#because the idea of waiting for a library hold after already waiting months was intolerable

[fictionadventurer]

It's here!!

It's so pretty!

And thick! (Lots of story to read!)

And it feels so nice in my hands!

[anxious-changeling]

GN Witch!Reader x Familiar!Crusaders (-Joseph)

We hope you enjoy this!!! We put a lot of love into it!

Avdol

His animal form is a Partridge Rock Chicken!

The only traits he carries from his animal form is small feathers dusting his cheekbones!

You met him while you were walking around Cairo and just happened to feel a pull towards a curtained area.

Following the pull you found yourself in front of a fortune tellers booth, a beautiful man seated behind a table.

With a kind smile he welcomed you to sit and have your fortune read, you could almost feel the electricity crackle in the air.

When he grabbed your hand it felt like lightning had struck you. You knew what he was and he knew what you were. A witch and an unbound familiar staring into one another eyes.

Still he amused you with a palm reading reading of coming good fortune and a lifetime of happiness. With a hint of mischief coloring his voice while saying the latter.

You proposed him the idea of him becoming your familiar to which he agreed after some bargaining. Such as what days he would be employed and what he could and couldn’t do!

He told you of his previous witch, a cruel woman named Enyaba, who would clip his wings so he couldn’t fly. A sad fate for such a beautiful bird.

In his chicken form he’s very cuddly and makes adorable cooing noises when you pet him.

He looks so cute when he falls asleep on your lap as you read from a grimoire you recently bought. Burrowing deeper into your warmth subconsciously as you idly fun your hand over his feathers.

He’s the perfect familiar and the perfect partner, attentive to your every need and attuned to your aura!

He’ll be your loving guardian against any spirits that may try to target you! Beings with malicious intent don’t stand a chance against him!

He specializes in fire magic and reading the auras of the world! Making him perfect for monitoring potions that are volatile!

He likes to show you all the little designs he can make with his fire magic. He loves even more the look of your face illuminated by his flames~

Has a fire elemental he calls Magicians Red that likes to follow him around! Going as far to take orders from him.

Once Magicians Red grows to like you it’ll lean down to let you sift your fingers through it soft head feathers!

Fully expect MR to join you and Avdol to cuddle! Personal furnace right there! Great in winter, intolerable in summer.

Polnareff

His animal form is a Stoat!

Carries his ears and tail from his animal form into his human form! When his hair is down it’s easier to see his ears since they aren’t covered up!

You met Polnareff while sitting in a local cafe, where he had approached you boldly to flirt. When he grabbed your hand to plant a kiss on the back, spark flew.

You could only stare in shock at one another before he grinned largely in joy! An unbound familiar finding a witch, what a lucky day!

You sat in the cafe for hours learning about one another, and eventually you extended the offer for him to become your familiar!

He accepted enthusiastically and thus you set off on your adventures!

He had a previous witch who he was bound to, known as Mariah, but she passed leaving him unbound for a long time.

He’s just as playful in his animal form as he is in human form, and enjoys rough housing with you! He likes to be tossed in the air and caught!

Likes pull pranks by hiding under furniture and farting out to nip at your ankles as you pass!

He enjoys being in contact with you someway, whether it be an arm over your shoulder or his head in your lap.

If you’ve been over working yourself on a potion he’ll whine loudly demanding your attention. He wants your attention but also knows you need a break.

He specializes in earth magic and spell casting! He is a vital help during long spell casting sessions as he helps balance you.

He’s a very affectionate and kind partner making sure to never overstep your boundaries!

Beware anything that sets its eyes upon you with malicious intent because he’ll make sure to tear them asunder.

Has a metal Gollum named Silver Chariot bound to him and it follows him everywhere, silently like a shadow.

Chariots emotions compared to humans is very muted, but if he feels affection for you he will hold onto you.

Chariot shows his affection through gifts and will often present you with flowers he’s found!

You make his bonded one happy which makes him happy! It also helps you’re kinda to him and give him gifts too! He cherishes every treasure you’ve gifted him!

Jotaro

His animal form is a Moray Eel! He’s also quite large for his species coming in at 6 feet long!

The traits he carries from his animal form are that his teeth are sharper than normal!

You met Jotaro while lazing in a secluded cove soaking in the sun. Charging a few crystals for an upcoming major spell.

You barely heard him enter but you did feel when he passed your rune barrier.

You had expected to see maybe a minor demon or a pixie, but not a hulking man who’s cold glare pierced you.

You both exchanged words as the adrenaline wore out, and you just waved him off so you could enjoy the sun without him.

He scoffed shouldering you as he walked past, electricity ran through you both. Like a live wire had hit your skin.

To be an unbound familiar this close to a witch could be dangerous when caught off guard in a secluded area.

So when Jotaro whirled around to bare his teeth at you, he was surprised to find you moving to sit back down. Didn’t you want to enslave him to you?

After a few hours of coexisting on the beach you break the ice asking questions. Sometimes he’d grunt in response or answer in rambling sentences. What an enigmatic creature.

You learned that his last witch had been a hideous woman named Midler. He had been wandering unbound for many years, ignoring every witch who begged to become bound to him.

Humming you told him that your homes open to him and left your address on the sands as you left for home. Faintly feeling blue eyes drilling into your retreating form.

Weeks later as you sat slouched over a grimoire taking notes, you heard someone pounding on your door.

When you answered the door you found yourself face to face with none other than Jotaro.

After sitting him down and going through the motions of being a host you began to talk.

He laid out his demands, days he could and couldn’t fulfill his duties, and his boundaries. You beamed at him while signing the contract agreeing to your partnership, kick starting a wonderful future!

It took a bit for mutual comfort to happen but in the end it’s well worth the wait!

Jotaro compliments your spellcasting style and is an excellent potion making assistant! Both of you taking your craft very seriously.

When your relationship takes a slow turn to partnership neither of you are surprised!

Jotaro isn’t much for outward displays but he does like to show his appreciation through gifts. He’ll drop a new griomoire he acquired in you lap saying it was an “accidental buy”.

If you’re sick he’ll call up his mother to get her soup recipes. He’ll complain as he does but you know he really doesn’t mind it.

He specializes in water magic and energy manipulation making it easier for him to control volatile spells! He’s also very proficient in drawing spell circles with near perfect precision!

Has a minor water deity named Star Platinum that always follows him around much to his annoyance.

While Jotaro isn’t affectionate Star very much is and makes up for Jotaro in that aspect!

Star will twirl you around gleefully and enjoys hanging off of you as you read or spell cast!

Both Jotaro and Star would tear apart the world with their bare hands to ensure your safety.

Kakyoin

His animal form is a Orchid Mantis!

He doesn’t retain any traits of his animal form in human form except for some pink dusted here and there!

You first met Kakyoin at your local library as you scoured the shelves for your favorite book.

As you went to grab the book a slender hand grabbed it first. Silently huffing you turned to swear at the thief but found yourself face to face with an interesting man.

He already started to walk away but you felt something pulling at your gut to stop him.

As you grabbed his wrist you felt electricity hum through you and his pupils expanded in surprise.

He tugged his hand out of your grasp and took long strides to the check out and out the door.

Well that’s one way to make an impression on a witch. You by instinct wanted to race after him but your gut anchored your feet as you watched him flee.

You didn’t run into him for many months, a careful unbound familiar who had no doubt been mistreated in the past.

You didn’t actively seek him out but it seemed that fate put its back into dragging you two together.

You found the strange man at your door one morning bloody and bruised badly. Hauling his lanky form onto your couch you got to work fixing him up.

Spell after spell you cast and even eased mild healing potions down his throat. Now all left to do was wait, so that’s what you did.

Curled up on your armchair with the newest grimoire to your collect you began reading. It took him a few hours but finally he began to stir.

He looked defensive as his purple eyes scanned your living room. Eyeing you warily as you slowly stretched from your arm chair.

As you explained what had happened and how you treated him the calmer he became. He also explained he just came to the closest house after he was attacked. A low level demon having gotten the jump on him as he slept.

You happily welcomed him to stay in your heavily warded home, which is near impossible to break into. He hesitantly took your offer and so began your journey with your new roommate!

It took months of tip toeing around one another before he finally approached you with a deal. Very clearly and sternly laying out his boundaries and expectations.

You gladly welcome his into the bond, celebrating by making a nice meal! After many years you finally had a familiar!

He helps a lot to cover the areas you lack in and help mishaps before they happen! If one side of the spell isn’t reinforced he’s there working on it! Making sure it won’t backfire in your face!

In his mantis form Kakyoin is content in just punching on you as you go about doing what you need to! He doesn’t enjoy touch as much as others but enjoys your warmth!

Enjoys looking at the outside world from his smaller perspective, behind glass and wards of course can’t have a bird snatching him!

It takes a while for Kakyoin to allow himself to court you and at first he’s very cautious. Aware of your ever movement, but as he get more comfortable he opens up more!

He enjoys holding hands with you and resting his head in your lap as you read or watch tv.

Enjoys baking for you because he’s a horrible cook. He enjoys making a great variety of desserts and you are his personal taste tester!

If you become sick he’ll show how he can make a mean chicken noodle soup from scratch. The only dish he can’t mess up when cooking!

Is a helicopter partner when you’re sick, worried if he takes his eyes off of you he’ll miss something!

He specializes in air magic and has a keen eye for plant identification! Making him useful very useful when you go foraging!

Has a bonded nature spirit named Hierophant Green that follows him wherever he goes. They’re very attached to one another.

Hierophant will be very wary of you for a long time, but as he sees that you treat Kakyoin well it’ll win his favor.

Once Hierophant becomes attached there’s letting go, he’ll follow you everywhere demanding pets.

He lets off a strangely high pitched purr when you pet him and wraps around you protectively at home.

Hierophant and Kakyoin would sacrifice the whole universe to make sure you stay safe.

Holy shit that’s.. long. We hope you enjoyed and we bid you a good morning/afternoon/evening! A lot of love went into this piece :D

[wisherbysharlight]

I Wanna Get It, I Didn't Get It, Til Now

Word Count: 4084

Pairing: Analogical

The second in a series of different pairings being capital O Oblivious because that’s a trope I will never ever get tired of.

Virgil sits at the same library table every single day, alone, until one day, Logan needs a seat.

They are both kind of idiots.

Warnings: none that I can think of

AO3 Link

Virgil loved his library table. He would get there after his work study shift in the registrar’s office, around 7pm on weekdays and 1pm on weekends, and the section on the second floor would be mostly clear. Second floor was quiet but not silent, so it didn’t feel oppressive, and he didn’t feel insecure about whether his headphones were too loud or not. His favorite table was just to the left of the water fountain, had an outlet built into it, and the chairs were adjustable enough that he could lean back and press his knees against the side of the table while he typed. He loved his table so much that he’d come even if he didn’t have homework to do, just to scroll through endless Tumblr pages or work on his personal writing. He’d had his table for 3 months with no problem at all, which was why he was baffled when someone came up to him while he was reading and stood expectantly next to the table, overly full backpack hanging off his shoulder.

 He recognized the other man immediately, he was another library regular who usually sat two tables away, always messing with his hair and adjusting his tie pushing his glasses up his nose and drawing Virgil’s eye with movement. He took his headphones down and put them around his neck, though he could still faintly hear his music, “Hi? Can I help you?”

 “The outlet is broken on my table, and I was wondering if I could join you and utilize the other half of yours?” mystery-man asked, gesturing to where Virgil was only using two of the four outlets.

 “Oh sure, of course, go ahead. Sorry about your table,” Virgil offered, brandishing his hand vaguely at the chair across from him.

 “You have nothing to apologize for, of course. I appreciate your amenity. I submitted a work order request, hopefully it will be repaired soon,” the other man took the seat and set his things down before extending a hand across the table, “Logan Perry. I believe I’ve seen you here frequently so this is at least a good opportunity to get acquainted.”

 Virgil blinked a bit, trying to process, then hurriedly pulled his hand out of the makeshift paw he’d made out of his sweatshirt sleeve and shook Logan’s hand so he wouldn’t think that Virgil didn’t want to, “Um. Yeah. I’ve seen you around too, I think. Virgil Storme. Nice to meet you.”

 Logan tipped his head to the side curiously when Virgil leaned over, as though he was listening hard, then adjusted his glasses, “Hmm. Interesting melody. I appreciate the solid bass rhythm. Who is the artist, if you don’t mind my asking?”

 “The... Artist? Oh, you mean the band I’m listening to?” he picked his headphones up but only put one ear on, “It’s Arctic Monkeys. They’re like, known, for solid bass lines, which is probably what you could hear.”

 Logan hummed like he was intrigued, then began pulling books out of his bag and… wow. That was a lot of books, each one thicker than the last. Chemistry I, Physics II, Theory of Numbers, Discrete Mathematics… Virgil had a headache just looking at the titles, “Uh… Wow. That’s some collection you’ve got there. What year are you?”

 “I am a first semester sophomore. I struggled choosing a major, so I opted to dual major in Math and Physics and minor in Philosophy and Conservation Studies. Also a minor in Astronomy, but that came with no extra courseload, just strategic choices in electives. I enjoy learning quite a bit, so I opt to stay during break semesters, and I am on track to graduate on schedule with no more than 18 credits a semester,” Logan rattled off, like he’d gone through the spiel before and was expecting certain questions and wanted to head them off, “And yes, before you ask, I do take breaks, I am not a hermit with no friends, and as far as I know I am not a robot.”

 Virgil blinked dazedly again, trying to absorb the bucketful of information being thrown at him, “Cool. Sounds like you’ve got it under control then. I’m dual-major too, but creative writing and interactive media design have a bunch of overlap.”

 Logan nodded, pulling out what must have been the notebook he was looking for with a triumphant noise, “You want to be a game designer then? Very lucrative career to choose, especially with the current market for such employs.”

“I wanna write books, actually, but like you said, markets good for game writers and I wanna have a fall back in case everything sucks, ya know?” Virgil admitted. He’d been told his stories were good, sure, but there was always a chance it would all go to shit, and the only way to account for that was to put 110% in and have a backup plan for his backup plan’s backup plan.

 Logan gave him an indecipherable look that passed in a moment before he went back to his neutral expression, “Understandable, I suppose. If you would ever like a second opinion on a piece, please allow me to offer my aid. I may not be as fluent in creative ventures, but I am a fan of such works, and my roommate often uses me as a sounding board for his own ideas.”

 Virgil tried not to let his surprise show, he didn’t want to offend his new… desk-mate? Acquaintance? Study partner? Whatever Logan was to him now. “Sure, uh, that’d be great. I don’t know if I can offer the same, since, ya know, science is really not my strong suit, but I can try?”

 Logan pushed his hand through his hair and pulled a hairtie off his wrist to pull it up into a slightly messy bun that kept his hair out of his eyes. Virgil noticed it actually looked more red than brown as the light hit it, and was so distracted he almost didn’t notice Logan offer a genuine smile, green eyes sparkling and catching Virgil off guard yet again with just how attractive he actually was, and flipped his laptop open, “That would be much appreciated Virgil. Thank you.”

 They worked together in silence for the next hour and a half, then both headed back to their dorms. Virgil felt even more productive with just Logan’s presence and aura of concentration, and he found himself hoping the work order took a while to be completed.

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The next day, Virgil arrived at his table to find Logan already there, two coffee cups in front of him, studying a tome of a textbook raptly. Still, he looked up when Virgil took his seat across from him and pushed one of the coffee cups his way, “I made myself a tea downstairs and figured I’d make a second in case you wanted one. It’s a vanilla flavored English black tea, not the garbage they serve in the dining halls.”

 Virgil grabbed the cup greedily, “Oh shit this is perfect, I had an 8am and desperately needed caffeine.” He took an experimental sip and groaned a bit as it hit his tongue, closing his eyes as the warmth passed through him like a calming fire, “Thank you, Logan, it’s delicious.” He thought he heard a choking sound, but when he looked up, Logan was looking back down at his notebook. He thought he saw a slight flush to his face, “Hey, you alright?”

 “Oh yes, I’m fine. I just needed to clear my throat,” Logan insisted, though he did not look up from his book and his cheeks got even brighter. Virgil supposed he was probably a little embarrassed since he was normally so poised and put together.

