#and the inquisition spanish or otherwise had nothing to do with them

[bookshelfdreams]

americans learn what the middle ages are challenge

[hoursofreading]

The Spanish Inquisition is a very separate thing from the other inquisitions that I work on in other regions. And I like to avoid using the word inquisition ever in the singular because it creates the illusion that there was an actual unified . . . Or it doesn’t create, it perpetrates the intentional illusion that there was a central, unified decision-making. The Catholic Church wanted to seem more unified than it was, but in periods when it took six months or more for a message to get to Rome from one of the Spanish colonies in the New World, for example, these are local authorities making local decisions in the name of Rome and Rome struggling to catch up. To the degree that Rome even printed a manual to guide inquisitors on how to respond if people came to them talking about books that have been banned in Spain that they’ve never heard of being banned elsewhere, and how to sort of fake it and pretend that “Yes, Rome totally knew that you banned this. Yes, it was a very good idea to ban it.” So, the Inquisition is a blunt instrument and usually a tool of local power. It isn’t a government. We often think of the Inquisition as the government, but it’s more a nongovernment body that reaches internationally. Think about UNICEF or Doctors Without Borders, and it has the infrastructure to go from place to place. Now, think about that operating locally and having agents that are good at crossing borders, but depend on the local government for collaboration and economic support. In the case of the Inquisition, it doesn’t own its own prisons. It doesn’t have its own police. It has to borrow them locally. So, what does the local authority want to persecute? That’s what the Inquisition will end up persecuting. In Ferdinand and Isabella’s Spain and that of their successors, they were incredibly anxious about the imagined treacherous fifth column of descendants of converted Jews and converted Muslims. So, they lavished money on their Inquisition to encourage their Inquisition to advance the mass persecution of what they perceived as a local threat to their crown. This had nothing to do with the practices of the Inquisition that were going on at the same time in Italy or in France, or in even Spanish-controlled territories or Portuguese-controlled territories. So, for example, in Goa on the west coast of India, in the 17th century, the orders given by the Inquisition were to destroy all texts in indigenous languages and try to wipe out indigenous languages and indigenous knowledge. At the same time, the Inquisition in what is now Mexico City was ferociously devoting itself to developing indigenous dictionaries and translating materials into indigenous languages because it decided that the best way to proselytize was through translation. These are the decisions being made by local authorities to try to seek power. Zooming out, however, the biggest pattern in all of them is that the most common form of censorship is self-censorship. But the majority of self-censorship is intentionally cultivated by an outside power. The Inquisition more broadly, especially the Roman Inquisition, spends a lot more of its time trying to scare people into not writing books than it does trying to destroy books that are actually there. If you think about the goal being to silence Galileo, the way to silence Galileo is not to make Galileo world-famous by having a giant splashy trial of Galileo. The way to make Galileo silent is to quietly poison Galileo, right? This is Renaissance Italy. We are very good at quietly poisoning people. This is a solved problem. If you want to silence a man, you silence him. You do not put him on a big show trial. But what they want to do is silence Descartes and dozens of others who saw what happened to Galileo, were scared and therefore never wrote the treatises that they otherwise would have. Censorship intends to cause and stimulate self-censorship. That’s a pattern we see broadly, whether in the Inquisition, whether in the Middle Ages before there was an inquisition, or whether today in China with the extremely intentionally unpredictable enforcement of when they arrest a blogger, for example, which they do with very little pattern, to make it harder to predict whether you are in danger, to make people more scared that they might be in danger — to, again, encourage self-censorship.

Ada Palmer on Viking Metaphysics, Contingent Moments, and Censorship (Ep. 191) | Conversations with Tyler

[metanoiyed-archive]

The Ahistorical “Burning Times”, Or: Why White People Shouldn’t Be Trusted To Record History

*cracking knuckles* If you saw this post about this post, you know what this is about. If not, read them and come back. Without further ado: The Ahistorical “Burning Times”, Or: Why White People Shouldn’t Be Trusted To Record History.

“The important backdrop for this group is the time period that modern witches and pagans refer to as The Burning Times.”

So the first thing you’ll notice about posts or books that mentioned the ‘burning times’ is that they use very purposeful wording and diction. Notice how the OP says ‘that modern witches and pagans refer to as’ and not, “what historians refer to as”? That’s because historian’s don’t refer to it as the burning times, they refer to it as the ‘Witch Craze’ or ‘Witch Hysteria’, where many people in medieval Europe and America [14th-17th century, but 16th and 17th were the most popular years] were often falsely accused of witchcraft and hung - not burned - for the crime. During the Salem Witch Trials, especially, people like to say ‘we are the granddaughters of witches you couldn’t burn’ -- but no witches were even burned at the stake in Salem (1). Accusing someone of witchcraft was very, very often a political tool used by the Roman Catholic Church or others who operated under it to execute whomever they wished, but we’ll get to that in a second.

“Europe and America were thrust into a moral panic and hysteria over alleged satanic witches. Most of those accused were midwives, healers, poor women, women suffering from mental health issues, and women who were practicing preChristian traditions.” So... Yes to: hysteria, healers and women suffering from mental health issues and practicing pre-Christian traditions. No to pretty much everything else. Men who were healers or suffering mental health issues were also accused, but that’s because anyone could call witchcraft like a boy crying wolf and it was believed. In my ‘A Deed Without A Name’ notes, I go over how in some cases it appears that a certain aspect of people who are in some way different can indicate they’re touched, but often in the past I’m inclined to think in most cases it was simply used to execute people. Also, they killed people practicing pre-Christian traditions because they were racist Europeans and colonialists, and most of the time those pre-Christian traditions were by POC. 14th Century-17th Century is by no means pre-Christian, by that point a lot of folk belief in Europe had been touched by Christian belief, not so much that it entirely changed it, but enough. ‘Alleged’ Satanic witches? Are we just purposefully looking away from Isobel Gowdie’s confession before she was executed? Confessions of people [of those who confessed and were actually witches] who made deals with the Devil/Man in Black/Witchfather in some form are overwhelmingly common. (2).

“Many witches fear a return to the Burning Times, when any old woman was burned at the stake for merely existing below the poverty level.” I really have nothing groundbreaking to say about this one, just that I hate the OP for making me look at it and I hope they stub their toe. ‘fear a return to the burning times’ my ass.

“The total number of those murdered under the guise of witch accusations varies widely by source. Many historians have argued that the number is anywhere between 40,000 and 60,000. Other sources, however, have claimed the number is closer to 100,000 with potentially hundreds of thousands more unaccounted for. It has even been suggested that there were 392,000 in Great Britain alone. The highest number, and number that has become part of popular legend, is approximately 9 million (with the fullness of the Crusades and Spanish Inquisition included). It will never be certain how many women, men, and children were killed, and truthfully the numbers game is irrelevant in the face of trauma. Any genocide, no matter how big or small, is a moral stain on our history.”

Other sources? What sources. You don’t name any of yours, I noticed. ‘Any genocide ... a moral stain on our history’ yet I am sure you turn a blind eye to the plight of those right in front of you, while my people suffer a real continued genocide, you make a fantasy crime. Statista did a chart on how many people were tried and executed between 1300 and 1850, and the number is even lower than you think. (3). 

“The Burning Times were a systematic rooting out of female power and autonomy, and non-christian practices. The midwives and healers posed a threat to the structures and systems of politics and medicine... both groups challenging the patriarchy.” This sounds... so fishy. Doesn’t this sound like a weird radical-feminist argument? I’m not implying anything about OP, but the way this whole paragraph reads while trying to include ‘men, women and children’ and then focusing on how this was a whole attack on the women against the patriarchy just... grosses me out, a lot. Because it was never about that, has never been about that, and will never be about that. I also just don’t trust people who refer to women as ‘females’ but that’s just me.

“Most of the following women were (wrongfully) believed to have had sexual intercourse with Satan, signing their names into his black book with their blood.” Again, are we just ignoring Isobel Gowdie’s straight up confession? Or any of the other confessions from Scotland, England, and surrounding areas? This stupid purity culture of wanting to be seen as better to outsiders is so annoying. “I’m not like that trope of witches you’ve seen, we don’t actually have sex with the Devil or sign his black book with blood!” Just because some of us aren’t worried to get our hands dirty and you are doesn’t mean that other witches don’t do that. “wrongfully” where the fuck are you getting your information? Many confessions that they did get included detailed accounts of joining the Man in Black for sabbats, having sex with him, and signing his black book. Not everyone continues the practice today, but some definitely do, they definitely did, and it definitely wasn’t “wrongfully believed”. They were powerful women in their own right. If anything OP, by trying to separate themselves from the legacy of these women, has disgraced them in that way. It takes courage and strength to work with infernal forces from the otherside like that, and here this asshole is just shittin’ on their name pretending they never risked their lives doing it. A source on this from Isobel Gowdie, “As I was going betuix the townes of Drumdewin and the Headis, I met with the Devil, and ther covenanted, in a maner, with him.” and from ‘A Deed Without A Name’ by Lee Morgan, “As we can see when we look over the testimonies of witches from earlier times not everyone is initially approached by an animal spirit. Isobel Gowdie seems to have initially been approached by ‘the Devil’, Bessie Dunlop by a faerie man who claims to have once lived as a human man, others were taken by faeries or by the spirit of another living human practitioner.” (4)

And obviously there are various other sources, these are not the only ones. I’m just too tired to go through my library, cite them all, attach them all - y’all gotta do your own work for once. Read actual history, please. Learn discernment. I don’t even have the energy to go through the list of people the OP put as ‘in memoriam’ because I have no idea if those are historical reasons, either, but honestly I don’t even wanna know. Anyway, it’s bullshit and ahistorical, thanks for coming to my tedtalk. If you push this narrative you owe Black, Native, Jewish people and anyone else otherwise affected by the witch-craze repatriations immediately, I don’t make the rules except I do and those are the rules.

Citations:

Andrews, Evan. “Were Witches Burned at the Stake during the Salem Witch Trials?” History.com, A&E Television Networks, 13 Aug. 2014, www.history.com/news/were-witches-burned-at-the-stake-during-the-salem-witch-trials.

Wilby, E. (2013). The visions of Isobel Gowdie: Magic, witchcraft and dark shamanism in seventeenth-century Scotland. Brighton: Sussex Academic Press.

McCarthy, Niall, and Felix Richter. “Infographic: The Death Toll Of Europe's Witch Trials.” Statista Infographics, 29 Oct. 2019, www.statista.com/chart/19801/people-tried-and-executed-in-witch-trials-in-europe/

Morgan, Lee. A Deed without a Name: Unearthing the Legacy of Traditional Witchcraft. Moon Books, 2013. 

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Fifty Six

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

August 23rd, 2000

Emile blinked uncomprehendingly at Rebecca. “What do you mean, I’m cute?” he asked.

“I mean you’re cute, honey,” Rebecca said, kissing his cheek. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that before?”

“No?” Emile asked. “No one outside my family, no one who I wasn’t dating at that exact moment in time. No one who has never been obligated to say it.”

Rebecca shook her head. “Well, you are, Emile. You are cute. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, you hear me? I don’t care what they say at college, you’re definitely cute. And any girl...or guy...would be lucky to have you.”

“And you’re not just saying that as a girlfriend?” Emile asked.

“Emile, we just agreed to break up because we’d be moving five hours away from each other for college! I’m just telling you, point blank, that you’re a catch. I’ll be sad to see you go, but it has to happen. And don’t let anyone tell you that you’re not cute, okay?”

“Okay...?” Emile said. “Self-confidence is not my strong suit, though.”

“Is it anyone’s?” Rebecca asked. “Love you, honey. Call me sometime, yeah?”

Emile swallowed. “Yeah.”

  February 14th, 2002

There were few things Emile appreciated in life more than a relaxing day in, doing nothing in particular with Remy. But one of the few things he appreciated more was going out with Remy and having some fun just the two of them, for any occasion. And that was how the two of them found themselves at the local bowling alley on Valentine’s Day.

“You mean to tell me that you had a bowling shirt in your closet all this time that you never told me about?!” Remy laughed as he came back from his turn bowling.

“You never asked,” Emile said simply. “And I wouldn’t call it a ‘bowling shirt’ specifically. It’s just more...retro.”

“Emile, you look like you walked straight out of the fifties. It’s a bowling shirt,” Remy said as Emile picked up a bowling ball.

Emile shook his head with a laugh and began his turn on the lane. The ball glided down the lane and all the pins but one fell down. Emile grinned as Remy exclaimed, “What?!” behind him.

As soon as he turned, Remy was on him. “Do you go to a bowling team when I’m not around? Is that why you have the shirt and these mad skills?!”

“No, Remy, I’m not a part of some super-secret bowling team,” Emile laughed. “It’s just regular secret-level, and we call ourselves The Spanish Inquisition, because no one ever expects us to win.”

Remy rolled his eyes and Emile laughed more. “Come on, Emile, be serious!”

“Never,” Emile vowed, grabbing a bowling ball and taking his second shot, landing him a spare.

Remy whooped and a few people in the other lanes either clapped or glared, depending on how much they approved of Remy’s volume. Emile laughed as Remy jumped on Emile’s back and said, “This is my boyfriend, everybody! The bowling pro!”

“Remy!” Emile squawked, laughing. “Come on, cut it out! It’s your turn!”

Remy huffed but got off Emile and went to grab a bowling ball while Emile sat down. Remy walked up to the lane and gave his turn a shot, and the ball slid down the lane quickly, knocking down every last pin for a strike. “Ha!” Remy exclaimed, jumping up and down! “Strike! Yes!”

“Way to go, Rem!” Emile said, standing up as Remy walked over and giving him a hug.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been bowling,” Remy said with a happy sigh. “I had to be...twelve or thirteen when I last went, it was someone's birthday party.”

“Yeah, I haven’t bowled in a while, either,” Emile said, grabbing a ball for his turn. “It was probably only a year and a half for me, though.”

“Your parents let you bowl at that age?” Remy asked, vaguely surprised.

Emile shrugged. “Well, I was mostly paying with my own money. What I didn’t pay, the church did. Because I was helping with the youth group when they would have events.”

“Huh. You helped out with your church?” Remy asked.

“I helped with the middle schoolers when I was a junior and a senior, and I had plans to help more when I went back home for the last summer, before we moved in together,” Emile said.

Remy grew quiet and drew into himself, and Emile immediately shook his head. “Not a bad thing, Remy, not in the slightest. And I don’t blame you. Honestly, you probably saved me a lot of stress, and I can help out at the shelter around here to feel like I’m making a difference.”

“You sure?” Remy asked, grimacing.

“Oh, yeah, Rem,” Emile said, offering Remy a crooked grin. “If I hadn’t moved in with you, we probably wouldn’t even be together right now, and I, for one, do not want to be in a world where that is the case.”

Remy offered Emile a shy grin as he scratched the back of his neck. “That is a pretty good thing,” he agreed softly.

Emile nodded definitively. “Definitely,” he said, going to bowl his next turn, knocking down four pins. He winced. “Ouch. Not my finest shot.”

Remy laughed. “Definitely not. But that’s okay, I still love you.”

“Good,” Emile said, kissing Remy’s cheek. “I wasn’t worried that you wouldn’t, but it’s still nice to hear you say.”

Remy grinned and playfully shoved Emile away from the kiss. “Of course it is. It’s always nice to hear a pretty boy say they love you,” he laughed.

“So you agree you’re pretty?” Emile asked.

Remy shrugged. “It’s a joke, Emile.”

“Yeah, but do you think you’re pretty?” Emile pressed.

“You certainly seem to think so,” Remy dodged.

“That’s not an answer to my question.”

Remy blew out a breath. “Okay...I will say that I’m not as ugly as I was during the raging hormones of puberty.”

“That’s also not an answer to my question,” Emile said, crossing his arms.

“Look, Emile, I just...don’t have that sort of confidence to say that I’m pretty with any amount of seriousness,” Remy said with a shrug. “Sorry.”

Emile sighed. “You really are pretty, though, and I wish you could see that,” he lamented.

Remy crossed his arms and thought. “You know, there might be a way for me to feel better enough about myself to say I’m pretty, or at the very least somewhat attractive.”

“Yeah?” Emile asked.

“That whole...self-expression thing you and Theo were talking about last week,” Remy said.

“What about it?” Emile asked.

“Well, I have a lot of T-shirts and jeans and casual clothes that can make me look good, but...all of them were approved by my parents, save for the ones I’ve found thrift-shopping since I moved here. I never got the final say in what I wanted to wear when it came to buying clothes. The leather jackets I have are the closest thing I have to rebelling against my parents’ clothing choices right now. Maybe if I redid some of my wardrobe, getting rid of the shirts I never wear, and buying some more stuff that I like and feels like me, that could help?” Remy seemed to be asking the last part, like he was looking for Emile’s permission.

Emile bowled his next turn and grinned as he knocked down five of the other six pins before he said, “Rem, you don’t have to ask my permission to do something like that. You have your own bank account, and so long as you can make rent, and tell me when you need the car to go shopping, I won’t stop you.”

“Yeah, but...I do want your opinion,” Remy said.

Emile ran a hand through his hair. “It could work, yeah,” he said. “But you’d have to do it right, and you’d have to have thick skin. If someone mocks your self-expression and you don’t have the confidence to laugh it off, it could backfire.”

“Eh, not many people’s opinions matter to me,” Remy said. “Their opinions can hurt, yeah, but few of them matter to the point where I would stop.”

“I doubt any of our friends would mock you about your choice of self-expression, even jokingly,” Emile noted.

“Yeah. So, I guess I should do it?” Remy asked.

“If you think it will help, definitely,” Emile said. But he knew he had to mention the obvious, and he knew Remy wouldn’t like it. “I will warn you, Rem, that you sometimes have a tendency to pick...more feminine cuts and styles, even if it’s from the men’s section. And that can gather...unwanted attention. Some people can and will accuse you of being gay, and when I say accuse, I do mean accuse. They won’t be kind.”

Remy bit his lip and looked away. “I know,” he said, almost under his breath. “I just like looking pretty, you know? There are days where being handsome is fine, but I prefer being pretty some days too. And I have plenty of clothes that can make me look handsome, but not many that make me feel pretty. And on the days where I want to feel pretty...well...I could definitely use the ego boost, you know? Because...well, you’ve seen my self-esteem issues for yourself.”

“Yeah,” Emile sighed. “But if you want to use self-expression in your clothing, by all means, do so. I’d love to see you look more confident on the days you prefer pretty over handsome.”

Remy offered Emile a shy smile. “You know, you might be the only person to have ever said that to me,” he said softly. “I never told Toby about that, granted, but I doubt he would have understood quite as much as you do.”

Emile just nodded and kept quiet about his suspicions that Remy could actually be transgender, or at the very least gender non-conforming. Then there was...nonbinary, which Emile was still trying to wrap his head around. But he knew Remy wouldn’t appreciate that sort of speculation. It wasn’t that he was against trans people, but he was pretty vehemently against the idea that he was trans. He was firmly of the opinion that he was just a man who hated gender roles, and so long as that opinion wasn’t hurting him, Emile wouldn’t try and press. No matter how much he thought that Remy might just be so deep in the closet he himself didn’t know that was where he was.

Besides, this was supposed to be a date night, light-hearted and fun and teasing each other about their respective bowling skills. No need to be so serious all the time.

Remy went to pick up a ball and Emile grinned wickedly, lightly smacking Remy’s butt, causing him to yelp. “Hey! No! Uh-uh!” Remy said, rounding on Emile. His cheeks were bright red but he was laughing. “Hands off the merchandise until we’re home!”

“And when we’re home?” Emile asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Well, we established boundaries for a reason,” Remy said.

Emile shrugged. “We have yet to have...the big discussion,” he said.

Remy flushed. “Well, I need to figure out...what I might like, still,” he admitted. “In terms of you, specifically. And of course, some of that is going to come from experience, but I need to figure out what’s definitely off-limits. And we have boundaries for where neither of us are willing to go yet, at least not without very good reason. I just...need time.”

“Hey, I’m willing to give you time,” Emile said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’ll give you all the time you need. But I will ask from time to time, because we both know that you forget to tell me your when your comfort level changes sometimes.”

“Yeah, I can respect that,” Remy said. “But if you want to touch my butt, do it at home.”

“All right, all right,” Emile said, holding his hands up in surrender.

“‘Sides,” Remy said with a mischievous grin, whispering into Emile’s ear. “If we do it at home that means I can make all the innuendos I want without worrying about kids running up and asking us what the stuff they overheard was about.”

Emile cackled, clapping a hand over his mouth as he shook. “You’re terrible!” Emile exclaimed.

Remy just winked and went to pick up his bowling ball again. “Ah, but that’s what you love about me, mio amore!” he exclaimed as he went to bowl again.

Emile shook his head as Remy knocked down most of his next set of pins in one shot. This was the man he was in love with. A ridiculous, disastrous mess of a man who loved making jokes about any and everything but was very shy when actual feelings became involved. And he had a heart of gold that just needed to be protected fiercely, because it wasn’t fragile, but it could be damaged if you just stampeded recklessly around. Emile thought about it, and thought back to Remy’s talk about how he viewed soulmates, and he was inclined to agree. If there was such a thing as soulmates, then he could believe that Remy was his soulmate.

[artificialqueens]

There's No One There, 3/? (Group fic) - Marmalade

Summary: One student missing multiple classes without warning can be explained away but when more girls start disappearing, it can’t be dismissed. Jaida, Jackie, Gigi, and Crystal may not be friends but if it’s to figure out what’s going on, they’re willing to work together.

A/N: Hii, I’m just going to make a habit of putting the summary in front of each submission. In other news, I’m not vibing with the pen Marmalade but I haven’t figured out a new name yet and we’ve reached a point in the story writing where I’ve had to make a separate notes page to keep my flow right. I’ve been trying to come up with an all girls boarding school mystery for ages now and it feels good having one.

—–

The search for Widow kicked off to a worrying start. Gigi chose to accompany Crystal, mainly to avoid stepping in mud with Jaida and Jackie as they walked around the school asking about Jan. Widow hadn’t been in any of her usual spots and none of the four shared a class with her after lunch forcing them to resume their search after the school day had ended. Their final bet was checking her dorm.

“What’re we gonna do if we go and she’s not there either and we have another missing person?” Crystal asked as she reached into her pocket to pull out some of the candy she had grabbed yesterday. Gigi was keeping a few feet of space between the two of them in the hopes that it wouldn’t seem like they were hanging out but Crystal’s outstretched arm offering her pieces of candy destroyed the illusion. Gigi begrudgingly took the piece of candy and inspected the label.

