was these little things that pricked at her even before she saw him with Raven.

"Bellamy, you wouldn't mind if your wife earned more than you, right?"

He stirs from deep thought, leaning back on his elbows, and shakes his head immediately. "No. More power to her. Why?"

I also wanted to examine the relationship between Clarke and Finn. This is the part where I tie in my own country’s countryside experiences, where the people are really patriarchal. And I could totally see Finn and his family minding if Clarke earned more than him.

In a way, she’d changed when she left for the city, but she was willing to tone herself down for the nostalgia of being with someone who reminded her of home.

I will admit, though, that I thought the rest of the convo with Bellamy was too-on-the-nose because I wanted to show he was different from Finn. Oh, well.

The homestead is full of potential and she has to keep herself in check to stop the idea running from her. Corn and seasonal produce on the slope, a few sheds transformed into cabins, eco tourism, cows they'd milk-

(...)

"You could make a decent living with eco tourism here, Bellamy," she sobs out. "People in NY pay forty bucks just to hug a cow."

This is so self-indulgent - I wanna own a fucking farm. (:

Also, this is true. I read somewhere that folks from New York pay $40 to hug a cow.

"You ever wonder what would've happened if we just stayed here?"

Bellamy hums, lazily tracing patterns on the small of her back. They can just pretend like this, pretend she wasn't going to get married yesterday, pretend that she would've called to let him know.

"We'd have gotten married. I'd have knocked you up right off the bat," he deadpans and she laughs a little hysterically. "I don't know. We'd have been different people."

High school sweethearts somehow always turned into toxic marriages, the poisonous vines curling around their necks until there was no love left anymore. Just resentment and pain.

They'd seen plenty.

This is the part that was really important to me. I wanted to show that sometimes, the timing just isn’t right.

Originally, Bellamy and Clarke weren’t supposed to be high school sweethearts. But I mean, the characters take me on a journey - I don’t even have a choice. At the end of the day, that turned out to be a good plot bunny that allowed me to examine how two people from the same environment can change and arrive to the same mental/emotional destination without taking the same path.

Finally, I just wanted to say that I loved showing Clarke as a sort-of a wild child. :D

If you’d like to know something in particular, please let me know!

You can read A Long and Happy Life here

Do you want director’s commentary on a fic, section, or line? 

[kazamastar]

Welcome to 2021

Ver. 2.1 - Ok. February but still, here we are. “Behold it’s me” as Logic would say. [...] I’m sorry I’m a bit shook because I started to write at 10:01AM, and it’s precisely 12:07AM, I was progressing pretty well in the process of writting and then I made a bad move and lost everything I wrote. I’m kinda mad. Really, I was this 👌 close to give up on writting it, and you can notice that the pixels are touching. But I guess the “I said I’d do it, so I’m going to do it” mentality is taking me places, once again. Even if I have to start again (that's called mental strength, take notes). And I said I’d write it baked so here I am, baked and hella motivated to do it. So, W shouldn’t help me reminding me what I wrote in the first version but nevermind. So I guess I'll put the most things I remember. I can tell there were good ideas ! I'll take this occasion to remind everyone the concept of these posts but first we will recap numbers of this year (well, more or less accurate for 2020 as I'm writting one month late) (and I'll fucking stop writting on the tumblr site and switch to OpenOffice so my next words are not lost again). 637 Nakamas (thank y'all for being here, even if I post 12847 times in a row. You're the best). 3609 posts and 23 376 likes. (109 drafts : lol it's less than a few weeks ago)

Pic : Plot twist 2. No more smile, but the return of the bowtie. (aka « The 4 days late suit » aka « I'm old enough to know better »)

The choice of this picture was so simple. Or maybe I should have chosen the one with the mustache only I took during lockdown ? Ahah. But … this picture could almost resume the year on its own. If I'd describe it in depth and explain the context, I could review 70% of the events that happened this year (and I think I'll go for that later, interesting exercise).

So. First let me explain the goal of these sums up. Each « Welcome to XXXX » is a resume, a sum up of the year XXXX-1. I write these for me, it's a funny way to keep track of all these years. I try to describe more or less precisely what happened during the year. I allow myself to be more or less precise because I firstly write these for me. And sometimes these posts tend to be long. Especially this one. It's gonna be sooo long. Like, idk maybe highlight this line and take a few seconds to scroll down and see how looooong it is. Kinda discouraging isn't it ? Lucky you it won't go on forever though as today, as I'm writting that it's 12:23PM and I'll have to be gone at 4 or 5PM. But I think contraints make art, even if I don't like to write under any kind of pressure. But I'm determined to do it in one take. So in these posts I also write about the TV Shows, manga, anime, movies I've seen/read. Even books, as I finally had the chance to read « Le Petit Prince » this year. We all know we had time this year, don't we ? And at the end, I post a 12 songs playlist (+ songs that I discovered this year that also are going to remind me of the year). We can roughly say it's « 1 song/1 month » but it's not always true. These songs are songs I like a lot, like really (but not necessarily my favorite) but above all, they remind me of the year I'm resuming (it can also be older songs). I also post my top 3 albums of the year. I'm thinking also of detailing my choices of playlist. Maybe not explaining all of them but a few. [12:36PM. And I'm already hungry.] On the 1st try I remember I talked about the TV shows I saw. I forgot to mention it but I write in English for a few reasons. First is : it helps me exercising my English. For me, it's the most beautiful langage to talk and it's a good occasion to do so. And then I actually enjoy writting in English. And it prevents unwanted people who don't master English to read all that (as it is pretty intimate). But joke's on me, I'm conscious the people I'd like to keep away from reading this all master English, and even better than me for some of them. (It surely is the case for 27 at least, even though we all know she still won't read this lol). Yes, I never drop names in these sum ups. Or at least, some names are blacklisted. I always chose a number to nominate them they would normally recognize themselves. So, talking about English, I've seen « Emily in Paris » on Netflix. It may surprize you but I'm very interested in dubbing. French dubbing is amazing. For example I bought « Spiderman » on PS4 this year and the french voice is the same voice actor as in the « Amazing Spider-Man » (yes the one with Andrew Garfield). (UNPOPULAR OPINION : Andrew Garfield actually is the best spiderman. Or at least the one I prefer and by far). Emily in Paris is funny because I watched it in English and it kinda disturbed me that it took place in Paris but everybody spoke English. On the other hand, if you watch it in French, langages people are talking become logical (French people speak french) but you'll have to deal with the DEADLY ANNOYING French voice of Emily. And her accent. I think I just watched 1 or 2 episodes like that, I couldn't take more ?. If you have time you should take 5 seconds to listen to what I'm talking about. But it was quite a good show. It was so fun to see these streets I've been visiting for so long in a Netflix show. By the way, I think it's easy to say that I'm missing Paris so much. But not only for the tourism, but most and foremost for the competitions. Before being a tourist I was a competitor there. So, I'm missing Paris but I'm also missing karate competitions. And also just karate. I haven't stepped on a tatami for 3 weeks and it still seems like it won't get better, and we all know why. I'm curious if I could talk about this year without mentioning a very famous virus but I think it's just impossible. But this virus gave me a lot of time in March and April. Maybe less in November tho. I could finally finish The Walking Dead, which last seasons were surprisingly good. And it was so fun to watch the reactions of people on Youtube [#]. Talking about karate competitions, I also watched Cobra Kai ! What an amazing job they did there. Adding more depth to the first movie, it's funny to change perspective and see that the Daniel we were rooting for wasn't that much of a « perfect good guy » we saw (I'm not talking about the kick in the face etc). It's also funny to notice I kinda went fro Daniel to Johnny lol. But having a Netflix show talking about martial arts and value they teach to their students ? It was perfect, even more when you see that some of my students also saw it so when we were training I was refering to it they almost all got it. And it's also funny to see that it's not as Manichean as the 1st movie was. It's a 9/10 for me. If I read the last sum up right, I said : « This year 2020 I really need to watch Kimetsu no yaiba, Jojo, Violet evergarden, Gintama and i have to keep ready 7 deadly sins. » So : Kimetsu no Yaiba was dope. The anime was beautiful and the manga was very entertaining. Not a top tier manga but definitively a good one. Jojo's anime was cool but too long. I stopped after season 2 or 3 I guess ? Violet Evergarden was TRASH (and very bad for a date, if you ask me) and I didn't take time to explore the 2 others. I also saw : Assassination classroom (5/10, i couldn't finish it so i skipped directly to the last episode, was as moving as people said), Validé (8/10, with an insane final episode), No Game No Life (8,5/10, i loved it), Freaks and Geeks (7,5 but i didn't finish it, I really like the old school vibe), Code geass (7/10, great anime and great opening). I finally discovered Community and it was worth it. What a funny show. And what a pleasure to see Mr Donald Glover on screen. Makes me think that I need to watch Atlanta again. The problem with Community is the last seasons broke the 4th wall too much for me, it became painful to watch. But the 3 or 4 seasons are crazy. Another show that was even more funny : IT Crowd. I finally had the chance to see the episode of « I came here to drink milk and kick ass, and I just finished my milk ». This show is a 9,25/10. Grand Army was also a great show of 2020. Dom is an amazing character (but I already said it). Kengan Ashura was also so cool ! I think it's what Baki would have liked to become. This year I also started to watch « American horror Story » again (alone and not alone). These last seasons were awesome. I also converted Elodi to «my hero academia », it was so cool to share that. Other things I saw : SAO S4 (AMAZING, SO BEAUTIFUL), Erased, SNK Last season) ; The Mandalorian, 24's 9th season.« Queen's gambit » have been one of the greatest show I've seen this year. And I really want to say that I played chess before the show came out (add me on Lichess if you want to play with me. Same username. I'm not strong -about 1000 ELO I guess- but I'm always happy to play and learn). If you want a precise idea of my level, on the chess.com app, I can beat Emir 🇹🇷 (1000 ELO) often but I didn't win once against Sven 🇸🇰 (who is ~1100 ELO). I'm so happy talking about all these lengthen the post even more. Kinda satisfying. But I could also talk about Tekken and chess this year. I think I have a thing with dueling sports. I'm a Karate competitor, I love Tekken and I like chess. I guess someone has something to prove haha. But come on, chess is incredible. For the 1st lockdown, I was just playing (not alone) but I wanted to make progress just by practicing. And that's how I got BB 5 or 7 (yes, it means Beat By = my number of loss in a row). But at the end of the 2nd lockdown I finally allowed myself to study a little more, thanks to Youtube (once again). This is SO INTERESTING. Like the strategies, the top players. French content creators are fun but I like american ones more. Eric Rosen is my favourite. He's always calm, he often finds solutions. GothamChess is also very entertaining. You can say by how he talks he has been a teacher. He's great. So, once again on some shonen shit, I started studying more. Mid December, a kid beat me 2 times in a row. He's a smart kid, I like him. He didn't brag or anything. And then, during Christmas Holidays I spent 2 or 3 hours a day watching chess videos. I guess he hasn't been able to beat me since then haha. By the way I should play with him later on today. Playing chess is a way for me to make sure my brain doesn't let me down, like gym for the brain. At least, it's what I thought when I started but I quickly discovered that it's a game of patterns recognizing, so memory is really challenged here. I mean, in the middlegame you have to be smart to get by but at the beginning and ending … you have to know your openings. I have also thought of joining a club but I don't know if chess communities are benevolent. I also noticed that high ranked players seem to have strong personalities. And then for Tekken (yes, 3 years and a half later I'm still on this game) I'm still making progress. In March, someone made me want to play Heihachi. What a funny character. Not top tier, but fun. Leroy Smith is also fun to play. There was no offline tournament but I won one, the 1st organized by Tekken Toulouse and finished 5th at the second. It's funny to live that level of stress straight from my bed. Usually, that kind of stress making my whole body trembling is usually found nearby tatamis of Karate competitons. (Yes, these Tekken tournaments make me stressful and that's the reason I can't play Jin in tournaments). But Eddy is still a sure value. Still progressing in movement, and whiff punishing. Mishimas are getting more consistent on electrics but it's not perfect. By the way, if you love fighting games and Bruce Lee, there's a video you need to see (whoever you are) : [#]. If you're really interested in these topics, you should appreciate this video as much as I did [2:10 PM. I have eaten, but now I have the feeling that I'm late.] Btw I don't skip line to add some « length » effect. Once again I'm sorry if making it until here was painful to read, but I need to make this paragraph the least attractive I can. This line I'm writting is almost on the 3rd page of OpenOffice. And I try to avoid using emojis, so there's just text. Tout dans le fond, pas de forme. Also, congratulations for making it until here, you must be very motivated. I'm writting slowly because it's the 1st time I write this by daytime, and I swear at the begining people were harassing me ahah. It's fun because the sum up of 2019 was so short. Just with its form, you can tell how 2019 have been peaceful. I don't remember if I talked about it already but a disaster could have happened in September/October 2019. But karate kept my mind busy so the worst have been avoided. Time spent on the tatamis kept me away from overthinking about my problems. And that was a good strategy indeed. Because in 2020 it wasn't the same. If we count right. Dojos were opened in January, February, 1st half of march, reopened in September and october, closed on november and opened in December (Mon Dieu quel … CASSE-TEX hahaha merci c'est tout pour moi). It was a weird karate year. Today is the 1 year anniversary of my last competition. During the 1st lockdown, I had litteraly no desire to train. Some of you know why. But let's talk a bit more about COVID and lockdowns. The most important thing is that I didn't spent the 1st lonely. This was the most challenging time of my life, but I can say that I made it thanks to 0808 so I'm eternally grateful for that. So, if we recap months by months : January was a funny month. One thing that I thought a miracle happened (until I found out months later what a real miracle was). I also almost went into a brawl. I guess this weird ass month set the tone for the 11 months to follow. February … was one of the calmest month. I had an awesome dojo session in Balma with 0808 in February. I think there were a lot of beautiful sunsets this month. Guess our weather power was at its peak. These 3 1st months of 2020 had a lot of trainings, even if I was injured due to kumite. March and April are kinda the same for me. I won't talking long about these but I'd simply say that I'm glad that I hadn't to write to 27. So, the Miracle happened by mid April. Mid april to mid may, it was cool. We were at home but … the weather was nice, I was doing sport everyday (but no real karate trainings) and I could keep this rythm of exercising until … Half July, which is good. It's the first time in my life I'm that consistent in doing sports at home. From mid may, I started to train with Coach O. on a weekly basis. It was incredible. These days were still bliss in my mind. I was there, no « real problems » in mind, I wasn't alone, I was making progress physically … It was really great. And from mi may to end of July, it kept getting better.Indeed, I fell in love again in January and it was getting stronger by the months. It's been a while I haven't fell this hard for someone. But she gave it back to me nicely. And then … Mala suerte 3.0. This point of the sum up is funny because I do remember when I talked about mala suerte in the other sum ups. I do realize how it's always the same thing when I write those : « 1st part of the year is cool, then not cool, then cool again but in a weird way because I have insane difficulties to repair broken parts of me » but hey. This time it's not my fault. It makes me realize how cyclic all this is. So, August, September and October have been terrible and chaotic months. A level of sadness rarely reached until there. Maybe comparable to September 2018. A high level of anger also. But still, with rare occasions to train, so no occasions to let go off steam. In fact, let's talk a bit about this anger. I've always took a lot of pride in the fact that I could most of the time remain calm in a lot of situations. Plus, being patient isn't something natural but … I learned to be through the years. I was so surprised to notice how angry I became … It simply wasn't me. But the reason is simple : I really think karate brings me balance in life, on a lot of levels (and it concerns me a lot for when I'll stop competing one day …). But I realized it so I'm working on it. In 2020, I led a lot of fights, sometimes I won and often I lost, but I also avoided a lot of them. One of the reasons I think I'm not ready to be a good partner is first I think I'm too angry. I don't think I could be mean to my partner but … I think I could be annoying to deal with. But mainly, I'm not ready to better myself now. To find the good partner, you need to become a good partner first, and this is precisely what I'm not ready to become. Despite being not perfect, I'm fine that way and I know how far from perfect I'm right now. But nevermind. This is the kind of state of mind you can't afford when you're in a relationship. I'm not saying you need to change to fit your partner's ideals. But if you notice something's wrong in your behaviour/habits and don't want to correct it, you might be a bad partner (but I could be wrong, I'm not a couple therapist lol).

Oh. And that's the moment I can describe my photo to tell the story differently. So this shot was taken precisely on Sunday, 4th of October. 1302 got confirmed so we had to go to the Temple du Salin. I went there with my father and he decided to rock a bowtie so I wanted to match him. It was so fun. That was the first time we stepped in a church after « all these events ». It was a strong moment for me. So, this picture (taken by me, thank you tripod) was taken 4 days after I « took a gamble ». I took a lot of gambles this year. One memorable gamble that lead to beautiful pictures of Toulouse was on August 27th (lol). This was after our breakup. I gave her an adress and an hour, and I hopped she would come. She never came so this was a lost gamble. (So I had a great time watching « Back to the future » outdoors, on a big movie screen, but I was alone). But this time was different. I did suppose she would be at one place on a certain day at the end of September. And I gambled right because she was there. And even if the context was so particular, I can tell we had a great time. I was so ready that I put on my best white shirt, because I knew she kinda liked it. I was there to win her back but I simply failed. Guess the shirt wasn't enough. So it was funny to wear the full suit 4 days later, I was like « Dude, nice effort but it's too late  lol» (plus the Temple du Salin is on the other side of the closest bridge from her home) but I still hopped to cross her road on that day. Oh and as we're analyzing this picture, I really like the bokeh on the autmun-colored leaves. I had the luck to have a very sweet light when I took these pictures. And the post processing was really funny. I have a lot of versions of this picture indeed. But all these colors in the background always make me think of a quote I love :  « Autumn shows us how beautiful it is to let things go » and this quote is so damn right. I discovered this year that I have difficulties to let things go. The thing is I hate injustice. I hate to see things that litteraly belong to me, things I deserve, simply run away from me. Sometimes I'm telling myself it's just my karma making me pay for all the شيطان I've done in the past. But other times I just try to convince myself to let go. It's been the 2nd most challenging thing this year. These levels of depression have never been reached before. But still, here I am. But not stronger than before. I had this conversation a few weeks ago about « what doesn't kill you makes you stronger ». To support this idea, some people might evoke the principle of « Kintsugi » as an example. But I strongly disagree about the first statement. I'm not a goddamn bowl. I take the example of my lower belly scar : it didn't kill me but it didn't get stronger either. That's the exact opposite indeed. Sometimes it still hurts even though it's been done 12 years ago (the last time it hurt was this night, almost stopping me from finding sleep). It's a personal opinion but what didn't kill me made me weaker. And I'm not just talking about physical injuries. Losing the ability to trust after all these events isn't what I'd call « getting stronger », even though « I didn't do anything wrong ». That's an expensive price. Bref. I think you can overcompensate with something else but the damaged parts may stay weak after. [3:03 PM. So I have about 1 hour to finish it. Easy.] There's one thing I wanted to talk about in this sum up, related to the fact of « being strong ». I read Blach again (you can tell by my december posts) and I started with the lost agent arc, followed by the TYBW arc. There's 2 things about it : its poetry, through the words and the drawings will always amaze me (it amazed me even if it’s the 2nd time I’me reading it), and the 2nd thing : I love how Ichigo become stronger. He lost his Shinigami powers but then found his Fullbring powers. And that is very important because he becomes strong again, but it's a different kind of strong and I LOVE THIS. It's like in real life. I was very strong in June 2012 (videos as proof), but it's not the same strong as in July 2017 or April/November 2018. June and July 2020 have been a different kind of strong. Not that I gained 10 kgs in 2 months (unfortunately) but I was exercising daily. I was getting my body ready for the supposed heavenly month of August that was awaiting me (us). Unfortunately there was no videos of karate at this period (but I made some in september!) but I was feeling great physically. In fact. This May/June/July 2020 period could be considered as “bliss” for me. Of course there was some background problems but ... Mentally I was getting back on my feet, I was deeply in love, physically pretty feeling myself. Plus on the 1st half of July i could go back to the tatamis ... I swear this level of peace and life appreciation have rarely been reached before. Well, this concept of getting stronger differently is almost obsessing me for a simple reason : I'm feeling like I'm getting older. 27 is a weird age for competing in karate. If I look back, I realize I'm older than William when he stopped (it's his birthday tomorrow!!). Also older than Zak, Teddy and so on. I guess I'll never be physically like 10 or 5 years ago but I'm really asking myself if I can be better. But as seen as the pains I go through after the trainings … It's going to be complicated. Plus I did my body wrong this year. There was pain in mars, april, august, september, october, november and december. I tried a lot of things to make it go. I tried to smoke it, i tried to sleep it, i tried to drink it also. I tried to fuck it of course but none of these things worked. But can we consider I won if only my cock still works ? Compared to 2018 : yes it is a win. And at least when I'm with someone, that makes less time crying and overthinking shit. Anyway, I also tried to smoke it really hard. And that's an habit I'll have trouble to let go but nvmd. Still, one of my 2021 resolutions is to smoke less. Also, I took a funny resolution that is : « I'm not accepting defeat this year ». And I realized only a few days after taking it how hard it will be. I'm not dumb, when defeat is unavoidable, I'll just take it. But I decided to be a real Scorpio and be more stubborn than ever. We can say it's above all pride. Same pride as Vegeta, Bakugo or even Endeavour. Really touched me when Bakugo talked about « Absolute victory ». Sometimes I find myself too soft. I'm not going to become an awful person (or at least, not more awful than I am right now). I'll still be kind … But I'll go get the victories I deserve a little harder. Talking about my age, I'm a bit deceived I have no close old friends to share the memories. Every one is kinda gone. Sometimes it's my fault, and sometimes it's just people who are shit but life's like this. Also, every year I try to think of my best encounter of the year. It's kinda hard because sometimes, you meet someone a few years earlier but you really get to know each other later etc … So I'm not clear if this should count only people met this year or simply the people I've spent the best times with. Because I received a curious message this summer and my God. What a luck she took the chance to write me. We realized a few days ago we were in the same class in 10th grade (2nde) (we saw the class picture, what a laughter we had). We get along so well. And it's the proof that 2nd chances deserve to be given. I swear that I also lost some important people this year. But I'm not fighting to get people back anymore. I've done it too much and I'm simply done. People need to realize it's a luck to be in my life. I have my ways but you'll hardly find a friend that's patient and kind as I am. But nevermind, it always makes more time and attention for the people who are here, who really care for my hapiness. Focusing on the people who are here was one of the main concern this year, for a lot of reasons. I thought I was good for selecting the good people in my life but looks like I still can improve. So I'm still letting people go off my life. [3:36PM. Guess I said mostly what I had to say. Maybe 5 pages is enough, but maybe not.] Oh I can still tell the rest of the year. November have been one peaceful month. Away from all the obsessions. Focused on me. No karate but still courses by videoconference. The weather was very sweet even tho it was November. This second lockdown was not that funny but we've seen worst. And December … had it's ups and downs. It was cool to meet my kids 1 month after all these video courses. They clearly got stronger, it was cool. I could also talk about my experience as a sensei this year because there's a lot to say. At the beginning of February, it was my last competition but also for my kids. We litteraly took the competition by storm. On était TROP CHAUDS. But then the Covid stopped us. We kinda were ready for Occitanie championship, if you forget that I was sick the week before the competition. I'd have loved so much to see how far their training would have taken them on this competition. But thank God they cancelled it, guess He didn't want to see me lose ahah. So, I've seen a lot of kids getting better. What a pleasure. Later on this year I told them that I wanted to see them become stronger than me. Seems cliché, but I'm happy they took it seriously. Of course I'm dead serious. We also talked about I will be waiting for them in Senior. Hope they'll continue until then. And above all I hope I will still be competing. I really want to have a positive impact on these kids, competitors or not. And I guess it's working. (Btw I'll surely do a post about Whitebeard soon, just to show him love). So. What lessons can we draw from this chaotic year ? Always treat your high school comrades well. Be picky about who you let in your life. Before engaging in a relationship, ask why her previous relationship ended. Trust no B. (And BBW's are heaven sent). Now it's 3:50PM and I guess I'm done. But I keep myself the possibility to add things if I think of things to add. It's 6 pages long (Arial, 12) but if I can make it longer I will.