 “Ok, if you’re sure!” He opened his laptop and checked his to-do list, and was thrilled to realize he didn’t have anything urgent in terms of schoolwork. He opened his novel document instead, and immediately remembered why he’d left off where he did as the frustration resurfaced. Well, he thought, now was as good a time as ever to see if Logan meant it when he said he was willing to help. “Hey, Lo, could you help me find a word for what I’m trying to say here?”

 Logan finally looked up from his book, sticking a bookmark in and closing it before adjusting his glasses and giving Virgil his full attention, “Absolutely, I could do with a break from formulae. Go ahead.”

 Virgil felt a little off balance with the full weight of Logan’s stare, and his brain suddenly chose this moment to remind him that he was very, very gay. He cleared his throat and looked back down at his laptop so he wouldn’t be distracted, “Oh. Um. Thanks. So this guy is looking at his friend who he hadn’t really noticed in a romantic sense before, but i need a word for ‘‘momentary gay panic at how pretty he is’ without saying it like that. Like more poetic? Or just less casual.”

 Logan cleared his throat, face flushing again, and Virgil had a moment of alarm when he realized he didn’t even know if Logan was ok with LGBT stuff, and oh god, what if he was a homophobe and yelled at him or he just made him super uncomfortable or - “While romantic language is typically much more my roommate’s forte, I can certainly, er, relate, to the situation you are describing, and attempt to describe it as Roman would.”

 Virgil let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding, relaxing once he realized the source of Logan’s hesitation was not derived from intolerance but instead from hitting a little too close to home. Then, in a moment of emotional whiplash, his breath caught again as he realized it hit a little too close to home and that meant Logan was likely attracted to men and that was nerve-wracking in an entirely different way. He forced himself to relax, knowing that Logan was likely waiting for an answer, and stammered out, “Y-Yeah, that would be good. Anything would help.”

 “I believe a good way to phrase it would be ‘Suddenly caught unaware by the realization that he may be attracted to this man’. You could also describe side effects of the feeling itself, such as flushed skin or quickened heartbeat or what I believe my friend Patton calls butterflies?, rather than spelling it out explicitly.”

 Virgil couldn’t hold back a grin as the inspiration hit him, “Oh! Duh! Show don’t tell would work perfect here, thank you Logan you rock!”

 He didn’t miss the way Logan looked momentarily shell-shocked and made a mental note to be sure to give him more compliments in the future, if he was that maladjusted to them.

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 Virgil hissed as his pencil broke again, clicking the end to get more lead a bit more aggressively than he probably needed to. Calculus was the devil, he’d decided. He was in hell and series and sequences were his instrument of torture.

 Logan cleared his throat and Virgil’s head shot up in surprise. When had Logan gotten there? Oh good, tea, that was always welcome. He grabbed the cup Logan extended towards him and started chugging before Logan could even give him the usual background on what kind it was like he had every day for the past month. The other table was definitely fixed by now, but the two of them had gotten so used to the company that they’d just kept sitting together. “Virgil, are you… alright?” Logan asked tentatively, and Virgil looked up again, guilty and a bit crazy eyed.

 “Fuck that was so rude. Yes. Yes, I’m fine, sorry, thanks for the tea Lo, I’m just stressed about this godforsaken calc II exam I have Monday. I don’t understand any of this stuff,” he gestured to the packets and notebook and textbook spread out on the table.

 “That’s quite alright, I’m familiar with the stress of midterms. Though I may be able to help alleviate some of yours? I am a junior TA for Calc II, I could potentially provide assistance,” Logan offered.

 Virgil let out a breath of relief, twisting one of his rings in an attempt to quell some of his nervous energy, “Oh that would be incredible. My Grad TA’s office hours are during when I have work, and he’s kinda a dick anyway.”

 Logan exhaled heavily like he was trying not to laugh. “Chad, I assume?” he asked and Virgil nodded, “Well I can definitely be more helpful than that glorified orangutan.” It was Virgil’s turn to be startled into laughing, “Here, let me see what you’re working on....”

 An hour and a half later, Logan was watching him work carefully and when he tentatively circled his final answer he gave him an encouraging nod and a smile, “You’ve got it now. See, it’s all about the rules and the patterns.”

 “Oh Logan I could kiss you,” Virgil enthused, still looking in amazement at his own work, “You just saved my entire life, thank you.”

 Logan cleared his throat and turned away, though when Virgil looked up he could see that the tips of his ears were red. Ugh, you’d think after a month he’d be used to being complimented by now. “Well, if that was all, I, er, I need to work on some of my own assignments.”

 “Yeah, yeah, of course, I can do more practice myself,” Virgil told him, waving him away with a smile, “You’ve absolutely helped enough,  I’ll get you that jam you like so much or something. I owe you so much.” 

 Logan mumbled something in return but when Virgil asked him to repeat it he stammered, “I’ll be right back!” and ran off to the bathroom. Virgil shrugged and went back to puzzling through the rest of his study guide.

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“-so, theoretically, there could in fact be another planet in this solar system, but it would need to be far enough away or small enough to not affect the gravitational pull of Pluto’s moons in a significant way or just in a way which is balanced by another gravitational pull which forced our equations to not identify any irregularity.”

 “Well shit,” Virgil breathed, “So, theoretically, how possible are aliens?”

 “Damn close to guaranteed,” Logan told him with a grin, “Intelligent life, that’s another story, but I still believe they are highly likely-”

 Virgil set his head in his hands, pushing his work to the side so he could simply listen.

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“I’m going to head down to the cafeteria to make another cup of tea, would you like to join me?”

 “Sure thing, Lo, I desperately need to not look at this anymore.” Virgil felt a teeny bit of pride when Logan choked on nothing in what Virgil assumed was shock as he stood up to stretch and revealed his outfit, his heels giving him the extra three inches he needed to be what Remy called scary tall, which was actually enough to effectively tower over Logan, and the confidence to leave his sweatshirt unzipped over a mesh crop top and ripped jeans that he knew looked good, as he had been assured so around 100 times before he agreed to go to the library in it in the first place, “Sorry, forgot you got here after me, my friend’s playing a show tonight after this and I told him I’d hang with his boyfriend and make sure no one gets obnoxious. So I got a little dressed up, cuz I didn’t wanna have to go back to my apartment in between. Besides, when I’m this tall no one fucks with me in general, not just in the mosh pit.”

 “That is… certainly an outfit,” Logan wheezed, then took a sip of his water in an attempt to wash it down.

 “You ok L? You’re all red, I don’t need you dying on me,” Virgil asked, concerned his friend was actually drowning on his own water bottle.

 Logan waved him off, gulping water down like he’d been stuck in the desert for days. “Yes, yes, just a little, erm, parched. Got a bit too focused and forgot to drink and you startled me.”

 “Whatever you say, Professor,” Virgil teased, stretching his arms up to try to roll his shoulders, “Just don’t get too enthusiastic there. Last thing we need is you to choke to death cuz you were thirsty.”

 Logan seemed to make a concentrated effort not to choke again, adjusting his tie and turning on his heel quickly to head down to the cafe, and Virgil considered it a win.

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There was someone else at their table. The new man was broad shouldered, with dirty blonde hair that had just a bit of a beachy wave to it, skin tanned perfectly like he’d never spent a day out of the sun. How was that even possible? They went to school in Massachusetts and it was January. He was gesturing wildly while he spoke and Logan was doing that half-laugh he did when he thought something was funny but didn’t want to admit it and Virgil felt… something… pang deep in his stomach. Of course, Logan was ridiculously hot, Virgil had no chance at all, even if he’d been starting to feel like there was something between them. He definitely didn’t have a chance if Logan wanted someone that looked like that. He couldn’t help but be a little vindictive though as he plastered a smile onto his face and headed over, setting his bag down with a resounding thump, “Wow, this quiet corner just keeps getting more crowded, huh?”

 Logan startled a bit, and Virgil could have been imagining it but he thought he saw a flash of hurt at Virgil’s tone, “I-I suppose. This is Roman, he needed some assistance with his screenplay and I suggested he come here, but we can go back to our apartment if it will be too much of a nuisance for you.”

 Virgil would have eaten his own shoe to take back his original words, but he couldn’t, so he covered up as best he could, “R-Roman. Your roommate. Of course. Hi, I’m Virgil, you can definitely stay. Sorry, just had a long day at work, I’m a little - er- cranky, or whatever.”

 Roman gave him a smirk that was just a tad too knowing for Virgil’s taste, “Don’t worry, Mr. Prince of Darkness. I’ll be out of your hair soon and you two can get back to doing whatever the hell it is you do every day. Just need the human thesaurus here to help me out a bit, and it’s not like he’s ever home anymore with how often he hangs around here for your little study-”

 “Roman,” Logan hissed quickly, and Virgil saw Roman shoot him an unimpressed look.

 “Study sessions.” Roman finished, “Now come on Pocket Protector, what’s another word for pining. I’ve already used it twice, and longing and yearning are both not quite a right fit.” Virgil had a momentary thought that Roman should be very glad looks couldn’t kill, with how Logan was glaring him down. “Nothing? How about some flowery language for black hair or blue eyes, hmm? Think you can help me there?”

“Roman Michaels.” Logan bit out, and Roman gave him a bright, shit-eating grin.

 “No? How about helping me with a sweatshirt sharing scene, how about that? I mean, it’s a cliche, sure, but I’m sure we can put a spin on it, like make it clearly well used and important...”

 “I will dye your hair fluorescent orange in your sleep Roman, I swear,” Logan seethed, and Virgil was stock still, eyes wide as they darted between the two roommates.

 ”Maybe some music recommendations then? Those are slightly less cliche…”

 “Destroy your conditioner and hide your blow dryer, add cheap hair gel to all your shampoo,” Logan continued, attempting to speak over him.

 “I know you’ll suggest a height difference, I believe I can fit that in,” Roman’s voice was rising too, and the new occupants of Logan’s old table were firing dirty looks at them.

 “Guys?” Virgil asked quietly and both of the roommates stopped immediately, turning to him with fire in their eyes, “Um. I guess this is like... a touchy subject? But people are staring cuz you guys are sorta… loud.”

 Roman and Logan both flushed brightly, turning to give awkward waves to the other table while Virgil tried to comprehend what had just happened, “So like… Logan you’re pretty passionate about Roman’s screenplay, huh?”

 Roman groaned dramatically and shoved his laptop in his bag, standing abruptly. “I can’t believe there’s two people as oblivious as you,” he muttered like a curse, then almost literally flounced off with a clearly meaningful look shot at Logan that Virgil couldn’t quite figure out but made Logan flush brighter.

 It was silent for a couple minutes, just the taptaptap of Virgil’s pen against his notebook sounding out through the space between them, before Virgil couldn’t take it and spoke up, “You wanna talk about why that was a thing for you or nah?”

 “Y-You don’t know? Seriously?” Logan looked incredulous, then laughed a little to himself, “Virgil. He was teasing me.”

 “Teasing you? About what?” Virgil asked, trying to think through what it could possibly be, “You that against, like, cheesy romcom cliches?”

 Logan shook his head, still looking like Virgil had amazed him in some way, “Virgil. Please. Think about it. Black hair, blue eyes, height difference, well-worn sweatshirts and music recommendations. You don’t have any idea what he could possibly be mocking me for?”

 Virgil’s brow creased in thought, and suddenly it hit him and he audibly gasped, making Logan swallow nervously, and the word pining soared to the front of his mind, “Y-You. You mean?”

 “I am… Interested in you Virgil. Romantically. I have been since far before I ever sat at your table, the broken outlet just provided a good excuse for me to finally attempt to talk to you. Roman was… blunt but he had informed me that he was, and I quote, ‘Coming to see what the fuss was about’ after I got, I admit, a bit too in depth in lamenting my inability to ask you out on a date. I had no idea he would be so infuriatingly obtuse about it, I hope he did not make you uncomfortable. Obviously, you do not share the sentiment-”

 “Whoa whoa. Hold on there. Who said I didn’t?” Virgil cut in quickly before Logan could keep babbling, recognizing social anxiety when he saw it, “Cuz I sure didn’t.”

 “...I’m sorry?”

 “You should be. Can’t go assuming stuff about people, L. Now why don’t you ask me, straightforward, if I am interested. Because I can guarantee you will like the answer.”

 Logan cleared his throat, then swallowed thickly, his cheeks lightly pink, “Well then, Virgil, I like you very much and would like to know if you would like to accompany me to dinner this Friday night? As a date?”

 “I’ll do you one better, since I also very much like you back, and I don’t think my anxiety could take waiting that long. Let’s go get some food right now. I’m starving and I would very much like to kiss you and I want to get at least one date in before I totally ruin your opinion of me and do that right here in this library, and Friday can be our second date, deal?” Virgil offered, extending his hand across the table to Logan.

 Logan grasped his hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles with a heady glance up through his glasses, “V, I think you will find that there is not much that you could do which I would not fully endorse at this moment. But I absolutely accept this proposal. Let’s go.”

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

 5 years later, almost exactly to the day, Roman is insufferable during his best man speech about the fact that he is the reason they even got together in the first place, and insists that if left to their own devices they would still be meeting at 7pm on weeknights and 1pm on weekends at a table in the corner of the library with the good chairs and never, ever confessing their love. Logan and Virgil are too busy clinging to each others’ hands and staring into each others’ eyes to dispute it at all.

[izabellq]

DREAMS -> Akaashi Keiji

summary: a soulmate au where you see each other in your dreams.

pairing: akaashi keiji x gn!reader

word count: 3k

contains: angst, fluff, open-ended (also, if you guys spot instances where i specify gender, let me know and i’ll try to fix it asap! i edited this but sometimes, things just slip by)

akaashi keiji thinks the world is cruel.

he swipes the dust off the leather bound book before carefully sliding it back into it’s alphabetized slot. he carefully maneuvers himself around the oak wooden shelves, letting his feet track footprints into the burgundy rug below him. with a sigh, he realizes he is yet again desolated. a library reverie dedicated solely to himself and his predestined soulmate. yet, it seemed the universe had yet chosen one quintessential for him. akaashi didn’t need perfect, but on some days, he just wanted to have someone.

the macrocosm was seemingly convinced he was unfit to wield one. strung on the idea that he was intolerable and unmatchable. akaashi’s pessimistic attitude had betrayed his hopeful one, and soon, he was unable to shield himself from the knowledge that perhaps-- there was no one in the world meant for him.

(he still desires one, because he’d love nothing more than to connect with the person who he was bound to meet. he wants to depict their love in unrealistic fairytales.)

nights go by where he falls asleep and lounges in his fantastical library. he decides he could write a book with all the time he has to himself. but then again, he knows better than anyone that most of his projects remain unfinished. he’s lost inspiration, captured by the nasty talons of writer’s block. he thinks he’s at the end of his rope, and for a second he believes it’s about time he goes down a different career path. but he doesn’t do that. mostly because he’s unsure, and partially because he’s still filled with hope.

(but when his soulmate never shows, he comes to realize that hope is a fickle thing.)

it's one random day of the week where akaashi’s schedule isn’t as rigid as it habitually is. after a long afternoon of practice (which doesn’t stray from the norm) he’s desperate for sleep, and despite knowing that taking a nap would complicate his circadian rhythm, he was rather desperate.

drifting towards the soulmate reality became a feat he was more than used too. the vertigo he commonly experienced was quick to depart as he molded into his surroundings, the familiar scent of paper musk and printed ink leaves much to be desired.

though, if there was one thing that was slightly unsettling— it was the disruption of books laid despotic on the floor. akaashi, though only sometimes forgetful, had never once committed such a polluted act. he was always careful to restore books to their proper position once concluded, so he wondered what possible entity could have disrupted the neat nature of his lonesome library.

(it’s when you round the corner that all his presumptions were answered.)

oh dear, he thinks, you’re a winsome mess. books pulled into your chest, pajama pants folded past your ankle, a tank top only doing so much as to cover your chest and stomach. your mouth is shaped into an ‘o’ as if his presence was the most stupefying thing around— when really, it was you. 