“I don’t know. Tell the others and wait for them to come up with a plan instead?” Crystal let out a laugh. “…What flavor is duranzo?”

“Peach? Ooooor maybe orange? I don’t know, my mom never actually taught me Spanish. I just know that brand’s like, good fruity taffy things.”

“Oh, can’t then.” Gigi handed the piece back to her.

“How come?”

“Does it matter? We’re trying to find a missing girl; are we close to Widow’s dorm yet?”

“Yeah! It’s just a little farther ahead!” Crystal powerwalked down the hall until she arrived at her friend’s dorm, her curled hand raised to knock before she stopped. There was a whisper behind the door, she heard it but couldn’t make out any details, and she waited a moment for the voice to speak again but nothing else came. Gigi had caught up to her so Crystal finally knocked.

“Widow, are you thereee?”

There was a faint sound of shuffling before the door opened and a sudden chill took both girls by surprise. At first the door only cracked open, Crystal leaned to the side to flash a smile and the door opened wider, revealing Widow to be thankfully not missing. There were dark circles under her eyes but she somewhat returned the smile before she spotted Gigi, her brows knitted together.

“Since when do you two hang out? Whatever- what do you want?”

“Since now, sort of.” Gigi interjected.

“I wanna know what’s been bothering you! A lot of weird stuff’s been going on and I’m worried about you.”

Widow let out a quiet, wheezy chuckle and shook her head.

“What’s so funny?”

“Well, for starter’s you brought someone neither of us know basically at all to have a serious conversation.”

“We can talk in private if you want, can I come in?”

Widow looked back into her dorm and then to Crystal. “…Now’s not a great time for that.”

“Why, who were you talking to in there?”

Widow opened her mouth but closed it without saying a word. Her eyes narrowed inquisitively and she looked over Crystal’s face like she was trying to find something. “You wanna know what my problem is? This damn school. The same walls, the same people, the same shit every god damn day, it can drive a bitch crazy and this place is damn good at it. Trying to make sense of it is a complete mess.”

“Maybe it’s a mess because you’re trying to do it all yourself?”

“…Fine.” It was only one word and yet it made Crystal’s face light up. “I’ll tell you because I know you won’t judge me if I tell you but I don’t know Gigi like that. Not here though, the walls have got ears or something, just meet me in town this weekend, okay?”

-

“I can’t believe we haven’t found a single witness. It’s not like she could jump through space.” Jackie said as she wrote another name down on the list. They knew the walk around the school was unlikely to turn up any tangible clues but both girls had expected to find some students that would be able to provide useful information. Jackie had been able to gleam was that Jan had now missed two full days of class without anyone seeing head or tails of her but that was about it.

They made their way back to the school’s entrance, curious if Crystal and Gigi had better luck then them. Standing in the doorway was Vice Principal Visage, they passed by her without paying her any mind only for her to stop them.

“Jaida, Jackie, will you both come with me?” She phrased it like she was asking but the both knew they had no option.

“What did we do?” Jackie asked but Miss Visage didn’t answer, only spinning on her heels and beckoning them after her, keeping them in silent suspense as they made their way to the principal’s office. Jackie gulped and held her notebook close her chest.

Crystal and Gigi sat on chairs outside of the headmaster’s office and got onto their feet upon seeing Miss Visage. She opened the door to the headmaster’s office without knocking and poked her head in. “The girls are here.”

“Send them in.” Miss Visage swung the door open and ushered them inside. At his desk was the headmaster, Rupaul, his fingers steepled together. There were only two chairs in front of his desk and the girls weren’t sure which two of them ought to sit down, or if they even should sit.

“I’ve been hearing that you four have been really on edge recently, care to tell me what’s this all about?”

There was a beat of silence before all of them but Gigi stumbled over each other trying to explain. The headmaster put his hand up to silence them and then gestured to Jackie to go first.

“Sir, last week Nicky stopped showing up to classes and now Jan’s missed two days’ worth of classes. Both of them were acting out of character before then and, well, we’re concerned that something might have happened!”

The headmaster didn’t respond right away, instead twisting his fingers together. Finally, he stood up and turned to the cabinets behind him, patiently going through them until he deposited two files onto his desk and sat back down, pressing his hand down on top of the manila folders.

“Giving out student information to anyone outside of their immediate families is a violation of student privacy…” A small, reassuring smile formed on his face. “-so, this doesn’t leave this office. Let’s see…” He picked up the first folder and looked through it. “Ah, Nicky. I’m sure you’re aware that most of her family still lives in France, her sister is getting married and from the sound of it, Nicky was left out on a lot of the planning. She left on a flight last Thursday for the wedding but between you and me, I think her parents are letting her skip more class than necessary, and she’s scheduled to return by the time class starts up after the break. Going to be interesting to see how she catches up on all her missed work.

Now Jan, Jan had been coming in to see the counselor a few times. Juggling grades with extracurriculars and her social life got overwhelming I suppose. One of the campus security guards caught her trying to leave campus without permission and we contacted her parents. After a long discussion they decided to have Jan sent home, now they’re trying to decide if returning to school is still the right choice for Jan, unfortunately, we’re expecting their final answer sometime during the break.”

“But- that doesn’t sound like the Jan I know!”

The headmaster hummed and nodded, putting the folders back in their places. “Do you girls know why you’re here?”

“In the office?”

“At this school.”

“Be…cause you don’t charge tuition?” Gigi replied dryly with a raised eyebrow.

“Because we saw something great in each and every one of you. The girls at this school aren’t here because they have the highest test scores or because their parents shelled out a lot of money to put them here, they’re here because each of them has the potential to do something amazing in whatever field they choose. That’s why we try to keep the school’s cost as low as possible, so that girls who otherwise wouldn’t have a chance can have this opportunity. This school is hard, you knew that when you applied but the sad truth is that not everyone can handle it.

All those voices in your head that tell you ‘you can’t do this’ and ‘you should quit’ that’s your inner saboteur trying to tear you down. Your job is to quiet those voices but some girls can do it better than other. If you ask me, you four need to worry about yourselves. In a matter of days, you’ve managed to make yourselves completely paranoid. Put down the magnifying glasses and go do something you enjoy! Like you, Crystal, I know you’re an artist. I’m going to challenge you to put all that creativity onto a canvas. This goes to all of you, I want you to find an outlet for all this negativity because what you’re doing now isn’t helping. Okay? Now get out there, go learn something, kiddos.”

The four girls were released back into the hall where they found themselves rooted in thought.

“So that’s it?” Gigi was the one who broke the silence. “We worked ourselves up over nothing? Two days of anxiety and work that we didn’t have to put ourselves through?”

“Maybe we all just wanted there to be a mystery that we filled in the blanks?” Jackie conceded. She feathered through the pages of her book until she found her page of notes. It felt absurd now, childish even.

“Look, child, maybe we did go off the rails but-! If something had happened, we would have been on top of everything. Of course, now we’re getting court marshalled to find hobbies but you know.” Jaida’s lips pulled into a smile and she laughed but no one really joined in.

“Guess we’re done then. No more of-“ Gigi gestures vaguely to the group. “-whatever this is. We can go back to our normal social circles now.” It was an odd realization, none of the girls had ever hung out with one another and yet they fell so quickly into a groove for the sake of a mystery. Now that the mystery was gone there was nothing to keep them together anymore. An awkwardness settled between them like the strangers they were until it was so heavy that they were repelled to their separate directions.

Crystal had remained quiet through out the dissolving of the group, even if they were wrong about Nicky and Jan, Widow still had something going on and Crystal was going to talk to her friend about it. As she took her leave, Crystal heard a hushed murmur and stopped, looking back over her shoulder at the other girls but they were already out of earshot with no one else in the hall.

[forever-rogue]

Flower Girl

A/N: Soo, this is a request from a while back, and I can’t remember who requested, but it’s (finally) here! I hope you all enjoy! Taglists are open! xx

Pairing: Brian May (can be read as Gwil!Bri) x Hard of Hearing Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: None; too much fluff (?)

MASTERLIST

Y/N smiled as she hummed quietly to herself, rearranging the flowers on the side of the small stall she had lovingly set up. Spring was in full bloom and so were all the beautiful flowers that the small shop had acquired. The rains had been good and plentiful and the plant life had flourished, making the small floral shop busier than ever. The smell of the soft blossoms made her feel warm and content.

She had tried to convince her boss for several years that she a street side stall would be a great idea and increase their business, taking advantage of the plentiful London foot traffic. Finally, she had given in and let Y/N take control of a small stand, and leaving her free to tend to business, she knew she could trust her. And Y/N had been right - people stopped by constantly and she could easily convince almost anyone to buy some of the beautiful blooms.

Y/N fluffed a small bouquet of her favorites, daises and tulips, when she left a gust of wind behind her, but didn’t have enough time to react before getting slammed into and almost stumbling to the ground. Luckily for her, before she could hit the harsh concrete and scrape up her knees and palms, a pair of strong arms gripped her waist, and prevented her fall. She was glad - the thin sundress she was wearing wouldn’t have prevented any harm. The whole thing surprised her so much. so she didn’t have time to register anything, but just started blankly at the man who had caught her, struggling to find words.

The man had a worried expression on his face, not quite sure if she was okay, but she could tell he was handsome - he had the sweetest smile, the softest eyes, and the curliest mop of hair she had ever seen. She blinked at him a few times, trying to gather her composure as he slowly let go of her waist, making sure she was steady.

“Are you alright? That could have been a bad fall,” he asked her. He hadn’t seen who it was that had run by her, stumbling into her without a care, and continuing on his way. He had thought about chasing the man down and yelling at him, but he remained back to make sure the pretty girl he had saved was okay. He was just glad he got to her in time, otherwise she could have been very hurt. She slowly nodded and gave him a small smile after a few moments, “I’m Brian. Brian May.”

“Y/N,” she responded slowly and quietly, hoping the blush creeping into her cheeks wasn’t too obvious to him. He was extremely handsome, and he was watching her very intently. She felt nervous under his watchful gaze, “Y/N L/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said as he offered her his large hand. She bit her lip and nodded in concurrence, taking his hand gently and shaking it, “do you work here?”

“Yes,” she answered, gesturing to all the beautiful flowers. Feeling bold, she grabbed a few daises and held them out to him. Making sure she was looking directly at him, she took her time to make sure her next words wouldn’t all come out in a jumbled mess, “these are my favourites and they’re for you. For your troubles. You came just in time.”

She could tell he was noticed that something was different about her, but he didn’t seem rude or annoyed. He tilted his head to the side slightly, taking the flowers greatly, “thank you, that’s really sweet of you. But trust me, it was no trouble at all.”

“It helped me out a lot, so thank you,” she kept her eyes trained on his lips, waiting to see if he was going to say anything else. He seemed suddenly shy, and she would be lying if she said it wasn’t a nice change. Most men were so cocky and over the top, but not him. He seemed genuinely kind, “it was nice to meet you, Brian. You’re my hero today.”

“Thank you, Y/N. Maybe I’ll see you around?” for a moment she wasn’t sure if he actually said anything out loud, his voice was so faint. If he hadn’t moved his lips, she was sure she wouldn’t have known what he was saying. He looked down, and started staring very intently at his feet.

“I hope so,” she gave him a beaming smile, before quickly turning to tend to the customers she saw looking at the flowers. She gave Brian a small wave goodbye before letting him leave. He lifted his hand as he returned the gesture, slowly making his way down the street. He clutched the flowers close to his chest - beautiful flowers from a beautiful girl.

“Oy, Bri, you’re only about half an hour late,” Roger scoffed as the tall, lanky guitarist finally walked into the studio, his cheeks flushed, and a tight grip still on the flowers. Freddie nudged John’s arm, as Brian set the flowers down, smiles playing on their faces. Something was up, that much was obvious. Roger seemed oblivious as ever, more annoyed by having to delay rehearsal for him, “thought we were gonna have to kick you out of the band. A guitarist is easy to replace.”

“Shut up, Rog. Don’t be such a wanker,” Brian rolled his eyes at the blonde drummer before flipping him the bird. He went to unpack his guitar, as Freddie walked over, crossing his arms over his chest as he grinned cheekily at his tall best friend. He didn’t say anything, but watched Brian’s every move like a hawk, waiting for him to spill the details, “can I help you, Fred? If you stare anymore I’ll be filled with holes like Swiss cheese.”

“What’s her name then?” Freddie asked and Brian almost stumbled forward, fumbling with his guitar from the surprise of his question. Trying to remain calm, he coughed and ignored the question as Freddie’s space changed into a knowing a smile, “come on, Bri. You can tell us, besides it’s not often a lady catches the eye of the handsome and intelligent Mr. Brian May. She must be quite something.”

“It’s nothing, I assure you,” he lied as, throwing the guitar strap over his shoulder, avoiding Freddie’s eyes so he couldn’t see how deep the blush in his cheeks had gotten. He was destined to be a lot of things, but a liar was not one of them. Besides that, Freddie could read him like a book.

“The flowers and your tomato red face would suggest otherwise,” Freddie teased him, nudging his side gently with his elbow.

“Fredddddd-”

“Bri! Who’re the flowers from?” Roger called over from where he had been chatting with John. John gave him a sorry little smile, and a shrug of his shoulder. Brian inwardly groaned knowing that he’d never get away with it now. Roger would never drop it until they all got the full story.

“You lads always make a big deal out of nothing,” Brian insisted but the others were relentless, “maybe I just saw some flowers and decided I wanted them?”

“What’s her name then?” Freddie chorused from next to Roger, a small smile playing on his otherwise innocent features.

“Really though-”

“What’s her name?” John finally chimed in and Brian gave him a look of betrayal. Usually he was calm and quiet, often siding with Brian in any argument that they got into. He knew it was bad if John was joining in the little Spanish Inquisition that was being imposed on him.

“Fine, but I hope you all know you’re the worst, and I equally hate each and every one of you right now,” he pinched the bridge of his nose with his long, slender fingers, “her name’s Y/N. She works at a little flower shop. Someone wasn’t paying attention and almost knocked her over. I caught her, and that’s it.”

“She must have been pretty taken with you too. You tall, graceful gazelle must have made quite an impression. I’m going to presume those are her favourites then,“ Freddie grinned at him, patting his shoulder gently, glancing at the flowers. Brian thought he might die of embarrassment. How did they know?, “do you plan on seeing this little flower girl again?”

“I don’t know, Fred. I just met her and spoke to her for a few minutes,” he sighed and scratched the back of his neck, “it’s not like it’s amounted to anything. She was nice though.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Bri. Flowers are pretty serious business,” Freddie nudged him gently, and Brian bit his lip in contemplation. Sure, their interaction was brief, but he couldn’t deny the immediate attraction he had felt to Y/N. Deep down he hoped she felt the same way too, “I’d wager that she probably feels the same way. I say you go for it!”

“Of course you do,” Brian said, but he was right. He was never going to get anymore with anyone if he wasn’t willing to take some chances. He was the one with the least dating success out of all of them, and he couldn’t deny that sometimes it would be nice to say he had a date, or someone to spend time with time besides his friends, “I-I don’t know. What if I make a fool out of myself?”

“You won’t,” the three of them chorused at their friend. Brian was a lot of things, but he certainly wasn’t a fool. They were all rooting for their best friend. Brian looked at his feet, a small on his face as he kicked at something nonexistent on the ground, feeling bashful.

“Fine,” he gave into them, “but on one condition.”

“Which would be?” Roger asked, a smug smile on his face, twirling a drumstick between his lithe fingers.

“You don’t get to butt in, spy, or interact with her until I say so,” he laid out his terms, and the three of them sighed. How were they supposed to have their fun if they had to stay away, “I don’t want her to be scared off before I even get to know her. And the three of you are quite a spectacle.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal Mr. May,” Freddie agreed extending his hand to him. Brian shook his hand, a satisfied grin on his face, “now you hysterical queens, let’s get on with this rehearsal. We’re already behind, and we must be perfection!”

Over the next several weeks Brian made it a point to try and get to see and speak to Y/N, but he never quite built up the nerve to actually speak to her. Every time he did, ready to approach her, his stomach would twist in a knot and he’d stop himself.

Instead, he often ended up on the opposite side of the street from the little floral shop she worked at, looking at her through the wide windows, or watching her interact with customers at the small outdoor stall.

Lucky for him there was a cafe across the street, and he used it to his advantage, quickly becoming a regular, spending long afternoons there. It had a perfect little outdoor seating area so he could easily watch Y/N. He’d often bring a book or journal with him - it gave him an easy excuse to linger for a little while. At one point he had stated jotting down random lyrics, figuring he could string them into a song at some point. That way he was killing two birds with one stone. The boys kept bugging him, pestering him for more details about his mystery girl, but he kept coming up empty handed. He’d work up the courage to actually talk to her at some point...or so he hoped.

Brian was so engrossed in his book, having actually decided to read for once instead of staring dreamily at Y/N. He looked up though, ready to be annoyed by a disturbance, when he heard someone clearing their throat next to him. He looked up, getting ready to tell the person off, but instead he thought his heart might stop when he realized it was Y/N. She was watching him curiously, a bemused smirk on her face, the dying light of the sun behind her and illuminated her so she resembled an angel.

“Y/N, oh hi there. I-I ugg..don’t expect to you see you again. What a strange coincidence...” he realized he was stammering, and quickly closed his book. He hoped the last remains of the light would make it hard for her to see the blush in his cheeks. Y/N gave him a knowing smile as she helped herself to the chair opposite him.

“You remembered my name. Well, it’s nice to see you again, Brian,” she said, giving him a small as she reached for the book he had been reading. She ran her fingers over the cover and smiled to herself when she saw that it was about astronomy. She looked back up at him, “I was wondering if you were ever going to come and talk to me or just keep staring at me. You could have just come over, you know.”

“What do you mean? I wasn’t...I didn’t. That would be a bit creepy, no?” he could barely get out the lie. He had been caught red handed. He knew that she could easily could see right through him, “I just like studying at this cafe. It’s a great spot...and a bit of fresh air is nice.”

“What’s it called then?”

“Hmm?”

“This cafe,” she repeated, enjoying watching him squirm under his gaze, “what is it called?”

“Umm,” he said, desperately raking his brain for the name. Why hadn’t he bothered to learn the name? He had been there often enough in the last couple of weeks to know. He was basically a regular at this point. He closed his eyes and decided to just give in, letting out a low sigh, “I...don’t know. You caught me red handed!”

“I’d seen you enough lately. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. Besides, it’s pretty easy to see someone blatantly staring at you through the large windows,” she giggled at him. She saw the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, and reached out to gently touch his hand, “a few people even asking me about why my boyfriend was just watching instead of coming over. Might want to try a more subtle approach next time. Besides, I’m deaf not blind, Brian.”

“OH...oh,” was all he got out in response as she started to giggle at him. His cheeks turned a darker shade of red at his embarrassment, but the smile never left her face. She wasn’t offended, she knew people were bound to be curious, even if it wasn’t obvious at first that something was different about her, “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t know.”

“Don’t be sorry. Besides, I’m sure you must have noticed that something was different about me,” she tightened her grip on his hand. One thing she didn’t like was when people decided they wanted to be sorry for her. She didn’t want people’s pity, she just wanted to be treated like everyone else, “please, there’s no reason to pity me, I’m doing just fine aren’t I? Judging by your reaction, I’m guessing it would have taken you a while to figure it out. I’m just like everyone else.”

“I, ugh, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not, I didn’t..,oh my stars,” everything was coming out all jumbled and he realized he wasn’t making any sense. Y/N just watched him, as he covered his face with hands. He wished he could just melt into seat and disappear, “you must think I’m a complete fool. I swear I’m usually a little more...not like this.”

“On the contrary,” she reassured him, and he finally gave in and let out a sigh of relief quietly. At least she didn’t hate him completely, “I think you’re very sweet, Brian. But next time, you don’t just need to stare from a distance. Come and talk to me, as you can see, it’s not exactly the busiest place in the world. I’d very much enjoy your company.”

“You mean you’re not totally weirded out by me? The creepy man watching you from across the street?” he asked her, as he gnawed on his lip, and she threw her head back with laughter. He was so daft - she was clearly into him, something that would be obvious to anyone else but Brian. Sometimes people wondered how he had so much intelligence stored in that mind, but so little common sense.

“Good lord, Brian, I’m not. I’m starting to wonder if you’re blind though,” she smiled at him, letting her gaze linger on his. He had beautiful, kind eyes, once she could get used to looking at, “do you need me to be obvious? Put in plain and simple terms?”

“Please?” he asked nervously. He felt like a confused child as he looked desperately at her.

“I’d like to see you again, Brian,” she said clearly, and he just nodded in response, unsure of what he did right to get someone as lovely as her to be interested in him, “and I don’t mean you just staring at me while I’m working. I mean I’d actually like to spend time with you.”

“Oh,” he said quietly as he tried to process what she had just said. For how smart and analytical he was sometimes, he often missed the obvious things that were right in front of him. A smile started spreading on his face as he realized what she had said, “oh!”

“What are you doing tomorrow evening?” she asked him and his eyes grew wide. He was used to having to be the one who asked someone out, and this was a welcome change, especially from someone that had captivated him as much as she had. She didn’t even have to do much, but he was already so intrigued. Y/N reached over and gently tapped the side of his curly head, “Brian? Earth to Brian?”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, “yes, I’m free tomorrow. Can I take you to dinner? There’s a really nice restaurant not too far from here that I really like. I think you’d like it too.”

“I work until five tomorrow,” she said and glanced in the direction of the small shop, “but after that should work. Do you want to meet me here and we can go?”

“I’d really like that,” he agreed. He glanced down at his watch and saw it was getting on in the afternoon. He had rehearsal to be at in a few times. The boys would never let him live it down if he was late again, “I’m so sorry, but I’ve got to go. It’s not you, I swear. But my friends will kill me if I’m late to rehearsal again. I might have been late a few times due to some...distractions lately. They’ll never shut up about it if I’m late again!”

“Sounds like an important rehearsal?” she asked, cocking her head to the side, watching him curiously. She was sure he was thinking at being late because of her - it flattered her. He really was an enigma of a man - reading books on astronomy and he had some sort of rehearsal?

“I’m in a band called Queen,” he explained as he stood up, and grabbed his sweater, “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, promise.”

“Okay, Brian,” she gave him a smile as he leaned down and kissed her cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow then. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Goodbye for now, Y/N,” he beamed at her as his long legs quickly carried him away. She sighed contently as she watched him disappear down the street, his curly head bobbing the whole way.

She realized he had forgotten his book, and decided that she would give it back to him tomorrow. She opened it, flipping through the pages and saw that he had scrawled all sorts of notes in the margins. She determined that she’d give it back to him tomorrow, and she might even read a few pages tonight.