[Friday. 00:55AM] Edit : Ok. The story is funny. I really wanted to finish that in one day. So I wrote the previous lines between 10 AM and 4 PM Wednesday knowing I would need more time, just to check and to add a few more details. And one of those Lonely Wednesday Night would have been perfect just to finish the job. So I planned to finish it on wednesday night but the fact is I forgot my computer home …. So here I am one day later. Still baked, so still in the right state of mind to do it. It gave me time to proofread myself (?) and most importantly, it gave me time to read again some of my previous sum ups. It was interesting to compare how they're all different, and also how my writting evolved. Tbh I think I'm becoming more comfortable with my English. Or maybe the more I express myself, the more I look at ease with the langage. This sum up is the longest I've ever written. But still, I'll add things because I still haven't told everything. For example, I haven't spoken about the fact that all the Kazamastar adventure might be closer to the end than the beginning. Like, I'm not immediatly done with all that. I'm still having a lot of fun here. Anon visitors are also part of the game, but it's still all fun. It also keeps my « photograph eye » opened. This makes me think of the quote «I want to be so awfully happy that I never need to write poetry again. » [#] and more precisely I'm thinking about : do I post more when I'm happy or sad ? But I noticed this tumblr kinda works like therapy for me. (And especially, this post is a therapy by itself. Wednesday I woke up feeling bad, lower belly aching and making this post really helped me going through the day.) I post a lot when I'm sad but it really allows me to get all of these negative feelings out of me. I do stylize things but I know I'm not a poet or anything. But can you imagine being so happy that you don't write again ? Would be an amazing feeling. (Indeed, I've already done it once [#]. I've ended a blog on a perfect happiness and yes it felt amazing. ) Imagine if I do it here. After all the trials and tribulations I went through, it would be a perfect way to finish this tumblr. But as I'm speaking, I think there's like … less than 5% chance that it ends happily. If it does, it could be in a long time. I have a few ideas of when and how it could end, but Imma have to keep these selfishly for myself. You'll see when we'll get there.:) Also, I'm realizing right now the things I'm adding to the text make the timestamps through the text a bit less accurate but that's just a detail. [2:37 AM] Earlier I talked about this blog being a therapy for me. But it’s not only this tumblr. This year I proudly finished another tumblr (yes you can guess I was proud as I posted about that 17325 times already and pinned a post). This was such a relief to end it after letting it still for litteraly 2 years. Well that’s it for tonight !

No transition : let's go for the explanations of my choices for the playlist followed by the playlist itself. It's kinda easy to understand why « la mienne » is here, for the first month. This “I can’t touch you I’m not allowed to” really made me think of someone and this someone came back. Incredible. The next song with a Boogie is perfect for February. Very peaceful month, really full of very good moments (in the backseat of a certain car for example). The 2 next songs are for March. These are kinda « lockdown anthems » as The Weeknd album came out right at that time and so did Laylow's. Plus « Escape from LA » have the vibe I really love from Abel. 2 next songs are for April. Dsvn really smashed when he put that « A muse in her feelings » album. (and the « Amusing her feelings » is even better but that won't happen before January 2021). The sequence between « Outlandish – Keep it going - flawless » was one of the best thing I heard musically this year. But keep it going is insane. « Meilleurs » from Oboy is … special. And so are the 2 following songs. Meilleurs is now blacklisted but it's still one good song. But I can't listen to it anymore. Maybe that's exactly because it reminds me June and July. Count me in reminds me precisely of August 8th. Btw what a funny day, very far from all expectations we built up through the years (let's remind that the countdown started with more that 400 days, but I guess patience and loyalty is not always rewarded). I might digress from the playlist one second, but on this day we were in Treilles with the guys, and thank God I had them in this moment ... That’s when I drank to heal, with “count on me” for soundtrack. For September, I hesitated between « DEUX TOILES DE MER » or « MEVTR » (which means « Meilleur d'Entre Vous Tous Reunis », the 1st stage name of Damso). Damso’s flow on MEVTR is huge. He makes a whole verse rhyme and on but … 2 toiles is more iconic. Talking about iconic, « Bande organisée » wasn't a masterpiece but a force to be reckoned with (i find this expression funny ahah). I mean, in hip hop nowadays we don't see often rappers teaming up with big groups like that. Plus on this song particularly some of them have interesing flows and a lot of energy. And you can tell it comes from the South. Not of them are goods, some are excellent but this makes a very decent track. « Route 66 » was cool, even tough it's for November (so 2nd lockdown) it gave me really lovely vibes. And I take this occasion talking about November 2020 to remind it was the 10th anniversary of Kanye West's MBDTF and I celebrated it the right way héhé. Finally, this featuring is really ending the year well. Dinos dropped an insane album, his best since a long time and Tayc also (respectively « Stamina, » and « Fleur froide »). So having them on the same track was risky but it paid very well, incredible vibe from those two combined. They could have been in the top 3 albums but some people made better than them. Trinity is my top 1 one 2020. The concept, the musics … it was INSANE. QALF was also great. It's insane to see Damso get rid of « artistic barriers » to focus only on sound and music. No communication etc … Just music. And Eternal Atake from Lil Uzi Vert because it was long awaited but also because it was perfect, also a 1st lockdown album so it helped me forget my loneliness but so much good tracks ! And finally we have the very special songs that I coudn't tell why I like them. I just love their vibes. So now is 4:15 PM and I'm offically finished but I still have to tweak it. Know I won't hesitate to add things that are related to 2020 and that come to my mind :) Thanks for reading me. Have a lovely day, or night.

2020 Playlist

Tayc – La mienne (Accoustic)

A Boogie – Reply feat Lil Uzi Vert

The Weeknd – Escape for LA

Laylow – Nakré

dvsn – Keep it goin ✨

PartyNextDoor – Believe it feat Rihanna

Trippie Redd & Russ – The Way

OBOY - Meilleurs

Kehlani - Serial Lover

Juice WRLD & Marshmello - Come and go

THEY. - Count me in

Damso - Deux toiles de mer

13 Organisé - Bande organisée

Joe Dwet File - Route 66

Dinos & Tayc - Je wanda

Spécial : Lil Tecca - Last Call  YNW Melly  - City girls

Jessame - Times we had ~ Dennis Lloyd - Never go back ~  Elliot Trent - computer love

3 top albums de 2020 : 

Trinity de Laylow - Qalf de Damso - Eternal atake de Lil Uzi vert

[killergirlfuria]

Here there be a fic, birthed by my anger and sheer indignation at Beemov’s newest cash grab (1,200$ for a game of, if looked at through the lens of the price, really lacking quality) featuring power imbalance, emotional manipulation, and threats of bodily harm and death all aimed at the poot wallflower MC who can do nothing but take it as six vampires illegally squat at her house and don’t give jack shit about common decency.

Ergo, I pour all my salt into this found family fic with, hopefully, a much more plausible setting for potential situation.

Vampire Daycare: Summary

After long last, Eloise has decided to return to her family home, a manor in the woods that she inherited from her long-since-deceased parents. However, what was meant to be a slow vacation and research in the place full of childhood memories jumped straight out of the window, when Eloise came face to face with six men who have been illegally squatting on her property for what seems like years.

Eloise would have thrown them out, absolutely. Any normal person would. But then, her old teacher came around, all smug and secretive, and offered the squatters a deal; their rent will be paid off, all of backlog and year into the future both. For a favor, of course.

And now Eloise is stuck running a kindergarten for six vampires high on power, with the only other remotely intelligent person in the household outside of her being her pet goat.

Wonderful.

Warning: This fic has not been proofread.

Prologue

Eloise Kerrigan returns to her childhood home to find it already populated, without her knowledge, and without her consent.

She is not amused.

(She’s also a miser with a moral compass, and that saves six lives.)

~(0)~

The air was crisp and fresh as Eloise walked through the forest, relishing in the calmness of forest after dark. She has arrived in the town earlier that day and, after a brief bout of tourism, turned towards her destination—the Kerrigan Estate. She grew up in that place, and despite the fact that she took a long sabbatical shortly after her parents death and hasn’t visited it once, she yearned to return to her childhood home. She didn’t worry about the dilapidation, there were measures set in place to prevent that.

She enjoyed the cold autumn evening in the forest that many would find creepy, surrounded by whispering of the wind and an odd hoot from an owl. It was tranquil, natural, and relaxing. The leaves, crisp with cold, crunched under her boots, and her knitted woolen scarf protected her easily from an odd bout of wind between the trees.

Odd as it would seem for a bystander, she didn’t have any luggage with her, save for a small handbag. Eloise didn’t find it odd at all, and there were no bystanders in the forest.

She took a deep breath as the trees began to thin, heralding a clearing upon which she knew Kerrigan Estate was built hundreds of years ago my her many-times-great-grandparents. He played in these woods a lot as a child, and they hadn’t changed much, despite the time that has passed. Whether it was the nature of the house itself or the respect the nature had for the house, she wasn’t sure, but didn’t complain.

Last few steps, last few turns-

There it was, in all its Victorian glory, overgrown with ivy, a house exactly like the one in child-Eloise’s memories. She almost choked.

God, it was so long.

She sighed, hastening her steps, to make it there quicker, up the familiar narrow pavement, up the loose cobblestone stairs, through the squeaking black gate that nobody has ever bothered to oil properly as long as it stood, forward between father’s brown roses, through the oaken with a worn-out, brass wolf knocker—

Eloise stopped the second she stepped inside. She closed her eyes, took a breath, instantly on alert, searching for—something.

Something was wrong. She knew this house intimately, could almost hear it speak to her, and something was wrong—

Oh. There, Eloise, in the library, a presence, and another, upstairs, and then in the attic, and—

She reached her senses out farther and farther into the bowels of the house, past the hidden trapdoor child-Eloise wasn’t allowed down, searching for the wardstone she knew was there, she knew should have been there—only to find it missing. An oddest thing, because the only time she’s ever been allowed down that trapdoor was with her mother to calibrate and place the stone. She saw it placed, helped place it, and now it was gone.

And the only other person allowed to enter the Manor was her teacher, who was also a smug bitch with agenda nobody understood. Which explained everything, Eloise supposed, because if there was someone that was an asshole enough to let strays invade Eloise’s ancestral home, it was without a doubt Baba.

There was a murmur of a presence on the ground floor with her, and in the library, and upstairs, and more. She counted six, thrumming in a very distinctly not-human way. Wonderful. She pushes that problem into the back of her mind—it can wait a few minutes. Instead, she turns to the stairs and up, fourth step sings under her feet, and she can’t help but step on it again giddily, seventh croaks and she winces, because she always forgot that one.

The rooms were exactly where she remembered them being, in the exact same floor plan she could navigate with closed eyes as a child. It’s been years, but maybe she could still. The doors, she was pleased to find, were the same beveled and sculpted oaken slabs. The rooms behind them, however, Eloise wasn’t certain of. For now, she’d have to hope that the vermin currently infesting her house has not damaged her ancestral home—the whole building was an antique in a way, and restoration would be a pain.

It was her grandmama’s legacy after all, dating all the way back to early 1800s. If something was changed, Eloise could just rally antique conservationists and they would, in their righteous rage, fix everything right back up.

But that’s neither here nor there. Yet.

If the old journals of her parents—particularly her father’s research notes, because those weren’t put in the basement—were lost, Eloise would be particularly unhappy, however. What she remembered of her father painted him as an alchemical genius, and everyone always told her she inherited his talents. Now that she learned all she could on her own, his notes would aid her greatly.

As Eloise calmly strolled through the hallway, a shiver ran down her spine.

Ah, it would seem they crawled out.

Eloise headed downstairs, slowly, down the creaking step and the singing step, until she reached the main hall. Sure enough, a man was there, tall, with a mane of wavy dark-purple hair, and wearing nothing but a white pajama.

Oi, oi, ain’t ye gettin’ a wee bit fookin’ cozy in me house?

“Hey, who are you?” he asks, and Eloise blinks at the audacity of him. He disregards her, though, calling out; “Vladimir, some chick’s walking down the main staircase!”

Eloise could feel the vein pop throughout the entire length of the right side of her neck and cheek. Don’t blow them up, she thought to herself over and over again, it’s not worth it.

Another one comes out of where Eloise is fairly certain she remembers library being, this time in golden out-of-date smock and an blindfold across his eyes.

“You could show a bit of respect!” he scolds the pajama-clad asshole, and Eloise silently thanks the heavens that at least one of them seems to have some working braincells that did not undergo necrosis. “I can understand why she’s hiding. You must have scared her. Please don’t run off, young lady…”

Or not.

A'm standin richt fookin ‘ere ye arsehole.

Ah, slipping into thick Scottish now, as always, with anger. She didn’t doubt that if she started speaking now, she’d also use proper Scottish slang that she could bet money the quasi-immortal bloodsuckers would have trouble understanding.

Oh, papa, papa, why did you teach me to cuss in Scots.

Eloise gently massages her temples with one hand, supporting herself with the other on the railing, letting the vampires bicker. Another one emerges, this time a willowy-looking blonde in Victorian suit. This must be Vladimir, Eloise concludes, from how he scolds the pajama-clad moron, who she learns is named Beliath. She lets them bicker—not the first time someone wandered into the manor and isn’t that the red flag—as they seem to completely ignore her. Eloise lets them, more interested in listening to the bloodsuckers literally infesting her mansion before kicking them out.

Because she was going to. Current residents or not, they’re illegal squatters and she doubts they’re even registered with the local Committee branch, which is an absolute must with Class A Dangerous Creatures living this close to a populated town. Eloise hopes she can do away without actually killing them, too—which she should do, if they’re unregistered, despite her strong dislike of destroying creatures with cognitive ability.

However limited said cognitive capability wouldn’t appear to be.

And then Vladimir calls her an intruder, and Eloise barks out a sharp bout of laughter, loud enough to return their attention to her.

“Funny, how things are,” she says, voice amused but with an edge to it, “that you’d have a gall to call me an intruder.”

“Pardon?” the blonde—Vladimir, but should she even bother remembering?—asks.

“Let’s start with introductions then, shall we? I’ll even go first—my name is Eloise Kerrigan, your landlord, apparently, though not by my choice nor with my prior knowledge, and I’d like to know one thing; where the fuck is my money, you useless squatters?”

They look at her dumbly for a moment, while Eloise just stands there, arms crossed on her chest and her best ‘I’m better than you and disappointed’ face on. The pajama-clad moron snorts, and moves to speak, but she cuts him off before he even can.

“Now, I don’t quite need you to introduce yourselves. I won’t even remember your names, I’d assume. After all, you’re all going upstairs now to pack your things and leave, no?”

“Uhhh… No?” the pajama-clad moron says with amusement shining in his eyes. Eloise looks at him, very unamused herself.

“In case you’re even less adapt at thinking than you make it seem, that wasn’t a question,” she says, not bothering to stop an eyeroll. “Now, how many of you are here?”

“Six,” the willowy blonde answers, as if expecting that to somewhat scare her. “Also, you can’t just come in here and tell us to pack out bags, we live here-“

Eloise snaps her fingers instead of answering and, in a flash of flame an outdated-looking scroll appears, and unfurls showcasing a Title Deed, complete with a wax seal and signatures of all previous owners—all Kerrigans before Eloise—and everything else. The thing thrums with magic.

The one in the blindfold must have sensed it, because he gasps.

“You’re a witch,” he says.

“I am. And you are Class A’s trespassing on a Witch’s Dwelling, of which the Title Deed I have just pulled out,” she answers. “Do you know what that means?”

“Raphael?” pajama-clad moron asks, as the willowy blonde frowns.

“It- It means that, even if we were Registered, she has every right to kill us on the spot,” the blindfolded one answers with a grimace.

“And you’re not registered?” she presses on, and he fidgets.

“No,” is the answer that eventually comes, and Eloise wants to bang her head on the wall.

“What the hell?” someone asks from the stairs, and Eloise turns to see a pale, asshole-looking Jack Frost knockoff, followed by a tall, tanned man who looks like he has more sense than just two braincells rubbing off of one another. “What Title Deed? Registered to what? Who are you?”

“Eloise Kerrigan, owner of the house,” she answers flatly. “And you’re unregistered Vampires trespassing a Witch’s Dwelling. In the eyes of law, it’s double death sentence.”

“What the fuck? Nobody ever told me that!” the pale asshole argues.

“It’s the duty of the one who turned you, and not my problem,” Eloise shrugs. “It’s been in effect since Dracula’s uprising in late fourteen-hundreds!”

The tall, tanned man winces. “I think I’m actually registered,” he says carefully. “But I haven’t been in the Office for years now, so-“

“So you didn’t turn in a Plea of Renewal. I suppose you didn’t think to inform them of your change of whereabouts either?”

“We didn’t exactly have a landlord,” he says with a wince. “And none of us owns the house.”

“So you preferred to let your Registration expire and trespass in peace?”

He turns his head away, and it’s answer enough. It would have been very comfortable, indeed, if any and all owners of the house were dead or didn’t claim the property, and even if they did, the vampires probably thought they could easily deal with a human owner.

Only two of them seemed to know what the punishment for trespassing a Witch’s Dwelling—especially one so saturated with magic and tradition, not to mention built on a intersection of ley lines—even was in the first place, and the rest seemed blissfully unaware, or blissfully ignorant, of seemingly all the laws that, despite their ignorance, still dictated whether they were allowed to live or set for extermination.

After Dracula’s Uprising in late 1400s, vampires were put under high scrutiny, and for a good reason. Nobody liked crazy and powerful magical creatures attempting to seize control over the whole world in order to turn it into a feeding ground.

Therefore, Draculean Laws were put in place to vampires’ chagrin and relief of all other occult races, and that was that.

“We had no idea we were trespassing a Witch’s Dwelling,” the blindfolded one says softly and apologetically. The willowy blonde glances at him in surprise, and then turns to Eloise.

“Look, I don’t care for the so-called laws I’ve never heard of-“

“Vladimir!” the tanned one snaps, and the blonde shuts up. “There is much more to the world we live in than you possibly imagine, or care to learn! Just because you all are content to live in a bubble of unawareness, doesn’t mean we’re all ignorant to the laws! We’ve grown complacent, yes, and it’s probably my fault—I should have dragged you all to be registered, even if it would have turned out we were trespassing a place like that. But no, I was content to just live somewhere not far from a city, and—God. There’s just so many laws—I can’t believe I—just how many laws have we broken in our complacent idiocy?” he asks, horrified.

“How do you feed?” Eloise questions.

“I don’t know how that’s even important!” pajama-clad moron rears his ugly head again. “Is nobody going to acknowledge that she knows who we are?”

“Beliath, shut up!” the blindfolded one snaps, more out of panic than actual irritation. “You’re one of the oldest here, you should know what she’s talking about!”

“We bite people and then make them forget,” the tanned one answers her anyway. “We don’t kill, though. We make sure we don’t. We wipe their memories after.”

“So you attack people all willy-nilly and then use internationally banned mind magic to be rid of the evidence?!” Eloise snarls, and he turns his head in shame as her hackles rise up. “Feeding on people without killing them, that you could spin in your favor and get scoot-free off of, but mind magic? Nobody is allowed to use mind magic without a really damn good reason, not just you, you special, fucking, bloodsucking snowflakes! It’s not even Draculean Laws you broke with it, it’s the International Statutory Law!”

By gods, Eloise wanted to rip her hair straight out of her scalp. The ignorance of these bloodsuckers, while blissful up until now to them, was causing a potential mess of incredibly epic proportions. Draculean Laws were one thing, Trespassing of her house was another, she could, maybe, let go of those, but—breaking of International Laws? As a repeated offense?

Could she even, in her right mind, kick them out now? Let them go, and not kill them outright? Or at least bring them to the Office, even if it would have meant even more certain death than by her hands?

She just wanted to curl up and cry, honestly.