(a book slips from your grasp, a reverberation follows shortly. he tries not to wince as it lands on its pages, folding the corner of the paper.)

the moment of shock is lost and your look of astonishment is replaced with mild skepticism. “who are you?” you ask, almost defiantly. 

“akaashi,” he replies honestly, though the look on your face seems to morph in some sort of revelation that he can’t understand. 

“say it again,” the stern tone of your voice lets him know that it wasn’t a mere request but a demand. he isn’t quite sure why you’re so on edge but because he already seems like the most rational one between the two of you, he doesn’t argue.

“my name is akaashi keiji,” he repeats himself, his concern only multiplied by the sting of comprehension creased into the sight wrinkles of your face. a part of him truly understands the circumstance before him, though a portion of him doesn’t want to give into the naïveté— because for so long, he was cursed with the belief that he didn’t deserve a soulmate. 

“your words keep getting… blurred,” you tried your best to explain, though no matter how detailed your explanation, the experience couldn’t be put into perfect words. “you know what that means… don’t you?”

of course he knows. on days where he thought his life was the one exception— he researched every story about soulmates as he possibly could. some were undoubtedly fake, others were heartwarming, but the one common piece of information he stumbled upon was that soulmates couldn’t hear personal information about the other whilst in their dream world. perhaps to prevent early encounters or just to make the process seemingly endless; either way, akaashi was well aware.

“i didn’t think i had a soulmate,” he lets his guard down decently low, though the flutter in his heart alerts him that it’s all going to come crashing down eventually. 

“neither did i,” you admit, placing down the books wrapped in your arms onto the floor. he wants to question what you could possibly be doing, but there’s more alarming inquiries he needs answers too.

good thing you seem just as eager to figure out why today was any different. “did you do anything today that might’ve been different from your usual routine? i went to bed at eleven… which isn’t any different from any other day.”

that’s when it hit akaashi— the answer was so obvious. “we live in different time zones. that’s the only reason i can think of…”

he trailed off, having been caught in the most frustrating loop of incredulity. all this time… you were right there… so close yet so far. the only thing that had separated his years of getting to know you was a different sleep schedule. in due time, he may look back at this incident and laugh— but right now, he felt cheated out of the most basic human experience ever.

(like a story, this was only the rising action— or perhaps the exposition, because this was truly the start of something new.)

he wants to speak, to reach out and connect with you in all the ways he’s only wished to do, but your harmonious laugh distracts him from his thoughts. “i never understood why my soulmate reality was a library. i guess that’s because of you, right?”

he doesn’t understand your change in personality in the same way he can’t tell when bokuto’s in a bad mood until it’s happening right before his eyes (though others would beg to differ). he’s desperate to learn everything there was to know about you— most importantly, your name. It’s the only thing he wants to know.

instead, he settles on, “what are you doing with those books?” 

it’s obvious you weren’t expecting that question, but then again, how was akaashi supposed to ignore the books you're defiling by simply letting them scatter on the floor? 

with a shy giggle, you respond, “well… since i thought i was alone, i was going to make a huge fort with them… ya know, cause i'm not much of a reader.”

from the red tint of your cheeks to the way your head was slightly tilted to the left was surefire proof of your discombobulation. and to akaashi, it seemed to hold such a power over him that he was unable to keep check his usual deportments. screw etiquette! this wasn’t even reality! 

“i’ll help you build one,” he offers, picking up a book from the ground. he runs his thumb over the edges, smoothly out the wrinkles that had surfaced. 

your head perks up, an opulent grin painting the once grimace. “really?!”

(for a smile like yours, he’d do just about anything to safeguard it’s fluoresce.)

back in the real world, all day his thoughts are occupied with you. you exist, your real, somewhere out in the world, your waiting for him. it’s a condolement he’s not willing to gamble with. he finds himself wanting to take more naps, just for the chance to indulge in another conversation with you. of course, it meant the eye bags under his eyes had sunken into a deeper shade— not noticeable to anyone that wasn’t him, and considering the effect it had on his everyday appearance, he’s come to the conclusion that it’d be nearly impossible to visit you every day of the week. it wouldn’t stop him from trying though.

from the side of the volleyball court, kuroo nudges bokuto skeptically. “what’s with that look on akaashi’s face… it’s starting to freak me out.”

bokuto hums— in approval? in contempt? who knows, but he’s happy. “he told me he finally met his soulmate. he’s just excited!”

“ah,” kuroo clicks his tongue knowingly, “i thought he didn’t have one?”

“turns out, they just go to sleep and wake up at different times. konoha thought it was pretty funny,” bokuto relayed, a chuckle bubbling under his throat. for so long, he had witnessed akaashi’s self-doubt and insecurity, and while parts of them still existed, it seemed to be slowly resolving itself. he couldn’t be more happier for his best friend.

“well, tell him to start focusing, i want to beat you guys when you’re at your best,” kuroo smirked, narrowing his gaze onto bokuto.

“you’re so on!”

(for the rest of practice, they had to endure akaashi’s love-sick gaze. fukurōdani still won.)

a month had passed since your very first interaction together. getting to know each other was more laborious than first intended. some words remained blurred, preventing the other from learning anything that might accelerate the rate of introduction in the real world. akaashi just wanted to know your name. it’s how he came to learn that while the universe was giving, it was also relentless.

“hey! i've been waiting for you, you know! i want to show you something!” you call from under the makeshift book fort. having just arrived, he knows from this point on, he has around thirty minutes before he’s awoken for dinner. 

thirty minutes, four times a week— the only times he’s ever been able to talk to you, due to the tight schedule you both live in. it’s too little, too small, and he feels selfish for wanting more. 

crawling under the fort, he pushed himself up to the side, wanting to give you as much room as possible in the cramped spot. in your hands, you have a book— it’s thin, meant for children, pages that combine to tell a moral. when you hand it over, it takes him less than a second to deduce the story and it’s plot. not because he’s some genius who had read every book on the face of the earth but because this story was rather popular in other parts of the world.

“sleeping beauty,” he reads aloud. his fingers run over the cover, trying to mentally depict what could be so important about this story that had you desperately trying to show him.

“it’s one of my favorite stories,” you sigh, propping your elbow on top of your thigh, leaning the weight of your face on your dominant hand. “my grandma used to read it to me all the time.”

oh. oh. you’re not asking what he thinks you're asking? right?

“can you read it to me, please?”

you are asking. his heart beats against the tightness of his chest, his ribs feel a tad out of place. and he knows— soulmates or not, he was utterly and completely yours. his cheeks flame and he attempts to hide it under his shirt.

“are you blushing?” you ask, and he can practically feel the teasing grin on your lips.

“no,” he mutters. 

you shuffle from your spot and coincidentally; tower over him. your hands and legs trap his body under your presence. you’d practically be touching him if the soulmate reality allowed you too. akaashi finds that to be the greatest travesty of them all. even though it’s practically impossible, he can feel your warmth radiate around him as if you were actually there. 

“does that mean you’ll read to me?” you ask, the battering of your eyelashes ever so visible. he doesn’t understand how you came to that conclusion, but it only tells him you knew exactly how’d he’d answer before he did.

“i’ll read it to you… just don’t laugh, okay?” akaashi opened the book, flipping the white picture-pages until he had reached the first chapter. you giggle, obeying his request with much hypocritism. you moved to sit beside him, leaning just a bit aways over his shoulder to follow along.

(akaashi isn’t a prince, but he’s more than willing to be yours if you asked.)

“i’m moving… so who knows? maybe we might meet in person one of these days,” you declare. It’s been an entire year now since he’s met you and it’s safe to say he’s utterly whipped. now in his second year of high school, he thinks he’s gotten to know you well enough to the point where the only thing left to learn is your name. 

(what’s your name??)

“you’re moving? above or below the equator?” he jokes.

luckily, you laugh-- knowing that there really isn’t much you can say without your words becoming a blurred mess. “i’m still above the equator, loser. actually, if we’re going to get really specific— i’d say the northern hemisphere.”

you guys laugh at your puny attempt of a joke. really, you know it meant no difference, and the fact that you can only rely on fate to carry you through is pitying to say the least.

“i can’t wait to meet you,” akaashi declares honestly, pulling on his fingers in habit. he wants to say more, anything that remotely rhymes with i love you, but he wants to save that special moment for the day he meets you. he knows more than anything that you’re waiting for the same.

“i can’t wait either— honestly, i think my mom might be more excited than i am. i talk about you all the time, you know?” you softly lean against your book fort, your eyes as happy looking as your smile.

(yeah, it’s safe to say he can’t wait.)

akaashi and writer’s block do not coexist peacefully. 

struggling to find words to replace the repetition created on pages, desperately searching for a means of inspiration-- he’s awfully close to giving up.

with a huge essay due tomorrow and a huge game he can’t afford to lose on the same day, he stresses over the fact that he may not be able to put his one-hundred-percent effort into both. even in the middle of a library (he should note: in the real world), a place where solitude was absolute, it provided no peace of mind.

it’s only when a small child, no older than five, wobbles out of the kid’s section with a copy of sleeping beauty, that akaashi’s reminded of you. with a small smile, he calms himself down. after all, you are his greatest muse.

(you’d probably laugh in his face if he told you that.)

after moving away from your hometown, which wasn’t quite as jarring as you expected it to be, you were quick to make friends. you wouldn’t call yourself a social butterfly— but contrary to most teen dramas, new students weren’t ‘fresh meat’ ready for the picking. finding a comfortable group of people you could associate yourself with, you found that most of them were volleyball fanatics (not because they actually played the sport, but because there were a lot of cute boys on the teams around the area, or so they say). either way, going to one of the games was inevitable. like a sort of inauguration you had to go through if you truly wanted to be considered part of the group.

you wouldn’t have it any other way.

after all, akaashi plays volleyball— that much you knew. the team name couldn’t be said, but at least you knew the sport he associated himself with. although he wouldn’t admit it, he was good, his team was good; after all, they made it to nationals and that was more than enough substantial proof. and while you didn’t want to get your hopes up, you were going to watch the national matches. you wondered… could this be the day?

walking up to the main arena, there was a certain ponderosity in the air that you couldn’t describe. it was as if a crushing truth was about to fall on your shoulders, and not knowing where it was about to fall from— you felt a crawling chill.

at the same time, akaashi had just finished the first game of the nationals match, split between wanting to rest or attend to bokuto’s high spirits. he’s attempting to walk into the main arena to watch the karasuno vs inarizaki match, but with his team basically surrounding him in their own attempts to make their way through— he deems the effort fruitless. 

just as he approaches the door, so do you.

but you're too busy keeping up with your friends.

and he’s too busy trying to squeeze past a ranting bokuto.

your hands graze each other’s, and simultaneously, you both receive a shock that runs down the basis of your spines. something prompted him to search for the cause of the odd feeling, and in that moment, he finds you. your back is faced towards him, your hair made no difference in the immediate recognition process-- but he’s sure that he’s met you before. he just knows it. the answer is on the tip of his tongue, a fraction of a second away from being revealed. 

he watches as your friends wait up for you, before your social circle turns around the corner and disappears from his sight (he gets hit with a strong sense of nostalgia from that). his heart stings, for reasons he can’t quite place. he’s never been too good at distinguishing his feelings anyways. bokuto is ushering him towards the stadium seating area, and the answer once on akaashi’s mind had dissipated into the air.

once he turns the corner, the moment is forgotten.

it’s only when he falls asleep later that night, not having dreamed of you, that it dawns on him.

akaashi keiji thinks the world is cruel.

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #252: DECIDING FACTOR!

February, 1985

Who on Earth is strong enough to smash Hercules? Hint: there’s two of them!

Well I have my guess but I happened to guess right so I won’t be sharing. Let’s sayyyyyyyy.... Más y Menos.

Its very rude of DCAU’s Más y Menos to be picking on Hercules. Maybe sí podemos but that doesn’t mean ustedes should.

Anyway.

Last times on Avengers, Vision walked through a null field created by Annihilus and promptly fell in a robot coma and had to be put in a tube. He regained consciousness and Starfox hooked him up to the Titan supercomptuer ISAAC after which Vision started behaving oddly. When half of the Avengers got back from Secret Wars, Vision convinced Wasp to step down as chairman and nominate him. He’s created a second branch of the team in California under Hawkeye’s leadership. He’s pushed the president into making the Avengers chair a member of the Cabinet. He hid Starfox’s secret sexy power from the rest of the team. And just last issue, it was revealed that Vision and ISAAC have built a take-over-the-world-for-its-own-good device with Vision only lacking the will to pull the trigger on it.

So, uh, stuff is afoot.

Vision stuff. And, oddly enough, Doc Sampson stuff.

Vision is very impressed on seeing what seems to be Doc Sampson’s demo reel and offers him membership in the Avengers.

Doc Sampson turns him down because he doesn’t see himself as hero material and he already accepted an offer to join the faculty of Northwestern University.

Vision: “That needn’t rule you out, doctor! What would you say to heading a new, Midwestern branch of the Avengers? I should think you’re make an excellent group leader!”

Wow, Vision. You’re coming on a little strong there.

Midwest Avengers seems like the kind of thing that would be made up to spoof the expansion team idea, kinda like the Great Lakes Avengers of later. But if Vision seems desperate to get Doc Sampson to join the Avengers, well I think he is desperate.

Vision talked to ISAAC of his frustrations on trying to spread the power and influence of the Avengers. He has his take-over-the-world-for-its-own-good device but he doesn’t seem to want to use it. So he’s trying to repeat the trick with the West Coast Avengers. Sign up more and more Avengers. If you told this era of Vision about the 50 State Initiative, he’d be all over it.

But Doc Sampson turns him down. For the best. God only knows who Vision would have finagled into being on the Midwest Avengers in Chicago.

Doc Sampson: I wonder if I made a mistake in turning down the Vision’s offer? Being part of such a team would have given me an opportunity to observe some highly unusual psyches up close. But, no... I could hardly maintain an impartial detachment in such a situation.

Yeah. A Doc Sampson led Chicago-branch would have been an implosion waiting to happen. And Sampson will get his chance to pick the brains of a superhero team later with X-Factor. He does not maintain an impartial detachment.

On his way out, Starfox very much wants to discuss this newspaper headline. As he’s from a more advanced space civilization that doesn’t have prejudice probably, this is very baffling to him.

He hasn’t been on Earth long enough to learn that “ANTI-MUTANT FEAR GRIPS U.S.” is Tuesday.

I wonder if it corresponds to anything going on in the X-books. I tried to look it up but the same month as this issue, X-Men was doing a Kulan Gath thing.

Anyway, Vision and Doc Sampson agree that anti-mutant fear gripping things is bad and could tear society apart.

So in case anyone was ever wondering: the Avengers officially think anti-mutant fear is whack.

Anyway, on the mansion’s back patio, Captain America and Scarlet Witch are just having some old friend hangout time.

It’s a nice moment, really.

Wanda is drinking tea and Cap is just sketching her because they’re comfortable enough friends to hang out in a tea sketch party.

Anyway, Cap is also familiar enough with Wanda to know that she’s well vexed.

And she admits that she’s well vexed by two things. Of course, by the new wave of anti-mutant phobia because it really seems like a cruel cycle where every time people seem like they’re chilling out or there’s a swell of tolerance, it just gets yanked back. A cruel yo-yo of intolerance.

Also, its happening when she’s having personal trouble with Vision. He’s keeping secrets and he has some really extreme moods.

Scarlet Witch: “One moment he’ll be friendly and open, and the next he’ll get so remote!”

I wonder if its possible for Hank Pym’s bipolar disorder to have skipped a generation and somehow been inherited by Vision. That’s entirely not how anything works but I dunno. That sounds like Hank.

Since Cap has been wondering about Vision’s behavior (he and Monica Marvel had a discussion about it in the previous issue, remember?), he agrees to go talk to Vision.

Vision is having solemn thoughts in the mansion’s library, having been upset by the Daily Bugle that Starfox was waving around.

Vision: The world is beset by so much strife. Humanity cries out for peace... Yearns for life and prosperity... but in the end it denies itself that which it most desires! Mankind might never put aside its prejudices. Too many have refused responsibility for their own actions. How can they be expected to save the world? And, yet, who am I -- a synthezoid, an artificial being -- to rail against men of flesh? My encephalatron command chair would give me the power to bring peace to the world... and yet I hesitate to use it! Can I find the courage... make the sacrifice necessary to use that power?