Y/N kept nervously glancing at the watch on her wrist, waiting for it to finally be five. She felt like she had been walking on air all day, dancing her way around the shop, humming softly to herself and all the flowers she adored.

Making sure all the flowers were properly put away, and ready for tomorrow, she counted down the minutes until it was time for Brian to arrive. Although she had been the one to actually propose going on a date, she still felt a wave of nerves hit her. What if he found her terribly drool? Or he decided he didn’t want to be around someone with a disability? Or decided his life was too exciting for someone like her? But he didn’t strike her as the type - he exuded an aura of kind and calm energy.

Feeling the door open as a gust of air rushed in, she turned around and saw Brian’s tall, willowy figure come in, a big grin on his face. Any hesitation she had felt suddenly melted away, as he came up to her and pulled out his arm from behind his back, offering her a small bouquet of flowers - roses, all red and long stemmed. She looked between him and the flowers, as her heart felt like it was about to burst with excitement.

“I know it seems a little silly to bring flowers to someone who works with flowers, but I couldn’t resist. I saw them and I thought of you. I hope you like them,” he seemed almost nervous as she eagerly took them from him, breathing in their  fresh, sweet scent. He smiled at the sight, as she quickly grabbed a vase, making quick work of filing it up and arranging the roses.

“They’re absolutely lovely, Brian. Thank you so much,” she strode over to him and leaned up to press a light kiss on his cheek. He blushed wildly, not expecting the gesture, but she paid him no mind. Going over to the counter and reaching into the drawer, she pulled out his abandoned book from yesterday, “here, this is yours. You left it at the cafe yesterday.”

“Oh, thank goodness. I’d totally forgotten about it,” he gratefully took the  small book and placed it in his jacket pocket, “it would have been a great tragedy if I’d lost it. All my notes are in there.”

“I noticed,” she smiled at him, “I started reading it, but it all seemed to go over my head. I don’t know how you. or anyone else for that matter, understand all that. Is that what you studied at uni?”

“For a while,” he admitted, “I had plans of going for a PhD, but ended up having to drop out...the band’s getting pretty big and I didn’t have time for both. But I want to go back one day.”

“Ahh yes, this mysterious band, Queen, you mentioned. I do expect to hear all about it,” she insisted and he gave her a small nod, getting shy all of a sudden. He was never to brag about his accomplishments, and this was no different.

“Don’t worry, we can talk about all that jazz, but you’re going to have to tell me about you too. That’s my one condition,” he insisted and she rolled her eyes dramatically at him, but she gave him a smile nonetheless. He offered her his arm and she linked her arm his as he lead the way, “I promise you won’t regret agreeing to go out with me.”

“You know it sounds to me like you guys are going to be huge. You all sound amazing. I’m curious about this Roger though. He sounds a little odd,” Y/N smiled at Brian, taking a sip of her wine. Brian laughed as he took a drink from his glass with a fervent nod.  It was obvious how passionate he was about his music, his eyes lit up and the smile never felt his face. She loved when people talked about things they loved - they got so passionate, “I’d love to hear you guys play sometime.”

Brian paused, his fork halfway through to his mouth as he realized what she had said. She noticed his hesitation, and laughed, trying to keep the mood light. She didn’t want him or anyone else to feel nervous around her and worry about offending her. She knew it was something to get used to for most people, but she never wanted anyone to feel uncomfortable around her.

“It’s okay, Bri,” she nudged his foot ever so lightly with her own, bringing his attention back to her, “you can ask me anything about...you know, the elephant in the room. The fact that I’m almost completely deaf. Just so you know, I can appreciate music, and lovely musicians behind it. If you can’t hear the music, you can feel. All the vibrations and the movement. I know it doesn’t stack up to the real thing, but it’s still beautiful in its own way.”

“I’m sorry, I just...I haven’t met someone like you before. I mean, Mary, Freddie’s girlfriend, her father is deaf, but I haven’t been around him much,” he admitted as he played with a piece of food on his plate. She almost laughed at him, as he tried to avoid saying the word. He felt like he was just digging his own grave the more he kept talking.

“It’s not like it’s a weird disease, Bri, it’s okay. Trust me, you’ll find it’s very hard to offend me,” she explained and he let out a long breath, seeming comforted by her words, “I haven’t always been deaf, you know. Only for about the last ten years. I was very sick with meningitis and it cost me almost all of my hearing by the time they figured out what it was. But that’s why, or the most part, I still sound fairly normal. I always had hearing and knew how form sounds and words, so I never lost that ability. That’s why some people that have never had hearing sound different. And of course, everyone is different. But, as these things often go, I learned adapt fairly quickly. Once one sense goes, the others pick up pretty quickly. It seems made up, but it’s true.”

“Do you...read lips then? Or do you prefer sign language?” he asked, making sure he was making eye contact with her. He hadn’t thought about it before, hopefully he was making things as easily as possible for her to understand him.

“I’ve been never been great with sign language, but I can muster my way around it,” she confessed, thinking back to all those lessons she had to try and learn. She got the basics, but for some reason, she could never master it no matter how hard she tried. Luckily though, reading lips, combined with the low level of sound she could hear made it an easy transition to her new existence, “I mostly read lips. It helps when the person I’m talking to doesn’t talk too fast, and makes eye contact too. So that means you’ll have to actually be looking at me, unfortunately for you.”

“I don’t think that’s unfortunate at all. There’s plenty of worse things to do than getting to look at a pretty girl,” he teased her and she just stuck out her tongue at him, “whatever makes it easier for you, just let me know and I will do it.”

“Well, you can just promise me one thing,” she asked and he raised his eyebrows at her, “don’t treat me all weird and different. I’m normal, just like everyone else. I don’t let this hold me back, and don’t need any special care, okay? But if for some reason you say something, and I don’t respond, just make sure I actually heard you. I can’t tell you the number of people that have just thought I was ignoring and then got mad!”

“Okay,” he promised as he stuck his hand out to her, making a fist and extending his pinky. She let out a sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh as she entwined her pinky with his, “it’s now a promise that can never be broken.”

“You’re such a silly man, Brian May,” she insisted, but she was being to like this silly man. She hoped, deep down in her heart of hearts, that this silly man would be around for a lot longer, “but pinky promises are forever.”

Y/N sighed contently to herself as she stretched her arms, the pale glow of the moonlight filtering in through the gap in the curtains. She felt so warm and content, she wished she never had to leave the bed ever again. Brian took advantage of the moment and kissed her cheek, pulling her closer to his long body.

“Bri,” she giggled at him, maneuvering her body, which was becoming a chore as she neared the end of her pregnancy and seemed to be all belly, turning so she was looking up at him. She reached up and played with a lock of his curly hair, “you’re such a sneaky cheat. No more kisses for you.”

“Ahh, well, pretty sure I’m allowed to kiss my wife whenever I feel like it. And you know that you like my kisses,” he countered as he looked at her, a smile on his features. He gently put his hand on her belly as she blew a raspberry at him, a smile on her face, “I wonder what she’s going to look like. I hope like you.”

“You’re so sure it’s going to be a girl?” she asked, putting her hand on his. The baby had been moving around like crazy throughout the day, and she was glad that she or he had finally decided to calm down, so she could get some rest, “what is it’s a boy?”

“Then I hope he gets your good looks anyway. The sweetest smile, the prettiest eyes, and most enchanting laugh,” he said as she rested her head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, “but I know it’s a girl.”

“I hope whether it’s a boy or girl they get your beautiful hair,” she said softly, pressing a kiss to the exposed park of his chest, “all your talents, and your intelligence, and your kindness. You’re going to be an amazing daddy, Bri.”

“You’re going to be an amazing mumma,” he said, stoking her cheek gently. He knew it was the arrival of their first child was still a few months away, but he was beyond excited to start the next charter of their lives, “I just know it. Are you nervous about it?”

“Not anymore,” she admitted, playing with his hand and entwining her fingers with his long ones, staring deep into his eyes in the little bit of light that entered the room, “I was at first, but you’ve made me feel so much better about everything. I know that we can go this together, and it’ll be hard but worth it. I’m so excited to meet our little bean.”

“Me too,” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, “it’ll all be soon.”

“And to think, we wouldn’t even be here if you hadn’t saved them from falling two years ago,” she smiled fondly at the memory of their first encounter. It was wild to think she felt just as smitten by him now as she had all that time ago, “you’re my hero, Brian May, then and now.”

“And you’re my favorite flower girl,” he kissed the top of her head, as he spied the vase of red roses sitting on their dresser. He made sure she always had a fresh bouquet of them, ever since their first date when he had brought her some, “then and now. I love you, my darling.”

“I love you too, Bri,” she closed her eyes and tried to drift off, but the baby started moving around again, kicking against her bladder. She sighed, thinking she would get a reprieve, but the baby had other ideas. Brian felt the light flutters from his where he had his hand resting, “this bean has been out of control today. Will you sing to the baby? It loves when you do that.”

Brian kissed her gently before starting to sing quietly, stroking her belly. After a few minutes, the kicking slowly ceased and Y/N felt her own eyelids getting heavy. His voice was barely audible to hear, but she enjoyed the effect of his soothing voice. Brian turned his attention to her, murmuring that it was okay to for to rest too. She nodded and murmured something he didn’t quite catch before she slowly fell asleep. He soon followed suit, drifting off to the sound of her light snores, one arm still around her and the other resting on her belly.

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[laurasinele]

Red, silver, blue (a Fictober Stucky 3k crackfic)

Prompt 2: “Just follow me, I know the area”

Fanfic from: the MCU

Tags: Stucky, Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes friendship, Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes, friends to lovers, love confessions, Tony Stark is a pain in the neck, background Tony/Pepper

Warnings: swear words, mentions of sex shops and sex toys, mentions of BDSM, mentions of murder (but it’s actually a very lighthearted story)

Ao3

“No. Absolutely not. Don’t you think that’s a bit too much?”

Buck was listening too, and he was doubled down with silent laughter, hand covering his face and shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

“Honestly, I don’t see where the problem is, cap. I’m just asking you to grab a present for my fiancée…”

Steve interrupted him, stammering with embarrassment and annoyance.

“A very specific kind of present, Tony! I really don’t think Miss Potts is going to be happy knowing that it was me and Bucky who picked up her lingerie!”

“I never said you should take Barnes. And I did say specifically erotic lingerie. Barnes, are you listening?”

“Right here, Stark”, managed to wheeze Bucky. Steve rolled his eyes.

“Just, feel free to not go shopping lingerie for my girlfriend with Rogers. That’d be weird”. While Bucky laughed, Steve tried to complain again, but Tony spoke over him. “Okay, it’s settled then. Take your time, no need to be back in a hurry, take care, have fun, don’t let the bed bugs bite, and all that jazz”, and he cut communication. 

Bucky was delighted. Acclimatation to this new world and new life had been hard, and he did not have fun really often, so Steve’s indignant face right now was a real treat. Having Steve around made things way easier. He never stopped wondering how would have it been for Steve, with nobody from his time aside from an elderly Peggy Carter.

This intel mission they had just finished in Amsterdam had allowed them to have some time together and apart from “the kids”, as they jokingly referred to the rest of the team. Tony’s suggestion to take some time off there seemed pretty appealing to Bucky, regardless of any potentially embarrassing trip to the Red Light District’s sex shops. Which took him back to Steve’s expression, between flustered and upset. 

“Okay, buddy, listen…”

“Don’t”, said Steve.

“What? You don’t know what I was going to say”, complained Bucky.

“Something along ‘it’s not a big deal, think of it as a mission’?”

Bucky smiled widely. Steve did know him well.

“Okay then, now seriously. Stark is obviously messing with you. The feisty, tiny Steve I knew,  would probably hit him back twice as hard, so why wouldn’t big, buff Steve do the same?”

Steve looked at him with a furrowed brow. He then looked away and then down at his hands fiddling with his baseball cap. He looked up at Bucky, rising an eyebrow and said:

“Buff?”

Bucky smiled, slapped lightly his shoulder and let his mechanical hand rest there to stir Steve into movement. “I am updating my vocabulary, Captain. Now let’s find something scandalous enough to make Stark blush”.

“I can’t even imagine what that would be”, sighed Steve, reverting to his embarrassed state as they neared the entrance of the Red Light District.

“Oh, you just follow me, pal”, said Bucky with a wink. “I know the area”.

If Steve had been updating his vocabulary as enthusiastically as Bucky, he’d say he was “tripping major balls”. Instead, he settled for a much more boring “shocked”. Bucky walked around pointing landmarks and possible destinations as if he had been visiting these streets weekly for the past decade. He even knew what to call most of the items the “erotic boutiques” offered. When they entered a store dedicated to BDSM products and Bucky started to explain how to use what Steve was sure he’d seen in a documentary about the Spanish Inquisition, he thought he’d had enough.

“Buck, stop. I don’t really want to know. I don’t even know if I want to ask how on earth did you learn all this”.

“Well. While I was the Winter Soldier some of my targets, most of them actually, had a very specific taste. Not that I’m proud of it, but I happened to match that taste and it was a very effective way to approach them. And discreet”, he explained in a whisper.

Steve stared at him, battling with astonishment, grief, anger and, for some reason, a teeny tiny bit of arousal he tried really hard to ignore. In the end he declared: “Enough. I’ve had enough”, and headed to the exit. Bucky followed him and caught him in the street.

“Hey!”, he called. Steve turned around to face him reluctantly, one hand resting on his hip, the other scratching his brow, eyes pointedly avoiding his childhood friend. “Hey, buddy. What’s wrong?”

Steve opened widely his eyes and rose his palms facing the sky, instantly becoming de embodiment of the sound “duh”. He shook himself, exuding incredulity and after a few tries he managed to say: “I don’t know, Buck. It always grinds my gears when I think about your life this past few decades. And now I find out they made you… that you had to put yourself in intimate situations? And it’s not as if I’m comfortable talking about sex, either, okey? Some of you forget that I’m just a 90 year-old virgin!”

Steve had risen his voice unwillingly and many heads turned in the crowd, most of them sporting a condescendent smile. He tried to make himself small bending his head down and burrowing his hands in his pockets. Bucky got closer to him and set his hands on Steve’s shoulders before trying to make eye contact. 

“I am sorry, Steve. I really am. I am trying to get over it, to make it sound like war tales that happened to someone else. You know I’m not proud of what I did. I hate it, actually. But as memories from then and before come back, I’m just glad it happened because otherwise I’d died or I’d lived only to lose you to a freezing ocean. We’ve both gone through serious bullshit. But we met at the end of the line. I’d never change that”. He squeezed Steve’s shoulders and Steve finally looked up, his eyes meeting Bucky’s and his hands resting on his best friend waist. 

“Ah… I’m sorry too. For snapping like that. It’s not your fault that I got freezed nor that I got the serum”.

“It’s not your fault either that I fell off that train and that nasty little Frankenstein experimented with me”.

“It kind of is…” “It isn’t”, said Bucky, sliding his hands up Steve’s nape reassuringly. “Look at me. You saved me more times than you know. And, again, if hadn’t fallen, we wouldn’t be here”.

Steve remained silent, looking at James Buchanan Barnes, his childhood friend. Sergeant of the US Army. The infamous Winter Soldier. Bucky. He threw himself into a tight embrace with him, letting sink the idea that they were there, at that time and place, together, still young. Able to start again at any given time. 

Bucky returned the hug gladly, and broke it gently after a while. “Let’s go back to the apartment, yeah? Let’s have a quiet night in and try again tomorrow with Stark’s stupid errand”.

Steve nodded and led the way, unable to erase a peaceful, content smile from his face. 

--

Bucky exited the bathroom after his shower, with a towel wrapped around his waist and another one over his head. He was going to his bedroom but he stopped on his tracks at the sight of Steve sitting on the couch nursing a beer and staring broodingly at some point between the living room carpet and the assassination of Franz Ferdinand in 1914.

“Hey. Alright?”, he said as he approached him, removing the towel from his head and wondering what might have gotten Steve so preoccupied after their pleasant way back to this place.

“Uh, yeah. Everything’s fine. You done with the shower? I think I’ll take one too”.

“Cut the crap, Captain. I’ve known you forever. What’s going on?”

They were standing face to face. Bucky was looking at Steve sternly, holding each end of the towel thrown around his neck. Steve must have been wishing to become his pre-serum self, avoiding Bucky’s gaze and biting into his bottom lip. Bucky caught himself just about to rise his hand and free Steve’s lip with a stroke of his thumb. He wondered if this kind of impulse was there before the war, before the serum, or something else had put it there. 

“It’s stupid, really. Nothing to do with war, or saving the world or anything”.

Bucky was both relieved and confused. He relaxed his stance and nodded. “Okay, well. What is it then?”

Steve sighed, closed his eyes and threw back his head in defeat. 

“Ah, really, it’s nothing. I just… I was thinking, okay? How I’m this world-known hero for everyone, and how I’ve got so much more in common with the old veterans than my own team. I’m grateful for you, for having someone from before. But even before… Ah, shit, I don’t even know what’s up with me”. 

“It’s okay, Steve. I’m listening”.

Steve paused for a moment and locked eyes with him. Bucky felt an indescribable weight on his chest and wondered what was he afraid of, if he ever had been afraid of Steve Rogers, or Captain America, before. Steve lowered his eyes to the scars on Bucky’s torso before talking again, and he traced them tentatively, lost in his own head.

“I used to look up at you. I always thought I didn’t need you, that I could stand my own. I never called you and you were always there, through school, through hardship, through my mum’s death… I really wanted to enroll for myself and for my country, for the innocent people dying in Europe. But most of all I was scared that you wouldn’t come back and I needed to be there to make sure you were okay”. Steve breathed a laugh and kept tracing Bucky’s scars up to his arm. Bucky didn’t know where was this heading, but he told himself he was staring at Steve’s lips just so he wouldn’t miss a word. Steve resumed his speech:

“The thing is, I always thought you’d be around. I took you for granted, but I also felt I was responsible of you. Any fight with your parents, you’d tell me. Any dream or fear. Any girl you liked. More than the fear and the rage about what they did to you, what shakes me everytime is that I wasn’t there or that you can’t tell me half of it because you don’t remember. There’s a part of your life, of you, that I missed, and every time it hits me, I lose my grip of things”. Steve let his fingers slide down Bucky’s metal arm and there was a silence after that, heavy as a blanket and just as warm. When Bucky managed to untangle the knot in his throat, he said:

“Doesn’t sound stupid to me”.

Steve scoffed and covered his face with both hands. He rubbed his eyes and put his hands in the pockets of his jeans, smiling widely but obviously embarrassed.

“No, it probably doesn’t. What is stupid, though is… Ah, I can’t, nevermind”.

Bucky was amused, now, and he totally needed to know. He grabbed Steve’s shoulder when he motioned to turn his back to him. 

“Hey, no, no, no, no. Don’t leave this way, I could use some of your good old stupidity”.

“Ah, okay, fine. Don’t laugh”.

“I promise nothing”.

“Okay, you little shit. Ah… It’s about… Jesus, help me. Okay. Here I go. You now how everything in this century is just all about sex? And I’m trying to get used to it but it still flusters me. I thought that I wasn’t the last prude of America anymore because I’d found you but then you go and tell me you where some sort of kinky sex assistant or whatever and I’m… Upset. There. I said it, okay? I’m upset that you had a sex life which is something very mature and clever to say. What are you laughing at?”

“Your face. And the way you’re telling it. ‘Kinky sex assistant’? I swear to God, Stevie…”

Steve pushed Bucky playfully, and he tried to stop laughing, very unsuccessfully. When he finally calmed down they had sit back on the couch, since Bucky could hardly hold himself standing. Steve looked at him, still a bit embarrassed but with eyes aglow with laughter.

“Thanks for not laughing. You are a good friend”, he said as he patted Bucky’s knee.

“Oh, oh poor Steve. I’m sorry, I really am. But listen, pal. There’s something you need to know”. Steve lifted an inquisitive eyebrow and Bucky was caught in another fit of laughter. “Listen. Listen, I never said I did anything with my targets. The kinky sex, as you put it, was an excuse. I’m a 90 year-old virgin too. Only I’m a little bit more educated than you”.

Steve made the most confused face and tried to talk several times, only to stammer and shut up, crestfallen, which sent Bucky cackling. When he finally gathered himself he asked:

“But how? I’m not saying you had to do it with the people you were set off to kill but… I mean, I was frozen for 70 years, what’s your excuse?”

Bucky got slowly off the laughter before answering. He looked at Steve’s genuine curious look and he wondered if he really didn’t know. Immediately, he wondered for how long since leaving HYDRA had he known. He stared into Steve's eyes for a while, pondering his options and their outcomes. He finally decided for ambiguity. 

“There wasn’t anybody I wanted to do it with in this time”.

A look of sadness overcame Steve, who delicately held and squeezed Bucky’s flesh hand.

“I’m sorry I brought it up”.

“I’m not”.

“Did I know her?”.

Bucky thought “Fuck it” and talked before he could think it twice.

“Him. Yeah, you did. Not as well as you knew me, though”.

Steve’s eyes were wide open, but Bucky couldn’t tell with which emotion. At least, he thought, he hadn’t let go of his hand. Bucky held on tighter and made a point not to look away from Steve’s gaze. 

“Steve, one of the best things of coming back to my senses was realising that I could say out loud how much I liked a man as well as a woman. Back then there wasn’t much of space to talk about it. I didn’t even knew liking both was possible. I knew I liked most of the girls I dated. But when things got serious I just… I could only think that I needed to get back home and check on you. See if you had eaten, if you hadn’t got into any fight, get you into bed and kiss you good night. Sometimes I even allowed myself to imagine me staying with you for the night. Just holding you, keeping you warm. I’d get us money and food, you’d stay at home because you were always sick. I’d take care of you. I just needed you to be happy in return. And when I thought those things I couldn’t care less about any girl, anyone really, that my cousins wanted to introduce me to”.

A single tear was gliding down Steve’s face. He let go off Bucky’s hand to wash it away, took a deep breath and stood up, looking antsy. 

“Steve…”

“Fuck you, James Buchanan Barnes!”

“Steve, I’m sor‒”

“Shut up!”, shouted Steve while turning to face Bucky. Tears were streaming now down his face and he covered his mouth as if willing the shout to come back in. “You don’t get to say you’re sorry just like that. You don’t get to put me through all your girlfriends and their girlfriends, you don’t tell me you’re enlisting yourself and leaving my sorry ass in Brooklyn, to come back 70 years later and tell me you wanted a married life with me. Now. Now that I’m tall and strong and healthy and… buff. For love’s sake, Bucky, I fucking hate you!”