Gods fucking damn her bleeding heart and unwillingness to kill, but may it never be mistaken for inability. She wasn’t necessarily unwilling to kill either—just so very tired of it.

“Look, lady, we don’t even know these laws!” the pale asshole argues, and Eloise smothers an urge to throw a lamp at him.

“Ignorantia legis neminem excusat, boy,” is all she has to say in return. “You must have came in here good few years after I went to the Academy, otherwise the residual presence would have kicked the magic into high gear and obliterated you on the spot, since you were uninvited. And since you were able to find this place to begin with, someone must have taken the wards down, and there’s only one person who actually can do that outside of me—what the fuck are you plotting, auntie?” Eloise hisses, looking skyward as if for answers, but all she sees is the tiled Victorian ceiling.

~ k̽́̅́͡i̋̊̒̀͞l̑̂̕l̃̓͠ t̛̒́h͑̔̀͝e̽̃͞m҇̒̽ ~ William hisses straight into her cerebrum, and Eloise closes her eyes, listening to the demonic yet soothing voice of her familiar. ~k̽́̅́͡i̋̊̒̀͞l̑̂̕l̃̓͠ t̛̒́h͑̔̀͝e̽̃͞m҇̒̽ a̒͛͗̂̿͞l҇͛͊͌l̛̈́̈͊͌͐,̓̅̒̊̒͞ ẗ͗̋̆̈́͝h͊̄̂͡è̄̚͠ỳ͐̈́͠ d͊͋͛̚͡e͂̒͛͞ṥ̔̽̕e̓́͛̕ȑ͛͞v̛̅̔e͊͊͌̎̇̕ ì̍͞t҇͒͂̏ â̿̓̕n͐͂̆̀̐͞d̛̽̂̒̐̚ ẏ̏̋͠o͌̈́̈́͡u̓͒̄͠ s҇̈̆͊̈́̚h͛͆̏͋͝o̾͊͞u͌͒̓̀̑͠l͛̑͞d̒̚͡ñ̇̏͠'͛̎̆̔̽͞t̀̿̄̾̔̕ b̈́̄̔̐͡e̎̋̑̕ ḋ̿̎͠ẽ̈́͞a͊̈̏̚͝l̈́̐̒͝i��̒̓̒n̍͂͂̒͒͝g̊̅͛̾͡ w͛́͆͂͠ǐ̛̋̔t̛̃͋́̀h̀̂͛̆͊͡ t̾̚͡h҇͊̐̚i͑̿͡s͂̇̐̆͠ m͐͌̌͠e̿̔̑͒̂͞ś͒͗̀͗͝s̛͒͆̎̈

~I really should, shouldn’t I?~ she sends back, and gets a humming agreement as her only response.

~t̛͌̅̅͊h҇̓̀̐̀͊e̒̽̽́̏͞ý͊͒͛̕ r҇̆̆̎̀ë́͛͌̈͋͞ḕ̎̕k̛̿̉̉ ỏ̄̀͑͠f͆̎͠ ď̓̕ë́̓̑́͛͡a҇͋̃͗̓̔ṫ̽̒͞h̔̀͞,҇͐̈́̏̊ Ì́͗̐̂͝ d́͐̕ò͐́͋̑͡n̂̒̅̚͠'͑̈̀͊̏͡t̍͊͞ d͆̊̐̌͠ȍ͐͡u͊̅̕b̈́̊̀͠t͊̒̂͡ t̛̽̋̚h̓̅̒͠ē͗͠ẙ͋͐͡ k̒̒͑̕i̎̀͛́͞l̛͗̍̉l̛͗͛̐ĕ̊̀͡d̛̃̓̄̓ b̍͌̅͂͡e̍̕̚f҇́̇͌̎͐ơ̈̓̀̚ȓ̄̄͡e҇̀̂́̔,̉͐͡ ả͒̂̚͞n͆͒̈́̌̓͠d̓̓̕ k̛̂̋͑̄i҇̀̅l̈́̀͋͞l͑̃͞e̒̍͞d̋̅̊͊̉̕ m̈́̒͠a̛̎̅̿̓n̛̎͗͐y҇̄̔.̈́͐͐̕ d͂̾̕ȏ̽̐̈́̓͞ w҇̾͆ơ͐́̈́͑͛r̅͐̇̚͠l͌̔̋̃̕d͆̈̊͡ á̽̆̚͞ f҇͂́̈́a̒̀̀͡v͑̾̑̉͡o҇̆̆̓r̅͂̃̒̈͠,̀̇̀͞ M҇͗̃͛͐̃i̿͒͑͊̑͝s̈͐͑̐̕t̾̔͑͆̕r҇̉̉e̓͌̉̾͆͡š̈́͞s҇̍̂͋̋-̃̅͋̍͞-̓̎͛͠d̛́̋̇́̆ớ́ y҇̎̀o͑͆̓͞ǔ̃̏̃͠r̓̀̒͋͞s̃̓́̾͞ȇ̍͛̕l͆̋͡f͒͑̍̏̃͡ a̛̾̔̔͊̀ f̒̑̇͠a̋̉͊͑͝v̋́̀̋͡o̔̌́̕r̐̂͝.̾̋́́̏͠ I̛͗̔̽͗ s̄̄̒́̄͝h̐͂̀͝ä́̿̒́͝l҇̃̅̚l̓͋͝ d҇̇́̓e̛͒͐̽̈͂v҇̂̇̈̀̚ō̌͡u҇̔̏̇r̆̽̄͒͂͡ t̔̈́͞h̿̈̾̄̕e҇̀̐i̛̍̄͐r̈́̅͒̈́͠ b҇̑̒̌̏̚o҇̎̎͑d̏̂͑͞i̛̊͑͑̉̎e҇͌̊s̾̎̽͝ a҇͗̏̀̒n̂̀͊́͠ď̛̀̃ w͑̑͠e͌̽͊̓̕ w̆̂̓́͡i͊͑̂̿͌͠l̎̿͗͂͒͞l҇̈́̌ f̈͋͆̾͞o̓͌͛̒͞r̽̑͋͠g̑̏͛̒͞e̿̉̽͑͞t̔͆̔͞ o҇͂͆́f́̌̒́͡ t̉̀̐̉͆͝h̛̀̀͒i҇̾̇͗s̃͐̃̄̎͞ i̒͐̑́̽͠n̛͑̀̈́c̈̄̾̏͊͞î́̐͝d̛͋̑̆̓e̾̇̀͡n҇̎̑̍͂t̛̏̀͊͐

~But if it really is Baba Yaga who’s behind this? She’s literally the only person alive I don’t want to piss off. She had to have a reason to let vampires infest our ancestral home, no?~ Eloise asks hopefully, more the world than William.

~B̀͋̈͝ä̛́͒b̛̌́̔͋a͂̉͛̆͝ Ỳ͑͌͡a̾͋̒͠g̽̈́͂̿͡ä̾͋̒͡ w̛̍̒̏̅i͑̆̀͋̚͠l̈́͆͠l̍̈͡ b̏͆̾͝e͂̿̒̕ ȁ̛͐͋m̛̃͊͗u͐̊͌͠s̛̅̌̾e̐̀̆͠d̄̓̐̇̽̕ a͑̾̾͡t҇̿͋ w͛̇̌͞ó̊̑́̕r̓̓̾̊̈́͞s̓̆̌͡t̛͐̑.͐̏̆͠ Ẏ̾͋̓̐͝o̾̄͂͡ú̎̓͞ k̊̓̇̅͡n̽̆̀̂̆͡o҇͗͊̓w̛̆̄́ h̽̎̀͡o̊̃̅͝w͑̂͝ s͂̈́͡h̛͆͊̂̋̉è̛͋ i͗̆̐͛̆̕s҇͋̏,̄̐̒͝ a̛͗̔̓̍̇l̛̄̓̌̔̌l̾͂̚͞ s̛͑͑́m҇͆́ȕ͂̾͞g҇͋̅͋ ȃ́͞ń͋͆̕d̽̃̕ m̄͒͞i͛̄͠g҇͌̎̂͗h̛̊͑͌̐̚t̔̒̆͡y̛͌͑̔̃͌,̆̏̽̕̚̚ a͊̉͡l҇̄̿̌̂̽w̆̇̏̈̚͠à̉̃̊͋̕ỳ̛̊̆̍s̛̆̋̓̈́.̑̿͝ s҇̀͐͗̆̽h̛̉̀̇e̛̓̿ r҇̊̈́͒e҇͐̈̆e̛͗̓̚ḱ̛͆͊s̔̊̚͝ ō̾͡f̎̅̃͞ p̈̑̈͠o͛͆̈̎̅͝w҇̀͛̅͂e̋̓̽̏̅͝r̓̌͞,̓̾͂͝ b́̋̓̀̉͠u҇̔͗̑̊͑t̓͋̓͞ s͒͗͆̎͂͡h̃͌̑͠e͐͗͠ h͊͑͊͝a̋̍̒̽̕r̛̽̂d̆͛̓͝l̽̌͑͞y͂̔̀͠ í̊͒͞ǹ̓͠t́̆̎̑̕̚e҇̀͌̉r҇͌̏f̊͛̓̓͡e̛͊̔̚r̛̈́̆̑e҇͑̚s͂̀̏͐͐͝ n̾̈̚͝ơ̌̉̄̌̿w͆̈̓̎͌͞a̓͊̊̅͡d͗̓͡a҇̑̂͒ŷ̛̾͑ś͌̍͡~ William says, shooting down Eloise’s attempts to still, despite all evidence to the contrary, weasel out of killing the vampires. Then, after a brief moment, he adds: ~Î͗͝ m̎̂͊͋́͝y̛̒̽͆͊̋s̽̐̈͝e͌͑͌̑̄͡l̛̿́f̛͗̍̇̈ t̛̐̐ĥ̇̋͋͋͞i̎͂͗͡n͑̂͌̕k̛̃̋͑̚ s͐̌͞h҇͛͆̑ë́̂̔͞ i͗̍̾̔͡s̛̎͑͋̚ g҇͆̉r̓̊̄̚̚͡o҇̉́̈́̀w̉͐͛̀̋͠i҇̆̎̇͆n͑̌̆̕ǧ̛̾̽̂ s̾͛͊͠e͐͂͒̍̌̕n̾̅͆̕i̅͊͡l̄̔̿̅̽͞e̛̐̀̄̏̀ i͒̏̋͡n̑̀̒͞ h̀̾̀͂͞è̌̉̐̈͠r̔̉̂̀̂͠ o̅̈́̓͂̚͡l̿̈́͠d҇̌̌͌ à̛͗̽͗g҇́̍͐e͋̓͝

Eloise can’t help a snort at that offhand comment. There are, after all, very few people who have guts to actually call Baba Yaga out on how they see her, and Eloise usually isn’t one of them, maybe due to power difference, or maybe due to familial connection. Her familiar, however, has no such qualms.

“What’s so funny?” the pale asshole asks from where the tanned guy was quickly bringing them up to speed on all the laws they have broken and any and all punishments potentially awaiting them.

“Nothing, just the voices in my head,” Eloise answers. “They’re the only intelligent conversation partner in this house, after all.”

William snorts.

“I don’t understand why we can’t just get rid of her!” the pajama-clad moron asks in agitation, and both the blindfolded one and the tanned one look like they want to rip his head off.

“Oh, I don’t know?” Eloise asks. “Maybe because I’m rather well-known in my circles, and it would raise many eyebrows should I disappear? Because all my friends and superiors know exactly where I had gone? Because I’m to call some of them soon, or else I have been threatened with a surprise visit before I can settle down? The list goes on, and none of the option ends well for you.”

“Oh quit the big-talk!” the moron snaps, and makes a move to throw himself at her, despite the tanned one’s warning shout—

William bursts from Eloise’s shadow in a flash of hell-red flames and impales the vampire on his wicked horns. He misses all the vital spots, merely skewering him through the shoulder-blades, muscle, tendon and bone, but it drives the message home, seeing as the rest rear back in shock at the sight of the half-demonic, half-undead goat with four wicked horns.

“And there’s also William,” Eloise says in amusement as the moron winces and all but hangs on the Bakhrahell’s horns in attempt to not to agitate the wound too much, the blood seeping into his white shirt and slowly trickling down William’s upper horns.

“What is this thing?!” the pale asshole shrieks, backing up the stairs, as if it would help him if the Bakhrahell decided to go against him next. The other three tense and also back up.

“This is William, my familiar,” Eloise explains calmly. “I apologize for not being a typical witch with a cat, but demonic battle-goat suits me more.”

“y̛͌̀̉ṑ̑̏͡ũ̾̚͞ w̓̈͒̀̈́͠i͋̾̏̉͝l҇̌͌l҇̉̈̈̚ n̑̌̋̇̉͡o͐̀̽́͡t͐͌̈̄͝ h̑̽͋̐̏͠ä̛́͐͌r͐̅͞m̃̔͝ M̓͊͛́͝i̛̋͒̂̚s̈́̿̏͡t̉̐͞r͛̑͐͞e͐͆̚͞ṡ̊͡ṡ͌̈́̓͞,̀́̀͡ v͂̓͝e͒̀̓͂̚͞r͌̃̄̄̚͞m͊̂̉̋̕ĭ̋͆̑̕ń̀̏͛̈́͝,” William snarls in synthetically echoing, demonic voice, before lurching forward and knocking the moron back, and sliding his horns out of vampire’s shoulders. He gives the remaining vampires a very unimpressed look. “f҇͂̉͐́̐ơ̎͂͒r͂̓͗̾̓̕ t͗̀͒̒̕h̔̊͡é̒̔́͠ r҇̈̊̑͒ë́̌̃̋̽͠c͐̽̇̀͠o͌̄̿͊͞r҇̈̇̍̍d҇̃̊̈́,̆͛̔͠ I͋́̈̀͝'̈͆͂̕m̊́̐̄͌͠ v̒̿̓͆̊͠ë́̂̓̕ṙ͒̕ẙ͂͞ m̄̀̀͝ú̃̐̿͑͠c҇͛̇͛̈́h҇͊̈͆ i̇̏̀̅͞ň̎͋̕ f͒́͌͡a͒͆̅̑̚͝v͌̒͗̇̕o҇͒̄r͗̐͝ o͒̿͡f҇̃͆ k҇͒͂̃͂̐ì͛͠l̀͐͝l͐͂͠i͆̽͠n͒͐̀̎̀͞g͑̿͡ a͆̅͞l̛̽̍̃l̀̄͠ o҇̐̅̈̍f͊͒͊̑̕̚ ỷ̍̎̎͆͞o͌͑̐͂̚͠u̔̒̾̓͝.҇̏̈́̅ Ĭ̃͋͞ h҇̾͂̿a͋̿͛͡v҇͊̓͗̄ë́̿̏̔͠n̛̂͋̍'̛̄͑͂t̽̎̉̚͞ e̛̾̓ȃ̋̆̿͂͡ẗ́̽̄̓͛͞e҇͒̃̔n̒̿̎̄͠ à͒͞ v͒̂͝a̓̊̕m̽̽̌͠p͌̾͆̓̀͡i͗̈̅͝r̅̌͋͞ē̒̎͠ i̛̓̋̏̒̊n̔̊̏͐͞ q̅̓͒̕ŭ̀̈̒́͞i҇͗̋̀ť̆̄́͡e҇̈̓̓̉ s̍͑̀̐͠ȯ̌͌͞m̏͒͐̓͞ě̃͡ t҇̆͑ī̛̉̈́̔̾m̛̐͐̇̍e̊͐̄͒̐͠,̐́̏͞ a͊͌̂̓͞f̌̒̄̊̏͞t҇̓͋è͋̍͠ř̛̂̐ à̋̏͝ĺ͑̓͛͞ĺ̓͛̕,҇̃̐ ả͑͐̉͠n̋͐̊̕d̛͗̃̂̈̄ t̿́̎̅̚͡h̿̑͠e̎͒̈́͌̏͠ ơ̈́̄̒n͛̑̏̆̕l̓͋͝ỳ̈́̑̔̿͝ t̎͒͂͝h̛̏́i̓̃̌͊͠n̓̒́͡g̀͐́͝ s̔̏͞t̅̎̃̒̚͞a҇̋́̂n̏͋̂̐͝d̀̿̎͞i̛̾̌̏͗ǹ̈́̿́̈̕ǵ͆͛̿̕ b̛̋̐ȇ͌̉̓̕t̐̚̚͡w̛̆̈́̀̒è̑͋͡ȅ̑̋̕n̔̏͡ m͐͂͂̕e̅̎͝ a̓̽̓̋͡n҇̀͂̽d̛͛̾̆̍̃ m̾̓͗́͝y̾́́͠ m͛̽̽̚͝e͌̀̕ȃ̛͆̓l̛̏̈́́͑̚ i̛̾͛̃͗s̓̂͆͑̓͡ M͑̋̈͡i̔̂͠s̛̈́́t́̉̏͠r̛͋͗ē̏̕s̀̓̎͡s̛͒̃̈̀'̾̈́̍́͞s̐̃̊͝ m̛̈͆o͗̈́͑͊͆͡r̾̔̚͝ȧ̈́̓̇̚͡l҇̋̽̇̓̉ c̓͗̍̚͞o͆̆̔̽͠m̛̓̀̐p̓̉͞a͋̆͋͠s̀͊͂͊͝s͊͋͞.̛͐́”

“William, you’re ruining the moment,” Eloise chides him gently. “If they know I’m actually on their side, they’ll get cocky.”

“Ḯ̊̈̕'҇̔͆m̊̈́̍͠ n҇̄̒ô̍̍̊͝t̀͗̓́̚͝ s҇̇́ó̃̕̚r̃̓͌̅͝r̀̀͠y҇͌͆͌̄̇.̋̄̀̉̅͝ t̏͛̂͠h̛̄͋e͒̑͐̊͞y̛̋͌̄ n̅̒͊̋͝é̛͆̅͌e͌̇̀̊̐͡d͊̐̉̓̕ t̛̂͊̉o͛̎͂̕ k̀̌͞n͌̏̏̀͆͝ơ̋̅̀̎w̛̒͛ t̐̾͠ĥ̔̍̃͡ë́͆̔̍̐͝i͒̓͡ŕ͛̿͝ ṕ̽́͠l҇̎̀a̓̆̕c̃̒́̂́͠é̈͠.̃͛͒͝”

Eloise pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Aight, listen up—where’s the last one?”

The blindfolded one purses his lips. “I’m—I’m not sure it’s a good idea to call him down.”

“Why not?”

“He’s—”

“He only got turned two months ago,” the pale asshole says with a shrug, but he’s still shaking a bit and looking at William with suspicion, with William glaring right back. “He’s not good at controlling himself.”

“There’s a fledgling in the house?” Eloise asks, blinking with disbelief. “And you’ve—you’ve just, like, what? Left him to his own devices? Without round-the-clock care? Next thing you’ll tell me is that you feed him so little he actually gets hungry and aggressive!”

“We can’t let him feed on people without killing them, so he is,” the blonde speaks up, looking at Eloise in challenge. She just blinks at him, mouth ajar in shock.

“You—You’re—You’re starving a fledgling?!” she shrieks, well and truly losing the grip on her anger for a moment. “You—Fledglings need nothing as much as they need a constant stream of fresh blood if they are to develop themselves and their power correctly, and you—you’re telling me, you’re not feeding him? Almost at all? And you expect it to go well?!”

“Don’t tell us how to care for a recently-turned vampire!” the blonde snaps, pacing towards her, William temporarily forgotten. “I think we’d know better than you!”

“And yet you prove you don’t!” Eloise snaps right back, also moving forward, before they meet in the middle of the room, face-to-face. Eloise, with her one hundred and eighty centimeters, is almost as tall as him, downplaying his attempt to loom over her.

“Who do you think you are?!” the blonde hisses, attempting to loom and intimidate. Eloise just glares at him with her unsettling, almost-white eyes. It takes a lot of mental control to not to combust his pretty face on the spot, so instead Eloise grabs him by the shoulders with nothing more but her magic, and abruptly drags him few steps back.

“The owner of this place, and the person who decides whether you live or die,” she snarls, as he tries to shake off the invisible hands still firmly holding him down, well away from Eloise’s personal space. “And you’re not making a good case for yourself, blondie. Now go upstairs, pack your bags, and OUT before I change my mind and kill you all!”

They all flinch at her tone, because Eloise can muster a rather powerful roar-like shout if need be, even if it makes her throat ache uncomfortably. But it’s authoritative, and Eloise was almost-attacked twice today already, and she’s starting to actually want to kill them.

Getting bloodstains out of the carpets and wooden floors, after all, was only difficult as saying an one-sentence chant and focusing a bit.

The pale asshole all but pounces upstairs when William takes few steps towards him, almost barreling into a sixth figure, a boy in a dark cape, standing at the top of the stairs. This must be the fledgling, Eloise decides.

“Aren’t we even given an option to stay?” the pajama-clad moron asks, wincing all the time at the holes in his shoulders. They’ll heal—maybe, not that Eloise cares—but that doesn’t mean it’s painless. He deserved it, though—things like these happen when you attack people.

“That’s right. Why can’t you just keep them?” a smug, disembodied voice sounds from the direction of the door, instantly putting everyone but Eloise and William on high alert. She, instead, merely turns around to face the materializing woman, because using the door is outdated and teleporting in is the thing nowadays, apparently. The woman is tall, pale, and bony, with creepy, almost-white eyes, and cascades of wavy, red hair.

Baba Yaga, the most potential reason for the vampires being in the Kerrigan Manor to begin with. Eloise suspected the woman would pop up sometime tonight to be her smug, powerful self and lord it over them all mere mortals, but her arriving so early put a wrench in Eloise’s plan of kicking the vampires out without having to kill them.

Instead of addressing any of these points, however, Eloise elects to tackle the point raised by Baba instead.

“Their backlog rent counts in literal hundreds of thousands in cash,” she says angrily. “And I’m under no illusion that they would never be able to pay it off, because I doubt any of them got an actual job, and I would never let them stay before that happened! Besides, two of these fuckers tried to attack me already, and I’m not sharing my roof with aggressive creatures!”