That’s when Cap wanders in to give Vision a talking to. A supportive, helpful talking to.

Since he assumes that what Vision has on his mind is the burdens of leadership, he confides that he knows how tough it can be to have to always make the right decision at a moment’s notice and that he’s here if Vision needs a sympathetic ear.

Vision admits that chairmanship isn’t what he expected. He’s not unaware of the strain that its putting on his marriage. Especially since he insisted that they rejoin the team when Wanda would have preferred to return to their civilian life in New Jersey.

Cap tells him just talk to her more, ya goof.

So this is a very nice conversation between friends and peers that Vision drops a bomb of a totally-a-hypothetical into.

Vision: “Cap, what would you do if you discovered that you could bring peace and prosperity to the entire world... but only at the cost of your personal well being, perhaps of your own existence?”

Cap: “What?!”

Vision: “We have all put our lives on the line many times to stop world-threatening menaces, but it occurs to me that we’ve seldom tried to do anything to cure the world of its ills.”

Cap: “We do what we can, Vision. There are no fast and simple ways to eliminate want or fear.”

Vision: “But what if there were a way to insure a lasting peace to the world, to bring about a new golden age? What if you could only bring it about by sacrificing yourself? What if you could make the world a paradise, but you could never enjoy it yourself? Could you do it?”

Cap: “It pains me to say this, Vision, but I honestly don’t know. I don’t believe I could know unless the situation actually presented itself. Life should never be given up lightly, but... if there were a way to truly save the world... I’d like to think that I’d make the sacrifice. But I’d have to be certain that it would work!”

Vision: “Yes... Yes, there could be no room for doubt.”

I do really like the slow unfolding of whatever Vision’s Supervillain Actually Its Well-Intentioned plan is. His doubts and how he poses a very specific hypothetical to Cap to see what The Iconic Avengers Leader thinks.

At this point my guess is that Vision is going to turn himself into a supercomputer like ISAAC to take over the world, for its own good. Since it was apparently inspired when he was plugged into a supercomputer and was running the mansion.

Anyway, Wanda runs in and interrupts the totally-a-hypothetical discussion with big, alarming news that their house from the Vision and Scarlet Witch series is on fire.

That’s rough.

By the time Wanda, Vision, and emotional support Captain America show up, the ire is unstoppable and the firefighters just let it burn down.

That’s rougher.

Later, Vision and Wanda pick through the smouldering rubble.

And worse of all, this wasn’t a random electrical or grease or magic fire. It was arson. And the arsonist even called the cops to make sure everyone knew it.

Scarlet Witch: “So! I should have known! The blind, unreasoning fools! Do I have to fight them for the rest of my life?!?” This is so maddening! Losing my temper won’t bring our house back... all I’ve done is frighten the neighbors. That’s always been the biggest problem in being a mutant... No one will let you act human.

=(

Some random bystanders basically gloat that the “weirdies are finally leaving” causing Captain America to go off.

Captain America: “For your information, mister, those ‘weirdies’ have saved your hide a dozen times over! They’ve fought and bled so you could have a home!”

Bystander: “N-now hold on, Cap! Me, I don’t have anything against ‘em... but why’d they have to move into my neighborhood? I mean, all our houses coulda caught fire from that blaze! This never woulda happened, if they hadn’t moved here!”

Captain America: “Mister, today somebody decided that he didn’t like mutants. Tomorrow, maybe someone will decide he doesn’t like blacks... or jews... or you! We’re all in this together. The American dream has to be there for everyone, or it can never truly work for anyone! It’s our duty to do everything we can to make sure it works!”

I doubt Bystander is very convinced. Maybe momentarily shamed. But in an hour he’ll be like “am I wrong about mutants? No, its the tolerant people who are wrong.”

But Vision... Vision has made up his mind.

Vision: ‘Do I have the right to take over the world for its own good?’

Vision: ‘Moral quandary resolved.’

The next morning, Vision has exciting new terrible news for the team. The US Army Corp of Engineers have dug up Thanos’ secret base in Arizona from his first appearance in Iron Man #55. And despite Vision protesting how dumb it is to poke unknown alien technology in hopes of finding a cool new weapon for America’s strategic arsenal, the Department of Defense is having the army poking unknown alien technology in hopes of finding a cool new weapon for America’s strategic arsenal.

Captain America: “Blazes! I believe in a strong defense as much as anyone, but the hardware Thanos used is way out of the army’s league!”

Starfox: “Perhaps more than even you can imagine, Cap! My brother Thanos was a ravager of worlds... he coveted power and worshiped death! His hidden base could well hold the means to rip this planet asunder!”

Cool, cool.

Man, I hate it when the US Army blew up the world in 1985 by poking alien gewgaws.

Anyway, Vision did manage to talk the government into allowing a small group of Avengers to act as advisers.

Instead of rounding up scientific geniuses slash superheroes like they did for Bruce Banner’s lab, Vision just selects everyone he has handy.

He says he’d like to assign the West Coast Avengers (who in fairness do have two scientific experets - Mockingbird and Wonder Man, kinda) but they’re busy with an off-panel mission in the Pacific. Just because they don’t have a book doesn’t mean they stop doing stuff.

So instead Vision selects Captain America, Hercules, Scarlet Witch, and Starfox (who in fairness is a great choice since he knows space science and Thanos) and sends them off.

Yeah. Vision is totally going to get up to stuff while they’re gone.

This foreboding is enhanced when Captain Marvel shows up and Vision tells her he has a special assignment for her.

Vision: “Our deep space monitor has picked up some disturbing signals -- that seems to be emanating from Sanctuary II, the starship which once belonged to the mad Thanos! After the arch-fiend’s final defeat, we left his ship to drift beyond the orbit of Pluto!”

Since she’s the fastest Avenger he asks her to leave at once, fly out to the ship to check it out, and then report back.

So. Light is the fastest thing, the speed limit of the universe. Give or take tachyons which are FTL and also hypothetical. And I don’t know if Captain Marvel can turn into tachyons. Point being, the speed of light is really friggin fast but the universe is really friggin big. Even something as ‘close’ as our solar backyard where Pluto is located is 4.9 billion miles away and takes light 4.6 hours to get there from Earth.

He is definitely getting Captain Marvel out of the way where even her nyoom will take a while to get back.

The Vision slowly stalks through the corridors of Avengers Mansion. On the second floor, he pauses before the door of the quarters he for so long shared with his wife... recalling past joys and sorrows. And then, he moves on -- solemnly descending the grand staircase, as if for the final time.

O_O

Uh...... plus side is that he gives Jarvis the day off to take his mother to Montauk Point!

I just like seeing Jarvis in Avengers.

He’s always around but only occasionally seen.

My god. His vacation clothes though.

Of course, Vision being nice to Jarvis who deserves good things is only partially because Jarvis is a cool guy who deserves nice things.

Vision has managed at this point to clear everyone out of the mansion and he locks the doors behind Jarvis so that NO ONE CAN INTERRUPT WHAT HE MUST DO.

Meanwhile, team ‘prevent the military from doing anything stupid’ arrives in Arizona and at the site of Thanos’ former base.

Huh. I was half and half on whether Vision was just making shit up to get the Avengers out of the house but I guess something really is going on.

Makes sense. If they went there and found nothing, they’d return too soon.

I wonder if there’s something really going on with Thanos’ ship Sanctuary II too.

If so, was it just a great coincidence that Vision had two different emergencies he could divert the team with the day after he decided to go through with his plan or is it just the Avengers’ lot that there’s constantly emergencies going on and he had his pick of them?

Anyway. Colonel Farnam of the US Army is convinced that they have everything under control at Operation: Prize Package and don’t need any Avengers supervision.

Colonel Farnam: “If we can figure out how just a fraction of this gear works, the United States will never again need fear an enemy power!”

Captain America: “I’m told that similar sentiment was expressed following the development of the crossbow, Colonel.”

Nice sass, Cap.

But, like, the instant that the Avengers are escorted inside the base, Starfox spots some technicians messing with a machine to see what it does and they tell him to screw off when he tells them not to mess with things they don’t understand.

Starfox: “GET AWAY FROM THERE!”

Scientist: “What are you, crazy?! We’ve spent twelve hours trying to goose this transmitter to life... we’re not going to stop now!”

He has to drag them away from a sudden energy surge as the machine activates by itself with a programmed homing signal that will bring Something to the base.

Colonel Farnam: “Now hold it right there, Avenger! Only my men are authorized to monkey with these machines!”

Starfox: “Colonel, I was raised among machiens such as these! If I can’t fix these settings, your men don’t stand a chance!”

Colonel Farnam: “I don’t care if you were raised in... GOOD LORD!”

Geez. It may have been partially a ruse to get the Avengers out of the house but its a good thing Vision sent the Avengers here. The US Army was clearly going to doom the world unsupervised.

GOOD JOB RANDOM SCIENTISTS

NOW HERCULES IS GETTING HIS ASS KICKED

IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED, YOU MONSTERS??

Anyway, the Blood Brothers are some Thanos minions from early days. Weird that they never showed up for the MCU. Like, look, they didn’t need to be part of the Black Order. They don’t have the theme naming.

But these two dinguses would have made great antagonists in one of the earlier movies.

Though Starfox and Hercules get wrecked for being the nearest to the Blood Brothers when they appear, Cap and Scarlet Witch do better for being slightly forewarned.

Captain America can do the backflips to keep from getting punched and Wanda’s do anything powers are as helpful as always.

Meanwhile, back at Avengers Mansion, Dane Whitman (sometimes the Black Knight, sometimes just exhausted), arrives and tries to use his old Avengers ID card to enter.

The security system does not like that.

Anyway, back in Arizona, Starfox rejoins the fight. That’s good.

Wanda tries to do her patented ‘all oxygen play keep away from this guy’ move on one of the Blood Brothers but his super strength lets him slam the ground to break Wanda’s concentration.

The other Blood Brother tries to strangle Captain America who got knocked into a pile of rubble but Hercules emerges from underneath the rubble to do that greatest of comic book tropes.

Ah, grievous harm with a body. How I love you.

But though the Blood Brothers heads are hard enough to knock each other out, the fight did do some lasting damage.

TO MY PERCEPTION OF HERCULES!

When the Blood Brothers beat the shit out of Hercules at the beginning of the fight, they apparently tore his Hercules skirt.

And Hercules isn’t wearing anything under his Hercules skirt.

So the other three Avengers get to see Hercules’ mighty adamantine mace, so to speak.

That’s all well and good.

Except its not!

Hercules? Being ashamed of public nudity??

That doesn’t sound like the Hercules I know!

Tsk tsk, how retroactively out of character! Annnnd possibly not retroactively? Didn’t he compete in the original Olympics which were no pants allowed?

You’ve corrupted him, modern society!

Anyway.

Captain America starts yelling at the colonel because if the Avengers hadn’t been here, it would have been a major disaster.

Captain America: “You were warned -- Washington was warned -- that something like this could happen! But those warnings were almost totally ignored!”

But back at Avengers Mansion, Dane Whitman wakes up and sees this argument being broadcast on a jumbo screen.

Vision: “People never listen to those who know better! I shall have to change all that!”

Vision: “Hello, Dane. I’m sorry you had to be incapacitated. But your arrival was most unexpected... and I really can’t afford any interruptions now! You see, I have to save humanity from itself!”

Something about you seems different, Vision.

Did you become one with the universe? It’s a pretty popular move.

Follow @essential-avengers​ because whoa what huh? Vision what? Also, like and reblog. Its necessary to save humanity from itself.

[statementends]

Gertie’s Guide

@sajwho drew this wonderful Jon and I got ideas. 

Characters: Jon, Jon’s Gran, Elias at the very end

Pairings: None, Gen

Warnings: Mentions of societal transphobia and homophobia. 

Summary: Jon can’t trust the books his Gran buys him anymore, so he does some digging and finds a book on sewing dresses. 

AO3: Link

-

He couldn’t really trust his books after the Leitner, but it hadn’t tamed his curiosity. Gran bought the box of books and he wanted to look, even now. 

Even the thought of going for a long wander wasn’t appetizing.

Maybe Gran had something though. She had books. None of them had seemed appealing before, but… maybe they would do for now. He snuck into her room feeling a little guilty. He knew he shouldn’t be snooping around, but he was desperate. 

He found it in the corner of her untidy closet. Gertie’s Guide to Everyday Dresses.

He ran his fingers over the cover showing a woman dressed in a sensible looking dress his Gran might favor in a brown and purple plaid. The lady’s smile was friendly. This was a book that wouldn’t hurt him. 

He took the book back to his room and carefully took his time with it. The first chapter introduced a cheerful sounding person telling the ladies reading how much money she would save and enjoyment she would gain from learning to sew her new daywear.

The next chapter went into more practical things. He frowned and went over to the sewing box. Needle and thread and little fabric scrap. He couldn’t make a dress from that, but he could practice how to stitch. He took his time practicing the instructions on each page until he felt more confident with it.

He was in the middle of cutting up the old shirt that had always been too big for him when his Gran came home.

“Jonathan Sims what are you doing? Look at this mess!” She scowled. “Why would you do that?”

“I’m learning to make a dress.” He explained holding up the book calmly. 

The old woman blinked. She took the book and flipped through it. Then she glanced at him. It was a significant look. Maybe a resigned one. 

Gran knew how he got when he found an interest, but there was something deeper to it he didn’t understand at the time. 

“Did you… want to wear it to?” She asked. 

“It would be my dress,” He pointed out. 

He wasn’t ignorant. He knew only girls were supposed to wear dresses. But it seemed like a dumb rule, and summer time it got hot. He didn’t really care what people thought of him. He never had. He knew better in a lot of cases. 

He tried not to think of the bully, gobbled up.

“Do you want help?” His Gran asked, making a decision. 

He shook his head. “I want to do it myself.”

She accepted this. Tutted. “Well, if you’re going to go about it, you can’t use a cut up shirt, Jon. Be sensible, that was a nice shirt.”

He didn’t agree, but he didn’t argue either. 

She went into her room and came back with a large square of fabric. “You can use this.”

It looked like it was an old curtain. The pattern was a bit floral for his taste, but it would do for learning at least. 

“Thank you Gran.”

“Clean up your mess and keep it in the corner,” She told him sternly and patted his head. “And--you can wear it if you like… but not outside the house.”

“Why?”

She sighed. “Because Jon.” Like it was obvious.

He wanted to push. He hated when she told him ‘because’ without another word, but… he wanted to get back to his project so he grumbled an agreement and took all his supplies to the corner out of the way and his Gran went into the kitchen to make dinner.

Jon carefully read through the next chapter measuring out and tracing out the pattern. He poked himself with pins a few too many times. Gran called him to dinner, but he didn’t respond until she got in front of him and pulled him to the table. 

He told her what he learned so far.

“That’s nice, Jon.”

She didn’t sound very interested. He ate down his meal and went back to his book. 

He liked this. It was soothing. When he was trying to figure out the measurements and stitching he didn’t have room to think about The Book. Or spider legs. 

Gran shooed him to bed, and shooed him again an hour later when he found he had snuck back out into the living room. 

In bed instead of letting the spider infect his dreams, he thought of stitching. Back and forth through the fabric. How he would shape the skirt. How he would make it all even and measure it properly. Lots of children his age didn’t have the patience to do it right, he told himself. He would get it perfect the first time, go over everything slowly and carefully. 

He didn’t wake up crying, and he didn’t dwell on it. Just went back to his corner still in pajamas. 

“You weren’t at that all night, were you?” Gran asked.

“I got up an hour ago,” Jon said. 

She gave a heavy sigh. “Come eat some cereal.” 

He did, shoveling it into his mouth.

“Slow, Jon.”

He slowed down giving his own heavy sigh. 

He finished up. He was sure he could finish the basic shape today if he was careful and diligent.

He was already planning the next one in his head. He would get better fabric that would suit him. A plaid like the picture on the front cover or maybe just a solid colour. Also there weren’t any pockets. He was sure he could figure out how to make those. Just cut holes in the skirt and sew little sacks in. And since it was a skirt he could make the pockets extra large to keep things in. He smiled to himself thinking about all the things he could collect on his expeditions out of the house. Scowled remembering Gran said he wasn’t allowed to go out in his dress. 