Steve turned his back to Bucky and started crying for good now. Bucky’s heart was beating like a steam roller as he stood up, wrapped his arms around Steve's chest, laid his head on his shoulder and breathed out shakily, afraid that Steve would snap at him. 

“If I had found you, short, scrawny, asthmatic, in this time, I would have never hesitated. I would had never asked myself what was that feeling”. Steve took in a deep breath and covered Bucky’s hands with his. Bucky hold onto him tighter. “It is nice that you are tall and strong, and specially it is so very relieving to know you are healthy. But I fell in love with you back then. I just didn’t know better to give in to it”.

Steve turned around in Bucky’s arms and let Bucky softly kiss his eyelids, his cheeks and his lips. It was a feather touch after which Bucky took Steve’s face between his hands, searching for any sign of his best friend thoughts. Steve mimicked him, tacking his face between his hands, and kissed him passionately, pushing them towards the couch. As he did, Bucky’s towel fell from his waist.

“Hey, hey, hey! You said you were prude?”, joked Bucky between kisses.

“Shush, got decades to compensate for”.

--

Bucky was reading the paper near the window at their kitchenette in the Avenger’s facilities. Steve was stirring his coffee and shamelessly checking him out. They’d come here straight from the hangar, and they were waiting for Stark to show up anytime soon, Steve strategically placed to be at his back when he entered the room. 

“Ah, Terminator, back from Amsterdam I see?”. Bucky merely acknowledged him, nodding and biting off a smile. 

“We’ve got something for you”, said Steve, causing Tony to dramatically turn around from the open fridge. Steve held up a small, luxurious-looking black shopping bag with red tissue paper peeking out of it.

“Excellent! What is it?”, asked Tony, taking it. His face immediately fell when he saw the bag content. Bucky took it as his cue to stand up and hold de door open for him and Steve to leave. “But this is… mangerie?”, asked Tony, perplexed, examining an heterodoxical piece of clothing with more lace than seemed possible to keep in its scarce surface. 

“Yup. You wanted a present for her. I bet she will enjoy much more to see you wearing it than wearing something to please you”.

“But wait, guys! This has no tag!”. Steve bit his bottom lip and looked at Bucky. Bucky smirked and they both left with Tony’s exclamations at their wake. “Come on, did you use it? Be straight to me! Or, well, don’t. No judging, love is love. Hm. It smells clean at least”.

[noonmutter]

*Grinch grin* Make me admit something... DO THEM ALL.

Pff like I haven’t had to do this rodeo before come at me scrub

1. Would you have sex with the last person you text messaged?

That’s either my realtor or my mom, so no.

2. You talked to an ex today, correct?

No? Why on earth would I?

3. Have you taken someones virginity?

Not to my knowledge.

4. Is trust a big issue for you?

Absolutely. Trust is the core of a relationship, without it you’re just acquaintances who maybe make eye contact sometimes.

5. Did you hang out with the person you like recently?

From the phrasing I assume this means “like-like” and since I live with my fiance, yes.

( I really did answer all of them at once but I’m not enough of a turd to fill everybody’s dashboard so the rest are behind the cut! )

6. What are you excited for?

Boring work stuff that makes little sense to anybody who doesn’t work with me but is going to be just as jazzed about it as I am because they’re FINALLY FIXING SOMETHING I SAID WAS A PROBLEM A YEAR AGO–AGAIN

7. What happened tonight?

Um… it’s four in the afternoon here.

8. Do you think it’s disgusting when girls get really wasted?

I think it’s disgusting when anybody gets wasted. You aren’t even conscious of whatever fun you might be having and you sure as shit aren’t tasting whatever you’re drinking anymore. Quit that.

9. Is confidence cute?

Only in the context of someone who’s about to get the living shit beaten/embarrassed out of them for being confident against all advice to the contrary (”He’s gonna go punch a tarrasque in the nads! How cute!”). Otherwise confidence is just a good thing and generally rad.

10. What is the last beverage you had?

I just finished my second coke of the day about ten seconds ago and am debating a third.

11. How many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust?

“Fully” is the operative word and that number is zero of any sex.

12. Do you own a pair of skinny jeans?

Probably. It’s hard not to get them when you’re at a certain size.

13. What are you gonna do Saturday night?

Work, go home, either raid or RP, and sleep. I do that basically every Saturday night.

14. What are you going to spend money on next?

Ideally a house that isn’t being sold by an idiot, but probably something less interesting like Starbucks.

15. Are you going out with the last person you kissed?

Hey @dwyndel would you consider what we’re doing “going out”?

16. Do you think you’ll change in the next 3 months?

I mean, I hope so? Growth is important.

17. Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything?

My fiance and my mom.

18. The last time you felt broken?

hahaha “last time”

19. Have you had sex today?

hahaha “today” I haven’t gotten laid in years. plural.

20. Are you starting to realize anything?

what the hell kinda question is this that’s not something you admit to, that’s a question that answers itself and the answer is either “no” because you aren’t or “yes” because the question made you realize it

21. Are you in a good mood?

Pretty good, yeah

22. Would you ever want to swim with sharks?

Yes but I’ll be peeing literally the entire time

23. Are your eyes the same color as your dad’s?

Probably. I got a lot of my looks from him, which aggravates the shit out of me since he’s a terrible person

24. What do you want right this second?

A nap

25. What would you say if the person you love/like kissed another girl/boy?

‘Can I watch’‘Were they hot’‘Do they like sharing’‘Your breath smells like infidelity’

26. Is your current hair color your natural hair color?

Yep, white streak included

27. Would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh?

Probably not, but there’s a huuuuuuge difference between “doesn’t make me laugh” and “does not have a compatible sense of humor with mine.” Some people just aren’t funny. Like me. I’m not funny at all. Jesus am I ever not funny. Wow.

28. What was the last thing that made you laugh?

A fucking Spanish Inquisition reference from Dan Avidan in Game Grumps that I’m still mad at myself for laughing at

29. Do you really, truly miss someone right now?

Eh, not really. I don’t have homesickness pangs or people-aren’t-here pangs unless I know I can’t get to them because they’re not in a place where I can go. Otherwise I’d be a sad puppy every time I went to work

30. Does everyone deserve a second chance?

No. Some people are not worth anyone’s time or effort and often they know it and abuse people’s willingness to forgive or try.

31. Honestly, do you hate the last boy you were talking to?

Hatred is hard to pull out of me unless you personally did something really offensive and permanent to me. I get tired of people but I very rarely hate them. The last “boy” (he is very much an adult, calling him “boy” is fuckin’ wierd) I talked to was my supervisor and I rather like Phill

32. Does the person you have feelings for right now, know you do?

I am engaged. You tell me.

33. Are you one of those people who never drinks soda?

Not only did I just say I’m contemplating a third Coke at 4 in the afternoon, I have a bucket to collect pull tabs in for the fiance to make chainmail out of

34. Listening to?

My coworkers chattering in the office around me. I could listen to music if I wanted, but the office headsets suck ass and can’t handle bass of any kind

35. Do you ever write in pencil anymore?

Not often. My handwriting is awful and I try not to write by hand at all, but if I do, it’ll probably be in pen

36. Do you know where the last person you kissed is?

Either at home or running errands

37. Do you believe in love at first sight?

Shit no

38. Who did you last call?

Not counting work calls, I try not to call people if I can possibly avoid it. Uhhhhhhh…probably my mom.

39. Who was the last person you danced with?

hahaha “dance”

40. Why did you kiss the last person you kissed?

Because she was there and smoochable

41. When was the last time you ate a cupcake?

Haven’t had cupcakes in a VERY long time, have had very good muffins from Costco this week though

42. Did you hug/kiss one of your parents today?

Nope, they live in Virginia and I don’t

43. Ever embarrass yourself in front of a crush?

Am I misunderstanding what you do to attract a mate?

44. Do you tan in the nude?

I don’t tan.

45. If you could, would you take back your last kiss?

Nope, that’s my smooch and I’m keeping it

46. Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night?

Sorta. RP is kinda like talking, right?

47. Who was the last person to call you?

Realtor.

48. Do you sing in the shower?

Not really. If anything I hum; being able to hear myself too well makes me get quieter

49. Do you dance in the car?

Drum stuff out, finger-piano on the steering wheel, occasionally headbang.

50. Ever used a bow and arrow?

Once, and I’d love to again. The first/last time I fired a bow I took ten shots and bullseyed six.

51. Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer?

College. Never doing that shit again.

52. Do you think musicals are cheesy?

That’s sort of the point of them. The question isn’t are they cheesy, it’s are they good.

53. Is Christmas stressful?

Of course it is. The only time it’s not is when you’re too young/old to have conscious thoughts, because even young children worry endlessly over what they’re getting or if they’re getting anything or what if santa thinks they were bad

54. Ever eat a pierogi?

I fucking love pierogi but I’ve only ever had the frozen ones from Mrs. T’s, Dwyn and I keep saying we should find time to make some and see how much better it is

55. Favorite type of fruit pie?

Don’t really do pies of any kind except for French Silk. Fruit pie filling is a wierd texture I don’t really enjoy

56. Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?

Architect and animator

57. Do you believe in ghosts?

Enough to be unsettled late at night by noises I can’t identify, not enough to be unwilling to sleep in an allegedly haunted house

58. Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?

All day every day. No joke somedays I wonder if people who think they have psychic powers are just people with really persistent deja vu, it feels like magic

59. Take a vitamin daily?

vitamin coke or vitamin coffee

60. Wear slippers?

Technically the shoes I wore to work today could count as slippers. I call them my crazy-people shoes because they have no shoelaces and no fittings

61. Wear a bath robe?

only when it’s really cold in the house

62. What do you wear to bed?

Nothing

63. First concert?

Blind Guardian at the Pop’s in Chicago when I was 13. It was their first US tour and my parents are boss people who really wanted to humor their kid. People at the show realized this tiny barely-teenager in the back knew every word to every song and pulled me to the front, and there was no barrier between crowd and stage, so I got to lean on the stage and got smirked at by the guitarist. After the show I shook Hansi Kirsch’s hand and got my copy of Imaginations From The Other Side signed. Good times

64. Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart?

Target

65. Nike or Adidas?

Neither, they’re both overpriced shit

66. Cheetos Or Fritos?

Cheetos

67. Peanuts or Sunflower seeds?

Peanuts, although I’d rather have cashews

68. Favorite Taylor Swift song?

I don’t know any taylor swift songs nor do I care

69. Ever take dance lessons?

Nope

70. Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing?

Hadn’t given that one any thought beyond helping her job hunt in the immediate sense. I can see her doing costuming on a professional level eventually, though

71. Can you curl your tongue?

I never know what people mean by this. I can make an “O” shape with my tongue but that’s it, I never figured out that clover shape

72. Ever won a spelling bee?

Multiple. I almost went national in …something-before-sixth-grade-because-I-remember-beating-sixth-graders but refused to go because I wanted to stop being stared at (seriously, I just didn’t want to go because I hated being on a stage). I’m sure that frustrated my mom

73. Have you ever cried because you were so happy?

A few times, but not often

74. What is your favorite book?

One of the Discworld novels, but the answer is ever-changing because they’re all pretty goddamn great. Picking one out of a hat, Unseen Academicals is pretty rad just because it’s got such a great take on [thing that spoils the plot if I say it]

75. Do you study better with or without music?

I was not a studying kid, I was a “retains everything as long as nobody stops me from doodling while they’re teaching and it’s not about numbers” kid. Thinking about it I was probably doing some eidetic memorization tricks without realizing it, my fact retention is/was top notch when I cared

76. Regularly burn incense?

Nope, I have over 100 allergies and a lot of them are to plants so I’m not risking that bullshit

77. Ever been in love?

I am engaged to be married right now

78. Who would you like to see in concert?

Does Critical Role count?

79. What was the last concert you saw?

H…alestorm? I think? It’s actually been a while

80. Hot tea or cold tea?

Hot plz

81. Tea or coffee?

Tea if it’s just the drink itself, coffee if I can put a ton of shit in it so I can only barely taste the actual coffee

82. Favorite type of cookie?

Does Not Contain Raisins

83. Can you swim well?

I can swim, Iunno about well? I’ve never been in danger of drowning for lack of swimming ability, I guess

84. Can you hold your breath without holding your nose?

What an interesting question, it hadn’t occurred to me there are people who can’t until now

85. Are you patient?

When I choose to be

86. DJ or band, at a wedding?

If it’s affordable and the right band, band. Otherwise DJ and karaoke because HELL YEAH GET YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY DRUNK AND LET THEM SING

87. Ever won a contest?

A smattering of spelling bees, a couple art contests, summer reading competitions. Nerd shit, yanno? Although I’ve won those water gun shooting gallery games at Six Flags every time there’s enough people to play, too

88. Ever have plastic surgery?

Nope

89. Which are better black or green olives?

Olives are gross

90. Opinions on sex before marriage?

It’s sex, who cares

91. Best room for a fireplace?

Living room and/or bedroom

92. Do you want to get married 

I am engaged right now

@theengraver EAT ME

[mveloc]

Days of Why and How

Chapter 13

Author’s Note: Yes, I’m alive! I haven’t been super active online due to how crazy busy I’ve been, but I promised that I would complete this fic and continue writing, so that’s what I intend to do :) I’d like to thank all of you who’ve continued to stick with this fic and support me--I really do appreciate it. I wish I could find the time to update more frequently and I’m really going to try, but work keeps me pretty bogged down and I’m also working on some original writing, so free time is in short supply these days. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! 

There is a trigger warning for violence in this one--I don’t think it’s too descriptive, but I want to tread on the safe side. If blood makes you squeamish, be warned (although I really don’t think it’s any worse than Pure Radiance for those of you who’ve read that one).

She’s immune to the sound of blaring car horns and hollered profanities as she weaves in and out of traffic, one hand gripping tightly to the wheel and the other holding her phone to her ear, hopelessly listening for some sort of response. For the fifth time in as many minutes, the ringing subsides and she's greeted by a pre-recorded message of Cosima’s voice that she would normally find charming.

Tonight?

Not so much.

“Cosima, answer your phone! This is important!” Delphine snaps, slamming her hand against the wheel in a fit of fury. “I think Aldous is coming for you!”

She presses the large red circle on the screen to terminate the call before dialling again, hoping six is her lucky number. As soon as she looks up from her phone and back to the road, she manages to react in time to the red light that’s suddenly appeared, slamming on her breaks and nearly springing forward through the windshield.

“Hey, this is Cosima. As much as I’d love to—”

She ends the call again, tossing her phone into the back seat and nearly growling in frustration. Luckily enough, she’s not left to stew in her anger for too long as Bobby’s comes into view. She doesn’t even bother pulling into the nearest parking lot and instead opts to double park right out front, indifferent to the potential consequences. She leaps out of her car and bounds into Bobby’s, head whipping back and forth as she tries to locate Cosima.

“Where’s the fire?” Bobby asks, stopping what she’s doing she address the frantic blonde.

“Where is Cosima?”

“Uh, she’s gone for the night. She worked an earlier shift today,” Bobby replies with a raised brow.

“This is really important, Bobby. Do you know where she went?” Delphine asks.

The tattooed woman shakes her head.

“Sorry. No idea.”

For the second time that night, Delphine feels her heart sink even deeper into her chest. Sensing the French woman’s distress, Bobby tries her best to be helpful.

“Sarah was in earlier. The two left together. Maybe she knows?”

The suggestion permeates her panic. When Sarah had called earlier, she was clearly no longer with Cosima, but maybe Cosima had mentioned what her plans were? In any case, it was all she really had to go on since Cosima was avoiding her calls.

She expels a breathy word of thanks before racing back out to her car, hopping into the driver’s seat and reaching behind to retrieve her discarded phone. She continues to ignore the honking as she scrolls through her call history, finding the number that Sarah had called her from and dialling it back.

Luckily for her, Sarah isn’t as petulant as Cosima.

“Delphine?” she answers, seeming just as surprised by the call as Delphine had been by hers earlier in the evening.

Delphine cuts right to the chase.

“Do you have eyes on Cosima?”

“Not this second. What’s the deal?”

Delphine expels a frustrated sigh.

“Sarah, I told you—“

“Oi! I’m with my daughter right now, okay?” Sarah lashes back, matching Delphine flame-for-flame. “The only kid I babysit is my own.”

She shouldn’t be surprised that Sarah isn’t up to the task, but for whatever reason, she expected more. The Brit clearly has no idea just how severe the situation is.

“Just relax. I have Felix on watch duty.”

Finally, she catches the break she’s needed the entire night.

“Then you need to get him on the phone right now, and tell him he needs to take Cosima and go to ground,” Delphine says sternly.

“Jesus. What the hell’s going on?”

“Just do it!” Delphine snaps again. “I think someone’s coming for her.”

+ + + + +

She doesn’t know when Delphine managed to slip her number into her contact list, but her blood begins to boil the second she sees “Eskimo Pie” staring back at her from her phone screen. She isn’t sure what she’s most insulted by—the fact that her ex had somehow gotten a hold of her phone and entered her information without permission, the fact that she had the gall to use that nickname after everything, or the fact that she’s calling at all after she’d made it abundantly clear that she wants nothing to do with the blonde.

She quickly declines the call, giving an apologetic half-wave when about a dozen people in the theatre turn to her with looks of annoyance.

A minute later, her phone starts up again and so do the glaring strangers.

“Would you turn that bloody thing off?” Felix whispers harshly, swatting her on the shoulder. “You’re going to ruin the best part.”

“Yeah. Sorry,” she mumbles, turning her phone on silent.

She focuses her attention back to the large screen, watching Elizabeth Berkley ride Kyle MacLachlan in what has to be one of the most ridiculous sex scenes ever committed to film. The sound of water splashing is almost drowned out by the thunderous applause and laughter, and while she wishes she could join in on the amusement, Delphine has successfully managed to get under her skin with two simple phone calls.

“Are you okay, darling?” Felix asks, noticing his friend is suddenly distracted. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“No—Elizabeth Berkley’s tits are fine. You’re looking morose.”

“Can we just watch the movie? I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Felix shrugs, then fixes his gaze back on the screen. Even though she’s seen this movie at least a dozen times, she finds herself completely lost as she tries to wrap her head around why Delphine would be calling her.

Probably more of the same bullshit.

Why does she care?

Cosima pulls her phone out of her pocket again to see that Delphine has called four more times. She turns the device completely off this time without a second thought, fairly certain that a vein on her head is probably looking much more pronounced at the moment.

“I have to pee,” she huffs, rushing out of the theatre with no preamble.

She ascends a flight of stairs to find the woman’s washroom and is thankful that there’s no one in any of the stalls. She hurries into the larger handicapped stall, slamming the door behind her and locking it before plopping down onto the toilet, burying her head in her hands.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she mutters, sliding her fingers beneath her glasses to press her closed eyes.

Today was full of almost too much bullshit for anyone to take; first, Shay’s uncle had showed up at Bobby’s while she was working to intimidate her. The encounter had left her pretty shaken up and she considered going straight to Shay’s after work, but Sarah had convinced her otherwise.

“Fuck all of this mess,” she had said dismissively. “Come grab dinner with me, Fee, and Kira.”

It had been far too long since she’d seen her niece and the thought of spending time with people who cared about her—people who were removed from the current war that was going on—sounded blissful. They had taken Kira to a diner and laughed as the small girl ordered an entire stack of pancakes and an ice cream sundae for dinner. No one protested—not even Kira as they all stole bites ice cream throughout the meal. Once they were finished and she was ready to call it a night, Felix had somehow convinced her to come to a late night screening of Showgirls with him.

Her true family had somehow managed to take her mind off all the chaos that was encircling her. She hadn’t realized how tightly she was wound until her belly was full of laughter again. At this point, maybe finishing the job with Sarah and taking off with her, Felix, and Kira really was the best thing for her.

She spends several more minutes sitting in the stall, trying to push Delphine and Shay’s uncle and even Shay from her mind. After a short breathing exercise, she feels ready to rejoin Felix for the grand finale—only the second she exits the women’s washroom, he’s standing right there with a panicked look upon his face.

“We need to go—right now,” he says, grabbing her arm.

“What’s going on?” she asks, eyeing the flamboyant young man suspiciously.

“Sarah says you’re not safe.”

She rips her arm out of Felix’s grasp, equal parts confused and angry.

“Sarah? What the hell does Sarah know?” she counters.

“You can ask her yourself.”

Felix holds up his phone, then shoves it in her face. She takes it from his hand and holds it to her ear. The second she says hello, she’s met by the Spanish Inquisition.

“Why’s your bloody phone turned off?”

“Uh, cause Delphine keeps fucking harassing me—not that it’s any of your business,” Cosima retorts with just as much sass.

“Yeah. I just got off the phone with her.”

She stops dead in her tracks, much to the dismay of Felix who’s all but dragging her down the stairs at this point.

“What? Are you kidding me?”

“She’s not fucking around, Cos!” Sarah barks. “She says someone’s coming for you.”

“And you believe her?”

“Yeah, I do!”

Cosima brings her hand to her forehead, resting it there for a moment as she tries to figure out exactly what’s happening and determine her next move. She’d like to think that Sarah is overreacting and Delphine is playing both of them for fools, but considering the fact that Dmitri Davydov appeared at her goddamn place of work earlier in the day, she can’t help but heed the warning.

“I’ve gotta go.”

She hangs up the phone, then shoves it back into Felix’s hand. Without bothering to explain, she races down the flight of stairs and through the front lobby of the theatre, out onto the street.

“What are you doing? Where are you going?” Felix asks, trailing behind.

“I need to talk to Shay,” she answers, pulling her own phone out and turning it back on.

She can see that Delphine has left her a voicemail and she scowls, opting instead to open the Uber app to call herself a car.

“No—you need to come with me and we need to disappear.”

Cosima shakes her adamantly.

“Look, this is about her uncle. I need to sort this shit out once and for all.”

She isn’t going to wait around for one of Dmitri’s men to come and snatch her up—or even worse. As strange as it seems, she’s probably the safest with Shay right now; Dmitri wouldn’t come for her with his niece standing between them, would he?

“It won’t take long.”

+ + + + +

She bangs loudly on the door three times, her head hanging low as she tries to contain her anger. It wasn’t her intention to come to Shay’s apartment and explode on her lover, but the longer she sat in the back of that Uber pondering the most recent events in her life, the more angry she became.