“Ah, so you’d instead allow them to get away, scoot-free, without paying you your thousands in cash, and with their lives?” Baba chuckles. “My, my, dear niece, how altruistic.”

“Don’t hold it against me that I’m tired of killing!” Eloise snaps at the woman. “Which… Admittedly, I am actually obliged to do… And you can report me if I don’t… Ah fuuuuck, what a mess. Fookin’ ‘ell. Ye haed tae come haur, hadn’t ye!”

“Careful dear, your Scottish is showing,” Baba says bemusedly.

“Dinnae care!” Eloise snaps, full Scottish accent just to be contrary. “Canae ye juist let me kick thaim oot an break soum laws by nae killin thaim?!”

“No, I can’t,” the woman answers, unbothered by the outburst and without a care for the six vampires, all ready to strike. “Eloise, consider it, and do so carefully. The second the word gets out, to anybody, if one of them tattles, and one of them will because it’s how life goes, they will be killed regardless, and you will face consequences for them not being killed by your hand.”

“An why dae ye care whit A dae an dinnae dae?” Eloise growls.

“For crying out loud, you stupid child, you’re my family, of course I care about you!” the woman snaps. “Just because I act like I do most of the time doesn’t mean I don’t!”

Eloise blinks at the outburst, leaning back a bit in surprise.

“That’s… Awfully sweet of you, Baba,” she says eventually, carefully, and Baba snorts. “Doesnae change the fact thon it's yer fault tae begin wi! Dinnae deny it, ye're the only ane wha coud ave done this!”

“Alright, hold up, what the hell is going on?” the moron grunts out painfully, pressing at his wounds. “Who on earth are you?”

“Baba Yaga,” Baba says smugly. “The most powerful witch in existence, among other things known for putting an end to Vlad Dracul during the Vampire Uprising, at your service.”

“Very humble,” Eloise mutters. “Baba is the only other person with access to the wards, so you being here is most likely her fault. What are you plotting, Baba?” she asks the woman.

“What if I told you I’d be willing to pay you all of the backlog rent of theirs, and additionally pay them off for the whole year in advance?” Baba asks, and it’s not something Eloise was expecting at all, but also exactly what she was expecting.  “You get the money, they get to stay, you can go register them tomorrow or someday soon, and nobody has to die.”

Eloise grits her teeth. The money is definitely enticing, but is it worth it to become a babysitter of six vampires?

“With coverage for any damages done to the house, including but not limited to unauthorized refurnishing, wear, and lack of proper care?” she asks before she can stop herself, because it’s money they’re talking, and Eloise is really bad saying no to a significant influx of cash.

“Yes. And I’ll throw in a little extra for the attack.”

Eloise grimaces, looking at Baba. “I’m selling their souls to you by proxy, aren’t I?”

A chorus of ‘what’s and ‘don’t you dare’s resounds through the room, and Baba chuckles in a very telling way.

“And what of their registration? Their crimes?” Eloise presses. Baba just smiles, and pulls an envelope out of nowhere, handing it to the younger witch. “You really thought of everything, huh.”

“Of course.”

“I—I’ll need to think about it—” Eloise tries, but her resolve is slipping. They’re talking a really big amount of cash here, and the vampires will get registered and Eloise won’t be breaking the law, and honestly, everybody gains in this situation, even Baba who orchestrated the mess. Or maybe especially Baba, if she will have six vampires indebted to her.

“One million two hundred thousand pound sterling, darling,” Baba all but purrs, and Eloise can feel herself swallowing the bait, hook, line, and the shiny, £-shaped sinker. “All yours.”

Eloise wasn’t even surprised how Baba could calculate their backlog on the spot—if anyone knew how long each vampire stayed in the manor, it was her, but—

Oh who is she fucking kidding.

(She will regret it, she knows. Babysitting six vampires is not something anyone should hope to get through with their sanity intact.)

“y̅͑̐͋̕o҇̇̒͒́̈́u҇͐̍̎,͑͌́͡ m̈́̌͡y͆̊̋̊͠ d҇͌͐e̛̎͊̀̽a̽͋͗̆͡r̐̈́͝e̽̽̿́͡s̒̑͝t͒̄̒͝ M̎͒͝i̓̿͌̇̄͡s̀̽̂́͝ẗ̛́͋͐r̛̍́͒ē͗̀̃̇̕ś͊͡s͗̇̾͞,̛̋̐” William says knowingly, “a̓͗̐͗̆͝ȑ̑̾͝e̛̽̓̚ a̍̈́̎͡ h̃̐͑͛͡o͌̾͝p̓̌͊̂͡e҇̏̅ľ̛̋̍̃ě̓̊̎̈͝s̛͑̆̔̂̚s͒͊̈̚͝ ć̊̂͆̐͞a̔̒̕s͌̽̀͞e̛͂̍̏ o͐͌́̊͊͝f̛̏̋̃ a̾̎̆̔͡ m̍̑̒͝i͆́͝s͋͗͞e̍̏͠ř̂̐̑͂̕.”

“Deal,” she says, ignoring her familiar’s very true jab, and Baba smiles, because she knows, and Eloise does too, that the younger witch was sold the second money was mentioned, even if that meant herding vampires. She’s been through tougher babysitting assignments.

Eloise extends her hand to Baba, and Baba takes it, and magical chains encircle their clasped hands, because of course Baba would make it a magically binding contract. But Eloise isn’t the one it’s directed at—the chains don’t latch at her, instead shooting forwards at the vampires, to the cacophony of yelps, leaving barely-visible, bracelet-like thin scar-tattoos around their right wrists.

“For your information,” Baba says, “I left the fledgling alone. He’s all of two months since turned, and I’d feel bad if a literal baby were to pay the debts of others.”

“Who’s the altruistic one here, now?” Eloise snorts.

“I am. Maybe. He’s barely an adult by mortal standards as-is, and lacking a sire, or a nurturing environment. It’s a miracle he’s still alive, truly. I hope you’ll rectify it.”

“A pet project?” Eloise asks.

“Maybe,” Baba hums noncommittally. “Or maybe just a pet.”

Eloise glares at the ancient witch, who just smiles and vanishes as abruptly as she appeared, but this time with a crack of displaced air, leaving the younger witch, once more, alone with six vampires and her familiar.

Eloise looks at them all, then exchanges a glance with William, and groans.

Why did she agree to this?

Ah.

Money.

That’s why.

“y̏̍̀̚͠õ̅͞ü̍̆̊̿͠r҇̃̆̅̀ g̛͋̒̚r҇̌́̇̒è̈́̿̿͞e͑́̄͂͞ď̛̎̄͗̓ w̌̾͌͠i҇̀͐̌̾̐ĺ͐͝l͆̿͞ b̛̊͊͋͛ế̌͑̃͞ ỷ͊̿͝ȏ̾̍͆͠ü͋̂͠r̈͑̑͐͂͝ d̔͌̈͡ŏ͗̍̚͡w͂̄͠n͗̍̉̂̕f҇͛͆ā̾̓̕l҇̍̓͌l͊̎͞ ŏ̔͡ń̛̑e҇̆̌̍͑̆ ó͒̾̌͝f̍̾͡ t̛͋̃h̋͋͠ẽ̛̌̏s̽̿̄̚̚͡e͌́͞ d̃̽͒̉͠a҇̋̀͛͋̋ẙ̈́͑͒̓͠ś̾̋̅͝,̃̿͛͠” William huffs in exasperated amusement, and pounces straight back into her shadow, vanishing from the physical realm.

“So I guess you’re staying,” Eloise says to nobody in particular. “Fine. Okay. It’s—Fuck. Okay, okay, I got this. I’ll lay ground rules first thing tomorrow. Whoever decided it was a good idea to appropriate the Master Bedroom will find his things outside the door.”

The blonde looked like he wanted to argue, but Eloise just looked at him flatly.

“You may have been a top dog before, blondie, but I own the place, you’re staying here only thanks to the good grace of my heart and Baba’s money, and I’m too retired to deal with your shit today,” she says. “If you want to challenge my authority, door’s right fucking there. That all? No, that not all. Kidlet, when have you eaten last?” she asks the fledgling at the top of the staircase.

He startles a bit at being singled out, looks around for a moment, and only then answers. “Two days ago. Ma’am.”

The overwhelming need to bang her head on the wall so that the world maybe starts making sense again returns to Eloise with vengeance.

“William please tell me you have blood stashed somewhere in the Shadowrealm,” she pleads instead.

William pokes his head out of her shadow. “d͊͐̂̒͋͡ē̊̆̀̚͝e͑̾͝r̓̒̑̀̕̚,҇͛͆̀͊̚ w̍̿̿̎͗͠o̒̇̅̾̾͞l̿́͒͞f͆͛̾̐͞,̾̓͒͡ a͗̽͞ň̍͝ḋ̛̍̏ s̆̃͠o͗͛̍̉͡m҇̌̌ȅ̉́͞ g̛͑̄r͗̔̔̈͝i͒̃͡f̀̽̍̓̄͞f̛̿͌i͒͛͂̓͠n̛͛͛̇ f̛̅́r̛̒̓̎ơ̍̊͛͋̚m̛͂͛ ȏ͆̏̇͞u͂̈́̔̏͞r̒̑͡ l̛͊͌a͊̌͊͆̿̕s̃̽͋̋̂͡t͑̀͐̇͋͡ h̏̈͌̚͝u҇̍̂͑̏n҇̊͐̽͒t́̀͆͞.͒̈́̚̚͠ I͂̎͒̂͞'͌̊̃́̽͠m͗́͞ ń͆̐̕̚ȯ̚͝t̑̀̏͛͠ g͑͂̃̃͛̕í̛͒̓v͒̽͡i̓̽̎̇͝n̆̾͠g̔̈̉̅͞ t̾̓͡h̋͌͞e͆̊͒͊͞ g̈́̎͐̄͂͝r̓͊̓̔̇̕i̍̓̿̎̕f̛̎̏͐̐f̀̏̕i̽̃́͒͒͝n̒̀̑͝ t̎̏͠h̓̄͂̅̏͡ő͑͡ũ͋̽͑͝g̎̊̈́͠h͊̋̾̆͠.”

“Give the deer,” Eloise says, and few seconds later she has an armful of glass jugs filled with blood. “Thanks.”

With that, she moves upstairs, dumps the jugs—three of them, five liters each, full—into fledgling’s arms, and barges into the Master Bedroom. As promised, she gathers and teleports blondie’s things outside the door, throws few cleaning spells around, changes sheets, changes into pajamas, and throws herself onto the bed.

Everything else seems like tomorrow’s Eloise’s problem, and she leaves it at that, falling asleep without a care.

(And maybe with a nasty surprise on the door that zaps the pale asshole when he tries the doorknob.)

(https://picrew.me/image_maker/43267)

[polygamyff]

35. Part 3

Bringing my phone into my eye-view, ok it’s six in the morning, I have a meeting at nine so I need to get out of bed, placing my phone down at the side of me. Looking down at Robyn snuggled up against me, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. It’s a good feeling, to wake up to the woman you love in bed with you, I feel wholesome. I hate waking up to an empty bed, it’s just horrible. There is no love there at all, but it makes it hard to leave. This is literally my hardest goodbye, my Bonita holding onto me for dear life, her head on my chest. I soon shut her up though, honestly last night she did annoy me so much, I was on the verge of going for a walk. First of all she saying the men at that job are cute, I am old, she is young. Acting like she going to leave me for a man that is younger and shit but my dick soon shut her up, I did miss it. I missed her P a lot, now I can have her all to myself all naked and shit. Wrapping my arms around her, lightly stroking her back “I love you” pressing kisses to the top of Robyn’ head and then moving my arms away, I need to get out of bed. I need to slide out, I know her ass is knocked out because all that hugging and kissing she would have woken up. Holding my breath as I slid out of bed, placing my hand on the ground as I snaked myself out from her grip. Falling onto the floor slowly and then breathed out, poking my head up and seeing Robyn is asleep still “yes” I said under my breath, I did it. Standing up quickly and I hissed out in pain, feeling a dull stabbing pain in my leg “ah” I winced, looking down at my leg before leaning down and grabbing my boxers, I think Reign is awake. She is gurgling to herself, I know she is awake. I know my daughter’ breathing, it’s weird but I do. Pulling up my boxers as I jogged over to the crib, I gasped looking down, she is awake “you’re awake crazy” fixing my dick in my boxers “I need to pee, just wait for me” I need to pee first, walking off towards the bathroom. I can hear the build-up happening, then it happened. Reign’ cry, she cried like I hurt her so I had to go back “woah, who hurt you and also. Sshhh, momma is asleep” picking her out of the crib “it’s ok Mi Amor, Por qué estás llorando. Don’t cry” placing her over my shoulder, I will just have to take her with me to pee. Reign calmed her little self-down “you just wanted me didn’t you, you was ok at first but then you saw me. My Mi Hermosa” she gives the best hugs.

Reign has been watching me get dressed, she has been my partner in crime “so we left this note for momma, she knows where we are. You are coming with me, meetings with daddy” picking her up, I left her baby grow on, I got behind with everything. I wanted to make sure she was fed so I didn’t have time to change her but she looks cute still, it’s Burberry, how can you go wrong with that. Placing Reign’ baby bag over my shoulder “we about to have so much fun together” pressing the elevator button “let me put you this way” turning Reign away from me so she can look around, she is nosey and with going out she will like to see things. I think besides Robyn, the best thing to happen to me is Reign, I mean look at her. How precious she is, how content, how much love she gives me. I get it, I get the love my dad has for me because I got it for Reign. I don’t really say it to Robyn but I miss her so much, I want her here and I want Robyn here so when she said it I was ready to cry, so much emotion. The elevator doors opened, stepping inside and turning to the keypad “we are going down to the offices” tapping the button and then turning to the mirror, Reign’ eyes went all wide eyed “daddy” pointing to myself “daughter” pointing to Reign “daddy and daughter” she is so intrigued staring at herself, walking closer to the mirror “aahhhh, boo” I moved back before I got too close and Reign smiled, her pacifier falling out of her mouth “Yo soy papi y tu eres hija, papa te ama” moving closer to the mirror again “Mi Amor, aahhh boo” and moved back quickly from the mirror, Reign let out a giggle “aww you done pulled at my heartstrings with that” she is so damn cute, leaning down and picking up her pacifier before I forget.

Walking into the office, the room is waiting for me but we are finishing off from yesterday. My dad is not here today so he will miss out today “sorry, my daughter needed feeding. Don’t mind the baby grow” Ally laughed “you didn’t even do her hair, negro” Reign will forgive me, placing the bag down “did I miss anything?” pulling the chair back “so this is Reign, for the two men that didn’t meet her. She is the next heir to this. She is sitting in with us” sitting down in my chair, Reign is just looking around. She is not doing much but staring “she is beautiful” smiling at him “thank you but also, thank you Koki and Hayato for coming from Tokyo for me. You came last minute, and we have had a lot of information, but I would like to say, I am still aiming for Tokyo. I love the place but from what the ladies have said, they don’t think it would be logical to have that plot you both mentioned” I really don’t want to waste time, I want a quick turnaround on this “yes, we heard but Maurice. That space, that plot is perfect for your business. Lots of money to be made, you could go somewhere else and it may not make lot of money. Yes the place needs a lot of work but you can do it” Koki said “from a tourism perspective in Tokyo that is the best spot, not lying to you. It closed down and lost a lot of business, people need convenience” looking over at Ally “what you thinking? With all of the notes, from what they both said?” Reign is trying to eat my fingers, fat baby “I think I understand what they mean, but also the other side. It won’t be a quick turn around will it?” shaking my head “but then I think if it will make money then why not? Why not just wait but I didn’t want to wait but we have other things to do, do we not?” she nodded her head.

My office door is a revolving door right now, it is just my accountant here anyways. Just need to go over the monthly finance but before that I had staff coming in and out “so you telling me they all claimed against the company for this Dubai venture?” getting up from the chair “hey momma, you are really out here grabbing anything right now. You strong” turning her to me “yes you being a pain, grabbing paperwork and shit” Reign tried to grab my face “yes they did” my accountant said, I grinned at Reign as she yelped out “snuggled from my momma” resting Reign’ face at the side of mine “Reign, what we saying. We need to cut it off don’t we? I swear I hate them, anyways fuck them. I need to buy a home here, I need to claim too. My business so I can do that” I can do it, my dad said I can “Robyn is here” Ally said, Robyn sheepishly walked in “come in” I smiled, Reign is still resting against my face “this is my accountant, Reign just been out here doing meetings” Robyn looks so shy “oh hi, erm. I was confused on where she was, when did she wake up?” she asked “six, but she ain’t tired. We don’t sleep on work do we?” I can’t even see her, she is still in the same position “I can tell she is ok, she is froze just against your face. Sorry, I am interrupting” Robyn moved to the side “a home? Didn’t you get one in Cali?” he asked “that is Robyn’ not mine, I need one here. So the paperwork will come through soon, look Patrick, this is my company. This whole family shit will change, I get it ok? I just need it to come into my hands, you get me?” he nodded his head “your dad is soft, or didn’t want the trouble, I mean it doesn’t mean you are going broke but it’s taking advantage, also you want me to decline any future usage of the jets? So when the bill comes to us we redirect?” nodding my head “Reign said we selling all four of them, we only need two, one for me, and one for my parents. Fuck them, we don’t fuck with them like that do we” it’s about me and mines “what if I wanted a jet?” Robyn asked, looking behind me “then we are getting rid of three, you can have a jet baby. I don’t mind” Robyn waved me off “I am joking, I don’t want it” Robyn is funny, I feel like she was doing that on purpose because she was looking at Ally, she is doing the most.

Robyn wants to do tourist things, I mean that is boring for me but I don’t mind it, she is not happy that I didn’t dress Reign properly but I was in rush “look, this is the back of her head. You think it is getting better” pulling a face “to me, it doesn’t look better. Little badly” Robyn slapped my hand away “excuse me, stop it” I chuckled “that is my baby too, I think it will get better. It don’t look so bad, it will get better trust me. She is beautiful anyways, she is really knocked out asleep for a nap, you out here moving her around and she ain’t moving” swinging myself around in the chair, I am bored waiting “you don’t seem amused that I want to do tourist things” I shrugged stopping myself from swinging too much “it’s ok, I mean my hotel is an attraction and you on the top floor, are you not? You already an attraction, why do we need to leave?” look at me having to be a tourist in my city “me and Reign have not done real tourist things, if you do not want to go then it’s fine. I can go alone, forget you” Robyn is being all annoyed with me “I am coming, of course I am. It’s only down the road, we can go to Father Duffy square, it’s around the block. The famous red steps” I rather be up all under Robyn, that will be far more entertaining.

I know I am bored because I always see this shit, but Robyn is being a real ass tourist “it’s so busy around here, don’t you have Lenny and Jay?” Robyn asked “for what reason, it’s for you. I don’t need it Bonita, I don’t care for it. Go and sit on the step and I will take a picture?” I said pointing “no, I will look weird on my own, can’t you come with me” look at Robyn being difficult “I know, one second” looking around us “excuse me” I asked, the guy turned around “Benny?” I know him “Maurice! Oh shit, what are you doing here” he hugged me “my old boss nigga, I swear down I didn’t think you would be out here with the public!” I chuckled “I got a family now, settled down. I am a good, this is my fiancé Robyn, Robyn this is Benny. When I started working in New York under my dad, testing me out, he was the first guy I had to look after” I laughed “and this nigga stressed me out, we ended up smoking weed every time, I am sorry. I had to fire you. I really liked you too” patting his arm “you was a cool ass boss, nice to meet you. You’re pretty, better than him” how weird is this “so you’re in a suit, who the hell hired you?” he is dumb as fuck “what you know about me!? I am working in Wall Street; I am dumb but not that dumb. But yeah, I am doing well now and I see you! Famous ass, all on newspaper. I was working on the day your shares fell, then I see it hit that you was playing but I see why, she good” nodding my head “She is worth it, also I got a daughter now” his eyes widened “a girl? How did he feel? Your dad scared me, remember when I walked into his office and I goes I’m a boy, you don’t fire boys and then he got angry with you because you told me” I laughed out “that was funny but he is getting old, she is very much spoilt. He adores her and she is the heir, I am proud” I am very proud “happy for you Maurice, what is up anyways? You wanted me, you are cutting into my eating time too” I chuckled “take a picture of me and my family near these, she wants to be a tourist. Cali girl and all that” waving Robyn off “oh wow, ok. Welcome to New York, for sure bro” passing him my phone, Robyn is so quiet and shy at times. Obviously, we got to have the stroller with us, Reign is asleep. Placing my arm around Robyn “ready!” he shouted, smiling wide because I want it to be a cute picture for her “all done, we need to catch up. Drop me the number, actually I got something for you” taking my phone from him “for you” he passed me his business card “look at you Benny the boy!” hugging him “good seeing you and I will call you” he is a good guy, we just split.

Robyn thinks I went to toilet, she is just feeding Reign in the café around the corner, I am not creative but I saw it while walking and I am sure she will like it “hi sir, how can I help?” stepping to the ticket booth “I just want the best ticket to whatever” she stared at me with a blank expression “is this for yourself?” she asked “my partner, just whatever but I want the best seats” she laughed, I don’t know why she is “it’s sweet how you want the best, what does she like?” I shrugged “anything really, which is the best one to watch?” I asked “I would recommend Moulin Rouge, maybe not your thing but she will love it, I did. I can get you front row for eight pm?” nodding my head “I will take them” digging into my pocket “here, on this card” I can pretend to Robyn that I put lots of thought into this but it was last minute, I can get Shawn to babysit, he will be ok “that is two hundred and ninety nine dollars, put your card into the machine thanks” this lady is finding me funny, I just ask for the best and that is it. Feeling the throbbing pain in my leg again, I don’t know why I get this feeling in my leg every time.