His hair was long though. He let it grow out because he hated getting it cut and it was one of the arguments Gran let him win. If he went far enough out of the neighbourhood no one would know, right? 

He’d have to think about that. There was no way he was going to waste the brilliant idea of big pockets and a cool skirt in the summertime, Gran or no. 

He kept going slow over the next few days, practicing and memorizing the steps. He had almost finished, but it was a school day. Gran sent him out the door.

“No you can’t take it with you. Go on, you can wait to finish.” 

He didn’t like waiting, but she closed the door and he had to go to school.

Most of the girls in his class didn’t wear dresses. Lots of them prefered jeans and overalls. Jenny wore dresses, but hers were a different style than the dress in his book. His were … old fashion, which he was fine with. Jenny liked Spice Girls a lot and a lot of her outfits she tried to base off them. 

He also took the time to look at the boys clothes. All of them were wearing jeans and jean jackets. He didn’t like jean jackets, they got too hot and he didn’t like the feeling of them on his arms. Boys and Girls. Sometimes he didn’t feel much like a boy… but girl wasn’t correct either. As far as he knew that was all there was. School was so unnecessarily complicated. 

He went home. Finished the last few pages and last few stitches. He held it up, admiring the shape. He hesitated before taking it to his room, taking off his pants and shirt and putting it on. It fit pretty well. He swished around the skirt and smiled. He went into the bathroom to take a look. He was right about the floral. It didn’t suit him at all, but he liked how the dress fell. How the skirt was long and covered his knees. 

His next one would have pockets. And it would be a better colour. Something that Lucy in the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe might wear. 

Still. He loved his first dress. He made it himself. He showed his Gran. 

She had a weird look again. Like she wanted to sigh but was holding it in.

“It’s very nice, Jon,” She said.

“Can I get more fabric? I promise I won’t go out if I have some. I want to make another one. With pockets.”

“Oh Jon.” She let her sigh out this time. “You know that…” She hesitated. 

“I know that people are mean to boys that wear dresses. I’m not stupid. But I like it. I want to make another one. I made it myself.” 

“I could get you patterns for boys clothes, if you like.”

He made a face. He didn’t want to read another book about sewing. He knew how to sew. 

He unscrewed his face. “Please?” He asked sincerely. 

She relented, but told him again not to wear them out.

-

When he started working in the Archives he had decided he didn’t care. In college he had experimented. Wearing the clothes he liked out to parties, on dates with Georgie. Some people were rude… or worse to him, most people didn’t care. A few raised eyebrows. 

But at work in a dusty old library he wanted to be comfortable. It was a good job. A dream job. Researching and reading all day the topics he was interested in, and he wanted it to be perfect. He had shown up to his first interview in a sharp skirt. Elias’ expression didn’t show any sort of hostility like he got from a lot of older men. In fact he asked afterward if he had made it himself, how nice the stitching looked. 

So he wasn’t going to hesitate about wearing skirts and dresses to work when he wanted to, especially considering how hot the summer was getting. And he had learned about thermal leggings he could wear underneath that would look nice and keep him warm. No one seemed to have a problem with when he went from trousers one day to skirts the next, well… Steven had. He had been a particularly hostile brute the first month at the Institute. He was constantly making little comments about Jon’s gender and assuming his romantic affiliations and how that apparently made him someone to sneer at. Jon complained to Elias about it.

“He was harassing you about what you’re wearing?” Elias had asked. Jon nodded. He expected Elias to tell him to be a good sport about it. That just because things had changed didn’t mean everyone was so accepting and that he’d just have to be tolerant of the intolerant.

But Steven was gone the next day. Rumour was he was fired. 

When he asked Elias, his boss just smiled.

“He wasn’t a good fit here anyway, Jon. Please don’t hesitate to come to me if you have any problems.” 

He never did. The Magnus Institute was very comfortable for old academia. It felt like being at home in his floral dress again. Getting to wear what he liked.

He made a new dress for his first day as Head Archivist. This was it. The rest of his adult life. Everything figured out. Everything… comfortable.

[noonanoowz-blog]

Bloodlines-Chapter 2

Jay should have known something was wrong when Zico walked in alone.  He should have, but 
he was enjoying his well-earned downtime, and he had already done his fair share of drinking.  So he was finding it hard to care about anything but the pretty young thing on his lap, and the bartender who was magically refilling his glass every time it got a little too close to empty.  

"Jay."  Zico walked up, expression uncharacteristically serious, even for Zico.  "You need to come outside. I need to talk to you."

Jay squinted at him in the dim light.  "Now?"  He gestured to his current lady friend with his never-ending pint glass of beer.  "If you haven't noticed, I'm kind of busy..."  

"Now,"  Zico said, expression darkening.  "I have a message.  From him.”  

Jay groaned and covered his eyes.  A message from the big boss could only mean that something had gone wrong in the execution of the night's plans, and that one of them was going to be paying for it.  In reality it should have been Zico, but punishments in Jay's business were never dealt out fairly, something he'd accepted a long time ago.

He set his glass down on a nearby table.  "Sorry, sweetheart," he said to the girl on his lap.  "I gotta leave you for a minute.  Business things.  Wait here, okay?"  

The girl nodded, sliding into Jay's vacated seat as he stood and followed Zico out of the club's VIP booth.  They went down a flight of stairs, to a door on the back side of the main level.  Zico opened it and beckoned Jay outside.

"Oh, this doesn't look suspicious," Jay quipped, stepping out into the night.  It was toward the end of fall, so the air was slightly chilly but neither of them felt it.  "Just two tatted-up dudes, loitering in an empty alleyway behind a club at 2 in the morning."

"Please.  Like anyone is going to approach us."  Zico closed the door behind them and leaned against it.  "Besides, it's not like I could hear anything over the sound of bass in there, and I'm not going to go around screeching about official business at the top of my lungs."

"Official business?"  Jay raised an eyebrow.  "If it's so official, why didn't he come himself?"

“He has better things to do than waste his time coming down here.  You know that. Now are you going to listen to me or not?"

"Jesus, you're in a crappy mood."  Jay fished a cigarette out of his back pocket.  "You got a light?"

"No, of course not. I quit.  Now, about tonight..."

Jay's eyes narrowed.  He stepped closer, staring Zico down.  "Excuse me?" he said.  

"I said about tonight..." Zico began.

"No. Before that," Jay said.  "Did you say you <i>quit</i>?”

“Yeah.  You know I…”  

Jay slammed Zico hard against the wall, cutting him off mid-sentence.  Zico gasped as the air left his lungs, eyes going wide as Jay pinned both his wrists above his head.

"You lying little fuck," Jay growled.  "I can't believe I almost fell for it.  Who are you?  Where's Zico?"

"Jay, what the hell is wrong with you? I'm right here, let go!"

Jay dodged to the side, narrowly missing a kick to the abdomen.  A kick that would have killed him considering there was a sharp, wooden spike attached to the heel of the kicker’s shoe.

"Nice try," he said.  "But I did not get where I am by being an idiot. Where's Zico?"

"Jay!  Jay!"  A new voice and three sets of footsteps distracted Jay's attention for a split second.  It was enough for him to almost take a stake to the leg, but his reflexes were still faster, and the kick missed.

"Enough from you," Jay growled.  "You better show yourself to me by the time they get up here, or I'm not going to let you live long enough to answer questions."

"Jay!" the new voice called again, and from around the corner came Zico, flanked by the twins.  Behind them were three terrified-looking human boys Jay had never seen before that must have come from the night's raid.  

He glanced at them, then looked back at the person he held pinned to the wall.  His eyes widened at first, then closed as he sighed.

"Fuck," he said.  "I should have known."

***

Misty was starting to feel like she was spending a disproportionate amount of her time tied to  chairs, surrounded by vampires.  But that was probably because she was, in fact, spending a disproportionate amount of her time tied to chairs, surrounded by vampires.  It was becoming more and more of a common occurrence with each passing week, and yet, that didn't seem to make it any less annoying.

"Heyyyy, Kitty."  They'd left her alone with the twins, something that was as much a delight to the Pretty One as it was awkward to her and his brother.  "So nice to see you again. Can I get you anything? Tea?  Snacks?  Some milk?"

"Cats are lactose intolerant," Misty replied.  "And how many times do I have to tell you, my name is not Kitty?"

"I know, but I just can't just call you Misty.  It doesn't suit you."

"Well, it's my name, so I'd appreciate if you'd at least try."  

"Mmm...sorry, but no."  The Pretty Twin came around behind her, stroking her hair. "You're Kitty.  You'll always be Kitty.  By the way, you are welcome back any time.  I miss you sleeping on my pillow."  

Before Misty could respond, Zico and Jay returned wearing matching expressions of annoyance.  

"You need to make sure no one touches them," Zico said.  "No one, got it?  Not until he says it’s time to turn them.”

"More minions, Zico?"  Misty asked.  She was secure enough in her own safety to cheek him a little, despite his obviously bad mood.  "You sure that's a good idea?  After how the last batch turned out?"

"What part of that wasn't me is so hard for you to understand?"  Zico stormed over, slamming his hands down on either side of Misty's head.  "I told you that last time I ran into you, I haven't turned anyone in months.  I'm not making them!"  

"So it's him? He’s doing it?"

"No!  It's not him, either.  Stop accusing people of..." Zico paused.  "Hold on...are you wearing my shirt?  How the hell did you get my shirt?!"

Misty shrugged. “You left your car unlocked."    

“So you stole my shirt?”

“I needed something of yours in order to shift.  People are a lot more complicated than animals.”

“That’s…no. No.”  Zico straightened.  "I can't deal with this right now.  Not on top of everything else.”    

"Don't yell at Kitty."  The Pretty Twin stepped between them.  “None of this is her fault.”

"I'm aware of that, Yukwon, but she's not making things any easier."

"She's not making them any worse.  It was The Superior who..."  

"Yukwon."  The Handsome Twin put his hand on his brother's shoulder.  "We don't talk business in front of the Shifter.  No matter how cute you think she is."

"Yes, but..."

"No."

"Listen to Min." Zico said, and then he turned, getting back in Misty's face, all arrogance and aggravation with a slight glaze of uncertainty. "We don't talk business in front of the Shifter because it's none of her business what we do or how we do it."

"Zico, people are dying."  Misty raised her chin, ever stubborn.  "The city is in chaos, people are disappearing by the dozens, and you’re protecting the identity of the person responsible!"  

“Misty, I told you. I don’t know who is responsible." Zico was thoroughly exasperated.  "It's not us, it's not <i>him</i>, we have nothing to do with the shit that's going down.  We are just as fucked as you are."

"Yeah," Jay said, speaking for the first time.  "For once, we might all actually be on the same side, as weird as that is."

"I'd like us all to be on the same side.”  Yukwon reappeared at Misty's side, a faint smile on his deep, red lips.  "I don't like having to fight against the Kitty."  

"For the love of everything, Yukwon, my name is not Kitty.  And despite all your claims to the contrary I'm not your pet cat.  That was one time, and I'm sorry that I..."

"Yukwon, Min, take her home."  Zico interrupted her tirade, causing Misty to shoot him a glare.  They may not have been chummy, but she didn't appreciate this current trend of talking over her.  Especially when talking to her would have been so much more helpful.  "We've got things to finish up, and this is wasting our time."  

"I can find my own way," she said.  "I don't need your lackeys as an escort, thank you."

"Except you do," Zico said with uncharacteristic seriousness.  "We all do.  I refuse to tell you why, but I will tell you that the situation out there is way more dangerous than any of us realized.  Yukwon and Min will go with you.  That way we at least know you made it back to Tablo alive."

"You almost sound concerned."

"I am, but not for the reasons you think."  Zico tossed Yukwon a set of car keys.  "Get going.  And get back here quickly."

"No staying for drinks," Min added.  

Yukwon sighed.  "Yes, <i>Dads</i>.”  He then turned to Misty, smiling in a way that made her very nervous.  "Come on, Kitty.  Time to go."

"What? Oh come on..."  She flailed a little as he lifted her out of the chair, her arms and legs still bound up, and shifted her so he was carrying her bridal-style.  It was awkward, and embarrassing, and Misty wanted to die.  

"Can I please walk?" she begged.  "I'm not going to run, I promise."

"Ssshhh.  Loud Kitty." He booped her nose affectionately.  "You can walk when we get home."

"We? Ugh, God, why are you are so weird?”  Resigned, Misty covered her face with her bound hands.  

Yukon swept her out of the room.  Min followed.  

Misty could hear Jay and Zico's laughter all the way to the other end of the hall.

****

Unsurprisingly, Tablo was not pleased when he opened the door to find her standing between the twins, hands still bound, Zico's shirt hanging off her like drapery.  

"Please tell me she didn't try to adopt you again," he said, and Yukwon laughed.

"No.  Not this time.  This time she tangled with the Bosses, and they asked us to bring her home."

"I see."  Tablo stared at her hard enough to make Misty squirm.  "Well, bring her inside.  It looks like we have things to discuss."

"They're coming in?" Misty asked, alarmed.

"Yes," Tablo said.  "Is that a problem?"

"No, sir," Misty mumbled.  She shuffled inside, escorts flanking her.  Tablo let them pass, then followed them to the Library, site of all lectures, stern talking-tos, and reports of Official Business.

"You are lucky Jay and Zico take such good care of you, you know that right?"  Tablo closed the door behind them as Misty flopped down in her favorite squishy arm chair, pulling her knees to her chest. "They have no reason to still be sending you back here in one piece.  Especially not lately."  

"But they have nothing to gain by killing me," Misty said.  "Unless they want a way to get to you."

"We have no quarrel with Tablo-hyung," Min said.  "Thus we have no reason to cause harm to you and anger him."

"I think that's the point Kitty is trying to make," Yukwon said.  "Am I right?"

"Yeah.  It is.  I mean, sure alive I'm no use to you, but what good does killing me do?"

“Besides put them down an ally? Nothing," Tablo murmured, and both Min and Yukwon looked at him.

"You know more than you let on, Tablo-hyung."  Yukwon tilted his head and looked at him carefully.  "You know it’s not us."

"Yes," Tablo said.  "We managed to piece that much together after the last few attacks.  What we don't know is who or why.  And why, if it is vampires, are they are they just mindless killing machines with no self-awareness?  Where does that come from?”

"They have to have been Made by someone powerful," Misty said.  "That's why it would be nice if you guys would tell me who he is."

"We can't do that," Min said.  "We are not allowed, and besides..."

"...he is not responsible," Yukwon finished.  “He might be in charge, but he wouldn't unleash something like this.  He’s not someone who would deliberately upset the balance. The balance is important.”

"Which leads us right back to our initial conundrum," Tablo said.  "We know the what, but not the who, the  how and the why, and the city officials are getting really tired of finding piles of bodies in the middle of the street.  If this keeps up, they're going to find out about you, and then..."

Tablo was cut off by the sharp vibration his cell phone.  Fishing it out of his pocket, he tapped it to retrieve the message, but not before Min and Yukwon went stock still, staring blankly into space, as if suddenly possessed.

Misty felt a chill run down her spine.

"What?" she asked.  "What is it?  What's going on?"

"It's a message from Jay," Tablo said.  "He said we need to get back to the club right away."

"She's come," Yukwon and Min said in unison.  "She's in the city."

Misty stood up slowly.  "Who?" she asked.  "Who's come?"

"Phoenix," Tablo replied.  "And Jay says he needs us to intercept her because she's after Zico."

[nanyoky]

ALL of the numbers for Wanda and for Pietro

OMG THIS IS SO LONG I TOOK FOREVER. I did a mix of canon and au, especially where canon limits the answers.

1.  What does their bedroom look like? Shared one until the bombings, very sparse - parents didn’t have much money. Then homeless until post - ultron.

Wanda: We see wanda’s avengers compound room In cw but I… don’t…. like… many things about that movie so - let’s say more cramped and closed off. Even if given a larger, open space I feel Wanda would fill it in an eclectic way. She nests like no other. When you’re not used to a set space being your own, it’s exciting and novel to surround yourself with things and images of your choosing. She goes to thrift stores and garage sales and collects just dumb things that she likes just because she CAN.