Shay hasn't betrayed her the way Delphine has, but she did introduce her twisted uncle into the mix, and even though Shay’s been supportive on so many occasions, Cosima can’t help but wonder if it’s all just an act. As much as she hates to admit it, she’s not exactly the best judge of character when it comes to people she’s involved with; Delphine had managed to fuck her over royally and she never saw it coming. Could this be another con job?

Before she has time to give it more thought, Shay’s door swings open and she’s greeted by the wide-eyed blonde.

“Just what the hell is your deal?”

“I’m sorry?”

“First, you bring me to your creepy uncle’s mansion, then he shows up at my work asking all these questions, and now I have Delphine and Sarah telling me that I’m about to be offed,” Cosima immediately spills.

Perhaps it’s too much up front, but she’s unable to contain herself. Sensing this, Shay quickly scans the hallway of her apartment complex for any potential onlookers, then opens the door wider.

“Come inside. Hurry.”

Once they’re both safe behind closed doors, Shay releases a long sigh.

“My uncle isn’t going to ‘off’ you, if that’s what this is about.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Cosima remains closed off, her arms folded tightly across her chest and head cocked slightly to the side; everything about her is hard and accusatory—no room for the softness they usually share.

“He wouldn’t do that,” Shay replies.

Cosima shakes her head incredulously.

“He’s a mob boss, Shay!”

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t do that to me! He knows I care about you.”

She can see the hurt swimming behind Shay’s eyes, but she stands her ground.

“I can’t do this,” she sighs wearily. “I can’t deal with this shit anymore.”

When did her life become this? Somehow, she doesn’t think she can blame it all on Delphine. She doesn’t even think she can blame it all on Shay, as much as she’d like to. After all, she’s the common denominator between the two; through all the bullshit and the lies and the terrible choices, here she is—at the center of it all.

“Cosima, just calm down.”

Shay’s words have the opposite of their intended effect.

“It’s just been one thing after another! First Delphine, then you!” Cosima unleashes, pacing erratically around Shay’s small apartment. “I thought things were going to be easy between us but I guess that was just wishful thinking, huh?”

“I’m sorry, okay?”

Cosima pauses, struck by the sincerity in Shay’s voice.

“I know he’s, like, way out of line by asking you all those questions. I didn't think things would go down like this,” Shay tries to explain.

She moves past Cosima and drops down onto the couch in a long, deflated breath. She runs her hands through her hair and finally settles them on the back of her skull, her head sinking low between her legs.

Cosima shifts from one foot to the other, reassessing their conversation. Maybe she did come in too hot. She didn’t expect such an easy victory. Of course, her and Shay have never really fought before so she wasn’t sure what to expect, but watching Shay shut down like this certainly wasn’t it.

“Why did you bring me up at all? Why did you have to drag me into this shit?”

She tries to swallow the thickness in her voice, but she’s unsuccessful in masking that she’s on the verge of tears at this point. She can’t be sure if they’re tears of hurt, frustration, or exhaustion, but it hardly matters anymore.

“God, I didn’t even mean to!” Shay bursts, her head snapping up again to face Cosima. “I just brought you up in passing! I said, like, maybe three things about you, okay? How was I supposed to know he’d offer you a job?”

“Shay, he showed up at my work! He scared the shit out of my friend! He scared the shit out of me!” Cosima counters. “It doesn’t matter what you meant—what matters is what’s happening now because of what you did!”

She feels like she’s suffering from a major case of deja vu, and that’s when her choice becomes painfully clear.

“I can’t live like this,” Cosima proclaims, her voice cracking.

She’s instantly transported back into that car with Delphine all those years ago; she had meant it back then too, but couldn’t find the strength to follow through when Delphine had captured her gaze, held her close, and fought like hell to keep them alive. When she locks eyes with Shay, there’s no fight, no fire.

Instead, a silent understanding passes between them.

“I’m sorry. I’ll take care of it,” Shay quietly says.

“You’ll take care of it?”

The blonde finally stands again, nodding slowly.

“I’m going to go over to his house right now and sort this all out. I’m going to tell him to leave you alone from now on.”

She makes her way across the apartment and grabs her coat off the coat rack, the urgency in her movements matching the urgency of her words. Cosima merely watches as Shay throws her coat on over her pyjamas and then reaches for her boots.

“Do you really think he’ll listen to you?” Cosima asks.

She has a hard time believing that Dmitri Davydov would simply give up his pursuit at the behest of a woman—family or not. Everything she’s been told about this man tells her he’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants.

“He owes me one,” Shay mutters over her shoulder as she finishes tying her boots. “When I went down, the cops didn’t even want me. He was their big fish—they were just trying to use me to get to him. They were hoping I’d give them something they could use to take him down. I mean, I totally could have and I probably would have served a lot less time, but I kept my mouth shut.”

It was never a secret that Shay served time because of her involvement with her family, but the particulars surrounding the entire situation remained a mystery to Cosima. It was something they never spoke about. Shay knew all the dark and sordid details surrounding Cosima’s imprisonment, but for whatever reason, the blonde had never shared her own story with her before and she had never thought to ask beyond the CliffsNotes version she was presented with.

“When I got out, he told me he was indebted to me. He told me if there was anything I ever needed, all I had to do was ask,” Shay finishes. “So I’ll call in my favour and you can put this all behind you, okay?”

Again, her mind wanders back to that car ride with Delphine. Her then-girlfriend had made a similar promise—one she couldn’t keep. She wants so badly to believe Shay, but she cannot hide her skepticism.

“Okay,” she reluctantly agrees.

They exit Shay’s apartment in a tense silence, riding the elevator down to the ground level and leaving the complex. Shay’s bug is parked in its usual spot across the street and Cosima watches with hands stuffed in her pockets as Shay begins to cross the street—that is, until she notices Cosima isn’t following and stops.

“Where are you off to?” Shay asks, turning back to acknowledge Cosima.

“I need to go meet up with Sarah and Felix,” Cosima shrugs.

“Wanna ride?”

Cosima stops for a moment, considering.

“No, it’s fine.”

Shay sighs, then takes a step closer.

“Are things going to be weird between us from now on?”

Cosima lifts her gaze, eyes focusing on the black, boundless sky above her. She manages to blink away the tears that almost form and takes the much needed minute to compose herself.

“Honestly?” she counters. “I think I need a break from the whole ‘us’ part.”

She shakes her head, finally able to meet Shay’s gaze.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t do this again.”

The lump in Shay’s throat is visible as she swallows it down hard. She digests Cosima’s answer with a slow nod and distant eyes.

“I get it.”

With that, she turns away from Cosima and makes her way towards her car.

There’s nothing left to say and yet Cosima can’t fight the words that are rising to the surface. They’re fuelled by guilt—guilt that she hasn’t been entirely honest with Shay, and despite everything that’s happened, she can sense Shay’s sincerity; she had said before that Shay’s intent didn’t matter, only her actions. When she reflects on her own actions, she realizes that she’s just as culpable in the death of their relationship as Shay is.

“I slept with Delphine.”

Shay stops mid-stride, the wind completely sucked out of her sail. Thankfully there’s not a lot of traffic on this side street at this time of night, and without the threat of an oncoming vehicle, Shay remains planted in the middle of the road.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to take that,” she says just loud enough for Cosima to hear as she turns around to face her again.

“I-It was before I met back up with you,” Cosima tries to explain, closing some of the distance between them until they’re both standing in the middle of the road. “I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you’d judge me or be mad at me or something.”

Shay cocks her head, her curiosity strangely piqued.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

Cosima gives the question some real thought.

Why did she have any reason to believe that Shay would be mad at her? Shay’s been nothing but kind and understanding through everything. Perhaps she’s projecting; if their roles were reversed, she would undoubtedly be hurt and consider her actions a betrayal.

“Because I told you I’d look you up as soon as I got out, but I didn’t,” Cosima admits. “I guess I didn’t technically look Delphine up either, but I went to her first—not you.”

Now that the truth is out, she’s both relieved and angry all over again.

“I didn’t even mean to. I was so fucking mad at her and I still ended up in bed with her anyway.”

Shay places a hand on Cosima’s arm in a bid to quell her stirring emotions.

“Look, you don’t have to explain—”

“But I want to,” Cosima presses.

She’s been grappling with this explanation for years, unable to truly find the words to express what she needs to say. If she can’t be honest with herself or with Shay in this moment, what hope does she have?  She takes a deep, steadying breath and finds her legs for the first time in forever.

“I wish I could hate her, but I just… I can’t.”

She quivers as the words crack and crumble in her mouth like she’s chewing on a mouthful of charcoal. They leave a black, chalky texture for her to ruminate as all the toxins are slowly pulled from her body.

“I have every fucking reason to and every time I see her or hear her voice or think about her, I get so fucking angry—but it’s not because I hate her,” she confesses, her lower lip trembling.

Shay is looking at her now with deep and sympathetic eyes, but she slowly removes her hand from Cosima’s arm and allows her to unravel all on her own.

“I’m angry because I can’t, so I just hate myself instead.”

She stares at her feet, eyes swollen and face red. She knows if she looks up to meet Shay’s gaze, she’ll be greeted by warmth—a warmth she isn’t ready to embrace just yet.

“You don’t have to punish yourself, Cosima.”

She hears the waver in Shay’s voice and that’s when she knows she needs to escape.

“I have to go,” she mutters, sniffling quietly and turning away as fast as she possibly can.

She leaves Shay standing there, never bothering to look back and face her. She wipes her glossy eyes on the sleeve of her coat as she continues to walk away, and she can hear Shay’s car door open then slam shut, followed by the sound her driving away. Only once she’s certain she’s alone does she stop her trek; she had bee so desperate to place enough distance between them that she didn’t even consider where she was heading. She pulls out her phone and opens the Uber app, setting Felix’s apartment as her destination.

She takes another deep breath, relishing in the fact that the worst part of her night is now over. All she can think about is getting back to Felix’s, smoking the fattest bowl she can pack, and drifting off to a less-cruel reality… that is, until she senses an unfamiliar presence nearby.

She turns to face the oncoming car, squinting carefully to make out the licence plate. She then refers back to the app and realizes that the car slowly approaching her is not the blue Toyota Camry listed. She folds her arms over her chest, eyes following the car until it comes to an excruciatingly slow stop right next to her. The driver’s window rolls down and she can barely make out the figure at the wheel.

“Looking for a ride?” he asks.

She bends her head a little lower to get a better look at the man. He appears to be in his forties, with a thick beard and pair of aviator glasses that remind her of her dad’s when she was little. He offers her a smile, but there’s something chilling and soulless about it that immediately makes her blood run cold.

“Oh, uh, that’s okay. My ride is on its way,” she mutters, trying her best to conceal the creeping panic on her face.

She begins walking again, her pace hurried as she tries to put more distance between her and the stranger. She checks her phone, mentally cursing when she sees her ride is still in the process of completing a nearby trip. She manages to get about half a block before she hears the car come whizzing past her, making a sharp turn up onto the sidewalk to cut off her path.

She freezes, this time greeted by the barrel of a gun sticking out of the window instead of a creepy smile.

“Let’s try this one more time,” the man says, clicking the safety off his weapon. “Looking for a ride?”

Cosima slowly raises her hands into the air, the colour draining from her face completely.

“H-Hey now. Let’s just take it easy, okay?” she tries to talk him down, her voice trembling. “Just take it easy.”

The gun remains fixed on her.

“Get in the car,” the man repeats, his smile gone.

“Shay’s on her way to meet with Dmitri right now. She’s going to clear this all up, okay? You don’t have to do this,” she tries to reason with him.

What happens next surprises her.

“Dmitri?” the man asks in a breath of laughter.

He seems genuinely amused by her suggestion and her brow furrows, confusion momentarily taking the place of fear.

“You really think I’m Bratva?”

The world begins to fade away as soon as she understands what’s really happening, and while she shouldn’t be surprised in the least, she finds herself blindsided yet again and too terrified to be angry that the man who ruined her life the first time will also be the one responsible for ending it.

“Fine,” he sighs.

He makes no attempt to hide his annoyance at the inconvenience her lack of cooperation is causing him. She doesn’t mean to defy his demand, but she can’t will her legs to carry her forward and climb into the car; one would think a gun pointed directly at them would be a brilliant motivator, but the weapon has the opposite of its intended effect on her.

The second he steps out of his car is when sound and colour return to her. She tries to backpedal, but she knows there’s nowhere she can run now, so she closes her eyes tightly and tries to let her usually active brain carry her somewhere else.

“Since you don’t want to get in the car, we can do this right—”

She screams out—the sound of a loud impact cutting through her haze-like shock. The second she’s able to process that the sound isn’t a bullet in her head, she opens her eyes again only to find that the creepy man is no longer standing in front of her with a gun pointed at her face. Instead, he’s several meters away from her in a bloody heap on the ground. Her eyes then land on a second car which sports a distinct, body-shaped dent on the front bumper and hood.

Cosima finds her breath again.

She knows this car.

Her eyes follow Delphine as she climbs out of the driver’s seat, walking over to the groaning man with purpose in every step.

“D-Delphine?” he asks, completely caught off guard by this development.

The blonde draws her own gun, staring down at the man with complete disdain. She points her weapon at his face, prompting him to raise his hands and begin to plead—a plead that’s cut short by a bullet which finds its home snuggly between his eyes.

Cosima drops to her knees, eyes wide and mouth gaping in terror. Tremors tear through her body, even as Delphine holsters her gun and comes dashing over.

“Cosima!” Delphine calls out, dropping to her knees in front of her to assess Cosima’s current state. “Are you okay?”

“W-What…?”

She can’t find her words, mouth dry and tongue swollen as she tries make sense of what the hell is happening.

“You don’t answer your phone!” Delphine snaps. “I’ve been trying to reach you all night—trying to warn you!”

She reaches for Cosima, pulling the brunette to her feet again. She’s shaky on her legs, but Delphine slings an arm around her waist to help support her.

“We have to go.”

Cosima can only nod as Delphine ushers her into the passenger’s seat, buckles her in, then runs back around to climb into the driver’s seat and take off.

+ + + + +

They march down the dimly-lit corridor to Aldous’s office, one of her hands clasped firmly with Cosima’s and the other carrying the briefcase that contains their prize. She had promised Cosima that this would be it—now was the time to tell Aldous they wanted out. If they played their cards right, they could be on a plane to St. Barts this evening.

They both stop in front of the hulk of a man who guards the door. It only takes him a second to scan them over before he nods, stepping aside and granting them entry. Before they open the door, they exchange one last look; Delphine’s smile is weak but reassuring, and elicits a similar one from Cosima.

“Thank God you’re here—the both of you,” Aldous proclaims the second they walk through the door.

He stands, circling around from behind his desk to greet them both properly. He places both of his hands on their shoulders and gently squeezes; Delphine has grown accustomed to the gesture, but she can feel the shiver travel down Cosima’s spine.

“We’re fine, Aldous. We didn’t see any danger on the road,” Delphine answers.

“That’s good news.”

He backs away until he’s pressed against his desk, leaning against it and staring at them expectantly.

“Well?”

As if on cue, Delphine releases Cosima’s hand and steps forward, handing him the briefcase.

“Here it is—all of it.”

He smiles, walking back around his desk to place the briefcase on the surface. As soon as he opens it and peers inside, his smile grows.

“Nicely done.”

He rifles through the case, silently counting the prize as the two young women stand awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed. Cosima slips her hand back into Delphine’s and the blonde looks over to her side to meet Cosima’s gaze.

“What is it?”

They both freeze, their attention directed back to the older man.

He’s stopped counting his money long enough to notice the tension between the two and he waits for one of them to step forward and explain.

“We need to talk,” Delphine finally breaks.

Aldous pauses for a brief moment, then closes the briefcase.

“Is everything okay?” he asks.

Delphine opens her mouth, but the right words elude her. How does she explain herself to Aldous without insulting or angering him?

“No, everything’s definitely not okay,” Cosima chimes in.

Delphine squeezes Cosima’s hand a little harder—a warning to proceed with caution. Cosima’s always been too cheeky for her own good and while Delphine usually finds it to be one of her more endearing traits, it’s far from charming at the moment. Cosima responds in kind by yanking her hand away from Delphine’s and folding her arms across her chest, frown all-too-prominent.

“How can I help?”

Delphine expels a mental sigh of relief when Aldous doesn’t retaliate against the insolent comment. She searches Aldous carefully and determines that he seems to be in a sound state of mind; there’s a calmness radiating from him and she senses that it’s safe to tread a little deeper into the water.

“Well,” she begins, taking another step forward. “Cosima and I were talking, and… well… we—”

“You’re making a huge mistake!”

They both jump as soon as the door bursts open. They turn to identify the source of the sound and they’re greeted by the hulk again, only this time, he has his bulging bicep around a much smaller man’s neck.

“Hold that thought, Delphine,” Aldous says smoothly, lifting a hand to stop her.

He makes his way around his desk once more and the hulk tosses his boisterous captive to the floor. Upon closer inspection, both women can see that the man appears to be badly beaten; his hands are tied behind his back, his lip is swollen and dribbling blood, and his face is badly bruised—so much so that one of his eyes is completely swollen shut.

“What’s going on?” Delphine asks in a panic.

She can see the same panic reflected back at her in Cosima’s eyes and she instinctively steps closer to her girlfriend, the two of them stepping off to the side of the room.

“You know Patrick, don’t you?” Aldous asks, gesturing towards the man.

“Y-yes, we’ve met,” Delphine reluctantly replies.

She doesn’t know him well and has never personally worked with him, but she’s seen his face and knows that he’s another one of Aldous’s subordinates. His relationship with Aldous far predates her own and she wonders just what the hell is going on.

“Leekie, what the fuck is this all about?” Patrick spits, taking the words right out of her mouth.

Aldous turns to Cosima and Delphine—now backed up against the wall.

“Patrick here has been stealing from me.”

“Bullshit!” Patrick barks. “You know I’m no rat!”

Delphine feels her heart stop in her chest.

She suddenly knows what this is all about, as well as what’s about to happen.

“He’s the reason for all the panic,” Aldous explains. “It seems he forwarded your coordinates to an unknown third party.”

“What?” both woman ask in unison.

“That’s a goddamn lie!”

“He was probably hoping they’d kill you both, recover the money, then wire him his share once your bodies were cold and they were long gone.”

Cosima wraps her arms around one of Delphine’s, pulling her in even closer. The gesture serves to tether Delphine—to reassure her that they’re here together, that no matter what happens, that’s how it’ll stay.

“You see, I don’t tolerate disobedience. I don’t tolerate disloyalty.”

Aldous’s tone is much harsher now. The calm waters she had detected before have given way to a thundering tidal wave that advances far too quickly to avoid; the only thing left to do now is to be pulled under.

“W-Wait a second, Leekie! It’s not like that, I-I swear!”

As Patrick pleads for his life, Aldous retrieves his gun and promptly unloads three bullets into his face without any sort of preamble or regard for his audience. Cosima cries out, burying her face between Delphine’s shoulder blades in a bid to block out the horrible image. A loud gasp escapes from Delphine’s lips before she can bring a hand up to cover her gaping mouth. She’s unable to pull her eyes away from Patrick’s bloody corpse as the hulk drags his lifeless body out of the room without a word or second, closing the door behind him as if he’s merely taking out a bag of trash.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, but I think it’s important that you did.”

Aldous steps closer towards them and Delphine feels Cosima’s grip tighten to the point of being painful.

“We’re surrounded by enemies, even on the inside,” Aldous lectures them. “In this line of work, loyalty is worth far more than any dollar price you can name.”

He stops, considering the two young women before him. Cosima peers out from behind Delphine, her eyes red and glistening with tears but her glare as resolute as ever. Delphine swallows hard, nodding at Aldous’s words. He walks back over to his desk, grabbing the briefcase and then approaching them again, briefcase outstretched.

“Here.”

Delphine is stunned.

“A-All of it?”

Aldous smiles.

“Consider it a reward for your loyalty.”

Delphine reaches out to accept the briefcase and she feels Cosima’s nails bite into her skin as if to force her to retract her hand. The blonde knows that there’s no way she can pull back now, so she bites down hard on her lower lip to block out the stinging in her arm and accept the gift bestowed upon her.

“You have a bright future here,” Aldous tells them, craning his neck to steal a clearer glimpse of Cosima. “The both of you.”

Delphine diverts her gaze to the floor and nearly drags Cosima out of the room, rushing through a pool of blood in the process. She leads her Eurydice to safety, only she manages to make it all the way out without looking back once to assess the state of her girlfriend, the fear of losing her far too great.

It isn’t until they’re back at her apartment that she realizes the woman she left with was not the woman she came with.

This becomes gut-wrenchingly obvious as she sit atop her bed, listening attentively to Cosima’s sobs as they break through the barrier of the bathroom door. After over an hour of the shower running, Delphine finally finds the courage to make her way over to the bathroom door and knock gently.

“May I come in?” she asks softly.

When she isn’t greeted by an answer, she slowly opens the door a crack and slides her head in.

“Cosima?”

She isn’t met by the billows of steam she initially expected (although she’s fairly certainly there’s no hot water left at this point) and she steps fully into the bathroom, gazing through the glass of the shower door to spy her girlfriend sitting on the floor, knees tucked to her chest and face buried in them.

“Cosima…”

Cosima finally looks up, her face red and splotchy. Her makeup is long gone—cried off or washed away in the shower, she’s unsure—and her entire body trembles violently as she tries to catch the sobs and whimpers that rip through her.

“I can’t get it out of my head,” Cosima cracks.

Delphine feels her own chest seize up and she surges forward, climbing into the freezing shower to help pull Cosima up off the floor and into her arms.

[visceralcoma]

COCK AGE: THE MEASURING

Some friends of mine were asking how big certain characters were as I’ve seen my fair share of dicks. Big, small, long, thin, bendy, straight, floppy, stumpy, girthy, micro and oversized, and all soft and hard.  I’ve seen a lot of dicks.

So I give you my personal headcanons of the range of length for each character. I based it on their country of origin in comparison to the real world counterparts’ average dick size. I also took into consideration certain habits and behaviors that stereotypically indicate either a smaller or a bigger package.  

Disclaimers:  These are what I extrapolated based on my OWN experiences. Not canon. These guesses are purely my own fanon. 

COCK AGE: ORIGIN OF THE WEEN

Unfortunately I cannot even remotely guess any of the measurements for Alistair, Sten, or Oghren as they used default models DAO with no special outfits per character.  I even investigated King Alistair in Inquisition, but unfortunately, crotch flap prevented me from looking too closely.

ZEVRAN: 6 to 7 inches / 13-17 cm

Reasoning: This is based on my experience with men who were above average, knew it, and were kind enough to offer massages to help relax certain muscles. But that is personal preference.  And given Zevran grew up in a brothel...