Robyn mean mugged me “toilet? What the hell? Where did you go?” she is not amused “I got you this, it’s a Broadway show for the Moulin Rouge, us two” Robyn’ face softened “aww really? But Reign?” placing the tickets on the table “Shawn likes to be called uncle, so he can prove it. You want to see New York and stuff, we can have some time together. A date, I am taking you out” Robyn cooed out “pootie, aww baby. This makes me so happy; I love you” she wrapped her arm around my neck “it’s ok, I love you too. I am happy you’re here” I think I am going to be so sad when she does go home, she said a few days only “so can we do more tourist things now?” rubbing the back of my leg “uh yeah, we can do some more tourist things. What would you like to do?” I think all these sex position got my leg cramping, I am blaming Robyn “stare at you, I don’t mind. We can just slowly walk back to the hotel, and also I like this café. I get to people watch that way” I chuckled “ok then, I will go and get a latte. Be back” getting up from the chair “put the tickets away for me too” I need to have some painkillers to shake off this feeling, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water and then walking over to the counter “hi” the server said “is this all?” shaking my head “uhm, can I have a uhm, caramel latte. Large please” patting my pockets “sure, you want anything else? Cakes? You seem like a guy that likes cake” I chuckled “I do? How do you sense that now, ok which do you think I would like, seeing as you know such a thing” opening my wallet, let me use cash for this “I would say a cheesecake type?” poking my lips out before grinning “mhmmm, but which type? Get it right and I will buy it?” she giggled “erm, Strawberry. You got to be” nodding my head “I am impressed, go on then. I will take a piece, you’re good at your job” she smirked at me “thank you, I just saw your smile and then the dimple, I was like he is a sweet guy” touching the side of my face “mhmmm, nobody mentions my dimple, I hate it” shaking my head “oh and if this don’t taste nice, where do I complain too? I would need your name too?” she placed the plate in front of me with the cheesecake “Ana, and you can take that complaint to my boss, but I would need your name also to give you his name” holding the money out “I will give you a B for effort, keep the change Ana, and my table is just there” I pointed “oh, uh yeah. I will bring it over” she is funny.

Sitting down “what was so funny down there? Why was she smiling?” Robyn asked “just that I was undecided on what cake to get, and I kind of just said something and she just found me funny” Robyn pointed at me “liar, no woman laughs that way for that” I had to laugh “Robyn, I honestly didn’t do anything wrong. You’re clearly sat here” looking at Reign in Robyn’ arms “you want papa, you want to come to papa. He is way more fun, come” getting my arms out “please don’t be like that with me or give me that look because it’s not like that, I am with you” actually let me have some painkillers, digging into my pockets and getting some painkillers out, I always carry them around because you never know “I am glad I am giving you a headache” Robyn spat, little does she know it’s not even that “sure” I mumbled, placing the tablets in my mouth and opening the water bottle, Robyn is very angry with me when I barely did anything, I had a laugh with her and that was it “that is it, papa is better” taking Reign from Robyn “papa? Please, it’s dad or daddy. Papa, who the hell you think you are” she is such a hater, wrapping my arms around Reign “I love you so much” she is the best gift on earth “your latte” looking up at the server and moved back a little “thank you” I grinned at her “no problem” she moved away, Robyn is still annoyed at nothing when I am with her and her only.

Robyn and this constant walking, I am just not doing well and she is walking everywhere. I get it is the fast way because New York is busy but I am glad to be back at my hotel “can you get the stroller” I said to the doorman, I can’t do it because my leg is really killing me right now “and you can’t do it” Robyn said, I did ignore her and winced as I made my way up the steps. I could do with my dad’ walking stick at this moment in time “I am just leaving now, you have an appointment with Wade. I did the paperwork for the Hilton changeover, also Maurice. Please be on time for Wade, you have the estate in New Jersey to visit. Nine sharp, you need to update your Will” Ally rushed by me “yeah, sure” I am tired, so another early morning for me. I did kind of want to sleep in but I can do that and then have that theatre thing with Robyn. Walking into the lobby slowly “uncle” here is my freeloader uncle “nephew” he got his arms open to me as he walked over “hey” he hugged me “I heard from your father, you are officially going to be the owner of a billion dollar company, must be a big weight on you” I had to laugh, a big weight he says. I feel I have aged a few years “it’s a lot, but it is what it is. I will get on with it, nice seeing you. I need to go now” I need sleep, rest my leg because I feel I have done something to it. I think it was that stupid move I did in the morning, my fault “see you soon nephew” soon he says, walking behind Robyn.

I groaned out as I got in bed, I just want to sleep because honestly, I am tired “hope you ain’t thinking of sleeping just yet?” Robyn said “why?” I mumbled “why? I have been missing out on dick, I want sex and you in that bed acting like you about to sleep?” she is something else “I am though, I have been awake since six. I just, for one night let me sleep” I hope she understands “so you denying me of sex?” rolling my eyes “I am saying” turning onto my side “let me sleep, just put Reign to sleep. I will see you in the morning” closing my eyes, Robyn is a sex addict. I think she is, I mean so am I guess but I am just not feeling myself right now and I think it’s me, I am stressing myself out with things and the lack of sleep because I don’t sleep as much, Robyn doesn’t see that and if I had the strength I would have sex but I need sleep.

[purelikeviolence]

Meditation, Interrupted | Julie & Remmy

How much walking was gonna happen before they got to the spot? Julie wasn’t one for hiking - not in this form anyway. Still, she just threw on her typical dark attire, dark pants, a hoodie and boots. She was good to go. She was intentionally late, not wanting to get there before Remmy did or else she’d look eager. Besides, she needed to size this dog up. Was he big? Could she stand a chance? As she reached the area, she hesitated. This fucker ain’t a dog he’s a miniature horse! Whatever, even in fox form she could take him. It’ll be fine. The dog noticed her first then came Remmy and she offered a little wave as she came closer. “Sup,” she offered, keeping her eyes on Remmy before looking at the dog. “Moose, huh? Fitting.” She looked back to Remmy. “Lead the way - It’s not far, is it?”

Remmy had gotten to the trailhead early, realizing it was still dark when they did. But seeing in the dark didn’t really worry them, anymore, and they made sure no one else was around before stepping out. No hunters. Still, they felt their anxiety increasing with each passing minute that Julie didn’t show up. Had this been a set up? Was Julie a hunter? Was she going to pop out and try and kill Remmy? Finally, Moose spotted something and sniffed the air, and Remmy turned, noticing a figure coming up the path. They waved back, instantly relieved. “Hey!” they said, giving a little smile. “Thanks for um-- coming. Oh, yeah! I thought so, he’s…” they looked over at Moose, who was almost taller than Julie’s hip, “a big boy.” They picked up his lead, made sure his yellow safety jacket was on tight, before nodding. “It’s not far away! It’s close by. Just far enough from all the city noise.” They started off down the trail, Moose trotting along happily, tail wagging. Remmy glanced over at Julie. “So you um-- you new in town?”

Julie moved to Remmy’s side where the dog was not on, not needing to be sniffed or touched by some mutt. However, he seemed trained like Remmy had said and she was grateful for that - and for the fact that the place ahead wasn’t far along. “Yeah, I only just arrived under a week ago. For work stuff.” Just glanced over at Remmy, feeling they did have something in common with the military and she doubted Remmy would ask too many questions, knowing the secrecy that came with the military. “This is a nice area,” Julie asked as she took it in. She’d have to admit, the town did have some nice nature spots. Maybe she should explore them in her fox form later on. Still, the less she made it known there was a huxian in town, the better. “So, what about you? I don’t remember if you said you’re new to the town too.”

“Wow, so, like-- really new,” Remmy commented, switching between watching Julie and keeping an eye on their surroundings. It was probably just their anxiety, but they couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching them. “Yeah! I found it pretty soon after I got into town. Which um, let’s see...it’s February?” They asked, but it wasn’t really a question question. “I’ve been here like 3 or so months, then. Not too long.” They cut down one of the side paths, making sure Julie was following them close-- it was easy to get lost out here. It was a little darker back in the trees, but Remmy could still see almost perfectly. Moose put his nose to the ground and started sniffing along, pausing once to do his business before they continued along. “What’re you in town for, then? I don’t think White Crest is really a big um...tourist place.”

Julie nodded, still looking around, but keeping close so she doesn’t get lost. Unfortunately no senses in this form which blows. Her nose scrunched at the dog doing its thing - dogs were just annoying. So willing to chase after anything like the jerks they were. Just let a fox roam in peace, god. “You guys have a tourist thing, though. I checked it out when I came in. That’s where I learned you have mime and moose themed attractions.” Her eyes turned to look over at Remmy. “And that’s really fucking weird.” Julie contemplated telling Remmy why she was here, but no one could ever understand mercenary work nor would they get over the fact that it's illegal. “I was just contracted to come over here and check some stuff out. I have to wait for some guy to show up. I don’t know when that’ll be though.” It wasn’t an entire lie. She needed to find someone and once they appeared, she would get rid of them and that’d be the end of things.

“We do?” Remmy asked. They hadn’t know that. About the mimes or the tourism building. “There’s a mime restaurant? That’s...yeah,” they nodded, trying to figure out how a mime restaurant would work, “Weird.” They took one more turn, the path finally opening up to a little clearing. There was a few rocks around, good for spot to sit, and where Remmy usually came to sit and contemplate things. They’d usually let Moose wander around off leash, but Julie seemed tense about him, so they decided it was for the better to keep him close by for now. “Oh, well-- I hope you can finish your business up soon. Until then, um-- welcome to White Crest! And uh, welcome to my special spot.” A grin.

Julie looked around, it actually wasn’t that bad a spot. Seemed isolated enough. “Alright cool, just take a seat. You don’t have to cross legged or anything, just in a position that you can sit for a while. Since it’s your first time we’ll only do it for a few minutes.” Julie took a seat herself. She’d been doing this for so long, it was all second nature to her. She knew she probably didn’t come off as the kind to meditate - she wasn’t the most serene person but it grounded her and she needed that sometimes. “Close your eyes…” Julie trailed off, following her own instructions. “Notice how you’re breathing. In…. and out…” It was a little strange for her to be teaching this. She could recall the first time she did this, she hated having to stay still. “Your mind will start to wander. That’s okay, just remember to come back to your breathing. Don’t get caught up on your thoughts”

Remmy glanced around the clearing before taking a spot across from Julie and sitting. Moose sat down behind them, panting, but not tired. His even breathing helped Remmy relax a little. If there was something out there, he would alert them. They looked back over to Julie, trying to push the anxiety away, breathing out a long sigh. They didn’t need to breath, but the motions still felt...soothing. They closed their eyes, trusting that the two others there would alert them if something happened. It was almost easier to concentrate on their breathing when it wasn’t an involuntary reflex anymore. In. Out. In. Out. Moose’s breath was almost matching theirs and they felt him lay down behind them. The sounds of the forest were trickling in. The river, leaves rustling, the sound of branches scraping. A snap of a twig. Remmy’s eyes snapped open just in time to duck enough out of the way. A crossbow bolt lodged itself deep in their shoulder, but there was no pain. They were already lunging forward, pushing Julie to the ground, eyes wide, searching the treeline for where it’d come from. No words were spoken. Only a panicked look, the bolt still lodged in their shoulder.

“What the fuck.” Julie had no clue what was happening but Remmy had an arrow stuck in their shoulder and there was no blood? No yelling? What the fuck is happening? Who the fuck ruined their meditation? She backed away from Remmy, getting to her feet as someone tumbled out from a bush, aiming a crossbow at Remmy. Julie was so caught off guard by the whole thing. Is that what people did here? Just come out of nowhere and aim crossbows at people. The fact that it was pointed at Remmy who seemed like a nice person - what the hell was happening? Since the person was more caught up with Remmy she charged forward, pushing him onto the ground. That got her a swift kick to her gut and she rolled off him. Ow. That was a kick that was too strong for a normal human.

It was only after the second shot whizzed by Remmy’s head that they remembered the bracelet. The hunter had come charging through the trees, but paused when the bracelet’s effect had kicked in, blurring Remmy in front of him like a shadow just out of reach. Before Remmy could move, Julie was tackling the guy, and his foot connected with her chest, launching her back. Remmy lunged forward, their mind focusing in. Years of combat had made fights like this automatic responses. They grabbed Julie and tugged on her. “Run!” They said, stepping between the two, putting a literal body of dead weight between her and the hunter. This was exactly what they’d feared would happen. They weren’t sure if being vindicated this way was good, though. Another bolt whizzed by as the hunter cussed. Good to know the bracelet worked. There was a moment where he had to reload, he didn’t realize how fast Remmy could be. They lunged forward again and yanked the crossbow from his hands, breaking it solidly in half as red eyes and a veiny face looked back up at him. A blink, and it was gone. Remmy jerked back. They didn’t want to hurt anyone.

Damn, Remmy was pretty strong. Julie could feel the force from the way they tugged at her. But run? Julie wasn’t going to do that. “I’m not going anywhere.” Not only was this dude an asshole for interrupting a very private session but he was also hurting what Julie might consider a new friend. Or at least someone cool to talk to. Julie could only watch though, it seemed Remmy had the hang of this. They broke his crossbow after all. What was he going to do now? “Kick his ass, Remmy.” Julie was going to stay, if only to watch this guy get his ass handed to him!

Remmy didn’t want to hurt this guy, he looked young. A little worse for wear, but no older than Remmy themself. But he pulled out a knife-- a big one, the kind that could easily decapitate with a little bit of force-- and brandished it on the two of them. “Wait, stop!” they shouted as he lunged for them, knife first. Remmy swerved and caught the blade, feeling to go through their hand. And it hurt, why did it hurt? They cried out, yanking their hand away. The hunter had turned on Julie, knife out again. “NO!” Remmy shouted. Not again. Not again. Not again! They weren’t going to let someone hurt their friend, not again. Remmy’s vision blanked for a moment. They moved through muscle memory, grabbed the guy from behind, one hand digging into his shirt, the other grabbing his leg, and lifted him above their head, turned, and threw him as hard as possible into a tree. When vision came back, all they saw was a crumpled bush and the hunter limp inside of it, bleeding from his nose. They turned to look back at Julie. Moose was off somewhere, hiding like they’d taught him. “We...we have to go,” they said hurriedly. “We have to go now. Before he wakes up.”

Holy fucking shit! Remmy was badass! Julie barely had to lift a finger. She liked that. Remmy could take care of themselves and were definitely, 100% not human. Did they just take a knife to the hand and just pull the blade out? Hardcore, Julie could see the two of them hanging out. “No, no, if you leave him, he’ll just come back. More pissed off and better prepared.” Julie patted Remmy on the shoulder as if congratulating them for a job well done. Not to mention the hunter also saw Julie. Last thing she needed was for an annoying hunter to be after her. “He needs to learn a lesson.” She headed towards him and squatted right beside him. He wasn’t dead. Not yet. Glancing back at Remmy, she gave them a smile before taking possession of the hunter’s body, fading into him. The hunter got to his feet, staggering slightly. As he picked his head up to look at Remmy, his eyes glowed yellow. “I’ll take care of him, don’t worry. See you online?”

“Wh-what?” Remmy stuttered. “No, I--” but Julie was walking away from them, towards the hunter. Remmy followed tentatively behind, giving a little whistle, glancing around for Moose. He finally came padding out from behind a bush and they gave him a pat, reattaching his lead. “What are you…” they started, but then Julie suddenly faded away, as if she’d just vanished, right into the hunter. Remmy jumped back and Moose started growling. “What the FUCK!?” they said, then shook their head. “Sorry! Sorry. I didn’t mean to-- but that was-- did you just--” they stuttered again, unsure what to say. They were reminded of Nora, sitting in that cart. Julie didn’t want to hurt Remmy, either. In fact, Julie was being nice to them and showing them how to meditate and going for a walk. “What...what’re you gonna do to him?”

The surprise was to be expected and Julie didn’t blame Remmy for the shock at all. She was just grateful Remmy didn’t try to attack her. The yellow eyes were sometimes overlooked during a possession. “Uh, I’m not sure you want to know.” Julie said with a mischievous smile that gave her away, followed by a shrug. “I’ll catch up with you later.” With that Julie started to take off in another direction - a cemetery where certain undead enjoyed sleeping in. She’d just drop his body off and that’d be the end of that. Smiling, she had a bounce to her step as she started walking over.

[albionscastle]

First Impressions 12 - California Dreaming

I know it’s taking forever to finish these fics. This whole year has been pretty hard on us financially and with my health.....my anxiety and depression seem to be winning right now but I am fighting them, hard. 

This chapter took me a month to write and I still am not happy with it.

Fic Masterlist

In this chapter, an unexpected meeting brings a lot of feelings to the surface.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS 12 CALIFORNIA DREAMING

LIZZIE

She wanted to be happy for Charlie, she really did and deep down perhaps she was. But she couldn’t help the feeling of betrayal that had hit her the moment he had told her his news.

“I’m moving to Los Angeles, Red, I got an offer that I just couldn’t say no to.”

If she was honest, Lizzie knew just from the look on his face what job he’d taken, but she had at least let him tell her himself. To her credit, she hadn’t yelled, or cried, she wasn’t angry, not even when Charlie mentioned that Colin had been insistent that he had all the right qualifications for the post. Because he did, he had literally gone to school for event planning with a little tourism thrown in for good measure. The “job” that Colin had tried to talk her into was perfect for Charlie and no matter what she thought deep down, she couldn’t justify trying to talk him out of going.

It was 3am on New Years Day and Lizzie had never felt so much like crying. Charlie was asleep in her bed, having spent several hours laying there with her reminding her that he knew how much she hated Colin, how he also knew that he had been the second choice, only asked because Colin knew that taking Charlie away would hurt her. He told her how much he loved her, how he would stay if she asked him to because she mattered more than a job.

She believed him.

So she had swallowed down the pain and told him to go, she was not going to be the reason why he didn’t take a chance to live his dream. For the first time she regretted never having told him what had truly happened with Colin, how bad it had really been. Somehow she had never been able to and to tell him now would have just been an emotional manipulation, and that wasn’t who she was. Charlie would leave, and they had both agreed to act as though it was no big thing, just to piss off Colin.

“You could come with me you know.” this had been whispered several times.

“No, this is what you want Charlie, not me.” she had whispered back. “Besides I would only cramp your L.A style. I’ll come visit though, I promise.”

“Soon, like really soon, Liz. I won’t know what to do without you.”

“You are going to be great, just don’t let Colin bully you. We had to grow up sometime.”

She had said it with a laugh while her heart twisted painfully in her chest, her throat tightening as Charlie had burrowed closer. Growing up sucked, and the lessons never seemed to stop, more than anything she wished she could be 17 again. Back then her only worries had been the SATs and what to wear for junior prom, now it was all huge life altering decisions and feelings that seemed so overwhelming that she just wanted to shrink away and hide.

There was snow falling, heavy and wet and everything outside her window was white and still. Too early for traffic and for the pristine coating to be chewed up by footprints and mud, it was her favorite time of winter. For the first time though, as she looked out and saw the town where she’d lived almost her whole life, she hated it, hated how she felt trapped there, hated that everyone else seemed to be moving forward while she sat still and stagnated. She let the tears come then, fat and wet streaking her cheeks and dampening the front of her shirt. Feeling sorry for herself she wrapped her throw around her shoulders, leaning against the wall and let herself cry for everything, all the things she hadn’t really let herself cry for.

She cried for the girl who’d been all hope and ambition until she let a man take it all away, she cried for the girl curled into a corner trying to protect herself from the fists of that same man, for the daughter who hadn’t been able to tell her parents why and instead had taken on the disappointment of vanished hopes. She cried for all the times she’d been too afraid to change, too afraid to put herself back into the world again, for all the times she’d seen the happy couples in the park and wanted so much to be like them. She cried because she was lonely because she was hurt and tired and because she was wasting her life.

She cried until she was dry and exhausted, swollen eyes unable to remain open as she curled into a ball on the window seat her only escape from the pain being oblivion.

It was still dark when his arms wrapped around her, his body curling in behind her, his breath on her neck. Still mostly asleep she turned in his embrace, burrowing her face into the warmth of his chest, the only place she had ever felt so secure and loved.

“I don’t want you to go, please don’t leave me.” she whispered.

He held her tighter, his breath catching.

“I’ll never leave ye, Elizabeth. I promise.”

No wait, that wasn’t right. Pulling back she tried to focus, confused by the feel of fingers tracing her jaw, lifting her chin to meet his blue eyes in the snowlight.

“I would haf stayed if ye’d asked me, Elizabeth.” he said sadly, his mouth downturned. “Don’t ye know I would haf done anythin fer ye, if only ye’d asked.”

Jolting upward with a gasp Lizzie was met with only empty, cold air and an ice caked window. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to catch her breath, fingers feeling for the presence of another human only to meet nothing. It was so real, fuck, how could it have felt so real?

How could it have been him? It was Charlie who was leaving, he was the one she wanted to stay so why the fuck had her exhausted mind conjured up that vision of Jack? She was glad he was gone, had barely even thought about him in the weeks that had passed, except in anger whenever she saw how sad Maya was. How could she have such a dream about the man who she was certain had instigated her sister’s broken heart?

How could she suddenly want nothing more than to fall asleep again just so she could feel that feeling again?

In true Lizzie fashion instead of dealing with the way she was feeling, she buried her head in the sand. The next week was taken up with work and getting Charlie ready for his move to California and she devoted all her energy to making sure he would never know how much she didn’t want him to go. It was exhausting, pretending to be happy, refraining from every conversation being a warning to watch out for Colin. He deserved someone to be excited for him, and not just his Dad, though Mr Lucas was extremely vocal in his happiness for Charlie’s opportunity. Lizzie couldn’t fault him, the only thing that really mattered was Charlie.

Unless of course you spoke to her mother.

Chloe was all smiles and encouragement for Charlie ...in public, privately though Lizzie hadn’t heard the end of it since the news broke. Oh how upset she was that Lizzie had turned down both a proposal and a job offer that would have put her in the world her mother saw fit. Charlie was a good enough boy but he wasn’t her Lizzie and she couldn’t stand Mr Lucas and his constant crowing about his good luck. What was going to become of them all now with Maya dumped and Lizzie intent on ruining them all? Lizzie was just glad that Maya was far enough away not to have to listen to it all and witness her heartbreak paraded around like this.