Pietro: Canon: hasn’t ever had his own. Nice happy everybody lives au: pretty plain, but nice. More stylish than people might expect. Some spillover of wanda’s possessions. Entire half of the walk in closet is devoted to sneakers.  2.  Do they have any daily rituals?

Wanda: Definitely a tea drinker, at LEAST in the morning and before bed.

Pietro: Not quite compulsive, but he actually falls into routine very fast. In the city, he had a circuit he would travel with things to do along the way- taking food, talking to people from the tent city, taking necessities, scoping out new places to sleep so they did not use one single place too often, checking in on the occupying soldiers’ movements, harassing police officers on duty, etc.  3. Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?

Wanda: Not before the Avengers. Now she does, but grudgingly. It helps when the others point out the more varied her skills are, the more people she can help.

Pietro: He always ran, even before they got their powers. Somewhere in their teens, he started doing simple exercises like pushups and situps when they were bored because he thought people wouldn’t hassle them as much if he looked tougher. With the Avengers, he gets bored with all the training- routine that he doesn’t define himself. But he appreciates being able to to something he’s good at. 4. What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?

Wanda: She checks with her mind before going into any shared living space. If she doesn’t mind company, she’ll still come in and cook alongside whoever is there or share their food. If she’s not feeling up to it, she will wait.

Pietro: Uses his speed to work around anyone in there, which is annoying exactly 100% of the time 5.  Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.) 

Wanda: Organized chaos, for sure. Long bath goblin. We’re talking multiple hours here. Candles and music and a book and maybe even snacks in there.

Pietro: Neat and contained out of necessity for a long time. But the more comfortable he is, the more likely he is to be cluttered and messy. The team starts getting annoyed when he begins to leave his shoes and hoodies everywhere, but those of them good at reading human behavior (natasha, sam, clint) notice the pattern and guess why. 6.  Eating habits and sample daily menu

Wanda: Long time not knowing where their next meal was coming from means she eats when and whatever she can. Living in the compound is an adjustment, but she starts getting more discerning and learns what she actually likes an doesn’t like.  Sam introduced her to lemon bars and she ate a whole pan and then threw up one time she knew it was coming but they were just SO GOOD.

Pietro: Everything. So much. People know his powers include increased metabolism, but they don’t really GET IT. Steve will go to order pizza like “so you think 20 is good for all of us I know you eat a lot” and he’s just like “20 for me” “haha- right” “No. you don’t understand. You will all starve.” But he also has the terrible habit of eating too fast (surprise surprise) and makes himself sick. 7.  Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

Wanda: Definitely a “no time you enjoyed spending is wasted” type person. She loves to read and do her nails and listen to music.

Pietro: wasting time makes him anxious- unless it’s quiet time with Wanda. But even that is up for criticism if it lasts too long. He won’t complain to her, but he gets restless and fidgety until she tells him to go do something to get him to calm down.

8.  Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging 

They used to smoke sometimes in Sokovia- mostly when it was cold and they had to sleep outside. They don’t anymore, but sometimes get a craving they have to try to replace with something else.

Wanda: Collecting things like jewelry and decorations for her room. And sweets. Fancy looseleaf tea. 

Pietro: Doesn’t really think of things as indulgences. He does what he wants or needs and then moves on. 9.  Makeup? 

Wanda: Loves it. Feels stupid and underprepared for her day without it.

Pietro: Doesn’t like it on himself, but helps Wanda with hers. 10.  Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?

Woah boy. Can you say holy codependency batman? I don’t think either of the twins could ever get over this. Canon universe, I think grieving Pietro is going to be a lifelong process for Wanda. There’s just no way she can ever “move on” from the loss of him. Au- I think they could both work on some of their other issues and relax enough to form relationships outside of one another, but the codependency would never go away. They would still bounce back to “no one matters but us” the moment they are threatened. Neither of them will likely ever see this as a problem. They recognize that others do though, which only feeds into their “no one understands” complex.

They both have phobias and ptsd from their chidlhood traumas. Mostly these show as little things, but on a bad day, can be an issue. Claustrophobia and being tethered or incapacitated during crisis are always issues. Typical stuff like night terrors crop up regularly.

 11. Intellectual pursuits?

Their formal education ended at 10- as they skipped out on the foster system out of fear they would be separated. They would often spend time in the city’s library, as it was one of the few places that wouldn’t kick them out for not buying anything.

Wanda insisted they learn English. She thought it would come in useful on their mission to kill Stark. She also likes reading, though mostly fiction.

Pietro struggled with learning English because he’s easily frustrated and hates feeling stupid. He reads well when he finds something that interests him, but very rarely has the patience to sit and read for long periods of time. 12. Favorite book genre?

Wanda: Gothic romance and horror. Bronte, Shelley, Morrison, Jackson, some O’Connor.

Pietro: Would rather ask Wanda to read aloud whatever she’s reading than pick his own. He likes them though- particularly things with dry shows of humor and scathing judgements of social norms. He keeps his love of Vonnegut quiet, as Wanda can’t stand him. 13. Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?

((we already talked about this a bit))

Wanda: I waffle on this depending on the story I’m telling. My two favorite Wanda sexualities are Bi!Wanda and Ace!Wanda. Like hard ace. Zero interest. Not repulsed, just uncomfortable with the idea of sex in relation to herself and her own body. Not particularly educated about different sexualites. Probably didn’t know there was a word for being asexual until much later in life.

Pietro: I love my dead bi son. Ditto above on education. But definitely observant enough to know differing preferences aren’t all that unusual.

Both of them don’t talk about sexuality much- not in a private or “i don’t like labels” kind of way, just in a “if i want to have sex with you, you will know. and if I don’t, then it’s not likely to come up” kind of way. 14. Physical abnormalities?  (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.) 

They both have faded, but still note-worthy scars from the bombing rubble. Wanda low key never has bare legs and Pietro never goes sleeveless.

15. Biggest and smallest short term goal?

Wanda: Depending on what part of canon or au we’re talking about, could be variations on “get through the week” and “make pietro smile”

Pietro: Always “get through the week” and “Make wanda smile.”

16. Biggest and smallest long term goal?

Before AoU, both of them had the goal of living long enough to kill Tony. Smallest would have been “find out what to do after.”

17. Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress

I wrote a big long rant about the twins’ costuming/character design once this is MY JAM.

Wanda: Woah boy does she love her clothes. She loves collecting new pieces that she can layer. Jewelry is a must. She feels naked and vulnerable without it. Loves the aesthetic of fashion but doesn’t think much about how her body looks in it. Feels weirdly self conscious in light colors.

Pietro: comfort is #1, but it is not his lone concern. Almost opposite of Wanda- pretty bland aesthetic tastes, but likes how he looks in some things over others. Low key very aware that warm colors wash him out. Used to wear charms from their mother around his wrists or neck but they’ve all since been lost or broken or stolen. Wanda pierced one of his ears when he helped her do hers, but he rarely wears anything in it. (There was a shot in aou where pietro turns his head and you can see Aaron Taylor Johnson has a pierced ear and it just struck me as a very accurate twin scene like *smol Wanda holds up a needle and a handful of snow* “come pietro - were pierce our ears now” “nice.”)

18. Favorite beverage?

Wanda: Teateatea always tea.

Pietro: Constantly hydrating. Metabolism thing.

19. What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

Wanda: Long term plans. Starts with what she has to do the next day, the next week, the next month, etc. Doesn’t always help her sleep though.

Pietro: Short term plans. All the things he wants to get done the next day/should be getting done instead of sleeping. Almost never helps him sleep.

20.  Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?

Occasional illnesses as children. After the bombings they both got sick on the street a lot. Pietro would always try to steal a wallet and get a hotel room whenever they were ill. Or at least befriend someone enough to stay with them.

21.  Turn-ons? Turn-offs?

Wanda: Ons: Tall men, women with curly hair, good tattoos, slow hands on her thighs, neck kisses, leaving marks with her teeth and nails, wall/counter sex, drunk/buzzed sex, the low-key voyeurism of whispering dirty things in public, slow, passionate makeouts that slowly and steadily build into faster and rougher sex. Offs: fetishizing innocence/inexperience (certain guys think her stockings are a sign of being into a schoolgirl vibe but any type of age roleplay is a hard stop for her), her partner setting the pace without give and take, being called “cute” or “sweet,” having her hair pulled, anyone who dislikes pietro.

Pietro: Ons: men’s forearms, curvy women, and…. a… few fetishes… biting, hair pulling/playing, drunk/buzzed sex, basic restraints, oral fixation but most of all PRAISE KINK and he doesn’t want to talk about it not at all don’t bring it up please for the love of god don’t make it A Thing. Sam wants to talk about it Sam Wilson wants to talk about it a lot.  Offs: people who think sexual intimacy means affection is now acceptable, being laughed at, people who think they’ve “figured him out,” anyone who dislikes wanda. 

22. Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

Wanda: vague doodles. Patterns and motifs. Sometimes lists and plans, but most of that is mental.

Pietro: little mini comics that will make wanda laugh. (during team meetings he draws little stick!steve and stick!tony arguing and the scene gets more and more elaborate until stick!stony makeouts happen and wanda just fucking loses it in the middle of tony discussing new tech.)

23.  How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

Wanda: Organized to herself. Clutter that only she understands. No one can find anything in her room if they need to, but she knows exactly where everything is.

Pietro: Very simple and organized, but he is That Guy who has The Chair or The Drawer where things kind of build up until he doesn’t remember what’s all on/in there.

24.  Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?

Wanda: loves literature and language.

Pietro: is a better storyteller than a writer. Wanda says there’s no difference but he disagrees.

After his death she tries writing down some of his stories but he was right.

25.How do they see themselves 5 years from today?

pre ultron: dead. Both of them.

Post: Wanda just keeps trying to find more things she can do to help others and make amends. Pietro would join her if he were alive.

26.  Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?

Kinda the same as above. No real back up - they will either succeed or die.

27. What is their biggest regret?

pre ultron: not being able to help their parents and not realizing what the true nature of the SHIELD facility was until it was too late.

Wanda in post aou: every single thing about that day.

28.  Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?

Friend - each other.

Enemy: Tony until post ultron, then they wouldn’t really know. Part of the experience of it all is learning things aren’t as simple as friends and enemies.

29. Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)

Of course, as children, their instinct was to stick together and hide. As adults, pietro handles any immediate danger, and looks to Wanda for the plan once there is a moment.

30.  Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)

They didn’t have time to grieve their parents. Wanda screamed for days after sokovia, then was basically catatonic for weeks. In a nice au… I don’t know. If they started getting close to others, then lost someone, I think pietro would get anxious and want to do something, while Wanda would close off and try to keep him close to her.

31. Most prized possession?

Wanda has the jewelry and clothes that Pietro stole from her. She likes mixing up her wardrobe, but those ones are special.

Pietro doesn’t keep much long enough for it to be “prized.” He keeps track of things very well, but once its outlived its use its gone. He still feels guilty about the charms though, and if any had survived, he would take special care of them.

32. Thoughts on material possessions in general?

They both feel they should not get too attached because they have lived so long only keeping what they can carry, but that has also meant they are very protective of the things they have.

33. Concept of home and family? 

Each other. Always. They did feel a sense of home and loyalty to their city, which is part of the reason they never tried to leave.

34.  Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)

Wanda: Wanda is very private. Part of the reason is that she realizes how much of oneself is constructed deliberately due to her powers and natural knack for perception. So she likes giving people as little to work with as possible. It gives her a sense of control. However, she is more likely to feel close enough to someone to tell them things that she wouldn’t tell strangers. Whereas....

Pietro: Private about some things, VERY blunt about others. Sort of the opposite of how most people might be. He’s the one to tell the story of their parents’ deaths, every time. And ah- certain subjects don’t make him uncomfortable. Ex: one time, bruce and helen set the whole team of enhanced avengers down to talk about different aspects of their abilities for their records and when it was Pietro’s turn- “I eat a lot, I’m fast, I don’t need to piss as much as you’d think from how much i hydrate? so that’s nice. I heal fast, don’t seem to bruise  from blunt impact, oh- and my refractory period is like- 30 seconds.” and everyone just “.....kay”

And of course, they have no secrets from each other. Zero sense of privacy between the two of them- like how they share a personal bubble.

35.  What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?

Wanda: Like I said, doesn’t see things she likes as a waste of time- that is, unless there is currently something she can actively do to meet a goal. But she values planning time and that can be done while doing the things she enjoys.

Pietro: Flirting. He is a hopeless flirt (see deleted scenes from aou) and enjoys it, but honeslty he thinks it’s kind of silly. Either someone is into you or they’re not. Flirting is like the “how are you? say hi to your mom” of sex.

36.  What makes them feel guilty?

Before Ultron: Nothing but their parents.

After: everything.

37.  Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?

Wanda: both. Her emotions fuel her, but she’s too practical to go with the first plan that pops into her head. she feels she owes it to the validity of her anger and guilt to take the best course of action.

Pietro: definitely emotional. He analyzes just enough not to make things immediately worse, then acts.

38.  Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality? 

Wouldn’t know what that is.

Post AoU, Wanda reads more about psychology to help understand how her powers work. Once she comes across this, she’s educated enough to know how simplistic and meaningless it is.

39.  What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

Time together.

Post AoU Wanda: Time alone. Doing something that makes her feel like herself like drinking tea or painting her nails.

40.  Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?

Wanda: Bit of both, but leaning more towards superiority. But it’s less superiority, more utter confidence and faith in herself- even when misplaced.

Pietro: Bit of both, leaning towards inferiority. Scared he’s not enough to protect wanda or get them what they want.

41.  How misanthropic are they? 

Can be a weird mix. They hate what people are capable of doing to one another, which comes from the empathy of seeing themselves and others hurt. 

42.  Hobbies?

Wanda: the reading, fashion pursuits, etc. With the team, she’s gotten to try more things like cooking and music.

Pietro: He feels good when he’s running. Not even to speed. Just running is something he’s good at and he likes doing things he’s good at.

43.  How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?

(am i going crazy i feel like i answered some of these like four times)

Their formal education ended at age 10. Skipped out on the foster system and the attached public ed.

44.  Religion?

Their father was jewish, but somewhere about halfway between “observant” and “christmas tree jewish.” After the bombings, they have almost no residual faith and a pretty antagonistic attitude toward organized religion.

45.  Superstitions or views on the occult?

Their mother was Romni and used to give them charms and things to carry for luck and protection. She herself took the customs only vaguely seriously and just followed most out of cultural tradition more than anything. Wanda thought it was all very serious and magical when they were young, but after the bombings refuses to talk about it. As previously stated, Pietro used to carry the charms very carefully, but they didn’t have any on them when they were pulled out of the rubble and he tries to act like it doesn’t bother him that they don’t continue on with the traditions, but it does. He hasn’t told Wanda (she knows anyway), but he found a holed stone a year after their parents’ deaths, but lost it immediately. He still thinks it was a sign he’s meant for bad luck.

46.  Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?

Wanda: speaks for the two of them, most often. Except when it comes to sharing stories. That’s where Pietro steps in. 

Pietro: Makes Wanda’s will into action. Usually leaves the talking to her.

47. If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?

Wanda: Someone who doesn’t necessarily understand her, but does not seek to unravel or change her. She might have a tendency to desire partners who are possibly too passive when it comes to her. This prevents her from healthy relationships a lot. She has no patience for criticism, no matter if it is about somethign superficial, or about something genuinely concerning, like her self-destructive tendencies.

Pietro: Tends to confuse what he wants, which ends messily every time. He doesn’t consciously want a serious commitment, but unconsciously sort of... expects it? This goes one of two ways- his partner takes the relationship seriously and he doesn’t, which means he is callous and flippant with them OR his partner doesn’t take things seriously and he’s frustrated and hurt that he is such a minor event in someone else’s life.

The twins are... not good at dating.

HOWEVER, given the opportunity post aou, I think they would both try to improve their empathy and interpersonal skills a little better. Wanda would do well with someone who actively encourages her to express herself and step outside of her own head, but doesn’t get pushy. Pietro would do well with someone conscientious, but who would also coax him not to take himself so seriously.