Plus: average Penis length for Spanish men is 5.5 inches/13.97 cm.  And for Italian men it’s  6.2 inches/15.748 cm.  

Lay Review: 9.5/10 would recommend. Really great at sex, he was raised in a brothel of course he will be! But also really great at foreplay.  Just be careful as he was hired to kill you. (Unless you’re kinky and like that, then 10/10!)

COCK AGE: TWICE AS THICK

ANDERS: 5.5 - ? inches / 13.97 - ? cm

Reasoning: He wears a freaking Mage robe half the time. He’s known for his electricity fingers from the Pearl in Denerim, which means he knows his way in the bedroom better than most of us.  You can basically say he has any size you want and it works.

Lay Review: 9/10 Would recommend - Sorry you can incorporate SEX MAGIC into foreplay? Uhh yes please!  But be careful of his nosey asshole roommate who likes to pop in unannounced.

CARVER: No.  Okay by popular demand here is Carver’s dick size. -sighs-

5.5 to 9 inches / 13.97-22.86 cm

Reasoning: The average penis length for people in the UK is 5.5 inches. And I personally headcanon, that much like being bigger than Hawke, I think Carver is bigger in other areas as well. It’s why he gets to be so cocky and such a shit to Hawke because he knows he has at least something over his brother. 

Lay Review:  10/10 Listen, the man had a favorite whore in the Blooming Rose that even Isabela knew it and could catch him.  And he flirts easily with Isabela. He’s cocky but he’s not insufferable about it. 

SEBASTIAN:  6 - 6.5 inches / 15.24 - 16.51 cm

Reasoning: The average penis length for people in the UK is 5.5 inches, but the UK did their own review and said with “stretching” it was closer to 6 and up. I say that’s cheating, but whatever, we’ll give it to them. They do say that the Scotsmen are bigger than average - with stretching. 

Given Sebastian spent his youth chasing after the skirts of all the noble ladies, and many of them gossiped that he might take interest in them, I’m willing to bet he has above average length but also knows how to bloody well use it.

Lay Review:  5/10 would recommend, because you’re going to catch SOMETHING from this manwhore but you’ll have a damn good time of it. If you can pull him away to break his vows of celibacy that is.

FENRIS: 5 - 6 inches 

Reasoning: He’s from Tevinter, and which has some inspirations from Central and Western Asian influences with Roman cultures.  But he is also an elf and was a slave that was likely well fed as he was the “favorite.”  His armor is fairly form fitting so he’s not overly big as to be noticeable. Heck, he probably has a crotch armor for protection, but nothing too constricting as he needs to move.  

Lay Review: 1/10 - Would not recommend because you’re sleeping with someone who is starting to remember and has not yet recovered from being a sexual abuse victim to the point even touch triggers painful memories. (0/10 if you’re a male mage, because that would likely be triggering for Fenris as a Male Mage was his abuser)

COCK AGE: INQUISIT ME

VARRIC: 4 - 4.5 inches / 10.16 - 11.43 cm

Reasoning: Look he’s a dwarf. They are smaller, but they are also denser and thicker. So Varric’s got a big girthy thick cock even if it is under average

Lay Review: 7/10 would recommend, you’re gonna feel some pain having to stretch for him, but what he can’t reach for in length, he can make up for with his wicked tongue.  Don’t under estimate a good “bed” time story. He may also accidentally call out Bianca’s name. 

SOLAS: 4.5 - 5.5 inches / 11.43 - 13.97 cm

Reasoning: Hobo Apostate Solas, his crotch area is baggy, much like Cullen’s.  Almost lumpy in some areas but usually smooth.  No excessive bulge anywhere or any sort of presenting.  However in Trespasser, his bulge is front and center, like it’s on display.  A nice packaged bulb right there. And I know what you’re think, BIG DICK-  saaadly no.  The men who have the neat bulge like that have basically fluffed themselves up to appear like they are packing some sweet long heat. Also, the Greek standard of beauty for cocks was with smaller lengths. And given Solas’s vanity, seriously look at him in Trespasser, I think he PRIDES himself on being quite gorgeous. 

Lay Review:  10/10 actually, even though I can’t stand him.  But all the fun in the fade, no actual touching in the physical world. He’s the safest one to have sex with, No STDs.  CAN’T GET PREGNANT IN THE FADE.  For women, we basically get to experience the female equivalent of the male wet dream. In the Fade, his dick can be any size - heck it could be vibrating (or a wolf dick that knots for all you furries).  He’s really wise so he knows ALL the tricks. Seriously, he’s probably the reverse of the Demolition Man. 

BLACKWALL: 4 - 7 inches / 10.16-17.78 cm 

Reasoning:  Average Penis size for UK men is 5.5 inches/13.97 cm 

Blackwall boosts that his sword is not compensation, but a counterweight.  Guys that usually brag, don’t have the equipment they boast.  (Sorry Bae!)  But if he DOES have a big dick, then that is his one trick pony.  He has the equipment but is shite at using it and probably jams it in with no foreplay.  Which given his romance scene....

In that case, Blackwall really needs to listen to Sera’s advice.Just the fact Sera even felt PROMPTED to give him advice, says something.  All the other sex talks he’s fine but it’s THIS one he felt uncomfortable: 

Sera: I'll show you. I just need a peach. A ripe one, because if you do it right? Ripe! Down there. 

Blackwall: Please, no peaches, ripe or otherwise. 

Sera: Well I can't teach you bananas! That would be like showing you swords! Oh! Remember, do not use it like a sword. 

Blackwall: How do I make this stop?

Lay Review:  6/10 Would recommend only if you don’t mind digging hay out of your asscrack. Or taking the time to teach him how to fuck.

DORIAN:  5 to 8 inches / 16.51-20.32 cm

Reasoning: Average Penis size for Pakistani men is 6 inches. 

The scene where Dorian approaches you in the chambers, if you look, he has a noticeable gap between his thighs, almost like he’s intentionally making sure nothing erm... rubs. And Dorian is no skinny mage, he’s well muscled and thick enough for his thighs to press together. Therefore, he’s tucked.  However a man can tuck and still walk fairly comfortably.  It’s only when they are a little bigger do they have to make adjustments. 

Lay Review:  7.5/10 would recommend (if I was masculine presenting).  Dorian likes to be served (Inquisit me) by you, but damn if his orgasms aren’t fantastic. Make sure to have a water spell on hand, or... take down the curtains before hand ;) you exhibitionist you. 

THE IRON BULL: 8.5 to 10 inches / 21.59 - 25.4 cm

Reasoning: Bull sounds overly cocky but NOT in his dick size, rather in foreplay. In my experience in alternative lifestyles, these men are amazing. They knew how to use what they had - and usually it wasn’t much. Barely average or even under. Now, you’ll note the size is still above average. Some of you might even be going ow!  But that range I gave is average, maybe even UNDER average, for qunari.  Add to the fact the size of Bull’s “black box” was appropriately sized for a big dick for HUMANS. Yeah... The Iron Bull is definitely average for Qunari. But he knows how to work it. 

Lay Review: 8/10 Would recommend. I mean... who turns down to ride the bull?  You WILL be sore, because... OW.  But eh, for the experience right? Plus all us alternate lifestyle folks would get along REAL well with him.

CULLEN: 6.5 to 7 inches / 16.51-17.78 cm

Reasoning: Average Penis size for men from the Netherlands is 6.248 inches.

Cullen’s crotch appears quite um... lumpy, if you can view him without the flap.  It’s not tight, but definitely snug and to the side a bit. He could be wearing some protective covering under that or nothing at all.  But it’s clearly that he’s got some huge schlong there.

Lay Review: 9/10 would recommend. He’s packing, is shy in public, but once behind doors... the man can pin you to his OWN desk and rail you and then carry you UP A LADDER?  Shit... sign me the fuck up. I mean you’re gonna be sore and worn out having used muscles you hadn’t thought you even had, but fuck what a lay right? Lets just hope he offers to massage your lower back.  Desks do not make for comfy surfaces to rut on top of.  Especially wobbly ones (thanks Sera).  

[slipteeha]

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The Complainer – Most of us have a hard time recognizing when we’re on a doosy of a whine fest, but quick to crook our fingers at other moaners. The complainer dwarf habitually projects her inner dissatisfaction onto everyone and everything and seldom realizes it when she has crossed the line into becoming a Womens Pontoon Party Slow Motion Fun Drink Shirt . Complaining is an easy habit to fall into. It’s a reason to speak when you have nothing to say: “Damn it’s hot in here, are you hot?” We complain to let off steam, to get sympathy, and sometimes we do it just because its fun to indulge in a good old fashion bee-yach session but we’re not actually accomplishing anything or solving the problem, so by complaining we’re really not doing ourselves any favors. Dwarfersize it by becoming aware of the complaining you do.

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For a few years, I made salt dough ornaments using cookie cutters. I used the Gingerbread man and woman cutters in different sizes, then baked these and painted on the faces. Be sure to put a small hole in the top of the ornment so that you can hang it. Add yarn or steel wool hair, glue on ‘clothes’ cut from fabric scraps. Before you add any of the clothes and hair, be sure to cover the ornament in varnish. Make one for every family member or have every family member make an ornament of themselves. Use yarn, ribbon, or fishing line through that little hole to add the ornament hanger. Do this year and year and your family members can see how they have changed. Put the year on the back. You can simplify it by just painting on the hair and Womens Pontoon Party Slow Motion Fun Drink Shirt. You could make these over the Thanksgiving weekend or just before Christmas. Using other cookie cutters, you can make virtually any kind of ornament to give to teachers, friends, neighbors, family. When the time comes to put these away, wrap each ornament in plastic wrap and store in a dry area. I think there are salt dough people in my collection that are twenty years old.

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How young the soldiers were that died. For the United States, more than 60% of deaths were men 21 years old and younger. Many of them were drafted and often came from Womens Pontoon Party Slow Motion Fun Drink Shirt lower socioeconomic backgrounds. There was terrible suffering on the Vietnamese side that often goes unmentioned too, millions died, including more than a million civilians. The entire war was very stupid and reactionary and driven by a massive sunk cost mentality (We’ve already put this much effort into this. We can’t quit now.) Even more so, it was corrupt politics at work. And I don’t use the word corrupt lightly. We need militaries. I don’t think humans are capable of world peace. Too much history has proven otherwise. But we are surely capable of dumb, pointless wars.

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It’s funny as many Protestants consider Halloween to be a Pagan or Satanic “holiday” and therefore will have nothing to do with it. Jews look at the Catholic roots and consider it a Christian holiday and so don’t observe it. One doesn’t usually see Catholics embracing the belief that it is Pagan or Satanic, as it is followed by the Holy Day of Obligation, All Saints Day. All Souls Day is the next day. I forget which Pope it was that allowed for religious syncretism (Gregory the Great, maybe) but it was one of the early ones. Basically, it meant that you allowed the people you were forcing to convert (especially during colonization) to keep some of their customs. They simply had to blend them in with Christianity and be discreet. The Spanish Inquisition stopped a lot of the Womens Pontoon Party Slow Motion Fun Drink Shirt and games.

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[imjustthemechanic]

The French Mistake

Part 1/? - A Visitor Part 2/? - The Kulturhistorisk Museum Heist Part 3/? - Cutscene Part 4/? - The Marvel Cinematic Universe Part 5/? - Breathless Part 6/? - Escape at Last Part 7/? - Fox in Socks Part 8/? - Things Go Wrong Part 9/? - Downey and Out Part 10/? - Road Trip Part 11/? - Temptation Part 12/? - An Awful Reunion Part 13/? - Unreality Intrudes Part 14/? - A Call for Help Part 15/? - Loki’s Guests Part 16/? - Stan Lee Cameo Part 17/? - Reassessment Part 18/? - Midnight Invasion Part 19/? - Elevator Fight Part 20/? - Courage Part 21/? - Unwelcome Back Part 22/? - Darkest Hour Part 23/? - They Are Here Part 24/? - The Jet Propulsion Laboratory Part 25/? - Word of God Part 26/? - Avengers Assembled Part 27/? - The Houston Underground Part 28/? - Houston has a Problem Part 29/? - Onward and Upward Part 30/? - The Chi’Tauri Queen Part 31/? - Through the Wormhole Part 32/? - Prisoners Part 33/? - Arm’s Length Part 34/? - A Moment’s Respite Part 35/? - Ravagers to the Rescue Part 36/? - What Happened to Hiddleston

Honestly I have no idea what I’m doing anymore.  This fic has gotten totally out of control.

When the crystal captain said he was coming to get them, he apparently meant that literally.  Moments later, with he communication channel still open, there was a tremendous explosion.  Thor found the screen that showed the mother ship behind and below them, and enlarged it.  Something that must have been the Ravager ship had just burst out of the mothership’s back like an alien larva, and its guns cut a swath through the floating Leviathans.  Steve had to make a sudden turn to avoid being next.

“Ah, there you are!” said the crystal being.  He was sitting in his chair as if relaxed – it was Miss Alpha and the crocodile creature whose hands were on the controls.  “Get close to us.  We’ll tow you out if we can just avoid their tractor beams this time.  Miss Alpha’s promised me an algorithm for that.”

“Okay,” Steve swallowed.  He brought the Leviathan around and followed the Ravager ship.  It got closer and closer, revealing itself as a brushed gold vessel, shorter and fatter than the Leviathan.  When it came within a hundred yards, a series of harpoons shot out and locked onto the Leviathan’s spine, rattling the whole structure.  Alarms blared, and Thor looked for a way to silence them but couldn’t find any.  The Ravagers reeled them in, and Steve gently took his hands off the controls.

“Whoops, here comes a beam,” said the crystal captain.  The Ravager ship swerved to the side, yanking the Leviathan behind it.  “You got those jump coordinates, Vark?  Will they fit in the bubble?”

The crocodile grunted.

All around them, the little tow ships were gathering.  These may not have had weapons or may not have had any powerful enough to take on a Leviathan, because they did not fire, only flew circles around them, trying to force them back towards the mother ship.  Steve hit a couple, and they bounced off.  The Leviathans that had been re-crewed were swimming in to join them, though, and those almost certainly had weapons.  Huge turrets on the mother ship were rotating, taking aim.  As Steve had feared, once they’d moved, they were immediate targets.

“Hang on to your asses!” said the crystal being cheerfully.

That was the only warning they got before space turned inside out.  One moment, the Chi’Tauri ships were all around them, and then the stars stretched and snapped back into different places.  The screens fizzled and flickered, and Steve felt as if gravity came back, pulled him in several directions in quick succession, and then vanished again.  After a very long, stomach-churning few seconds, the displays came back to life and they were once again able to see what was outside.

There was a bit of debris floating around them, perhaps from tow ships that had strayed inside what, for want of a better term, Steve was going to have to think of as the ‘warp bubble’, but otherwise they were clear of the threat.  The Ravager ship was hanging above them with the harpoon lines connecting them to its belly – it reminded Steve of a photograph he’d once seen in a magazine, of a hawk carrying a fish as big as it was.  Below them was a planet with one hemisphere in shadow – or at least, it looked that way at first.  As they drew closer Steve realized it was only, at best, two thirds of a planet.  Almost half of it had been sheared away along a straight line by some unknown cataclysm.  Yet impossibly, the remaining part seemed to still have an atmosphere, and Steve could see city lights.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“Haven,” said the crystal captain.  “Don’t go too near the edges, they’ve got it propped up with a time dilation field but it’s still doing its damnedest to collapse back into a sphere.”

When Steve looked closer, he could see that the edges of the crack around the planet were glowing and molten.  It still had oceans, too… he wondered what kept those in.

“Hang tight,” said the crystal captain.  “I’m calling a friend of mine and he’ll find us somewhere to land.”

Hemsworth evidently felt that something was expected of him.  “You have earned the gratitude of Thor,” he said gravely.  “We will sing of your deed in Asgard.”

“As long as my paycheque is equally epic,” the crystal captain said.

Their escape from the mother ship had been of necessity quick, but the process of landing on Haven was much slower, and the crystal captain was apparently not interested in keeping them informed of his progress.  He got his ship into orbit, then shut down the communications link so he could call his friend on the ground.  With the Leviathan still tethered, all the refugees on board could do was sit and twiddle their thumbs.

For that reason, Steve, Thor, and Hemsworth headed back down the tunnels to check on the others, who turned out to be hiding in the tubes that led down to the small vehicles.  Hemsworth rapped on the edge of one.

“You can come out now!” he said.

One by one, they reappeared – Johansson and Evans hiding in one tube, and Natasha and Hiddleston in another.  Hemsworth went to a third and pulled out Loki, who groaned at being handled.  He appeared to be recovering, although he was still very pale.  His eyes flickered open, and Thor drifted over to give his shoulder a squeeze.

“Brother,” he said.  “Do you feel better?”

Loki mumbled something in a foreign language.

“Excellent,” said Thor, and moved on to Hiddleston, who didn’t look very well, either.  “And how are…” Thor began, then did a double-take and reached to touch Hiddleston’s shirt.  For the first time, Steve realized there was a brown stain on it, and also on his green scarf.  Was that blood?  Hiddleston was fully conscious but still looked sicker than Loki, despite inhabiting a far more durable body.  What had happened to him?

“Was that always there?” Steve asked, as Thor touched the bloodstain.

“Probably,” said Hiddleston hoarsely.

“It was,” Johansson said.  “I saw it when we were back on the big ship.”

“Where did it come from?” asked Thor.

“My mouth, I think,” Hiddleston said.  “While they were questioning me.”

The word questioning made everybody stiffen.  They could all tell that was a euphemism, and knew exactly what must have really happened.

“Questioning you?” asked Hemsworth, moving closer.  Steve suddenly realized that Chris Hemsworth and Tom Hiddleston were probably good friends… or at least had a solid co-worker relationship.  Neither of them had ever tried to kill the other.  The complicated and violent history between Thor and Loki was, to them, nothing but a fiction.

Hiddleston squinted at Hemsworth.  “Which one are you?” he asked.

“I’m Chris,” Hemsworth replied.

Hiddleston looked from him to Thor and back again.  “They didn’t question you?”

Steve, Thor, and Nat glanced around at the other actors, at Evans and Hemsworth and Johansson.  They were shaking their heads.

“Shit,” said Evans.  “Tom, what did they do to you?”

Hiddleston reached for the wall to steady himself, but his arm wasn’t quite long enough.  Instead, Hemsworth put his arm’s around his friend’s middle and braced both of them so they could stay upright in the lack of gravity and face the others.  Steve observed that this was something he’d never expected to see – Thor in full armor, cradling Loki against himself.  It wasn’t the weirdest thing that had happened this week but it was close.

“I figured they must think I was Loki,” Hemsworth said.  He coughed a little and cleared his throat before going on.  “I thought I was dreaming, or that it was something like… what’s that movie again?  The one with the aliens who like Star Trek?”

“Galaxy Quest,” said Evans and Johansson at the same time.

“That one,” said Hiddleston with a slight nod.  “But they showed me to Thanos, and somehow just by looking he could tell I wasn’t right, I wasn’t the real one.  He was angry, and the aliens were terrified of him.”  He sounded as if this puzzled him, and Steve had to admit, the idea of terrified Chi’Tauri was an odd one.  “He told them not to come back without the real Loki.  So they figured I must know, and they put me in some kind of…” Hiddleston twitched as a shudder ran through his body just from thinking about it.

Johansson grabbed Hiddleston’s hand.  “We’re right here, Tom,” she said.  “You’re okay.”

He took a deep breath.  “I don’t even know what it was.  Like something the Spanish Inquisition would have used except it never actually touched me.  I just shouted over and over that I wasn’t Loki and I didn’t know where he was.  I tried to make myself wake up, but I couldn’t.  Pretty sure I threw up a couple of times.”  He touched his stained shirt.  “They let me out for a while and then I could think, and I told them that if I was where Loki had been, then he must be either in the Rockie’s filming or else at that convention in Calgary.”

“Right where they first showed up,” said Nat.  “Of course.”

“I wonder how they found the right universe,” said Steve.

“It matters not,” Thor decided.  “Only that they did.”

They hadn’t felt a need to torture and interrogate the others, because none of them knew anything useful.  Thanos only wanted Loki, or at least he had at the beginning.  “Did they say anything about the tesseract?” asked Steve.

Johansson was horrified.  “The man is suffering!” she told Steve.  “Don’t go throwing more questions at him!  They already did that!”

“We need it.”  Natasha put her hand on her double’s arm.  “If we’re going to get you guys back to your world, we need the wormhole to work, and it needs the tesseract.”

Steve shook his head, though.  Scarlett was right – he’d been premature.  “We can let him rest a little while,” he said.  “We’ll have to wait until Loki comes to, at least, so he can switch our bodies back like he promised.”  Steve still wasn’t sure he trusted Loki to do that, even after Loki had saved his life twice.  “Otherwise we’ll have to find our way to Earth and have Wanda do it, but we’ve gotta get you guys back to your Earth eventually.”

Johansson sighed.  “Right.  I wonder if they’ll let me quit.  The Marvel universe is a nice place to visit but I definitely don’t want to live here.”

“If it helps, we feel the same about your world,” said Natasha.

“I like the big where you have multiple options available for body-switching,” said Hemsworth.

“It’s always good to have a Plan B,” Steve agreed.

“Says the guy who doesn’t even have a Plan A most of the time,” Nat observed.

“I did see the tesseract,” said Hiddleston.

The banter had been on the verge of starting to make everyone feel a little better – Hiddleston’s statement deflated that at once.  All eyes turned to him.

“You did?” asked Steve, leaning closer.

“Yeah,” said Hiddleston.  “When they…” he cut himself off, and gave a high-pitched giggle that descended in a few seconds of coughing before he could finally explain what was funny.  “They abducted us!  We were abducted by aliens!”

“Oh, good,” groaned Evans.  “He’s never going to stop talking about that.”

“You saw the tesseract,” Steve prompted.

Hiddleston coughed a couple more times, and nodded.  “When they separated us.  They took the others… I guess to that prison room… but they took me and the tesseract to the big female’s room so they could show us to some kind of hologram of Thanos.  He said they would have to use it to get the real Loki, so the big one said she would keep it safe for him personally.”

“Was that on the same ship as us?” asked Steve.

“I don’t know,” said Hiddleston.  “I don’t remember leaving it.”

That meant the tesseract was probably still in the big queen’s chamber on the mother ship.  Hat was where they would have to go, then, to retrieve it… unless they just gave it to Thanos in the mean time.  Hopefully the Chi’Tauri would interpret his instructions not to come back without Loki as meaning they couldn’t deliver the tesseract either.  But they were going to have to go back, into the lion’s mouth so to speak, to get it out.  Hopefully Steve could at least do it in his own body this time.