Colin had been wisely silent on the whole matter, though Lizzie had seen him at least twice at Charlie’s as they packed. It was probably wrong of her but she made sure she ‘inferred’ that Charlie knew everything, and that one false move on his part would bring his castle crashing down. There was a perverse pleasure to be had in the way he blanched whenever he saw the two of them talking and for the first time Lizzie actually believed that there was going to be a time when the mere thought of him didn’t fill her with fear or nausea. Now that he couldn’t bully her anymore he had lost the hold she never knew he’d had, three years of her life wasted being afraid of...that.

“I’ll text you every day and send a million pics.” Charlie was saying as they walked through the airport. “And you are coming the first week of March, I’ll buy the ticket.”

“If you want me there Charlie, I’ll be there.” It was hard to keep from crying as she held his hand and even Mr Lucas looked to be on the verge of tears. “I’ll keep an eye on your Dad too.”

“I think he’ll be fine, he’s only been waiting for me to get my ass into gear and move out so Sarah Long can move in.” Charlie chuckled.

“Since when has that been a thing?”

“Oh about a year, they started taking some class at the Y and apparently sparks flew, it’s better than leaving him alone, he wouldn’t be able to cope.”

Mr Lucas had, about 15 years previously, been struggling with alcohol after his wife had up and left, taking their daughter Mariah. As it turned out she wasn’t his daughter and the betrayal had left the poor man desolate and his then 14 year old son the only functioning adult in the household. Lizzie had been on her way home from school when she had seen the neighbor boy struggling to carry his father into the house and without thinking had gone to help. That day had been the day that her and Charlie had cemented their friendship. There were no questions, no judgement just an offer of a friend and a few meals when she could sneak them past her mother. When Chloe had discovered what her 11 year old daughter was up to she had jumped in and taken control, driving Mr Lucas to a rehab facility and keeping Charlie with them until he was well enough to return. Lizzie’s parents both had made sure the truth about his condition never got out, they’d paid the mortgage and bills so he wouldn’t lose everything and then given him a stern lecture about abandoning his son in drink.

He hadn’t touched a drop since and had become the best father a young  man could ask for, but he had never been without Charlie so it was a relief to Lizzie to find out about Mrs Long, though she was going to have to have a word with her boss about keeping secrets.

It remained to be seen if she would be alright without him, Charlie was her rock and the person who could make her laugh at herself whenever she got too morose, she was going to miss that.

And the hugs, those most of all, so for the last one she held tight, not wanting to let him go. Breathing in the smell of the only person in the world outside her family that she truly loved, Lizzie almost believed that this was the end of everything.

“Remember Red, what we talked about. It’s time to let go and fly.”

Nodding forlornly she let Charlie wipe her tears away.

“I’m only a phone call away, Liz, remember that.”

“Unless you have a hot date.” she tried to joke.

“Even then, I’ll always be on the other end if you need me.”

And then he was gone, leaving her and Mr Lucas crying on the other side of the airport glass.

Leaving her empty.

JACK

He liked Italy, the food, the architecture, the history, the people. If he wasn’t so in love with Scotland he was sure he could be quite happy here, even in the summer. Not that he had much of an idea about how hot the summers might be, but they couldn’t be anything worse than he’d already experienced. Here at least there were some nice hills, a cool stone villa and a pool, for when the weather got warmer. Right now though he sat the window staring at the vista, admiring the beauty and completely ignoring the glass of wine he’d poured himself. The book he was supposed to be reading rested on his lap, opened to the first page and then forgotten as his thoughts had run wild.

It was the dream, he told himself, that stupid fucking dream.

He blamed it on his da, not that he’d ever let him know that, but he’d been a semi wreck since Christmas and all because of that one fucking photo.

And perhaps the many more that’d he’d secretly taken from Elizabeth’s Instagram account.

It wasn’t as if he looked through them every day, he tried to reason, but it was often, too often. With a sigh he noticed a few snowflakes flitting about on the wind, remembering that he’d read a weather report for Chicago saying it was going to be 50 below. He didn’t want to be concerned about Elizabeth, but he was. Would she still go to work in that cold or would she stay cosy in her flat? Would they lose power, was it even safe to go outside? If he was there he would turn off her alarm, call her off sick and make sure they were wrapped up in her duvet watching Netflix all day.

But he wasn’t there.

No-one really was, not for Elizabeth. He knew Charlie had moved to L.A a fortnight before, Maya was still in London so who was there to make sure that his red headed spitfire didn’t do something stupid like shovel snow in Antarctic weather?

It should have been him.

That was the mantra going through his head when he’d woken in the early hours of the morning, tangled in his sheets and filled with misery. It had felt so real, her arms around his shoulders as she hugged him behind. He’d felt her hands under his, felt the fall of her hair over his neck as her mouth brushed his cheek.

“You left me.” she whispered in his ear. “Why did you leave?”

He’d turned to her, to tell her that he was sorry, that he wasn’t going anywhere and all he saw was her fading into shadows.

“It’s too late now.” she whispered before vanishing.

He was afraid to go back to sleep.

It was just a fucking dream.

Elizabeth Bennett didn’t care one bit if he was here or there and that was the truth, no matter what his da said. Attraction was just that, he was sure she’d forgotten all about him as soon as he left, except for a few angry memories. It was him who was sitting here moping, beating himself up over what he could have done differently. To what end? It would have gone the same way except maybe they would have had a few pleasurable bouts in the bedroom before he left town. In the end he still would have ended up right where he was right now, so what was the point of wishing it had been different?

She was different, that was the damn point. Elizabeth had been like a breath of fresh cold air in his lungs, a wake up call to the cunt he’d become. Unlike anyone he’d met before she had been so open, even if that was a bad thing for his ego, not once had she given him an inch when he didn’t deserve it. The woman had been trying, challenging and stubborn, but she’d also been kind, thoughtful, funny and warm. It was those moments that he held close to his heart now, few and far between he now realised that they had been everything. He’d given her no reason to like him or respect him but she had shown him a person who would build him up when deserved and tear him down to earth just as quickly. She had wanted nothing that he had to give, except maybe common friendliness which he’d withheld, his profession, his money...none of it meant anything to her and that meant something to him.

He had fucked up royally.

LIZZIE

When Maya came home Lizzie was disappointed that she’d been unable to get any sort of closure. Except for when it came to Caro. On that subject her sister had a surprising amount to say.

“I feel like such an idiot Lizzie. I can’t believe I actually thought than woman was my friend.” she was stomping around Lizzie’s place, a pint of ice cream in her hand, waving the spoon about.

Lizzie ducked the flying metal, flopping down on the couch with a sigh. They’d been working on Maya’s law school options, as well as her own options when the paperwork for Oxford had come to the forefront. Lizzie had never seen Maya so angry, but she was worried that her sister was going to let her heart rule her head and needed to get her back on task.

“She did a good job of playing the part, May, you really can’t be blamed.”

“She’s a fucking actress! And you saw right through her.”

“In your defence she was a total bitch to me from day one, she was nice to you.”

“Why did she even bother?” Maya muttered miserably. “She made it perfectly clear that she couldn’t stand me when we met up in London.”

“I’m so sorry, May.”

“I mean I can see her being busy and all, but to realise that she ignored all my emails….that just hurt. If I hadn’t run into her at Harrods I never would have seen her.”

“If she wants to be a snobby bitch then let her, she’s got nothing on you.”

“I just, God Lizzie if you could have seen her face when she told me that Tom knew I was there and just didn’t care. It was like she enjoyed it.”

“She did. Look she’s wanted nothing more than to separate you and Tom from the beginning and she’s succeeded, hurting you more is just icing on the cake for her. She’s the sort that thinks she’s better than everyone else and she would stomp on her own mother to get ahead.”

“Why didn’t he want to see me? I just wish I knew what I did wrong.”

Nothing, Lizzie thought bitterly. It was all him, he was the one who’d barrelled into Maya’s life and turned it upside down before ghosting her and leaving her a mess. It was up to her now to help pick up the pieces of what he’d left behind. She would never forgive him for breaking her sister’s heart. Never.

It wasn’t until after Maya had gone to sleep that Lizzie cleared away all the paperwork they’d been working on, seeing the acceptance letter from Oxford. Maya had circled the tuition amount and added a question mark, it was the harder choice but it was the school she’d always dreamed of going to. She left it on top of the pile, it was doable but Maya had refused to even consider it since Tom left and it would be a shame if she let him stand in the way of her dream. Lizzie refused to watch her sister walk the same path she had.

With that in mind she made some tea and sat in the window to watch the snow. February was the worst month for ice and cold and it made everything so miserable. From under the cushion she pulled out the papers she had been working on when Maya had shown up in a tizzy. They were crumpled from being shoved away so quickly but not so much that she couldn’t finish filling them out. If Maya and Charlie’s situations had taught her anything it was that it was high time she looked to her own dreams. She had options, none of which would be cheap, but like she would tell Maya, it was worth it.

There were seven envelopes by the time she was done, tucked away inside a book until she was ready to tell her family what she had planned. It could be that she received seven rejections and she didn’t think she could live with the pity if that happened. Best to wait until she knew exactly what her options were before she started letting people know.

It was tempting to just lay back in the window and sleep with the illusion of snow falling around her but she had been avoiding the window seat since New Years, the dream that she’d had about Jack had unsettled her that much. Something else she was avoiding, she would die before she would admit to how much she’d wanted it to be real, for just a few moments. It hadn’t lasted, it was all too easy to remember all the reasons why the man was a complete jackass, but that dream had felt so real, and she’d felt so good in it. In her most private moments she even admitted to herself that she’d known the moment she’d smelled dream man that it was Jack and not Charlie, and still she’d begged him to stay.

It was fucked up.

What was left of February and most of March was simply spent as it always had been, the weekly dinners, work and navigating the snow and ice outside her door. She took to working concessions for her landlord, everyone in a 10 mile radius came to the movies when the weather got bad, there was nothing else to do. It helped him out and he even paid her, money that she put straight into her savings. Responses to her applications had yet to arrive and she didn’t expect them to for a couple of months, but she was going to save anyway. Shaving down her already limited spending was easy enough, she got rid of her streaming services, her two monthly boxes and sold her car, every penny going to her fund. She could watch any movie in her building for free and the library was a block away. Eating at work whenever she could she cut down on food costs...ice cream was now a luxury item, much to Maya’s disgust. Lizzie was determined though, she’d said it before and been derailed by one thing or another, it was time to face the future.

Whatever that meant.

Right now it meant that she needed to stop procrastinating and pack for the trip she was anticipating and dreading in equal measure. Good to his word, Charlie had kept in touch daily, even though the two months he’d been gone still felt like a lifetime. Which was why she hadn’t said no when he’d offered to fly her out to him the last week in March, even though she knew it would mean she had to see Colin. Charlie still had to work, but according to him he just couldn’t go another day without seeing his best mate. So she’d wrangled the time off work and decided to brush off her worries, they would all still be there waiting when she got back and she deserved a little bit of a break.

It felt strange to have her swimsuit in a bag when there was still a foot of snow on the ground and more expected while she was away. Even stranger was the fact that Lydia hadn’t made a peep about not being invited, even though normally she would have been pouting and moaning for at least a week. She hadn’t even raised a brow which Lizzie found suspicious enough that she asked Maya to keep an extra close eye on her, something was up with that girl. Another problem that would no doubt be waiting there for her when she got back.

However much she thought she had missed Charlie was nothing, the moment she saw him standing in the airport with a stupid sign she had started bawling, clutching at him as though he would disappear if she let go for even a second. There were almost as many tears from him as well and later, as they stood watching the sunset at the beach they laughed about the looks they had gotten as people walked by. Perhaps they had been a little more dramatic than the occasion deserved, but that was them and everyone else could be damned.

The real drama came the next morning, standing in the lobby of the building where Charlie now worked, making plans to meet up for lunch. She had felt the presence of Colin before she saw him and so she was able to compose herself long enough to plaster a fake smile on her face. The woman he was with was stunning, all perfectly coiffed silver hair and a black suit that probably cost more than her car had. The famous Ann DeBourgh if she had to guess. To be honest she looked like a complete snob and to her credit, Lizzie managed not to flush as pale eyes looked her up and down with a measure of contempt.

“ Charles darling, do introduce us to your ...friend.”

It was Colin who butted in, ever the suck up.

“Ann, this is Elizabeth Bennet.”

The way he said her name and the raised silver brow that followed told Lizzie all she needed to know about the impression the woman had of her.

“Ah yes, the Bennet girl. Well Colin I have to say that she never would have done, Charles is much more suited to the position.”

Colin looked smug while Lizzie inwardly seethed.

“What is it that you do again, Elizabeth?”

“I work in a bakery right now, but I’ll be in school for my PhD come fall.”

Colin’s mouth frozen open like a fish made that little white lie worth it, after all she hadn’t actually been accepted anywhere yet.

“Hmmmm, interesting.” Ann murmured. “And how old are you exactly?”

None of your fucking business you rude old bat.

“I’ll be 27 in a few weeks.” she ground out through clenched teeth, looking at Charlie for help.

“All of Lizzie’s sisters are quite successful for being so young. Her sister Maya has been accepted to Oxford.” he supplied proudly.

“Quite a feat considering their background, I’m told.”

Lizzie wondered what the fuck Colin had been saying about her family.

“You mean the fact that we are almost all adopted? We were all babies so we have no background that’s any different from Charlie, or Colin, though perhaps we haven’t had mommy and daddy’s money to help us on the way. I think that actually makes for a far better measure of character.”

Lizzie shrugged her shoulders, loving how red Colin’s face had gotten and the fact that she had apparently rendered the old bitch speechless.

I’ll see you at lunch Charlie.” she hugged him quickly and made her escape while she still had the upper hand, though she was bitter for several more hours.

By the time she was due to meet Charlie she had exhausted her patience with downtown L.A, especially since she wasn’t actually shopping. Everything was overpriced and trendy, a far cry from her interests anyway. It had been pretty cool to see the Walk of Fame and the Chinese Theatre but she planned to head back to Charlie’s apartment as soon as they were done with lunch rather than see any more of the city.

He was late, of course, no doubt due to Colin and Ann, but she was determined not to let them get to her any more than they already had. She ordered a Coke and opened her book, sure he would be along in just a few minutes.

Seeing his jeans out of the corner of her eye about 20 minutes later, she closed her book with a smile ready to playfully scold him for trying to stand her up. Turning in her seat, her laugh died as she came face to face with a pair of very familiar and equally surprised blue eyes.

“Jack!”

JACK

Elizabeth was here! Jack almost couldn’t contain his agitation as he sat in Ann’s office, their meeting going far too long for his liking. He had never liked the woman, but she was the best publicist and agent in the business so he dealt with her when he had to and no more than that. Sadly she happened to be in L.A for the same period that he was filming so he couldn’t avoid her, but he supposed it was better than having to speak to that snake Colin Ryan. Instead he pretended to pay attention as Ann rattled off a bunch of upcoming projects that she thought he might be suited for, knowing she would already have a bloody portfolio and bag of scripts prepared. His mind wandered to seeing Charlie on his way in, the surprise in the man’s eyes when he’d greeted him and the fact that he’d mentioned to one of his co workers that he was meeting his friend from home for lunch.

Which meant of course that Elizabeth was in L.A, perhaps only a few blocks away right now. It was a sign. Why else would she just happen to be visiting the one week he was filming? Perhaps this was his chance to make something happen, to tell her how he felt. All these months of torment on his part could finally be coming to a head and maybe, just maybe he could make her see him. Slowly though, he couldn’t just barrel on up to her and confess his attraction out of the blue, he would have to test the waters first.

The meeting was finally over and Jack bolted out of the office like the devil was on his tail, looking for Charlie. Who happened to be walking toward the same office looking harried and annoyed.

“Jack.” he nodded, checking his watch.

“Late fer summan?” Like lunch with my future girlfriend?

“I’m supposed to be meeting Lizzie for lunch now, but I just got called to a meeting.”

“Deliberately, no doubt.” Jack scoffed, earning a laugh from the other man. “If ye wan, I can go meet her an tell her yer runnin late. Tha way she won’t be waitin alone.”

“Really? That would actually be awesome man, thanks.”

That had been easy, Charlie had told him where she was and Jack had made the walk quickly, anxious to see her. His courage all but deserted him the moment she spied her through the window of the diner, nose in a book and hair glinting in the sunlight. Suddenly his palms were sweaty and his breath was catching in his throat. What did he say? Hello there Elizabeth, I think I’m crazy about ye? Fancy seeing ye here? Pathetic, everything he could think was either mad or sounded like a cheesy pick up line.

“Yer a grown man fer fuck’s sake.” he muttered as he pulled open the door and walked slowly over to the booth where she sat.

She didn’t notice him at first, turning the pages of her book he could see she was engrossed. He stood for a moment beside her seat just watching, trying to figure out what to say when she must have realised he was there. Her head turned, a huge, teasing smile on her face, something he was very surprised to see.

“Jack!”

She sounded a little breathless and he took that as a good thing, especially when the smile stayed in place.

“Hello, Elizabeth.”

He supposed he should explain why he was there.

“Ehm, I had a meetin wi Ann and she called Charlie in as I was leavin. He wanted me tae let ye know he would be along as soon as he can.”

“Oh, ok then. Ummm do you want to sit?”

Another hopeful sign. He sat and ordered a water and for a few minutes they sat in awkward silence. He couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“So what brings you to L.A?”

“Oh, well I’m filmin here fer a week or so.”

“Of course.” she murmured.

He wanted to just stare at her, take her in and just enjoy the fact that she was in front of him again when he’d thought he would never see her again. His fingers itched to brush the curl on her neck that had escaped her ponytail, in fact he just ached to touch her in any way possible, even for a moment.

“Charlie seems tae be doin well.”

A soft smile and a bit of sadness, she missed her friend.

“He does love it here, it suits him much better than Indiana that’s for sure.”

“I think Ann really likes him so that’s good.”

“Mmmm Hmmm.”

“How is yer family?”

“All good, Maya was just in London for Christmas, shame you didn’t get to see her.”

“It is.” Ok now he just felt uncomfortable.

“I’m surprised Caro didn’t mention it, they ran into one another at Harrods.”

She had, in fact, mentioned it quite meanly and with glee. But of course he couldn’t tell Elizabeth that.

“I donna see Caro so there’s been no opportunity I guess.”

That lie didn’t sit at all well and Jack felt his stomach lurch.

Elizabeth was about to say something else when Charlie’s arrival interrupted them. Though he was invited to stay, Jack just wanted to leave, not wanting to feel the jealousy at their open and deep affection. Plus the subject of Maya had soured his mood, and not for the first time he wondered if he had done the right thing. But it had been done and he couldn’t go back and change it, even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. He might be trapped like this but Tom didn’t have to be and he was better off for the severed connection. In fact, Jack thought, it might be best if he himself did the same thing, a clean break, never see Elizabeth again. Or internet stalk her. Or think about her.

Yeah, he laughed bitterly as he walked away, that was never going to happen.

[mi6-cafe]

The fourth and FINAL week of writing for LDWS participants has come to a close. Now it’s time for the next (and last!) bit of the competition: reading and voting!  

Photo prompt: 

Word count: 300 

Voters–after you read, check out this form to vote for your top three drabbles! You can also leave anonymous feedback for the writers!

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The voting period ends at 11:59 PM EST on Sunday night. Results will be posted and anonymous feedback will be emailed on Monday.

Remember, readers–it’s up to YOU to decide who will wind up on top at the end of the competition!

Drabbles are under the read-more:

1) 

Title: Something Special Warnings: none Summary: Q gives James a part of himself.

Author: Melynen

There is nothing particularly special about the framed poster on Q’s bedroom wall. If anything, it could even be mistaken for one of the beautiful yet generic Greek views one can find on postcards from many of the islands that have any tourism. James knows this for a fact as he remembers seeing a strikingly similar view both in Santorini and Crete; and he has even sent Q a postcard of such a view the last time he was in Greece for a mission.

The card has found its spot on Q’s fridge door, held in place with a fridge magnet of a Greek cat illustration James brought him from the previous Greek mission.

James remembers paying any mind to the poster only after his sixth or so visit to Q’s bedroom. Before, there had been other, more interesting things - like the paleness of Q’s throat and the enticing way he gasps when James touches the inside of his knee just so - to focus on.

It's one of those nights when they’re cuddling under the duvet, nude and still slightly sticky with cooling sweat, with Q’s cheek resting against James’ chest and James’ fingers carding through Q’s hair, when James glances at the poster and hears Q sigh softly.

”It’s a photo my mother took when she was in Santorini with my father,” Q explains quietly. ”It’s where she realised she loved him, and where they returned a year later on their honeymoon, and again every year for their anniversary until she died.”

James looks at the poster again, takes in the cheery ambiance and the beautiful view, and makes up his mind. ”Can I take you there?” he asks against Q’s tangle of silky curls.

And when Q wordlessly nods his assent, James realises he’s been given something special.

2) 

Title: Almost Warnings: Canon-typical violence Summary:It was their first vacation together.

Author: Azure7539arts

It had been completely unexpected, although he supposed he should’ve been on his guard more. Should’ve been less distracted by the small quirk of a smile tugging on the lips of the man sitting across from him at the table.

The day had been bright and the blue sea shone a dazzling kind of bejeweled, all the lives and ships it had taken and swallowed up whole buried deep somewhere in the seabed and under the now calm, gentle waves.

He should’ve seen it coming, really.

He shouldn’t have been so absorbed in the brush of warm hand against his own knuckles, shouldn’t have let the cooling breeze lull him into false security as the scent of the sea and that of the vibrantly blooming flowers around them swaddled them up in its linen blanket.

It was almost perfect, the life of the city pulsing around them in that mid-morning energy as the sun tingled and kissed their skin from the edges of the umbrella. And now that he’d thought about it, looking at the way the feet next to him wiggled a little right at the rim of shadow separating their shade from the rest of the radiant, iridescent light outside as though it was a game of peek-a-boo, it had always been the little things that made him fall in love.