48. How do they express love?

With one another: Protectiveness. The way Pietro always has his back, but Wanda is always standing between him and known danger. Physical affection/their shared personal bubble.

With befriending the rest of the team, they would struggle for a time. But eventually Wanda starts making two cups of tea when someone else is in the kitchen with her and Pietro starts smiling, just a little, at their jokes instead of rolling his eyes.

49. If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?

Wanda: It’s not exactly speed that’s her strong point, she’s just ABRUPT. even before the experiments, she was very good at reading people and situations. She can tell when a fight is inevitable, and once diffusion is no longer an option, she will strike first and not fast, not stopping to let anyone get their footing. Dirty fighting. Knees and nails and big jagged rings.

Pietro: Big surprise- fast. But also very- full bodied. I love the way that with his speed, Pietro’s attacks in aou are mostly just “run into robot so fast it just falls apart.” I feel like that’s not just the powers, but also how he does things. Just kind of throws himself at/on people and hits with anything he’s got. Fast and dirty. No kidney or testicle is safe.

50. Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?

Wanda: Pre aou: not if it’s together. Post: no. Would be somewhat of a relief. Finally going home after a long day. Wherever she’s going, it’s the same place as Pietro.

Pietro: Yes yes oh god yes.

[krisrampersad]

(Wo)Man in the Mirror. Bemused Musings on The Muse of Museums. Beyond Amusement

Infectious enthusiasm. Claire Broadbridge envelopes me into her unfolding vision for our National Museum and Art Gallery. The transformation is already evident. She walks me, or rather races through each room of what was once known as the Royal Victoria Museum, renamed the National Museum and Art Gallery.

In her brisk and hurried racing speech that matches the pace of her steps and gestures, she is the epitome of someone who understands that every moment counts; that time waits for no man, nor woman either, even as a historian, tapping into time to cheat it into lasting one moment longer.

That might have been also her thought as she struggled through last breaths as her life’s blood oozes out of her, throat slit, for having reached a ripe old age, just hoping for an easy expiration.

She points, here will be constructed the story of Trinidad and Tobago to come alive through walk in visual exhibits, and interpretive descriptions. Where actual artefacts do not exist replicas or paintings and illustrations are being commissioned. They are not just vision or plans, she is making them happen, racing on to describe a holistic vision that include natural history, cultural heritage, all the elements that breathes life into a people and a nation.  

Quickening my steps and thoughts to keep up with her, I do not have a krystal ball to see that one day I would be called to steer this institution into a future path myself. I do not look into the antique mirror on one of the walls resonating of historical myths, or I might have seen the Fates that would befall Claire’s dream for the museum, also tugging at me.

In our reflections, staring back at us from the newly installed glass cases laying out the story of our prehistory, I did not interpret, as if not a curator an artist might have, that I would be digging and sorting through our history myself in processes of reconstructing the past.  But the writing must have already been on the wall, like the briefly laid out narratives, capturing the significance of a moment or object.

If I had looked closer, I might have seen myself walking this same route on my inaugural official tour of the Museum three decades hence. It might have shown me how I would immediately vividly recall the moments when Claire is racing me around her creation-in-progress. It might have mirrored my inner thoughts, capturing my quick computation, comparing the life that was being breathed into a half-finished dream, with the pathetic shadow of itself that confronted me thirty years later and enveloped me in a shroud from which I am still struggling to emerge.

I had been to the museum before my first encounter with Claire for that interview in the first few months of my career in journalism. Those early visits were on one or the other of the stops on occasional school outings that included such mundanity of the sweetdrink factory on the Highway which offered a chance at refreshment enroute to the Zoo, the Royal Botanical Gardens where we would stop for lunch after meeting with and greeting the animals, and thence to the National Museum, before heading back to our reclusive south, beyond the reach of the movers and shakers of national life, up north. Even from those early school excursions to the museum, there was an evident lack of narrative continuity and cohesion in the displays most of which were tucked remotely away in unlabelled glass cases. There was not much research being done on broader areas than the colonial condition or the more varied elements and comprehensive picture of what makes a nation. One felt the lack but there was still an inkling of pride.

A few weeks later, I will begin the Discover Trinidad and Tobago to chronicle and capture the life and times of the people, past and present, the forerunner to much of my international explorations as well as scrutiny of the functions and value of national, regional and international cultural heritage systems, mechanisms, conventions, processes and policies and a pile of writings and articles published, and even more unpublished, that can fill encyclopedias.

Recognizing at the same time the gaps in our history and the need to encourage research and cull and cultivate interest and enthusiasm, Claire opened the doors of the museum’s library and the piles and volumes of documentation at the museum for my research that included seeking out the many libraries in not just public but also institutional, corporate and private spaces and sifting through not just documents but also artefacts, and later preoccupation of compiling comparative cultural and historical data from oral experiences.

My interest in the museum was more than a casual one. In my thirst knowledge, instinct for exploration and discovery and desire to get beyond the piloted history with its ad nauseum regurgitation of distortions, inaccuracies, falsities and mistruths, I courted the idea of becoming an archeologist, only to be told that that was a dead end and there were no real education nor employment opportunities for such a pursuit in the country. That was because there was no relationship with the museum and other tangential institutions of the country – art galleries as satellite showcasing, the university to develop research, other educational and community institutions to cull curiosity and a culture of philanthropy that would support efforts to which one cannot put a dollar value. There was no sense of a continuum of the quality of our lives and our treatment of our natural environment, built heritage, cultural heritage, underwater heritage that would aid us into being better individuals in a more livable society.

Without the means to seek education elsewhere - there being no excess income from my father’s farmer and market gardening earnings to support advancing my education beyond high school and I would have to earn to pay my way into any further studies - I shelved the idea of becoming an archeologist, at least in relation to formal education.

While working and saving for advanced education, I spent time engaging with those engaging with the continuum of past to inform the pulse of contemporary occurrences that become the stuff journalism is made of. It was a supposed to be a temporary detour onto other paths that would become a vocation, because it became a portal to access and partake of all other vocations; to advance my education long before I began advancing towards university studies, joining a dig, a field trip, a presentation or discussion. It was education one cannot get in a classroom and has been on going and lifelong.

And so it was that I came to sit at the feet of the likes of the real nation builders - Broadbridge, Harris, Kenny, all now deceased, and others, imbibing their knowledge, savouring their experience, drawing from their passion, drive, the unstinting selflessness, their energy and enthusiasm for their art that they crafted, even as work, into hobbies.  

It was infectious.

Thus infected, if I had one, the krystal ball would have also shown me the stunted pathway on which their dreams raged to their anguished understanding, as they each did, in the end, as Broadbridge did, although, not with the similar physical brutality that took her life.

Emerging from my own confrontation with life’s fragility, having walked the path of these patriots, in facing the mirror - as they each have done time and time again in their private space, and vocally to me and to others – to see the future reflected, in a place where neither one’s work, nor one’s life, is of any significance; that either or both can be snuffed out in a jiffy. The piles of bleeding flesh scattered around the nation mutilated, pumped it bullets, is testimony to the culture of disrespect, of brutality, of hatred, of intolerance we have cultivated. When we had a chance to set forth the best of us, we instead hold up the worst of us. That is the heritage legacy and inheritance of the public service and its system in this country. What little has been gathered or saved has been done through private and largely individual effort as a kind of vigilantism that has become legitimized because the formal systems and institutions have been so disempowered by the pitiful powermongers, aided and abetted by the architects of greed and indifference in the name of conservation.

Without the formal structures, nor systems, nor mechanisms to support a career in archeology, I began my process of reconstruction as a hobby collecting oral experiences and traditional knowledge that spread out from the local into the regional and international sphere, alongside the other things I would do as a vocation, turning them into hobbies. At my side, urging me on, too, as we discuss his work and the stultified progress and lack of interest in what my research pinpoints as indisputably the most significant find in the region, was Peter Harris, with whom I would also have a final recorded full-length interview, before he too goes the way of all flesh; the way of all our real patriots, his life’s work adrift in the wind. Like Peter despairing at the too slow progressing without the resources nor support mechanisms to quicken the pace, while I have written much, I am still in the process of turning into a cohesive whole the bulk of that work and explosive core findings that in its current form can make sense to no one but myself. 

Along this path, I pursue my piecing together of a history continuum drawn from oral and other sources at formal and informal museums, archives and knowledge repositories wherever I visited in the work as a facilitator for UNESCO culture initiatives, developing policy directions through Commonwealth, volunteering or otherwise across continents that connect our history to theirs and our selves with theirs – Africa, Asia, Europe, the Americas, the Caribbean and the Pacific.

The undefined cultural underpinnings of the society is captured partly in the focus on fictional literary heritage and its underpinnings in orality represented in LiTTscapes – Landscapes of Fiction from Trinidad and Tobago, where the National Museum is represented thorough recounts of its origins as a science and arts museum and evolving uses from a craft centre for little old ladies to perfect their art of knitting, embroidery and lacemaking. It appears in early fiction of authors like Naipaul, who like myself would visit the Museum which was just a hop skip and jump from his High School, Queen’s Royal College. QRC - along with other heritage structures, sites and cultural practices - is also represented in LiTTscapes, as an institution of education as well as an object of satire about its relevance or irrelevance in the grooming of new breeds and successive waves of neo colonials that appears throughout our fiction: ‘The purpose of education’ being - to quote Naipaul through the lips of one of his educators thinly disguised as one of his fictional characters - ‘to form, not the inform.’

That early sneak preview of the unfolding ‘New Look Museum’ (see article photo this page) as the first article and interview with Broadbridge is entitled was published even before I began the ‘Discover Trinidad and Tobago’ series which would begin a month later and which would benefit from access to the museum’s library as well as the libraries of other institutions in natural, marine and cultural histories that were worthy of being called such, along with other private archives across the country.

Through various episodes of Cross Country the television series I would be writing a couple years later that shot to the charts, and with the founding of Newsday as the resident researcher, writer, historian and explorer writing of A Piece of History and Glimpses Into the Past along with interviews of many of the founding pillars of the nation, I would see Broadbridge’s dream taking shape, the dreaming into being of a nation through a museum system of which we can all be proud. There would be many other articles and discussions and actions in the decades later – chasing an artefact, joining an archeological expedition, compiling research on an object or incident or activity.  

In another sneak preview interview/tour of the Fort San Andreas Museum at South Quay a few years later which had become part of the museum system, Broadbridge’s vision was also beginning to take shape. With her many hands and heads in command of the various units and activities that goes into the making of an institution such as this, the museum was coming alive as an entity with a narrative of our nationhood threading through the natural history display, glimpsing into prehistory, the various migrant streams to economy, culture, festival and art that makes us who we are.

Because that’s what a museum is. It lifts us up and places us on show, on pedestals of accomplishments, achievements, survivals despite the many challenges life brings. That’s what gives a nation character and buoys for its youths in voyages of achieving their own aspirations despite limitations. But that psyche of the value of legacy has never really penetrated our islands that live only to gorge for today.

Built by the Spaniards to defend the island against other covetuous and intrusive island mauraders to its point of being appropriated as a reading room by the Chamber of Commerce and subsequently traffic branch before being abandoned to be arrested by Claire’s visioning, the San Andreas Museum was to be a showcase to the island’s migratory history, at the port of entry to our island. And it functioned as such for a while, until Claire was hounded out of office, as I would later be too, threats and all, and bit by bit of the work was dismantled, collections neglected with much that seems to be missing. Research had ground to a halt and the museum had very little to engage a society. Subsequent museum administrators with the best of intensions will also face their own share of the manoeuverings, manipulations and meanderings of a place that had lost its way.

When I reentered the museum in that more recent capacity, it was to see the San Andreas structure virtually gutted, with some considerable uninformed construction works that had done more to undermine the structure than to enhance it, a shell of its former self, despite millions already poured into reconstruction and the purses of the architects of our demise. At both, collections and pieces worth millions from what I remembered of early excursions and interviews also seemed to have gone missing and every attempt to harness the existing knowhow of many of the well- wishers in the society were thwarted at every step, a public system gleefully wielding the machetes of its failed massahood and ancient serfdoms of entitlement with a built-in guillotine that all ideas should be beheaded and all must fail. Failure is what we do best. How dare anyone even try to defy that.

They are the guardians and conservators of the processes they have evolved: that millions spent on reconstruction and restoration of the public treasures that keep surfacing are only means to open up more avenues to squander millions, rape and raid what little national patrimony may be left. Despite Claire’s efforts and the efforts of a few others who followed, we have not inched an iota forward in time, but moved considerably backward into some frightening time warp that could inspire a few blockbusters entitled Nightmare at the Museum.

On my inaugural tour of the National Museum as its chair three decades later I was eager to develop and enhance the space where I had spent so many hours pouring over old and rare documents and artefacts trying to coax out their hidden secrets, eyes and nose watering from the dusts and fragility. That eagerness ebbed as I walked through room after room. When I asked to see the library, horror of horrors, I was told there was not one and was shown an empty room that had become something of a stock room for paraphernalia. All the documents were gone, I was told some was in storage.

By the time I was called to serve at the Museum, much of the work of Broadbridge had already been dismantled and the museum itself was in shambles. It took enormous effort to stem the overwhelming sense of despair that descended everytime I entered the structure and every ounce of strength to not sit on the stairs and allow the tears to flow. The despair was compounded by the confrontation of the absolute resoluteness by the powers that be to frustrate the exercise at rescuing the museum and the refusal to relinquish its grip on the institution which was now trying to give effect to the laws to establish its autonomy under its own management system. Despite a host of well-wishers from personal and professional enthusiasts whom I had met along the way, willing to give of their means and services, every effort was thwarted for seemingly no rational purpose except the glee of its perpetrators who had hardened paper-pushing into a pleasurable pastime augmented by the aggravating and thwarting the efforts of others. It was a matter of self-preservation to escape only to be hounded still.

Like an Octopus, is the synonym that comes to mind about the woman who would be and almost-Octogenarian had her life not been brutally truncated.

She took upon herself many roles, as many of us are called to do, because there have not been developed capacities. In other places, these functions are done by drawing together developed expertise in the range of disciplines required and much of that is through division of labour. It is supported by systems, structures and mechanisms and know how that form a supportive and protective cocoon to do what needs to be done so one is not left alone, baying at the moon, pounding one’s head against walls, facing the risk of being branded as an eccentric or idiot for pursuing one’s passion.

Claire’s battle with bureaucracy is historic in itself. She would rub many people the wrong way. How can you not, I would find out for myself, when you are driven by a goal and passion to differential agendas of a system of indifference at worst, at best more intent on asserting its miniscule power to maximum frustration. The antithesis of infectious enthusiasm, or misguided enthusiasm throwing zeal and glee instead into their art of perversion, corrupting new bureaucratic appointees and frustrating every attempt at developing an institution. That was what her crusade was against. I would find out myself, called to Chair the National Museum Board.

The sense of overwhelming sadness that engulfed me, everytime I entered the building, crumbling at its seams, aided and abetted and orchestrated by those who hold the strings manipulating the powers. By then most of Claire’s work and some of those who followed and shared her vision had already been undone. Starved of resources and competent staff – because the education system let you know there are no career options in pursing these fields in the first instance. The exhibits were in disarray, speaking more to a nation in chaos than one with any sense of direction. Much seemed to have been raided; the library dismantled. No sense of interpretation; no sense of narrative, no vision of nationhood.

The sense of futility that fills one, to seem too, the architects of conservation themselves also succumbing to the greed, selfishness and indifference building a which legacy where every creed and race finds an empty place.

That has not been only my experience, as a national and a patriot, nor just Claire’s.

As an element of a knowledge or tourism or heritage economy, a museum is the kind of institution to which one ought to be able to go for a quick understanding of a people and a place as I would when on limited time in a travel assignment. To illustrate, a few months before I took up the museum assignment, having directed a delegation from UNESCO visiting for a meeting to the museum, I was horrified to learn the next day that they had exited almost as soon as they entered the building, themselves despairing at the state of such a signature establishment in a country that was not without resources, not without intellectual capacity, not without skills and talent and imagination. By the time I was handed the task to steer the new museum board the writing was already on the wall and I was already a target for those who probably saw their easy access to a ready treasure throve might be thwarted. 