A sound reverberating through the Leviathan’s structure got everybody’s attention – a clunk followed by a bang of something striking the outer hull.  Steve pushed himself back up towards the cockpit, and the front view showed him that the Ravager ship was pulling its harpoons back in.

“Oh, good, there you are,” said the crystal captain.  “I got us permission to dock.  Follow me.”

[automatismoateo]

A further explanation of my repeated comment. (Sorry for the length) via /r/atheism

Submitted August 01, 2021 at 03:37PM by Riker3946 (Via reddit https://ift.tt/2TPpQNe) A further explanation of my repeated comment. (Sorry for the length)

So there’s been a couple times on this sub that I’ve made the following comment. “Religion (of any form) is nothing more than a crutch for the scared, a scam for the greedy, a tool for the corrupt, and a weapon for the hateful. Anyone who tries to convince you otherwise is one of those four.” I thought I would provide some explanation by what I mean when I say that.

A crutch for the scared. Every religion and every mythology out there were all started for one reason. To explain the things out there that we were afraid of. In every society there were things that they were afraid of and were 100% impossible to control (the sun, storms, volcanoes, earthquakes, etc.) They desperately wanted something to explain these things, some way shape or form they could gain a sense of control and order from the chaotic reality they dealt with and the other questions they had. Where are we going? What happens when we die? So people started coming up with stories that maybe there’s someone out there who is powerful enough to do these things and we can get them to help us if we do certain things for them (sacrifices, prayer, etc.)

Once they could put a face to their problems and “saw” that these rituals were “working” (Always remember correlation doesn’t equal causation) it finally gave them that false sense of control. Now we got science to explain a lot of these things but there are still people who still want that false sense of control. Just like Linus and his blanket, they refuse to let it go.

A scam for the greedy. Well after all these religions and mythology got started of course someone was going to come along and think “How I can profit off of this?” That’s just how we are, everyone out there will always look for someway to get ahead in life. At this point those stories meant to provide comfort and control got twisted into a way for one person to become more powerful and respected in their societies. Your priest, shamans, oracles and everything in between. Then it got even more outrageous, now we got religious tax-exempt status, we got pastors with yachts, and places of worship with so much gold and jewels it could feed a family for the rest of their lives. If these gods were so great and can create anything then why do they need all this fancy things for? Like I said give it to the starving families, but will they, nope cause God said so.

A tool for the corrupt. Now we’re getting into the real dark side of religion. After seeing how well the greed went the next question was “What else can I get away with?” Again that’s what we humans do, we always want more. These religious people started seeing they could get away with some very serious crimes as long as they said “This is what the God(s) wanted me to do.” Now we got priest and cult leaders committing inappropriate actions with minors. Leaders refusing to help others during natural disasters and still have a fully packed church. Leaders telling people to hurt themselves in order to appease God. These are all things that should never be considered ok to do. It’s all okay though because it’s what the God(s) told them to do.

A weapon for the hateful. After seeing how well the corruption went then came the next questions “How far can I go with this? How much are these people willing to do? Can I even use this in order to take down these other people who don’t agree with me?” The answer to the last one was a massive yes. Now the stories that were supposed to be for comfort became the fear and now rage. “How dare these people live a different lifestyle then us. We must destroy them in the name of our God(s).”

Sadly this is exactly what happened. Now we got Jihads, extremists, conversion camps. That’s why events like the Spanish Inquisition and Salem witch trials happened. Where people were so desperate to make God happy that they would brutally torture and kill their own neighbors and family just for even being considered a heretic. Millions upon millions of people have been killed in the name of religion. Did those responsible for starting it face justice? Nope, at best when the witch trials ended people were just given a compensation for the death of their loved ones.

So there you go and as for the last part “Anyone who tries to convince you otherwise is one of the those four.” If you’re a religious person reading this and you don’t know or don’t think you’re one of these four. You’re most likely the 1st one.

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 17: Devotion and Diplomacy

LAST TIME ON THE CURSEWOOD: The Spanish Inquisition TSA have been seizing people. We did not expect it.

We need to get the three members of the town council to kick these dirtbags out, and we’ve got Keeper Remick on our side already. We bring him along and head toward the next council member. Last anybody heard, the sheriff was at the northern town gate with his Penitent buds.

Our benevolent DM made us a map of the town! Valeria’s player happily hoards it in the Map Collection.

Most travelers have been flowing through the east and west gates; the northern gate’s being guarded by a few militiamen and Lieutenant Vanessa, who we had a beer with last night. “Uh uh, gate’s closed- oh, hey, I recognize you!” she shouts. “You’re one of the, uh-” She waves awkwardly at the burnt remains of the circus.

“That’s us. We’re looking for the sheriff?”

“He – oh hi, Remick – he just left with a couple of guys, didn’t say what he was up to. They went north. They didn’t bring any supplies with them or anything, so it probably won’t be long?”

“Who was he with?”

“Guardsman Stebbin and two of those Penitents.”

What are they up to? Murderin’? Brainwashin’? We are suspicious.

Valeria puts on her Important Official Voice. “We were escorting Keeper Remick to convene with the Sheriff. Mind if we go catch up with him?”

“Uh, I’ve been given orders to keep the gate shut until they get back.”

“Remick is invoking his right to call an emergency town council; we need the sheriff,” Gral declares. Remick is literally standing right there, so we get advantage on the Persuasion check. It also helps that Vanessa doesn’t actually like the Penitents, so we do okay.

“Alright,” she says reluctantly. “Open the gate!”

The trail of a party of four in armor ain’t exactly hard for Clem to pick up. They’re a ways from the path, but not far. What’s our approach?

Valeria turns her extra eyes on. Gral decides to sneak up and see what’s up. The conversation is too quiet for him to overhear, but he gets a good visual of the proceedings. The sheriff and a guardsman, clearly this “Stebbin” fellow, are there. Stebbin’s hands might be bound? There’s a Penitent looming behind Stebbin, and another one whispering into the sheriff’s ear.

No, we do not like this. Valeria is 100% ready to throw hands. She strides in atop her shining gator, looking incredibly knightly, though the Penitents are definitely looking askance at her eyeballs shield. The rest of us hurry in her wake.

The sheriff opens his mouth to greet her and the Penitent speaks right over him. “Sheriff Wilbur is attending to some business. He will be with you momentarily.”

Yeah, Valeria’s not taking any of that. “Is that man a prisoner?”

“…of sorts. Yes.”

“Oh. Well, then – uh, he needs his advocate! Good thing we’ve got Remick right here!” she retorts.

“Keeper Remick need not concern himself with this affair,” the Penitent insists calmly.

The Keeper has hustled up behind us, looking rather confused at the scene. “Yes, what is this man’s crime?”

“This man was found guilty, by his own confession, of taking heretical artifacts that had been seized. He is guilty of theft. He is no doubt a victim of corruption,” the Penitent intones.

Gral interjects. “Artifacts? What kind?”

“…An amulet.”

Gral continues brightly. “Stebbin, would you like to testify?” It’s right around then we notice Stebbin is gagged, his hands bound.

The Penitent glowers at us. “His guilt has already been determined. He has already confessed.”

“Without an advocate? In breach of this village’s custom?” Gral fires back immediately.

The Sheriff tries to interrupt. “Now hold on-“

“Do not let doubt cloud your mind, Sheriff,” the Penitent speaks over him. “You know what needs to be done.”

“Yes, well, but surely with Remick here-“ the sheriff blusters.

“You AGREED this was a serious offense,” the Penitent says, his deep voice echoing. “You agreed that when one of your men slips from the path, you must perform your duty. His penance must be paid. Your penance is to deliver his punishment, or face the wrath of the gods. As for you, Kyr Argent, you come here bearing a sign of the corruption-”

Valeria goes to bash him in the face with her shield. Initiative, y’all.

We all roll BOLLOCKS.

As Valeria takes a fighting stance, the Penitents anticipate her move with almost eerie precision. They swing their spiked chains, knocking Shoshana down and Valeria off her gator.

The Sheriff is paralyzed with indecision at the sudden burst of violence. Who shot first?! Shoshana and Clem don’t have the same reservations and rush in to attack. Valeria runs over to poor Stebbin and removes his gag while Aethis tries to chew on the nearest Penitent. Gral tries to push fear into the mind of one of the knights, but…it’s not working? Usually fear of death and pain is a safe go-to, but it’s not doing much to this guy. What ARE they afraid of? Emotional intimacy? Commitment?

The Penitents swing at us, their chains whipping around them. As the spiked chains tear into the knights’ flesh, it seems to empower their strikes. (Darkest Dungeon strikes again. Have you heard of the Flagellant?)

Sheriff yells “Hey, don’t-“ and jumps in to grab Valeria. She’s a lot bigger and buffer and shrugs him off easily. Clem, Shoshana, and Gral efficiently take apart the first of the Penitents. Valeria gives Stebbin a once-over, using Detect Magic – there’s no amulet on him and nothing on the Sheriff, though there seems to be some sort of magic upon the Knights. So the guardsman seems innocent and the Sheriff’s at least not being magically compelled?

The second Penitent, seeing his companion fall, crashes his spiked chains into Valeria. “BETRAYER,” he growls. “FALLEN TO CORRUPTION. ANOTHER CHAMPION TAKEN BY THE WOOD. STRIKE HER DOWN, LEST SHE DEFILE RACK’S GLORY!” he calls to the sheriff.

“You mean, like you do?” she asks. She doesn’t get a chance to duel him dramatically because Clem takes his dang head off.

Well, now things are just awkward. The sheriff looks SUPER freaked out. “Remick, what the hell have you done?” he demands.

“What were YOU about to do?” Valeria counters.

“He was about to KILL ME!” Guardsman Stebbin wails, hopping out of sword range.

Gral kindly helps him untie his bonds. “You don’t want to incriminate yourself further. We will judge you more fairly than the Penitents, so just sit and wait.”

The sheriff sputters at us. “I- they said - A firm hand is what we need in these times! They, they explained it to me – we gotta get the favor of the gods back. Gotta prove that we’re willin’ to listen. It’s not easy, but we gotta prove we’re worthy.”

Gral glares at him. “With a complete lack of due process–”

“You come here, with that freaky shield-”

“To protect him in case the Penitents did something. You’re working with psychopaths, Sheriff.”

Remick butts in, recovering from the gory scene. “Wilbur, stand down. Let them take care of this. This whole situation has gone too far.”

“YEAH, I’LL SAY!” Stebbin shouts from the background.

Remick pulls Sheriff Wilbur to the side, and they begin arguing in hushed tones.

Valeria fills us in on her Detect Magic insights. “Nothing on the sheriff or the guard. If you need assistance to know what’s true, I’ll step in. Otherwise I’ll wait.”

Stebbin babbles his thanks. “Never thought he’d go through with it, but the things they were saying, you didn’t hear it-”

“What happened?”

“I was just reportin’ for duty as normal! They came and grabbed me, said the sheriff wanted to speak with me. Said we were gonna go on patrol, that bandits were spotted in north area. Then the Sheriff asked for my weapon, the other one got my hands. They asked if I took the thing, an’ I said yeah, I did, I’ll give it back – but they were gonna burn it! And that’s bad, you don’t burn those things-”

“What did they take?”

“A – a wooden amulet, one of them with the face on each side. Baba and Gramps, y’know. My mom was real into the Way of the Woods when we were growin’ up. I know it aint’ exactly – I know we’re all tryin’ to please the gods, keep eye out for signs of evil and corruption-”

Valeria shakes her head. “That’s no corruption.”

“You don’t burn Baba and Gramps’ things, you don’t show that kind of disrespect. It brings bad things down on everyone. So I pocketed it. I guess they spotted it. I – I promise I’ll give it back! It’s back in my house, I swear I didn’t mean no harm-”

“I’m sure the sheriff will know what to do once he’s out from under the influence of those…people,” she assures him.

“Yeah, they been spending all this time with him. The Penitents never let him out of sight, always whispering things to him, yknow?”

Yeah, that tracks.

Shoshana pokes one of the corpses. Seems pretty normal. Not a zombie, as far as she can tell.

Gral asks Stebbin if he’s seen anything odd from the Penitents.

“Uh, besides from taking over the town, stopping people at the gates, and throwing people in cages? Uh, sometimes they take these big carts out of town at night?”

Well, that’s shady as hell.

As Remick and the Sheriff confer in hushed tones, Shoshana looks up and notices something flying overhead, circling down towards us. It’s a white bird in a small, stylish green leather coat. She yells, “EY YO, DAIKON!”

Daikon lands in the middle of the clearing.

“Uh, do you know that bird?” a very confused Remick asks.

“Yeah! See, he’s got his li’l jacket!”

“Yeah, I know ‘em!” Contractor Darius’ voice says, from Daikon’s mouth. “…Did you kill those guys?”

Gral nods sheepishly. “Yeah. They were kinda killing people…I think the word in Valdian is ‘willy nilly’?”

“Huh. I’d heard something had gone down at Three Oaks, so I’ve been sending Daikon here over to check it out, with me in the backseat. Thanks to Torme for this little trick – I get to see the world without leaving my chair. Hadn’t heard about any Penitents, though. There was something about a circus?”

“Yeah, it was full of undead. We killed it with fire.”

“…Huh.”

“Oh! We did make it to Mornheim! We sent a message, I don’t know if-“

“Yeah, we got it. Bossman’s elsewhere, though. Oh – BEA! HEY, BEA! YOU’LL NEVER GUESS WHO I RAN INTO – oh, right, you can’t see ‘em. Hang on, lemme see if I can-“

Daikon stands there with his beak open as Witness Bea’s voice starts coming through. “Um, hello? Only Darius can see you, but he said you fought some Penitents? I don’t like them…”

Remick is, understandably, baffled by the Bird-o-phone, but we introduce Witness Bea of the Cursebreaker Knights and he’s actually quite pleased to meet a real Witness.

With the Cursebreakers on speakerphone, we begin to plan out our next move. The Penitents are going to treat us as hostile; killing two of their own is more than enough for them to declare us Evil and Corrupted. And if they’re resorting to tricks like keeping the Burgermeister under a Suggestion spell, we’re going to have to be clever about this.

Who do we have as nearby allies? Flynn, Fiona, and the goliath bodyguards are all willing to help. We consider trying to recruit the nearby squad of CR5 cinnamon rolls, but the trolls have expressed pretty strongly they don’t want to make any human enemies. Wait, isn’t the orcish troll-hunting force still in the area? Hmm.

Valeria points out the fundamental issue: the town’s only supporting the Penitents because they’re scared of the Curse. If we can’t offer them actual protection, the townsfolk are gonna default back to supporting the Penitents for lack of better options.

Actually, wait, let’s talk about those orcish outriders. They’re an actual military force, armed and ready for big ol’ threats like they expected the trolls to be. Would they be willing to ally with the town? Would the villagers be willing to trust foreigners?

Gral loves the idea, and enthusiastically vouches for the outriders to Remick and the Sheriff. He’s pretty excited – getting the outriders to protect the town would be a helluva PR measure for the orcish refugees. “It would be nice to walk through this place and not have people fear me,” he tells us.

Shoshana sighs. “Honey. All your spells are literally fear effects.”

Clem pipes up: “Also the mask is kinda creepy. Just sayin’.”

As Gral sputters about our cultural insensitivity, we describe llamas to Bea. She thinks they sound scary. We reassure her they’re not as big as Aethis or anything.

“What’s an Aethis?”

“Oh, Bea, you can’t see this thing, it’s crazy-“ interjects Darius.

While Darius attempts to explain the concept of a technicolor alligator, the party turns back to the local leadership, who have been quietly discussing, heads bowed together. The Sheriff looks utterly beaten down, shamefaced at his actions.

He quietly takes off his badge. “I don’t think I can face the town again like this. Stebbin, I’m…stepping down.”

“And you’re just telling ME?” the rank-and-file rando demands.

“I’m appointing Vanessa – she’d be acting sheriff anyway until the Burgermeister appointed a new one, and if he picked anyone else he’d be an idiot.” He shrugs. “I’ll inform her. I’d prefer not to – well – I don’t know how the Penitents will react. They made everything seem so simple…”

Valeria kindly pats him on the shoulder. “You were scared and you made a bad decision. It’s understandable. You’re doing better for the town now.”

“Do you intend to return to town today?” he asks her. “They’ll be on guard once I return without those two.”

(Shoshana’s player jokingly suggests we Weekend at Bernie’s the dead Penitents. This gives Gral an idea, but sadly he hasn’t leveled up to that class feature yet.)

We decide not to return yet, sending Remick back to town and holing up in an old elven hunting lodge nearby.

Daikon carries our message to the outrider company, and half a day later we hear hoofbeats and see the garishly colored llama-riders approach.

“Joybringer!” thunders Captain Trollsfear when we go out to meet them. “This better be important!”

“It is, I promise you. Have you dealt with the Penitent Knights in the past?”

“We’ve heard of them, but not directly dealt with them. Are they like the, uh, the Broke Knights? What are they called, the Penniless Knights?”

Gral grimaces. “Nope, these ones are VERY different. They want to ‘cleanse the wood of impurities.’ Like we’re doing with the clear-cutting, but with, uh, people.” He tries to make a long story short. “They took over the town with magic. We can’t do it ourselves, but if we free this town from their influence, they would count it as a great service. If we put out a show of force as part of liberating them from oppression, these Valdians will think of us as civilized, good people. It’s the best chance to do diplomacy I’ve always wanted to do!”

“Besides, you came here to protect civilians on the Duke’s behalf,” Shoshana points out. “So what if it’s not trolls? This still supports your mission.”

“We did come out to save a town from monsters,” Trollsfear allows. “I will say, if I have to come back to Shieldeater and explain we invaded a town… Please understand: we’ll back you up in a fight, but I prefer not to carry the news back that we killed a bunch of civilians.”

“Oh, we’re hoping to make them back down without violence,” Gral promises.

“If you can talk the town leader into swearing fealty to Shieldeater, it would be a major coup,” Firesong admits. “Especially a major crossroads like this.”

Gral promises to write up a report on all flavors of Curse so the outriders are prepared, and the outriders agree that if all goes well, they’ll leave a partial force behind in Three Oaks while the rest report to Shieldeater – they’ve still got to tell him about Bullbreaker, after all – and then bring back a proper force to guard the town.

So we have our muscle. What’s next?

After much discussion, we come up with a plan: Valeria and Gral will sneak back into the town before dawn. Once the sun’s up, they’ll go to the Burgermeister’s house, insist on using Lay On Hands to heal and/or placebo him, and hustle him out to the town square with Remick and the Sheriff to have big official town council meeting. Meanwhile, Shoshana and Clem will be in charge of getting the gates open for the outriders’ heroic entrance.

(Meanwhile, Gral’s gotten sidetracked attempting to explain the differences between all these sects of Rack-worshippers to the rest of the orcs. “Yes, it’s the same god, they just connect with him differently. They can’t just talk directly to the god.”

“How do you figure out how to worship if you can’t just ask?” an outrider asks.

“Eh, I dunno, it might be good if every time you consult the Allsoul you didn’t have to deal with your passive-aggressive grandma asking if you’ve given her grandbabies yet…”)

We spend the night planning, negotiating, and convincing the understandably wary orcs.

Just after dawn, the gates are closed and the patrols are out. However, we manage to stealth well enough to climb over the wall like rulebreaking teenagers. We split into two teams as the sun rises. Gral and Valeria peel off to the Burgermeister’s house, managing to evade the notice of the Inquisitor, who’s out in the town square, preaching about what a tragedy it is that the heroes who saved the town have fallen to corruption.

Shoshana and Clem, meanwhile, track down Lieutenant Vanessa, who’s out on an early patrol. We explain what’s happened: Two Penitents are dead, Sheriff Wilbur is stepping down, we caught them all about to execute an innocent man without trial for a minor offense.

She nods stonily, going into crisis mode. “We can’t do anything without the Burgermeister, though.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve thought of that.”

Gral and Valeria roll on up to the Burgermeister’s manor. Gral pops off a quick message spell to the Burgermeister’s wife: “Hello, I’m the orc from before. I have brought a paladin to cure your husband!”

Two Penitents are guarding the door, glowering, but Mrs. Burgermeister bursts out of the door and waves them away. “No, no, they’re welcome, they’re welcome!”

As we’re waved inside, one of the Penitents takes off running, making a beeline to the sheriff’s office.

“What is the meaning of this?!” the Burgermeister blusters as two armed adventurers crash on up the stairs to his room.

Valeria’s got this. “Your town is in danger! Your people need you!” she cries, rolling well on her charisma check to absolutely sell that she’s Healing Him With Her Divine Light and spurring him on to heroism.

He springs forth from his bed, his ailment clearly Magically Cured, and begins to dress in a hurry. “Dear, fetch my hat. And my ring!”

Once he has his big fur coat and symbol of office, he’s ready to roll. As they step out of house, they can see the Inquisitor approaching the center of town with large group of Penitents at his back. Valeria and Gral position themselves behind the Burgermeister, lending some muscle while they let him lead the show.

Meanwhile, Clem and Shoshana are hurriedly explaining the plan to Lieutenant Vanessa. She’s real leery of the orcs, but she likes the Penitents even less.

“When is this going down?” she asks, reluctantly acquiescing.

“Uhhh…right the hell now. We gotta get to the gate.”

As they head there at top speed, Shoshana fires off Message spells to Remick, the Fairgolds, and the goliaths: “IT’S GOING DOWN. IN THE CENTER OF TOWN.”

As they hustle into town, Gral and Valeria are busily filling the Burgermeister in on the events of the past couple of weeks. He’s appalled. “I had no idea they’d gone so far! We will convene town council and vote immediately!”

The Inquisitor has beat them to the town square. He’s standing on the plinth of the statue of Three Oaks, his voice booming thaumaturgically over a gathering crowd. He’s surrounded by a solid wall of beefy knights. Remick and the (former) Sheriff are already there, protesting their case but overshadowed by the Penitent show of force.

Despite his blindness, the Inquisitor turns to sneer at Gral and Valeria with unerring accuracy. “Burgermeister Menner,” he booms, “Do not listen to the lies of this pretender to Rack’s glory. Do not be dissuaded from the true path we have begun!”

The Burgermeister rumbles, “Stand down, Inquisitor! I must examine the situation myself!”

The Inquisitor’s unpleasantly serene demeanor seems almost ruffled. “We have held up our end of the agreement and kept your town safe from the ravages of the Curse. To abandon our mission now is to doom these innocent people.”