It was almost perfect, and it could’ve been exactly as perfect as it could have ever been when they leaned closer to press the bows of their lips together.

Until a distinct whizzing tore through the air just beyond his closed eyes and a thud of something fast hitting its target shattered this rosy lens into thousands of pieces.

The body next to him lurched, suddenly going heavy.

“Q?” Bond whispered, shivering.

But there was no reply.

3) 

Title: Gentlemanly Warnings: Omegaverse, y'all, but nothing too crazy Summary: The gang goes on vacation.

Author: Solitaryjane

Q watched Bond come toward him from the ocean. His chest glistened under the sun, and his pair of tight black swimtrunks somehow skirted the line of obscene and straight into sophistication. It contrasted sharply with other alphas, all eager to show off their bulges and purposefully dripping sweat onto any omegas that caught their eyes. A bunch of crass, disgusting idiots. Q had no patience for that lot.

“Don’t like the water?” Bond asked as he plopped himself onto the towel Q was currently sunbathing on. Q snorted. It was bloody nine in the morning; the water wouldn't be warm until noon.

“Some of us actually need to work to get a tan going,” Q replied.

“Wouldn't you just burn?”

“Ah, that’s where you come in.”  He sat up, handing Bond a bottle of sunscreen. The alpha said nothing as he poured the lotion onto his hands. He spread it onto Q’s back, kneading the muscles as he did so. Q could feel his warm breath on the side of his neck. He wanted Bond to come closer, to soak in the man’s spicy scent. But the salt of the ocean had washed off most of the alpha’s pheromones. It left Q’s head completely clear, something he secretly wished weren't so.

***

On the terrace above, Eve let out a loud sigh as she slumped on the table.

“For heaven’s sake, just fuck already,” she griped. “Watching them pretending to be civil is giving me a colossal migraine.”

“You know that’s not how Bond works,” Tanner answered beside her. “He has to make sure Q’s ‘in his right mind’ when he asks. Being a gentleman and all.”

“Bill, look over there and tell me,” she deadpanned. “Which part of that omega’s demeanor says he wants a gentleman to you?”

4) 

Title: Sun, Sea, and Spies Summary: Luxury holiday spots are all well and good until the weapons come out. Warnings: None.

Author: SolarMorrigan

Truly, this was lovely. The fresh, salt smell of the sea, the bright sunshine nearly tangible in the air, the cool breeze that wound its way through the little covered tables, the soothing hush of waves against the shore, Bond’s hand over Q’s where it rested on the tabletop, his thumb stroking soft circles into Q’s wrist.

Lovely, lovely, lovely.

It was so nice, Q could almost relax.

Almost.

“You know, I’d like to go on a real holiday someday.”

Bond sighed, just to the side of dramatic. “There’s no pleasing you, is there? I take you somewhere exotic, bring you to a nice resort, get you lunch…”

“Get me shot at.”

“Fairly certain I’d remember if there had been shooting.”

Q leaned in, murmuring into Bond’s ear like he was imparting some teasing secret. “The man at your eight o’ clock with a conspicuous bulge in his pocket suggests we’re about to be shot at.”

“Perhaps he’s just happy to see you,” Bond suggested, though he knew Q’s judgment was trustworthy.

Pulling back, Q cocked a desperately unimpressed eyebrow at Bond, but was ignored in favor of the new man approaching their table, hand resting not-quite-casually at his hip.

“Well,” Bond reached over with one hand to tilt Q’s head towards him, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he grasped under the table for his weapon with his other hand, “what’s a holiday without a little adventure?”

Q frowned. “I really do hate you sometimes,” he said, but Bond could see him squaring himself up for the fight ahead, ready to go through whatever was needed to complete their mission.

Bond smirked against Q’s cheek, fond and proud, his attention still on their potential assailants, but amused by his lover all the same. “I love you too, Q.”

5) 

Title: Mediterranean shot Warnings: None Rating: G

Author: Susspencer

Q sat under the white umbrellas staring at the sea. Between the smell of the fresh fruit and the salt air, all he could do was relax.  He sipped his morning tea.  He normally would have been watching the people but he was lost in the blues of the sky and sea.  It reminded him of James’ eyes.

007 peered through the scope of the rifle.  Carefully he searched for  his target.  The barrels of fresh oranges, the people crowded under the white umbrellas, and a young man at the back table filled his view as he scanned the area.  James stopped on Q.  He sighed as he watched as Q just sat there completely unaware of what was happening around him.  James pulled his head up for a moment and shook it. He couldn’t believe that they were at this point.

The waiter walked over to Q.  

“Can I get you anything else sir?”

“Yes, the sign says, fruit pots for take away?  I would like to get a pot for a friend.” Q ordered.

“Certainly, sir.  I’ll be right back.”

The waiter gathered the fruit pot and a gun.  James adjusted the scope with a sigh, as the waiter returned to the table, it was now or never.  007 knew he had to take this shot, but he dreaded it.  The waiter sat the fruit pot down. There was a single gunshot.  A man fell to the ground.  James grabbed his gun, policed his brass, and returned to his hotel room.  

James sat on the sofa, the door opened.  He looked up to see Q with the fruit pot.

“I brought you a gift. I suppose it is a thank you gift.  I wasn’t even aware of the threat.” Q stated, as he joined James on the couch.

6) 

Title: Lost and Found Warnings: none Summary: Sometimes it’s best to start over…

Author: Ato

He feels warm for the first time in a week.  

At least on the outside.

There’s something cathartic about walking away and starting over.  The dread that leads up to it is awful, the actual leaving is painful, but sitting on a warm veranda with no responsibilities for the first time in memory is actually a bit wonderful.  Even with the cost… so high this time.  Even with the flashing blue of the sea sparking memories of his eyes.

He’s on his third round of the local cocktail, tongue delightfully cool and throat wonderfully warm, when a familiar shadow stretches out beside his own.  

He’d know those ears anywhere.  Damn.

“Hello, 007,” he greets quietly.  “Here to pull a trigger?”

“Or not pull a trigger,” Bond answers, reminiscent of their first conversation.  “Took me a while to find you.” Bond seems impressed.  “Thought you hated flying... and the sun.”

Q shrugs.  “Part of the Q-persona.  Best to keep some things close to one’s chest,” he mutters, eyes on the Mediterranean.  

Bond grunts in understanding, then after a moment, asks, “Was accepting my dinner invitation part of the Q-persona?”

“No,” Q acknowledges, glancing at Bond.  “Missing that was the worst part of leaving.”

They both watch the calm blue of the sea, but Q senses the tumultuous potential between them.  

“Did you mean for it to happen?” Bond asks solemnly.

Three agents dead.  Q shudders.  “Of course not.”

James nods, taking a seat beside Q. “Whatever he’s having,” he orders when the waiter comes by.

After his first sip, Bond closes his eyes and leans back in the chair.

“When was the last time you had a vacation?”

Q huffs a laugh.  “No idea,” he admits.  

James waves the waiter over for another round.  “In that case, we're in no hurry.”

7) 

Title:  Peach Warnings: NSFW! Porn! Smut! Summary: As it turns out, the cheeky young barman had been holding out on him…

Author: Iambid

One week.

Seven long days filled with flirting and coy smiles from the sexy young barkeeper.

One-hundred and sixty-eight hours since he’d innocently asked him “what’ll it be?” with a sweet smile and James had started to close in like a shark tasting blood in the water.

“A peach.” He’d replied.

The barman, Q, had tried to tell James that they had no peaches, only oranges and lemons that he could squeeze the juice from and make a refreshing drink with, if James wished but James persisted.  He wanted a peach.  A week of teasing followed before Q finally took pity on James and dragged him into the small shed where they stored the fruit, allowing James to strip him of his gaudy tropical vest and toy with the button on his white linen shorts, his arms wrapped around him from behind.  Q whined as James kissed his shoulder and pushed them off his hips.  He was naked underneath.  His buttocks perfectly round and perfectly smooth and perfectly white against the tanned skin of his back.

“I bloody knew it. I need to get you onto a nudist beach.  Even you out.” James muttered, falling to his knees to squeeze the perfect globes.  He leaned forward in the small dark room, smelling citrus and Q’s sweat as he licked a stripe over the base of Q’s back.  The fruity aroma clung to Q’s skin and made him taste like Earl Grey tea.

“Please…”  Q moaned, reaching back to grab James’s hair and hold him steady as he ground his hips.  James set to, kissing and licking at him until he was relaxed enough to take James up to the hilt.  James looked down as he began to thrust, unable to take his eyes off Q’s perfect arse.

What a peach.

8) 

Title: Santorini Warnings: none Summary:  Greece is for lovers.

Author: Beaubete

The wine is sharp on his tongue, fizzy.  Q glances over the whitewashed wall at the sea's shocking blue.  It calls to him like a voice; perhaps he'll dip his toes in it later after the sun's white heat has faded.  For now he's content to sit slathered in SPF and watch the waves break on the shore.  

It's all very peaceful.  The restaurant's a dazzle of different voices, different languages, and while some threads of conversation drift through his ear, for the most part he is alone.  It's the best holiday he's ever had.

It hadn't started that way.  It started with explosions, with tears.  It started with James Bond walking into his office and out of his life, with a bottle of wine on his couch and with the realization that he'd amassed a frankly daunting amount of leave, primarily because he'd wanted always to be available for Bond.  The discovery had left him a burst balloon until he'd thrown together a hasty plan to get as far from England as he could.

There's nothing of home's deep shadows here.  Everything here is washed with light until it is the most brilliant versions of itself.  The wine is fruitier, the salt more savoury; distantly, he's aware that this is reactionary, that he may not feel this way later.  For now, he's content to bask like a lizard in the sun.

English is by far the least spoken language here, and he cannot help listening when he hears it; somewhere behind him, a couple are having a whispered disagreement.

"I can't.  You don't understand.  I was cruel."

"I understand that you're a fool."

"I understand that too.  I still can't."

Q's lip curls.  Then:

"Excuse me" and eyes as blue as the sea.

"Bond."  Q's tongue goes numb.

"Q."

9) 

Title: It's All Greek to Me Warning: None Summary: Bond scores a security detail with benefits.

GwyllionDream

“Dyo kafedes,” Bond said, deciding it was easier to request two coffees in mangled Greek than to try for Q’s customary Earl Grey.

He found a table for two at the rooftop café and waited for Q to join him.

For the past few months, Bond had obeyed M’s every directive so he could score the security detail at Q’s International Cyber-Security Conference in Athens. The side trip to Santorini had been Q’s idea.

It seemed that Q was full of surprises.

Bond smiled and tilted his head back to let the sun warm his face. The scent of the Mediterranean mixed with the aroma of citrus and sunscreen. Memories of the past night flooded his mind.

Q had let Bond drag him from the infinity pool by his board shorts.

“Too many clothes,” Bond muttered, pressing Q into the soft mattress.

He dipped his head to lick droplets of chlorinated water from Q’s navel while divesting him of his swimwear.

Q rose onto his knees, planting himself in Bond’s naked lap. He grabbed Bond’s shoulders and took what he demanded with the pleading clench of his arse.

Bond gripped Q’s hips and delivered, thrusting so energetically that Q’s knees burned from the friction of skidding across the duvet.

Shuddering and damp with his own spend, Q’s head lolled back as he voiced a satisfied purr.

Only then did Bond let himself go, breathing Q’s name….

“Q….”

“Good morning,” Q said. He turned to the waitress and asked, “Tha boroúsate na mou férete mia katsaróla nkrízou kómis, parakaló?”

She nodded and smiled.

“What did you tell her?” Bond whispered.

“Nothing naughty,” Q said with a wink. “I ordered a pot of Earl Grey.”

Bond grinned. The fact that Q could speak Greek was the least of his surprises this week.

10) 

Title: Jolly Holiday Warnings: None Summary: A vacation to remember.

Author: Venstar

“Go on holiday they said. Bask in the sunlight they said. Enjoy your time away from the office they said!” Q’s voice was razor sharp and cutting as he hissed his rambling monologue in Bond’s ear. In fact, Bond could swear spittle hit his earlobe several times.

Bond murmured carefully back to him from the corner of his mouth. “Are you talking to yourself again?”

Again, Q was like an angry hornet in his ear. He even punched Bond’s shoulder with his bony knuckles, hard as he punctuated each sentence. “Yes. I am. Does that bother you?”

“No. I'm just wondering how long it’ll take before they find us with you wittering on like an old nanny goat.”

“Nanny goat! Hey, I’ll bitch about going on holiday when I want to bitch about going on holiday okay! You shot up the bar! It was a peaceful place.”

“The decor was outdated.”

Q sputtered. “It was a perfectly delightful, quaint Mediterranean bar. They had homemade lemonade and sodas. It had cute little chairs that I could sit on all by myself. At a table, all by myself.”

Bond didn’t even hesitate in teasing Q further. “As I said. Outdated.”

Q’s face grew red. Well redder than it already was. Poor, pale, old thing was sunburned.

“It had umbrellas that protected my skin from the sun!”

Q punched Bond again. “And now look at us. Look at me, I’m burnt to a crisp because you interrupted my holiday because M sent you out on a mission and you didn’t like the handler R assigned you so you led your target all the way over here! To my vacation spot, because you’re spoiled!”

Bond smiled. “So you’ll help me then?”

“I’ll help shoot you myself. Now give me that drive, you pompous git.”

11) 

Title: No Interruptions, Please Rating: G Summary: Bond and Q take a long holiday.

Author: IrishWitch58

The sun glittered off the Aegean, the landscape saturated with color. Bond adjusted his sunglasses and picked up his vibrating phone and checked messages. Eve was responsible for most of them.

'Q hasn't taken leave in two years. Now he's disappeared for a month.'

'I think R knows something but she won't tell me anything'

Bond's early responses, that a man who took leave only once in two years was entitled to his leave and to his privacy hadn't been well received. He smiled as he checked the new text alert. Not Moneypenny. He signaled the waiter and requested a bottle of the local wine and two glasses along with an appetizer plate. He leaned back appreciating the view. Santorini in early April was lovely, sunny, and warm. He looked forward to swimming or maybe renting a small boat for a day. He was, after all, on leave himself.

A shadow crossed the brick pavement and a figure in white slacks and a purple striped shirt settled in the other chair. “The ferry ride was very relaxing,” Q acknowledged, laying a manila envelope on the table.

“What did you tell Tanner?”

Q held up a phone. “I gave him this number and told him if he called with anything less than Armageddon I would exact consequences. He may have a stroke when I send in the paperwork on this.”

Bond handed over a glass of the wine as he looked at the formal certificate in the envelope. “Put the paperwork in right before we go back. Then Tanner and Moneypenny can both yell at us at once.” He sipped his own wine and clasped Q's hand across the table, touching the new platinum band he'd kept hidden the past five days. “I think we deserve a proper honeymoon don't you?.”

12) 

Title: Holidaying On A Mission Rating: G Warnings: none Summary: there was absolutely no reason why they shouldn't enjoy themselves on MI6 salary

Author: Sunaddicted

The scraping of the bar stool next to his own spoke of someone drunk or someone annoyed and looking forward to getting drunk.

"Does MI6 pay you for drinking your liver into a nasty case of hepatic cirrhosis?"

James grinned and tossed back the last of his cocktail, not needing to look at Q to know  he was scowling: the other man could be as easily predictable in some things - like his disapproval of unncessarily destroyed equipment and excessive consumption of alcohol - as he could be completely impenetrable in others "It's all part of the cover"

"Every single time?"

"What can I say? It's a good one"

Q rolled his eyes and tried to move his bar stool without having to stand up, trying to hide as much as he could in the refreshing shade of the beach umbrella: he could already feel his pale skin starting to fry, despite the copious amounts of sunscreen he had religiously applied before putting even a toe out of the hotel - no matter how inviting the glittering blue sea had seemed.

He both envied the agent's golden tan, deepened by Santorini's scorching sun, and thirsted at the way it made the other's muscles seem even bigger - Q shifted, lazily flicking the image away before he embarrassed himself.  

"What can I get you?"

Q turned to look at the other man "Are you trying to get me drunk, Bond?"

James leaned in, trigger finger under the younger man's chin to draw him closer and keep him there "Do I need to?"

"No"

In the heat, the kiss made Q breathless - he choked on salt, vodka, tan lotion and the taste of the other's lips.

Diving deeper.

Craving more.  

"Let's go back to the hotel"

It wasn't an invitation he had any intentions of refusing.  

13) 

Title: A Yacht on the Mediterranean Warnings: none Summary: Mallory needs an explanation.

Author: Kiddohno

This is technically not a disciplinary meeting, and Mallory must remember that. He looks between the two men sitting on the opposite side of his desk, in his locked office. Quite frankly, he’s completely dumbfounded by the whole situation.

Bond looks inappropriately amused. Q appears to be trying for contrite, but he’s also very clearly holding back a giggle.

The details of the conversation they are about to have should be confined to this room, but Moneypenny is undoubtedly eavesdropping, and it will surely be all around the agency by noon. He sighs, lamenting his position as leader of a herd of overgrown children.

“Will one of you explain to me how it came to be,” he begins, “That, after being sent out on what was barely more than a milk run, two of my staff end up returning legally married, and two weeks late.”

Q’s high giggle escapes. Bond smirks.

“Well, Sir, the Mediterranean is very romantic.”

Mallory glares. Bond shrugs.

“Mr. Vinton had a yacht,” is what Q adds, rather nonsensically.

“A yacht.”

Q nods.

“He insisted on it. Our honeymoon, I mean. On the yacht. Because Bond had said I was his fiance, as a cover.”

“Actually,” Bond says, “I’d told Mr. Vinton that I’d brought Q on holiday to propose. When he became suspicious, I had to get on one knee at this lovely little seaside restaurant. Then convinced,” Bond gestures as if the motion explains everything, “he invited us to honeymoon, on his yacht.”

“But first, we had to actually get married, and Vinton wanted to be there as a witness, so we had to. Actually, um, get married.”

“Naturally.”

“We did complete our objectives, Sir.” Q points out respectfully.

“With pleasure,” Bond agrees. Q goes red.

Mallory wonders if it’s too late to quit.

Thank you to our fantastic drabble writers for their last drabbles this week, and for four weeks of incredible competition! 

To our amazing readers, this is the last week to vote! You can help this competition by going here to vote on your top three drabbles. You may also leave anonymous feedback for one or more drabbles.

Who will be the Last Drabble Writer Standing? 

Let’s vote and find out! 

[lightsaroundyourvanity]

the sparks between us, pg-13 [2/8]

RWBY. yang x blake. [ao3] [previously]

Winter flies them to Neiden, but as she reminds them again (as she reminds them several times), she won’t be staying. Team RWBY sits huddled in the hold for the short haul flight, and privately, Yang still feels like they’re all being shipped off to summer camp.

It was something she’d talked more about with Blake, and something they’d always landed on the same point on: Make work or not, if there was even the chance of someone needing real help, in real danger, they had to go. That was what being a huntress was about.

Once, Ruby had told Yang about a conversation she’d had with Dr. Oobleck, where he told her to look at hunts not as monsters to defeat but lives to be saved. Yang thinks that she’s starting to get that.

Yang’s thoughts and her eyes drift to Blake. Inevitably. She’s wearing a new coat, nose buried in the thick fleecy lining, and Yang melts into a smile. It had been fun to shop, to walk an unspoken lighthearted pact for an afternoon and watch Blake try on clothes. Yang remembers Blake sliding on a buckled leather jacket and feeling like her jaw must have dropped straight through the ground. She’d looked so… so…

Well. Hot. But hot feels inadequate for what Yang feels when she thinks about Blake. It’s like her heart thinks that Blake is hot. Yang wants to drink in how fucking beautiful Blake is, and she wants to hold her close and keep her warm. She wants to protect her and also kiss her senseless. She wants to know if Blake’s feeling it too, because it’s like a switch has been turned on inside Yang. It’s an awareness that started nipping at Yang when she saw Blake again back at Haven, has coming screaming to full volume as they’ve fallen back into step with one another these past few weeks.

It’s an absolute sureness that settled over Yang when her hand began to shake, and Blake was there to take it.

They never did get to talk.

“You know,” Ruby says thoughtfully, “This is almost like being at Beacon again.”

“Huh?” Yang has no clue what Ruby is saying.

“Not like, Beacon Beacon,” Ruby clarifies. “But like. What Beacon was supposed to be. If we’d actually made it to second year, I mean.” Ruby looks at the ground, realizing a beat too late how depressing her observation actually is.

“And we’re together,” Blake says. Ruby lifts her head. Blake smiles. “I get it.”

Yang feels a rush of love for Blake when she sees Ruby’s expression soften and cheer.

“I, for one, will be happy to fight something normal for a change,” says Weiss.

“Woah, Weiss is out for blood.” Yang laughs. “Atlas really does change you.”

Weiss’s eyes narrow. “You have no idea.”

Yang stops laughing. It’s true, there’s a new edge to Weiss in Atlas that she’s never seen before. Yang doesn’t think that it’s violent though, not really. It’s… frightened.

“It’s good we’re getting out of the city for a few days,” says Yang.

Weiss’s shoulders sag when she sighs. A beat, and then she straightens up. “Neiden is supposed to be a lovely town,” she says. “It has famous hot springs.”

“Had.” That’s Blake, with her social activist voice put on. “Tourism was driven down in the town after dust mines were founded and built by—” Blake cuts off abruptly.

“By Schnee Dust Company.” Weiss sighs. “I know. You can say it. My dad’s a… a…”

“Douche,” Yang supplies.

Unexpectedly, Weiss laughs. “Yeah.”

“Aren’t the Schnee mines pretty well protected already?” asks Ruby.

“They were emptied out. Years ago.” Weiss looks at the ground. “I guess Neiden doesn’t have much of anything anymore.”

Weiss’ words settle over the four of them. Yang is starting to feel depressed again. “Hey!” she says brightly. “At least they have us.”

Winter leaves them with a farewell, a soft look for Weiss, and instructions on how to reach her when they are ready to go home. Then they are left alone in Neiden.