Year after year as the Chamber of Commerce and various other organisations held their discussions on budgets and planning I asked where is heritage on the agenda. ‘In our next meeting’ I was told. The next came and went and never came, and the oil industry began crashing again and with it too is tumbling the nation.

Where are you in the battle for the soul of the nation?

Claire Broadbridge’s dream was already mutilated, long before she was mutilated and murdered.

Look into the mirror, my friends. You know who you are. You too have had a hand in slitting Claire’s throat and signed the contracts on the heads of our nation long before Saturday when Claire was found mutilated in the hours of ripe old age. You have helped create this society that has no sense of its moorings. You have created the environment of hatred and animosity and vicious disrespect and disregard of each other. Your hands on the public patrimony have culled this environment of entitlement that legitimizes the climate of piracy and banditry that allow criminals to roam without fear of reprisal.  

You have created the systems and structures and processes meant not to support but to thwart those who are resolute about repairing, reconstructing and who are outside your clique of entitlement to the purse strings of public institutions.

Utilising your pliable and protected sycophants you have stooped to whatever depths to smear, blackguard, criminalize, and hound out of office, fabricating accusations and evidence and when that fails, construct threat and hired hitmen.

That is your legacy. It is the heritage and the artefact of the life you will leave, when you too are dead, like Claire’s dreams.

I wonder if you are looking in the mirror now, and seeing the bloody streak on Broadbridge’s throat, recognising that you might not have wielded the knife but certainly had something to do with shaping the mind and the atmosphere that inspires such brutality, disrespect, inconsideration and unconscionability?

Perhaps it was never clearly defined that public service is a service to the public and not any excuse to grab, gorge and gouge out as has become the national growl and thwart the efforts of those trying to do public service.

A museum is just one base element of knowledge system of a people. It is an amalgamation of knowledge which is why in many societies museums are associated with research infrastructure, library, art galleries, seminars, workshops, talks, activities which frame core exhibits, allow for engagement and interaction where through private contemplation or through debates in interpretation.

That’s how we build a resolute society, with generations confident and fortified with resilience and self-worth enough to not be suckered into the system as clones of their massas. We are reaping the rewards of this vacuity as we witness everyday in even the youths who have been given an opportunity to serve in the Parliament, for instance in a society built on powerlessness without knowledge that rests back in inaction and all the basest elements of human nature because that’s all that is left to fall back on.

In not allowing a museum and like institutions to blossom, we are already opening the portals through which the termites will crawl and continue to gnaw at not just the weakest but those parts that like to think themselves strong. Claire was as strong as the comes, someone says, but the tentacles of predatory place got her too.

A museum is part of a network of infrastructure that includes private and public systems of education, universities, libraries, art galleries, financiers and philanthropy. In that way, it focuses national energies into constructive goals and strengthens the national character.

Without that we are doomed and all talk of new buildings and infrastructure will fall as quickly to the architects of greed as peopling it with vulnerable.

In a place where knowledge banks and expertise are limited, and the curatorial knowledge to drive it virtually non-existent, one has to educate oneself into competencies that encompass the museum’s multifarious roles. In a place like Trinidad where heritage is the least of valued priorities it is left to one or two or a handful of individuals.

I have seen and worked with many museums and heritage enthusiasts across our region and beyond. From these experiences I have seen first hand of what can be done from little. From the small one-person passion of a little old lady in a village in Belize to the humongous developed facilities of international engagement that the Louvre, the British Museum, the Smithsonian, built perhaps by the collections from other spaces but it is because there is a frame. I have seen what one individual can do, like the colleague who fled Trinidad for another island and is doing yeoman service in developing its museum, virtually single handedly, because much can be accomplish when it is not this environment.

It was not just Claire’s work as we all know, for those who want to point fingers at her ‘difficult’ personality as I’ve heard myself described as well, for which I make no apologies. It is what it takes to accomplish a modicum of anything in an environment like ours. I have cited Peter Harris, Professor Kenny as an environmentalist. I think of Gaylord Kelshall’s Military History Museum, itself on the rocks of myopic development path ongoing unwillingness to relent in pursuit of his passion.

We boast of having the resources, the intellectual capacity and a natural and cultural heritage that is an amalgamation and microcosm of virtually everywhere else. Not many can have that boast. We have no excuse. Is there any institution of note that we can hold up as one of which we can be truly proud?

We have given no priority to strengthening the national character beyond piecemeal tokenism and lip service with no enduring vision nor commitment beyond gouging out to feed today’s habits. We have shown no compassion or sensitivity to what is required to cultivate an environment where youth can see possibilities and potential in something larger than themselves to which they may aspire and achieve, rather than succumb to the temptation of entitlement and of becoming thieves and robbers, whether it is of the national purse or private property. And for those who do, and try, the tentacles move in to cut down and terminate and so create a haven for criminals and criminality to flourish.  

Trying to harness the knowledge and expertise of those who had gone before; trying to stem the swarms of termites crawled through its walls and eating not just at the frame but at the substance; trying to ward off the greedy, gorging on and gouging out the eyes and ears and limbs, to resist the attempts to manipulate one contract and another and another in the name of conservation can bring threats to your life and those around you. That takes its toll on one’s nature, and one’s character. What an effort it is to flee the reach of the mirror image of becoming embittered and branded as the Claires, and many others who have tried to serve to similar ends.

The greed, the selfishness and the indifference has penetrated and permeated every fabric of our lives.

We are poorer not just in losing you, but in the manner of your loss.

It is not about size, it is not about money, or resources, or know how or expertise. It is about how each individual view himself/herself and his or her place in this society and what he/she is willing to put personal ambitions aside to ensure it has a viable future for next generations.

The termites had already chomped their way in to foundations, claiming the largesse of national heritage infrastructure and collections as they have, I daresay burrowed into virtually all institutions in the country. Holding on to illusions of power, tentacles are ready set to grab on to new comers and claw at their dreams to trap them into flycatchers of crumbling serfdoms, webs of shame, guilt, petty politicking and failed massahood.

So even the young, energetic, idealistic and enthusiastic must have more than an extra layer of self worth to resist, or they succumb and become part of the swamp.

They don’t come stronger than Claire, someone said.  You spend years trying to cull a better environment, giving of your time and energy and spirit and it can all be torn down by a gnash of one power crazed individual.

It is patriot’s month and one of the country’s most consistent patriots has her life snuffed out. How can we not connect the dots?

Look into the mirror leaders of and aspirants to office in institutions, agencies, departments

Look into the mirror leaders and aspiring leaders of business

Look into the mirror, heads and aspiring heads of banks

Look into the mirror leaders and aspiring leaders of industry

Look into the mirror leaders and aspiring leaders of education

Look into the mirror, leaders and aspiring leaders of media

Look into the mirror leaders and aspiring leaders of parties

Look into the mirror aspirants to public and private office

Look into the mirror leaders and aspirants to the Parliament

Look into the mirror leaders and aspiring of government

Look into the mirror leaders and aspiring of movements of all kinds

Look into the mirror leaders and aspiring of trade unions

Look into the mirror, leaders and aspiring of the public service

Look, at what you have made and look at what you will inherit.

Knowing that it has been made means it can be unmade.

That’s where change starts.

The end of despair

The beginning of hope

Just look in the mirror.

For Clair Broadbridge. In Rememberance. Rest In Peace.

http://ift.tt/2wElYQS

Tobago underwater heritage threatened

Dr Kris Rampersad

Former curator, National Museum and Art Gallery, Claire Broadbridge believes that the University of Connecticut is being handed carte blanche—the Scarborough Harbour project to chart and possibly recover some of the French, Dutch seventeenth century and British nineteenth century vessels which lie under the silt of the harbour. In a letter, Broadbridge charges that “this country is being once again sold out to foreign domination.”

She states in the letter that “similar projects in Sweden the WASA Flagship of the Swedish King Gustave Adolph’s sunk in the harbour in 1628 and recovered in 1961; the Mary Rose of Henry VIII sunk in Southampton Harbour the recovery and conservation of which is a work in progress.

“These are of less historical significance than the French and Dutch vessels sunk in the harbour of Scarborough. Hoteliers and restaurants in Tobago should note that these have attracted tourists in tens of millions in a continuing basis while Tobago sits doing nothing for the last decade.” Broadbridge noted that the project of locating and charting and partially recovering one of these vessels in Scarborough was completed in 1990 to 1997. “It was directed locally.

All was charted and admiralty maps of the harbour done. Work was halted in order to plan a Caribbean Institute of Marine Archeology within the University of the West Indies Faculty for Social and Economic Research—Such an institute to serve the entire Caribbean would be very prestigious for Tobago. All funds which have to be garnered for this work would be used for the lasting benefit of Tobago not for the lasting benefit for a foreign university.

Also the student and staff of this institute would serve as workers on the project.” She stated that on assuming office, incumbent chairman of the Tobago House of Assembly Orville London chose to halt the project. He even abandoned the satellite components’ of the project—a historic James Park Tourism centre and a living agricultural museum in Roxborough.

“These were an integral part of the Scarborough Harbour Project 1990-2002. These components had been attached to the project in order to geographically distribute the tourist in land from the harbour.” Facilities for conservation at the docks had been planned to be open to immediate tourist viewing, an explanatory exhibit in the cruise ship reception area was designed, artifacts prepared script and audiovisuals created, Broadbridge indicated. The excavation of one vessel was partially done and filmed.

All previous foreign consultants had been hired and paid fees by the local director of the project, she said, while the Coast Guard divers were present during dives and all funding was strictly used for the benefit of Tobago.

Rampersad: UNESCO concerned

Dr Kris Rampersad, chair of the Trinidad and Tobago National Commission for UNESCO, when contacted, confirmed that the Commission was concerned about actions that might endanger these valuable national heritage assets and the lack of understanding and awareness of the issues surrounding protection and development of the heritage assets in the waters of not just Tobago, but also Trinidad.

She said there was a threat that we may be signing away elements without being aware of it. She stated that it is not clear what the arrangement is between the University of Connecticut and the Tobago House of Assembly or any other entity but that in a meeting late last year with the THA, she expressed such concerns and received an open ear from the THA Secretary for Tourism.

Rampersad said, “These are assets that are part of not just the heritage of Trinidad and Tobago but also of the global community given the historical contexts of the development of our islands and there can be some severe international relations repercussions if this is not handled properly. 

“We are a long way from developing the mechanisms that will ensure that the benefits are secured for Trinidad and Tobago, among which includes training of nationals and developing the human resource capacity to take care and oversee these assets. UNESCO encourages the development of the national infrastructure.

According to Rampersad, “It is in our interest that our local universities take charge of this, and also in developing the kind of targeted heritage and conservation expertise we need locally for not just underwater, but heritage in general as training courses and programmes seem to lag behind the new developments in the global environment in which we now function.”

In the case of underwater heritage, she said, “it may also be in our best interest to develop dive and underwater museum facilities for these assets as is the current trend, rather than trying to bring up artefacts at tremendous costs of maintain them above ground.” The heritage dive tourism industry is itself a multibillion dollar industry that attracts enthusiasts across the world and can eventually pay for itself in terms of developing the infrastructure and mechanism required.

Rampersad said we also need to put in place proper regulations and legislation that will protect our interests. “It is for us to ensure that our national laws are up to speed to ward off the risk of foreign entities staking ownership claims and other like threats.”

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Oct 25, 2013 Some 50 percent did not vote. The local government elections results lends further proof of the discussion began in Clash of Political Cultures: Cultural Diversity and Minority Politics in Trinidad and Tobago in Through The ...http://ift.tt/1vYaD4K Demokrissy: Sounds of a party - a political party Oct 14, 2013 They are announcing some political meeting or the other; and begging for my vote, and meh road still aint fix though I hear all parts getting box drains and thing, so I vex. So peeps, you know I am a sceptic so help me decide. http://ift.tt/1vYaD4K Demokrissy: T&T Constitution the culprit | The Trinidad Guardian Jun 15, 2010 T&T Constitution the culprit | The Trinidad Guardian · T&T Constitution the culprit | The Trinidad Guardian. Posted by Kris Rampersad at 8:20 AM · Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to Facebook ...http://ift.tt/1vYaD4K Related: Demokrissy: To vote, just how we party … Towards culturally ... Apr 30, 2010 'How we vote is not how we party.' At 'all inclusive' fetes and other forums, we nod in inebriated wisdom to calypsonian David Rudder's elucidation of the paradoxical political vs. social realities of Trinidad and Tobago. http://ift.tt/1vYaD4K Demokrissy: DEADLOCK: Sign of things to come Oct 29, 2013 An indication that unless we devise innovative ways to address representation of our diversity, we will find ourselves in various forms of deadlock at the polls that throw us into a spiral of political tug of war albeit with not just ...http://ift.tt/1vYaD4K Demokrissy: The human face of constitutional reform Oct 16, 2013 Sheilah was clearly and sharply articulating the deficiencies in governmesaw her: a tinymite elderly woman, gracefully wrinkled, deeply over with concerns about political and institutional stagnation but brimming over with ... http://ift.tt/1vYaD4K Demokrissy: Trini politics is d best Oct 21, 2013 Ain't Trini politics d BEST! Nobody fighting because they lose. All parties claiming victory, all voting citizens won! That's what make we Carnival d best street party in the world. Everyone are winners because we all like ...http://ift.tt/1vYaD4K New Media, New Civil Society, and Politics in a New Age - Demokrissy Jan 09, 2012 New Media, New Civil Society, and Politics in a New Age | The Communication Initiative Network. New Media, New Civil Society, and Politics in a New Age | The Communication Initiative Network. Posted by Kris Rampersad ...http://ift.tt/1vYaD4K Demokrissy: T&T politics: A new direction? - Caribbean360 Oct 01, 2010 http://ift.tt/1vYaD4K Others: Demokrissy: Old Casked Rum: The Emperor's New Tools#1 ... Apr 07, 2013 Old Casked Rum: The Emperor's New Tools#1 - Towards Constitutional Reform in T&T. So we've had the rounds of consultations on Constitutional Reform? Are we any wiser? Do we have a sense of direction that will drive ... http://ift.tt/1vYaD4K Demokrissy: Valuing Carnival The Emperor's New Tools#2 Apr 30, 2013 Valuing Carnival The Emperor's New Tools#2.  http://ift.tt/1vYaD4K Wave a flag for a party rag...Choosing the Emperor's New ... Oct 20, 2013 Choosing the Emperor's New Troops. The dilemma of choice. Voting is supposed to be an ... Old Casked Rum: The Emperor's New Tools#1 - Towards Constitutional Reform in T&T. Posted by Kris Rampersad at 10:36 AM ... http://ift.tt/1vYaD4K Demokrissy: Carnivalising the Constitution People Power ... Feb 26, 2014 This Demokrissy series, The Emperor's New Tools, continues and builds on the analysis of evolution in our governance, begun in the introduction to my book, Through the Political Glass Ceiling (2010): The Clash of Political ... http://ift.tt/1vYaD4K Envisioning outside-the-island-box ... - Demokrissy - Blogger Feb 10, 2014 This Demokrissy series, The Emperor's New Tools, continues and builds on the analysis of evolution in our governance, begun in the introduction to my book, Through the Political Glass Ceiling (2010): The Clash of Political ... http://ift.tt/1vYaD4K Demokrissy: Futuring the Post-2015 UNESCO Agenda Apr 22, 2014 It is placing increasing pressure for erasure of barriers of geography, age, ethnicity, gender, cultures and other sectoral interests, and in utilising the tools placed at our disposal to access our accumulate knowledge and technologies towards eroding these superficial barriers. In this context, we believe that the work of UNESCO remains significant and relevant and that UNESCO is indeed the institution best positioned to consolidate the ..... The Emperor's New Tools ... http://ift.tt/1vYaD4K Demokrissy: Cutting edge journalism Jun 15, 2010 The Emperor's New Tools. Loading... AddThis. Bookmark and Share. Loading... Follow by Email. About Me. My Photo · Kris Rampersad. Media, Cultural and Literary Consultant, Facilitator, Educator and Practitioner. View my ... http://ift.tt/1vYaD4K

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