Valeria interjects. “You’re also protecting this town from COMMERCE.”

Gral joins the heckling. “Ooh, you should check out their underground prison! They keep the ones that would be hard to justify down there.”

The Burgermeister is going red in the face as the evidence builds. “INQUISITOR, TAKE YOUR PEOPLE AND LEAVE THIS TOWN,” he booms.

The Inquisitor hisses, “And then what? You abandon your people? The next group of cultists will slit your throats in the night as sacrifices for their heathen gods.”

Meanwhile, Shoshana, Clem, and Vanessa have made it to the gate.

“Open the gate!” Vanessa commands the guardsmen.

One of the Penitents reaches out a hand to stop her. “The gate shall remain shut,” he intones. “The Inquisitor has commanded it so.”

“Listen to me, open the gate!” she shouts at her men, ignoring the knight.

“Uh, Lieutenant?” one of them calls. “There’s something coming in on the other side?!”

“Yep, that’s the plan!” she shouts, Shoshana and Clem taking advantage of the distraction to maul the Penitent.

Back in the center of town, a cry goes up from the Penitents. One shouts to the Inquisitor, “They assault the gods at the gate!”

Burgermeister Menner is again baffled. “What’s going on?!”

Valeria smiles. “We didn’t plan on leaving your town without protection, of course! Help is coming, but the Inquisitor here is trying to keep them out.”

“Er, what sort of help?”

“Some compatriots of mine,” Gral replies, maybe a touch smugly. “I can vouch for them being much saner than your current protectors.”

Someone’s just come running from the sheriff’s office. Apparently, a pair of burly goliaths have rushed the prison?

“I wouldn’t worry,” Gral assures the Burgermeister. “Those two have just been very concerned for the welfare of their employer.”

“What? Who?”

“A respected scholar from the University of Aurentium. Apparently, knowledge is heresy these days.”

The Burgermeister is not pleased to learn ANY of this.

Valeria and the Inquisitor radiate holy rage at each other, contesting Persuasion checks. Valeria wins, and the Burgermeister and the townsfolk are on her side.

Back at gate, damaged knight enough that Vanessa could open gate, and line of outriders, trollsfear at head w/ barbed spear, firesong beating drumscool entrance music

I introduce captain and sheriff

The Inquisitor loses another round of skill checks, Intimidation this time.

“I can see we are no longer wanted,” he intones, his oily calm almost hiding his fury. “Brothers, we leave this town to its fate!”

As the Penitents prepare to leave, several of their lackeys enter the sheriff’s office and begin to load up chests of seized goods. Valeria clears her throat. “Excuse me! Do you think you’re taking the trade goods of this town as well?”

“These are dangerous items!” the Inquisitor hisses, his composure briefly wavering. “They have already been remanded into our custody. Just because the agreement has been cancelled doesn’t mean it was never in effect.”

“From what I’ve heard, they aren’t all as dangerous as you say,” she retorts.

“And I don’t think looting the town was illuminated in the agreement,” Gral argues smoothly.

A good persuasion roll does the trick, and the Burgermeister orders the city militia to seize the chests.

The Inquisitor glances around, sizing up the situation. “Very well,” he intones, “The doom is on you.” His men drop the chests, and the Penitents start to leave town.

The Burgermeister coughs awkwardly, looking around to the admittedly intimidating orcish delegation. “Yes! Very well! Erm. Captain Trollsfear, was it? I understand we will have to, er, negotiate somewhat…”

Shoshana steps in to make introductions, though eventually she leaves the translating to Firesong and goes to help release the prisoners in the sheriff’s office.

Valeria wants to Detect Magic on the chests of items to see whether they’re really cursed. Just as the DM is warning that might not always work, a haggard Lucinius Galvan stumbles out of the sheriff’s office. He can cast Identify if we need. He’s going to hug his returned notes and cry for a bit, though.

With Lucinius’ help, Valeria begins distributing the seized items to any original owners that might still be in town, and Clem starts providing medical aid to the prisoners who have been roughed up by the Penitents.

Gral plays diplomat with the Burgermeister and the orc outriders – nothing permanent can be decided without the actual orc government, so a few outriders are going to stay and help the militia while the rest go to Shieldeater, make their report, and get a formal embassy sent who can actually negotiate guards and trade and stuff. Y’know, ACTUAL diplomats.

Once things have settled down a bit, we hunt down Lucinius and pull out the sketches Valeria made of the Mornheim mummy’s tattoos. His eyes instantly light up.

“These markings are largely symbolic language rather than literal words. Much like arcane runes! But I can tell you now – this is fascinating! A collaboration between the Aquilians and the Valdians would explain a lot of the strange things I’ve seen in my research so far! There’s a central word repeated throughout these tattoos – some sort of organizational marking, similar to the rose crest in your armor, but tattooed on the skin. This root word, which appears in both the Old Valdian and the Old High Aquilian, translates to…the closest equivalent would be ‘Warden.’”

Huh. Someone dedicated to guarding the Prisoners, perhaps?

“The word has a variety of meanings, of course. It could refer to guarding prisoners, guarding or caretaking a particular location – but definitely some sort of Warden. This individual seems to have belonged to some sort of organization that is both druidic and Aquilian, and would define itself as wardens! I’ll need to study this further – can I keep this?”

He’s told us what we need, so we’re happy to let him take it.

“Still, I wouldn’t dare formally present my findings yet,” he rambles. “‘Wardens’ could just be Valdian mercenaries in the Aquilian army, and it would unbecoming of a professional of my stature to overstate and romanticize – maybe they’re just a group of enthusiastic auxiliary watchmen, or some sort of game warden-”

Gral pipes up. “Eh, from the situation we found the body in, I kinda doubt it.”

“Oh, what situation?”

“Some cultists were gonna bring it back as a mega-zombie. Big fancy ritual and everything.”

“Hmm. How was the individual buried, do you know?”

“Mummified.”

“Oh!” Lucinius exclaims. “Well, that certainly lends credence to the idea of a person of significant importance!”

He’s quite cheered up, with a new puzzle to research. “I’ll look into this at my next destination - I’m on my way to Hoeska castle! Your delightful friend Witness Beatrice told me there was quite an impressive library of Valdian folklore there! I wanted to see if they’d let me borrow a few volumes.”

Hoeska is Cursebreaker HQ, so we tell him to say hi to Ser Quentin for us, though we warn him he’s a bit abrasive.

“PLEASE, I’ve sat next to Professor Desmond of the Antiquities Department at no less than three dinners, I can HANDLE abrasive.”

Eventually the sun begins to go down. We make camp and plan our next move. Flynn is sulking super hard – Fiona manages to convey he’s rather miffed we went off and saved the day without him, AGAIN. They’re going to go escort our civilian friends Aaron and Rebecca to Holzog and have their OWN adventures. Hmph!

It’s time to bring our water purifier spell to Mornheim. We decide to drop our holy sword in the old trollstones north of the city – supposedly, that’s the underground source of the River Morn, so dropping the cure there should ensure clean water for the town.

With a clear goal in mind, we cut session and let the party get some sleep.

[trinity-blood-translations]

Trinity Blood RAM-series analysis

or: What the heck is happening in RAM 4?

This was the question I had all the time in my mind while reading RAM 4 of Trinity Blood. Since in Trinity Blood you can understand almost everybody’s motivations and goals but this time it was a mess. I couldn't understand why things are happening so I had to think a lot about it and made researches and as usual checked the other versions, because as you know as well the English as the Spanish version have many failures in translation and left out sentences.

The questions: --------------------

1) How came Catherina’s name on the list of the New Vatican Members and how the Vatican got that List?

2) Why on Earth does Helga helping the AX to get Cherubim due to exonerate Catherina?

3) Why does she still want to get Cherubim to the Vatican after her real identity was revealed by Antonio and Abel?

4) What are the consequences of the Vatican got Cherubim and some information.

5) Why didn't Isaak do anything when he knew well that Helga is plotting against him bringing danger for the whole RCO and Cain as well?

The Results of Research: -----------------------------------

1) How came Catherina’s name on the list of the New Vatican Members and how the Vatican got that List?

Well, how it begins, is showed already in RAM 3 in a little RCO-scene after the Brno-plan failed. Dialogue between Isaak and Dietrich:

(RAM 3, Know Faith): Dietrich: "Shall I guess what you intent to do next?" Isaak: "Do you know what I intend to do?" Dietrich: Of course I know. You'll do something quite terrible, right?" Isaak: As you say Puppeteer, I'm now going to do something quite terrible.

-->This “quite terrible “ is nothing else than playing a false list of the members of the New Vatican in the hands of the Inquisition - of course with the name of Catherina on the list. As we get to know in RAM 4, the list supposed to be false by the AX, but they can't prove it:

RAM 4, Lady Guilty Antonio: “There were duplicates but never a master copy. So the Inquisition Committee must have a fake.”

RAM 4, Lady Guilty Dietrich to Isaak: “They’ve managed to escape the Vatican’s surveillance net, and we don’t know where any of them (the AX) are. They are pretty clever, no? But this the end of Duchess of Milan. The list you made was perfect. Those feeble-minded idiots at the Vatican will never realize that it’s a fake.”

So Isaak was planning with this list to remove Catherina and the AX, the only enemy of the Orden who are able to stop the RCO. Probably he is hoping as further result to win Catherina for the RCO because if she is sentenced to death she will have nowhere to flee but to the RCO.

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

2) Why on Earth does Helga helping the AX to get Cherubim due to exonerate Catherina?

The AX knows that Cherubim should have the original list of the members. But they have no chance to find Alfonso (who has Cherubim) till Helga (undercover) comes to them and tells where the New Vatican is hiding. But we get to know her true intensions just after Antonio ask her who the fuck she is, because she is not the person she pretend to be. Her answer:

RAM 4, Judgment Day Helga: "Hee hee....Idiot! I worked so hard on this miserable act, but you really are idiots. It will not be possible for you to succeed in your desire to rescue Sforza. I'll take Cherubim back to Rome for you. You can rest easy!"

--> So she wanted to get Cherubim to Rom to the Inquisition, but she doesn't intend to help in rescuing Catherina. It means she was only using the desperate AX to get Cherubim to Rom. So she want the Inquisition get some other information from Cherubim besides the original member list. But what information could it be?

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

3) Why does she still want to get Cherubim to the Vatican after her real identity was revealed by Antonio and Abel?

After Cherubim is in Rome and Catherina is rescued Isaak makes Helga responsible for a big failure, because he never wanted Cherubim get to Rom it was Helga’s own plan not one of the RCO.

RAM 4, Judgment Day Helga: "What happened was a series of unfortunate coincidences." Isaak: "Do not be mistaken Countess. I am not trying to criticize you. It is just that these unfortunate coincidences have put us in a dangerous position....Cherubim reached the Vatican with information, due to these unfortunate coincidences. It is only a matter of time before they discover our locations-including this place."

--> It means the locations of the headquarters of the RCO, the one in Über-Brelin (Cain, Isaak, Dietrich, Susanne, Guderian) and the one in Vienna (Helga and the Neumann brothers) will be released for the Vatican. We know that Helga is deeply in love with Cain so she impossible wanted the Vatican discover Cain's hideout. Or she is certain that Cain would get away easily by a potential attack on the Berlin-headquarters. What does she really wanted? We get the answer in RAM 5 and RAM 6.

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

4) What are the consequences of the Vatican got Cherubim and some information.

In RAM 5 (Birdcage) Helga manage to keep her plot running in order to reach her goals.  She "invites" Isaak to Vienna where everything should get an end.

RAM 5, Birdcage Helga's thoughts after the video-conference with Isaak: "The next step was to continue to act in accordance with the pre-specified arrangements to complete the plan that was 'Operation Birdcage'. If it went as intended, everything would continue to develop according to the script that they had already laid forth. Now, Helga would have no need to dirty her hands. That meant that her mortal enemy- no, the two enemies whom she hated more than anyone, would both put an end each other, and finally die."

 --> What does it mean?

“the script that THEY had laid forth”: Balthazar is helping her, because he is in love with Helga.

“ her mortal enemy”: Isaak (She truly hates Isaak, because he stands between her and Cain. RAM 4, Judgment Day. [Helga (while video chatting with Isaak:] "She internally cursed her bad luck that he was precisely the man whom she hated the most in the world for having total monopoly over her beloved and  the one whom  she had to explain now her failure.")

“the two enemies she hated more than anyone”: Abel and Isaak

“both will  put an end each other”: In fact she wants Abel and Isaak killing each other in Vienna – just as it happens seemingly in RAM 6

 --> There we have our answer: she wants the AX to get to know about the headquarter in Vienna, that's why she wants to get Cherubim to the AX. Proof:

RAM 5 (Bird Cage): Caspar: "Well, have you got answers to all of your questions now? What good do you think that you will get out of it, uncle? As you must know, I cannot stay here too long. I must return immediately to the 'Tower', otherwise I will be reprimanded by my brother." William: "'The Tower'? Well, now...is that your base of operations?" (bit later:) William: "Angel of Wisdom, 'Cherubim', I ask you! Where is this stronghold he called "The Tower'?" Cherubim: "In Vienna, Sir....City of Vienna, Germanic Kingdom, longitude 16 degrees north, and latitude 48 degrees."

--> Of course it had to look like the AX got this information on they own otherwise they could have sensed a trap. That's why Helga is going undercover to the AX in RAM 4 and helping them to get the Cherubim.

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

5) Why didn't Isaak do anything when he knew well that Helga is plotting against him bringing danger for the whole RCO and Cain as well?

We get to know already in RAM 4 that the RCO isn't really a united big family:

RAM 4, Lady Guilty Dietrich to Isaak: “After all, there are so many people who would like to drag you down. And they could be anywhere.”

--> He means even within the RCO. But Isaak knows well, that Helga is plotting against him and he pretend not to suspect anything. Seemingly he walks easily into Helga's trap and comes to Vienna:

RAM 5, Birdcage Helga: "But aren't you very busy with your work....?" Isaak: "No, I can find someone else here to be responsible for my current project. As soon as I finish shifting over that responsibility, I will immediately rush to your side."… Helga’s thoughts: This fellow had totally taken the bait. - Ice Witch bowed deeply, bit her lip, and smiled smugly. She was convinced that she had already won.

That Isaak is already aware of her plot get we know in RAM 5 (Radio Head) where Isaak and Dietrich are already on the way to Vienna:

RAM 5, Radio Head Dietrich: "But you know it’s a trap, why do you go to Vienna?" Isaak: "Oh, you mean why I’m going there nonetheless? Anyway, after all, the countess said, that Balthasar asked for advice. You're a smart man, since you think I've been aware of their plot - this perception should not be wrong – but well, they rarely specially invited me, if I flatly refuses to do so, I'm afraid it's not polite."

--> It means he has his own plans already. In RAM 6 Isaak and Abel meet in Vienna but instead of fighting and killing each other Isaak surrenders himself to Abel and offers him help to stop the Silent Noise system of Vienna. However they work together, at the end it seems that Helga won: Abel and Isaak are dying after a big explosion at the Schönbrun Castle. But shortly thereafter it turns out, that both are alive and Isaak was pulling the strings all the time and everybody were dancing around after his plans, especially Abel. (to read more about RAM 6 check the Authors note in translation: http://trinity-blood-translations.tumblr.com/post/150707132743/apocalypse-now-yoshidas-notes-for-ending )

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I hope you go enjoyed this little analysis and we got some clearness in the mess of plot. Please let me know if you have questions. @Trinity Blood by Sunao Yoshida, illustration by Thores Shibamoto

[everythingtimeless]

Historical Hour With Hilary: 1x11

You know the drill -- earlier installments are here. Otherwise let’s head to the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago, 1893, as Wyatt and Rufus attempt to catch up with Flynn and Lucy, and run afoul of the Devil in the White City.

This installment ended up, by accident, perfectly timed, landing right as the USA is marking Columbus Day weekend. Christopher Columbus (and his legacy) are in fact central to our discussion, as while it is usually known as the “World’s Fair,” the real name of the setpiece event in 1893, scheduled for 1892 and intended to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the “discovery” of the New World, was the World’s Columbian Exposition. It was an absolutely massive event that impacted every level of American society at the end of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th, and its cultural, physical, and mental effects on the collective American psyche cannot possibly be overstated. It’s going to be hard for me to get everything I want to say into a single relatively brief intro to this event, so I’m going to have to pick and choose. But of all the places and times the show has visited thus far, I’m inclined to say that none of them have matched this for sheer long-lasting significance. It encompasses a history from the fifteenth century until this very minute in the twenty-first, and is a perfect (and unsettling) synecdoche for how that history has been deployed and used.

It may make the most sense to start, therefore, with Christopher Columbus. When he set sail in 1492, he was -- as most people know -- attempting to find a new passage to the wealth of the Indies. Why was he doing it? Well, Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, as you might also know, were Catholic. Very, very Catholic. Therefore, as Columbus’ own journals record:

[I hope to find] those things [money and gold] in such quantity that the sovereigns, before three years [are over], will undertake and prepare to go conquer the Holy Sepulcher; for thus I urged your Highnesses [Ferdinand and Isabella] to spend all the profits of this my enterprise on the conquest of Jerusalem, and Your Highnesses laughed and said that it would please them and even without this profit they had that desire. (see p. 51)

Yes. Let’s start there. Columbus was sent to raise money for a new crusade, which had preoccupied the Christian world incessantly since their inception in 1095. The last “official” crusade had taken place in the late thirteenth century, but the fall of Constantinople to the Ottoman Turks in 1453 had sharply revived interest in crusading plans. 1492 was also notable as the year that the Islamic kingdom of Granada in Spain was finally destroyed, the Inquisition against Jews and non-Catholics was at its peak, and Spanish observers -- upon receiving word of Columbus’ “discoveries” and that of a new people, the Native Americans -- immediately made the connection that it was time to conquer the Indians instead. Ferdinand and Isabella quickly asked Pope Alexander VI (aka Rodrigo Borgia, who you have probably heard of) to ecclesiastically sanction their possession of the new world. Alexander obliged in short order with three papal bulls known as the Bulls of Donation: Inter caetera, Eximiae devotionis, and Dudum siquidem. These papal documents formed the theological and legal basis for the immediate and overwhelming Spanish (and soon French, English, and Portuguese) extortion and exploitation that was to follow.

I would have to write a much longer post, as noted, to get in everything I want to say about Columbus. I cannot overstate how terrible he was, how much he contributed to the legalization and establishment of centuries of native genocide, and the way in which he was reinvented as a towering American hero. Not coincidentally, the American love affair with Columbus was at its peak in the 19th century, as the fledgling American government was applying all-out extermination policies to its own Indians. In 1823, the Supreme Court ruled on Johnson vs. M’Intosh, which is still cited today as the legal precedent that allows the United States to exist on former Indian land, and was in fact the entire reason it was issued. Chief Justice John Marshall referred directly to the “doctrine of discovery” set out in the Alexandrine papal bulls, and his friend and associate justice, Joseph Story, made the link explicit: America in its modern state existed because of the papal bulls given to legitimize Columbus’ conquest. (see pp. 82-84). Nobody would have denied this, either. Idealization and adoration of Columbus was everywhere. The big festival to celebrate the quad-centennial was no accident. And nor was the White City.

The White City of the Columbian Exposition was literally intended to represent American exceptionalism, the triumph of the invading whites over the last of the Indians, and the pursuing of colonization and imperialism at the turn of the century. In 1890, L. Frank Baum, better known as the author of The Wizard of Oz, wrote a famous celebration of the Wounded Knee Massacre: 

The nobility of the Redskin is extinguished [. . .] the Whites, by law of conquest, by justice of civilization, are masters of the American continent, and the best safety of the frontier settlements will be secured by the total annihilation of the few remaining Indians. Why not annihilation? Their glory has fled, their spirit broken, their manhood effaced; better that they should die than live the miserable wretches that they are. (see p. 111).

Excuse me, I just gotta go.... scream really loudly for a second.

Okay, I’m back. The World’s Fair! It’s one of the best-documented cultural events of probably the entire 19th century. It cemented the groundwork for modern capitalist consumer society and the celebration of American racism alike. It attracted acts from Harry Houdini to Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show with Annie Oakley, to the world’s first Ferris wheel, to more. It was intended to awe and surprise the average paying customer and to celebrate their feeling of exceptional patriotism, and boy, did it do that. Major forerunners of famous brands got their start at the fair. Like so:

The cultural legacy of the Fair is [...] still as pervasive, today, coloring every aspect of daily modern life--from museums to the Pledge of Allegiance to hamburgers and Disney World.

The Columbian Exposition was the venue for the debut of consumer products which are so familiar today--including Cream of Wheat, Shredded Wheat, Pabst Beer, Aunt Jemima syrup, and Juicy Fruit gum. The Manufactures and Liberal Arts Building was a showcase for American products, and showed them to advantage. [...] The Fair also introduced picture postcards to the American public, as well as two staples of the late-twentieth century diet--carbonated soda and hamburgers.

But it was not merely the Fair's product introductions which had an impact on the face of modern America. The Exposition provided the United States with a new holiday, Columbus Day, and a new method of inculcating patriotism in schoolchildren-- the Pledge of Allegiance. Yet nothing "says more about the power of the White City than that it inspired the Emerald City. Children's writer L. Frank Baum never forgot the fair and transmuted it into Oz.”

Yep. Good ol’ L. Frank Baum again. Man, I’m depressed.

Given all this, it’s perhaps not too surprising that there was a Devil in the White City, which is the title of Erik Larson’s fascinating (and terrifying) 2004 book about the fair, its immense cultural impact, and two men involved with it: one, Daniel Burnham, who designed it, and the other, H.H. Holmes, the man behind the “Murder Castle,” which was set up as a hotel for guests at the fair, and where he became one of the most notorious serial killers in American history (and perhaps even first popularized the idea among the public). If you don’t feel like sleeping tonight, you can check out the details, but Holmes (born Herman Mudgett) was just as sick as presented in the episode, if not more so. (Oh, and they literally just exhumed his grave in Philadelphia a month ago, in September 2017, to find out that he was still mostly preserved. So that’s definitely not going to loose a terrifying poltergeist on the world or anything.) That is one historical figure that We Do Not At All Object to Wyatt offing earlier than scheduled.

Whoof. This was intense. Let’s uh... drink a Coke or something. Chill out.

In expanding the field of the culture that would produce McDonald’s and Coca-Cola, the exposition helped to popularize and legitimize the mix of diet and political economy that were converging to transform the United States into what Eric Schlosser has described as the “fast food nation.”

GOD DAMMIT.

Next week: We head to 1882 and the Murder of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford... or perhaps not quite.