It’s a small town: Quaint, but obviously run down. There’s one main road, cobbled and grown over with icy moss between the cracks. It’s lined with narrow, brightly painted rowhouses. Hand lettered signs advertise storefronts.

What quickly becomes apparent is that Neiden’s best feature is its landscape. The town is sheltered by snowy mountains on three sides. They make a dramatic sight, all jagged peaks stretching up towards the weak sunlight, and if Yang squints, she can see how this could have been a popular tourist town once upon a time.

“Weird that they’re having problems,” Yang comments. “You’d think with the mountains, this place would be pretty safe.”

“Maybe the Grimm have adapted,” suggests Blake.

Yang shudders. “Self-aware Grimm. I’ll pass.”

“I think some Grimm already are,” Ruby says quietly, thoughtfully. “The older ones.”

“Horrifying. Genuinely horrifying. Thanks for that, sis.”

“Are we going to look around, or are we going to keep giving Yang nightmares?” asks Weiss. “I am freezing.”

“Not nightmares,” Yang protests. “Concerns. Light ones. I’m not scared.”

But Weiss and Ruby have already moved ahead on the road. Yang lets out a noisy breath.

“I believe you,” says Blake. “No nightmares.”

And Yang would have her witty retort locked and loaded, but when Blake speaks, she also takes Yang’s hand, and everything snarky that Yang has ever thought disappears into a fog of Blake is holding my hand.

“Well. Maybe some nightmares,” she admits, begrudgingly.

“But none about sentient Grimm.”

“No. None of those.”

They both fall silent. Both know exactly what haunts Yang’s dreams – what haunts both of their dreams, really. Yang hates that even dead, Adam can hang between them. She wishes that she could scrub away every memory, every emotion, that he’d left behind, but that’s not how trauma works. The best she can do is to never let him win again.

“It’s getting better,” Yang says aloud.

Blake squeezes her hand, and Yang catches her eye. Yang might not understand her pain, but the striking intersection of regret and absolute relief? That, they both understand. Yang and Blake will retrieve the pieces that make it all worthwhile, a jeweler carefully pawing through shards of broken glass.

They catch up with Weiss and Ruby, hands a still knot between them.

It doesn’t take much asking to point them towards the lodge where the mayor is holding court, and even less to find him after that. The lodge is a sturdy, half-timbered building. Inside, one half of the room has been framed around an enormous hearth and mantle: Worn carpets and overstuffed seating dots the space. The other half of the room is set with long wooden tables and chairs, like a dining hall, and Yang wonders if the whole building is a repurposed remnant of the town’s former identities.

The mayor is friendly, but perplexed, which sends a ripple of confusion through the team.

“We have had more Grimm attacks,” he admits. “But there’s already a team of huntsmen protecting this village. Team BSTR.”

A child of ten or so stands at the mayor’s arm – his son? He tugs on his father’s sleeve, but is quickly brushed away. “You can ask them any questions you might have,” the mayor finishes.

Yang, Ruby, Blake and Weiss look in the direction he indicates. Sure enough, four huntsmen sit around the hearth, in various states of recline. One of them, broad shouldered and tawny haired, tosses popcorn into the air and catches it in his mouth. The girls exchange a glance and then troop over to Team BSTR.  

“Sure, there are a lot of Grimm,” the team leader, Benedict, tells them. His voice is airy, and he keeps tossing popcorn while he speaks. “It’s nothing we can’t handle. Right, Salome?”

Salome has plum coloured hair that falls in loose waves. It matches her painted lips. She smiles, slow and predatory, and holds out her palm, where a small black flame ignites. She quickly crushes it out. “I think we’ve got it under control,” she says.

Ruby probes a few more questions, but soon she stands outside the lodge with Yang and the rest of the team again, baffled and at ends. “I don’t get it,” she says, “Everything seems fine here.”

“There’s still been a spike in Grimm activity,” Weiss points out.

“Yeah, but they have a team here.” Ruby shrugs helplessly. “If Atlas is stretched so thin, why wouldn’t Winter send us somewhere stretched a little… uh, thinner?”

“I told you, she was just trying to get us out of the way,” says Yang.

“I refuse to believe that my sister is that duplicitous,” Weiss snaps.

“Duplicitous? She works for James Ironwood.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means this whole kingdom is full of—”

“Excuse me? Are you ladies huntsmen?”

Yang cuts off abruptly. They’ve been approached by the boy from inside. The mayor’s son, Yang thinks.

“We are huntresses,” Weiss corrects him.

“Technically, we’re not even that,” Blake says quietly.

Yang elbows Blake in the side. “Be cool, babydoll,” she hisses under her breath.

The boy looks more confused than ever now. Ruby drops to her knees, looks him solemnly in the eye. “Yes, we’re huntresses. Do you need help?”

He shifts awkwardly from foot to foot. “Not me, but um. You were asking my dad questions? About the Grimm?”

Yang crosses her arms over her chest. She’s ready for this kid to get to the point. But Ruby patiently urges him to continue.

“Um. It’s just that, like, my friend Ellery said she was going to send a message to Atlas? To try and stop him?”

“To stop who?” Ruby asks gently. Tension crackles in the air as everyone’s interest piques. They lean in to listen.

“The butzemann.”

It’s like the air has been let out of the balloon that holds them in place. Weiss actually lets out an annoyed sigh, and flashes of incredulity show all around.

“The what?” asks Blake.

“The butzemann.” That’s Weiss. “It’s a fairy tale.”

“Are you telling me we came all the way out here for a crank call?” asks Yang.

“It’s not a fairy tale,” the boy says insistently. “I mean. Well, it is a fairy tale, but what happened to Ellery isn’t. I told her you wouldn’t believe us. No grown ups believe us. They just say that sometimes the Grimm come with bad dreams.”

And maybe it’s because if anybody believes in fairy tales, isn’t it them? And maybe it’s because every part of Yang’s being revolts at the idea of being called a grown up. But all of this strikes a chord with Yang. She meets eyes with Ruby, who gives the tiniest of nods. She believes the shorty, too.

“Tell us what happened,” says Ruby, “And I promise, we’ll listen.”

Here is the gist of it: A widening circle of kids have been spirited away to the caves on the outskirts of town, badly frightened, and then returned to their beds by dawn. The butzemann is the culprit they all swear by, a popular nightmare fable known for stealing bad children from their homes in the night and punishing them.

(“Has anybody been hurt?” Ruby asked. No, just scared. But Yang feels a tremor in her hand and knows that that’s enough.)

They had tried to tell their parents, but on the tail of every kidnapping had come a Grimm attack, followed by a now familiar band-aid. You were just dreaming. You know the Grimm bring bad dreams, sweetheart. Go back to bed.

It had been Ellery’s idea to write to the council in Atlas, but the mayor’s son who’d snagged the stationary that granted them dispatch access. If our parents and BSTR won’t help us, then maybe we can find someone who will.

And all this had pinballed its way down to team RWBY. How could they not help?

“I put glyphs around the caves he told us about,” says Weiss. She brushes melting snow from her ponytail and shuts the inn’s front door. “If anything touches them tonight, I’ll know.”

“What if Grimm walk through it?” asks Ruby.

“Not alive. Won’t engage.”

“What about an animal? Like if a bunny hopped in to get warm?”

“They won’t. Butzemann or not, there’s something going on there. Those caves were…” Weiss shudders. “Spooky.” She shrugs off her coat.

After sending their small informant home, everyone had decided that it was a threat worth checking out, if people were truly frightened. So Weiss had left to set a perimeter watch, and the rest of them had zeroed in on a place to spend the night.

“It’s kind of bogus that BSTR couldn’t do the same thing,” says Yang.

“They probably thought a bunch of kids weren’t worth listening to.” Weiss gnaws guiltily on her lower lip. “We thought they weren’t worth listening to.”

“Is it bad that a part of me hopes it’s still a kiddie hoax?” Blake asks. She’s returning from the front desk when she joins them. Two room keys are folded into her hand.

“What, between ragamuffin shenanigans and a monster so old he’s entered myth?” asks Weiss. “No, Blake. That isn’t bad.”

Blake’s answering smile is tired. The four of them drink in the odd moment, and then Blake holds up the keys. “Got our rooms,” she says. “Two doubles. How do we want to split up?"

“Yang?” Ruby asks, deference borne of habit.

Yang coughs awkwardly. Her eyes had been glued to Blake, but they dart towards Ruby now. She opens her mouth to speak, but only an awkward, “Uh…” comes out, as her eyes slide helplessly, helplessly, back towards Blake.

It all dawns on Ruby a beat too late. “Oh!” she looks from Yang to Blake. “Unless you two wanna…”

“Oh my god.” Weiss takes a definitive step forward, takes one of the keys from Blake, and grabs Ruby’s wrist. “Come on. Do not make this any weirder than it already is.”

And just like that, Weiss marches Ruby out of the room. Ruby grins and flashes Yang a thumbs up on her way out. Yang is halfway between preening and mortified when she turns back to Blake.

“Alone at last,” says Blake, which makes Yang giggle. It’s easy for others to mistake Blake’s thoughtfulness for a lack of sense of a humour, but Yang has always thought that Blake was funny, in a dry, understated sort of way.

Yang offers her arm to Blake. “Shall we?”

Blake rolls her eyes, but she rests her hand in the crook of Yang’s elbow and lets her lead away. They walk like this all the way to their room, and sure its cheesy, but Yang feels half gallant, half rock star all the same, steering the most beautiful girl in the world to her hotel room.

A part of Yang hopes, romantically, expectantly, that when they get inside the room, there will only be one bed. Oh no, Blake will say, batting her eyes. I guess we’ll have to… share.

Her fantasy is immediately disappointed when Blake opens the door and they find two neatly made doubles, as advertised. Yang sighs and flops onto the one closest to the door.

“This is fine,” Yang says, half to herself.

Blake collapses next to Yang and props herself up on her elbows. “This is so depressing.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, not you! Just… this.”

“Yeah.” Yang kicks off her boots. “Something is off here.”

“Butzemann.”

Yang snorts. “Right. The monster under the bed.”

“You don’t believe it?” Blake shifts, leans closer to Yang. A lock of hair falls over her cheek, and Yang is struck with the irrepressible urge to brush it back, trace the strong lines of Blake’s jaw.

“I don’t know.” Yang’s fingers twitch.  “Maybe.”

“It’ easy to ignore children.” Blake’s expression darkens. “That’s probably what draws the monsters in.”

It makes Yang think about what Blake must have been like when she was small: Passionate, defiant, and lonely. It makes Yang think about the monsters that Blake had drawn in, and want to spit venom and blood.

“Let’s pay very close attention, then,” says Yang, and she is rewarded by the tender light of Blake’s answering smile.

They brush their teeth side by side. Like an old married couple, Yang thinks, and her eyes meet Blake’s in the bathroom mirror. Blake smiles around her toothbrush. She leans over and spits into the sink, and Yang tracks the way Blake’s spine curves, the way her hair falls over her shoulders when she bends forward. Blake straightens up. She sees Yang see her, and one eyebrow raises, and one ear flicks.

Yang feels her entire body flush: Her chest, obvious and bare at the collarbones in the thin orange camisole she wears to sleep in. Her fingertips. Her cheeks. Now it’s Blake’s turn to follow the line of Yang’s body with her eyes, a slow crawl up, up, up until she’s staring Yang right in the eyes, no mirrors, no glass, no walls between them. There’s something raw in that stare, and Yang feels yearning wash over her, a warm, burbling wave.

Yang leans deliberately close to Blake when she bends to spit into the sink. Her long tangle of hair brushes Blake’s arms, and Yang wears that the tips of her hair can feet Blake’s skin shudder. Yang pops up, swipes her thumb over her lower lip, and grins at Blake, stops just short of winking.

Blake actually swallows. A beat, a stammered good-night, and then Yang’s watching her twitch out, and the heat between them stretches in wavy lines, thoughtful and longing and aching.

When Yang climbs into bed, her heart is still hammering. Blake is huddled under a pile of blankets on the opposite double, and Yang clicks off the light. She lies flat on her back in the dark, wide awake. She listens to Blake’s even breathing and wonders if she is already asleep. It’s hard to tell. Yang doesn’t know how she possibly could be.

All Yang can think about is Blake in the other bed. Her body, curled up and perfect on its side. Her eyelashes, cresting over her cheek like the break of a wave. The mattress (lucky mattress), dipping under her weight. Yang wonders how she’ll ever fall asleep now.

“Yang?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you still awake?”

“Yeah.”

Yang hears the rustle and shift of Blake’s sheets across the room. She rolls onto her side and squints into the dark, and then – there, she catches it, the gleaming flash of Blake’s eyes.

“Do you…” Blake hesitates. Her breath catches. “Do you want to get into my bed with me?”

Oh, hell yeah.  Yang kicks off the covers and pads across the room. Even her footsteps sound eager. She slides in next to Blake, propped up on her side. For a moment, all they can do is look at each other, wonder how their legs don’t twine together like magnets. Yang’s face is so close to Blake’s that she can feel their breath mingling in the space between them.

It’s almost too much – simultaneously, she and Blake breaks into soft giggles. They taper into a newer, more comfortable intimacy when Yang finally reaches out to Blake and brushes her hair off her face.

“Yang…”

“Yeah.”

This is the moment. This is their moment. Yang leans towards Blake. She tastes her before their lips even touch. She wants her before there’s even time to press skin against skin. Yang’s draws closer to Blake. Her mouth hovers close to Blake’s, almost grazing, almost whole. She wants to—She wants—She could—

A furious pounding on the door startled Yang so badly that she jolts backwards and rolls off the bed. She lands painfully on her ass, and there’s not even enough time to process it all – the pain, the loss, Blake still lying in bed, all tousled and tantalizing – before the door bursts open, and Weiss flurries into the room.

“The alarm went off and – why are you on the floor, Yang? Oh, never mind that. Something is going on at the caves. We have to go!”

Weiss exits as frenetically as she entered, leaving Yang and Blake, bewildered and flustered.

Another moment and Yang is on her feet again, and Blake is out of bed, the both of them throwing on weapons and clothes. They are huntresses, after all.

They allow themselves one shared glance –savored, curious– and then Yang races out the door, Blake on their heels, Ruby and Weiss already bolting ahead of them down the hall.

Something about monsters and beds.

[thegreatlibraryfangirl]

So guess what I spent all morning doing instead of work. 

K+D are big on rules, after their several early disasters I’ve mentioned before regarding not using their words during scenes and only having one basic stop signal. So yeah, they like rules, rules make everything easier.

The dungeon is the best environment Khalila has yet found to address her control-freak/possessive needs. She’s very comfortable in a high respect/protocol/honour situation. 

(Dario is less naturally comfortable but sometimes that’s fun and also there are SOLDIERS EVERYWHERE holy fuck)

It is really, really weird for Scholars to be in this environment for more than the occasional “how the other half live/how do I flog someone really hard” tourism trip, because hey, if you want pain you’ve got those stuck-up MasoSade fuckers and if you want protocol there’s this new Greek group I’m setting up, and most Scholars don’t like the military air. 

So they stand out and it’s weird and it takes a while for everyone to adjust.

I’ll be giving in and using dom and sub for the time being.

Subs don’t speak unless spoken to

This is something they’ve already got in place from playing with morgan, because having even trusted other people around is just enough scrutiny to make Dario feel a little vulnerable and to make him want to snark. Knowing he’s not allowed to helps him ignore himself and refocus. 

(like, he can ask and she’ll generally say yes but it’s just that extra level of meaningful thought required)

(Got a fun scene planned where the three of them are playing and Dario thinks of a PERFECT thing to say and he holds off but he’s so distracted by his own wit that he stops focusing on what they’re doing – asks Khalila if he can speak. He says the thing, Morgan bursts out laughing, he basks in his own excellence, khalila is visibly trying n to laugh too, but looks at him and says “what a pity that you had one opportunity to speak and you wasted it on that.”

Dario protests and Morgan is vaguely concerned, but Dario knows the correct way to protest Khalila changing the rules mid-scene and he’s deliberately not using it, so it’s all ok. 

(I’m sorry i got sidetracked where was I?)

Equally it’s considered raaaaather forward to address someone’s sub without asking permission/asking for an introduction. 

(Khalila has been known to fuck up this rule if something activates the Scholar research side of her brain, but as pre-mentioned, being tiny and adorable and a gold-band Scholar and usually very polite gets her a lot of leeway)

A sub touching a sub without permission is, mmm, bit rude and frowned upon depending on what and how and why, but a dom touching a sub without the dom’s permission is Not OK in any way. Pretty much the only mitigating circumstance is “safety” e.g. their dom’s not noticed they’re tied in a way that’s fucked their circulation/someone ELSE is touching the sub abusively, etc. Is THEIR dom abusing them/being unsafe? Better go and get the dungeon owner unless you really are 100% certain. 

Default respectful address from all subs to doms is “sir”. 

Respectful address can get a little blurry because, as a High Garda dungeon, this lot are largely playing with the people they also interact with at work, oh fuck (There’s at least one squad where EVERYONE is kinky and they’ve had to start an attendance rota.) It takes a LOT of trust to believe you can ignore that context, and most people don’t quite dare. 

So, a lot of people will call Santi ‘sir’ and ‘captain’ even when he’s actively playing as a sub, though it helps that he’s been going to the dungeon ever since he was a private so there are old-timers there who pretend he still is one. (Santi likes to think he has cast-iron boundaries between dungeon and work but everyone knows that misbehaviour in one area gets you Carefully Watched in the other)

This also applies to uniform – much to Dario’s immense disappointment most attendees don’t wear their official uniform because of how important it is that your uniform be clean and pressed etc at the start of each day at work. There’s a lot of leather (who’s surprised, not us) and chains/handcuffs/rope as ornaments etc. Boots are a focus (of course), lots of people have a separate specific set of kink boots, lots of boot polishing/bootlicking going on.  

You’re not allowed to come in with a ‘live’ gun, everyone is checked at the door, but guns that literally have nothing in them and cannot discharge are allowed and often used in play. Knives and sticks and so on are allowed but have to be visible. 

If someone uses a title in their introduction it’s only polite to use it. 

Dario gets into trouble a LOT here because he won’t call anyone else Master (in the dungeon he uses Master for Khalila and he’s like That’s Your Name) and he also won’t call anyone by royalty-related terms. Khaliila will occasionally force the master thing because that’s just about her, but fully respects his understandable thing about royalty. 

(Linguistic complaint time, Dario calling Khalila Master fits thematically but it FRUSTRATES me because Khalila suits feminine terms SO MUCH BETTER but Mistress (or Maestra for that matter – at one point I thought that might save me but ha ha, no) has too many derogatory connotations for me to take it seriously, FUCK historical sexism I hate you.)

(oh also Khalila tends to call him beloved, darling or boy.)

Subs walk a step behind their dom (can be on either side, our two little Scholars like the right)

There’s some clothing flagging, it’s not compulsory but it’s widely used: leather armband means you’re observing/only playing in your existing arrangement, leather glove means you’re looking for others partners, wearing on the left shows you’re a dom, wearing on the right is sub. (that bit often gets ignored because you can identify a sub through things like the walking behind protocol)

You should seeeeeeee the ornate pretty shit Dario has because 

a) he always like to looks his best!! 

b) the two of them enjoy playing up to and then subverting their reputation as the pretty delicate Scholar puppies. Black is the commonly accepted colour, maybe brown. Neither of these god damned peacocks own any brown leather. Black has its place, as like, a feature colour or, Dario will occasionally wear a black glove when he wants played with hard. 

There’s almost always a demonstration/lesson going on – there’s like an unofficial committee of long-termers who organise it. Restraints and rope (with yes, emphasis on restraint rather than Art), flogging, whipping, bloodplay, lectures on what’s safe vs not safe, consent etc. How to punch and kick someone safely, which to many newbies’ surprise is different from High Garda training on non-lethal takedowns. Etc. 

(Wolfe and Santi are the star whipping couple OF COURSE but they don’t both simultaneously want to do it very often – Wolfe has to be in exactly the right patient yet violently possessive mood and Santi has to be absolutely confident that it won’t fuck him up for work the next day – either physically or reputationally depending on who’s in the audience)

Drinking is allowed, of course, money money money, but the bartender can refuse service and the person in charge of the dungeon can refuse to let very drunk people play on the premises. Drugs are a little more policed – you can’t buy them in the dungeon and if you’ve come downstairs still high people will Keep An Eye on you and generally refuse to do anything very intense. 

Is this an unfair double standard when alcohol will damage your ability to make decisions and give consent too? Yes. Does Dario point this out at length while Khalila tries to balance her embarrassment of her chatty high husband with the fact that she agrees with him? Of course.

Dungeon scenes I have planned atm:

That one where someone mistakes Khalila for a sub and Glain is like is everything ok?? And Khalila is like, I literally have a knife at his penis, calm down.

Possibly a less fantastically cringey version of Santi and K+D. Maybe playing with my sponsor idea, and/or playing with @rosalind-of-arden‘s fabulous “oh shit the kids have seen us now we need to talk” thing. 

Maybe a rather different version of the cringey version … crawls into pit of Santi/Dario sin

Santi getting sent there as a private after an interesting restraints teaching session, thank you Rosalind. 

Some general kind of disrespectful hiccups towards the new Scholars which culminates in:

Someone groping Dario while he’s either physically bound or thoroughly sub-spaced, at which point Khalila Loses Her Shit, breaks at least one of the guy’s bones, and basically thank Allah that Santi is there because a roomful of soldiers is not the place to start trying to kill someone, Khalila.

(She’s respected a lot more after that, partly because they realise how much of a stickler she is for fairness and rules and also because they understand violent possessiveness a lot more easily than K+D’s natural default of touchy-feely lovey-dovey.)

Dario’s phenomenal ability/willingness to bear repetitive edging getting turned into a game where he’s tied up and the soldiers see how successful they are at it – points are lost if Khalila has to tell them to stop or he’ll come, many more points lost if Dario is still coherent enough to do the same at the time. Not touching his cock at all while doing other stuff to him is definitely allowed, but not seen as a proper “turn” unless it involves the prostate.