#brought to you by 'middle class man marries into high society'

[incorrectsecretforest]

Yeonjae, offering Changjoon her hand: Yeobo, let's dance.

Changjoon, beginning to do the macarena at 1/4 the speed:

[callmecallmecrazy]

An Old Fashioned

New stuff!  And a big thanks to @aardvarkia and @dumb-and-jocked for their feedback.  

*****

“I hate these things,” Marcus muttered to himself as he adjusted his too-tight sport coat and surveyed the scene.  He liked the symphony, no he really loved it, but he hated these fundraisers and charity events because it brought out the very worst kind of society patron.  All slick, moneyed, wanna-be Rockefellers in expensive outfits purchased just for the occasion that were somehow both underdressed and overstyled.  In truth, he usually wouldn’t bother coming, but one of his old buddies had really pressed for him to come only to text once he was inside saying that he had to bail.  With an over dramatic sigh to himself, Marcus ambled towards the bar.

He pushed past two frat bros merrily reliving their youthful debauchery in too loud voices designed to make sure others heard.  What was the point of talking about your congressman fraternity brother or who invested in what hot start-up if others couldn’t overhear and admire and feel envious?  Maybe make connections with others who value the same things you do.  Marcus did not have time for that.  He wasn’t some socioeconomic outcast, Marcus had grown up “summering” and attended elitist schools up until middle school when his parents had divorced and his mom had decided that his father’s lifestyle was an impediment to the real world.  Dad didn’t make much effort to stay in touch, so Marcus had adopted his mother’s defiant attitude despite child support payments keeping them very comfortable.

Marcus stepped up to the bar beside two blonde women squealing and hugging and talking about families and babies and what wait lists the kids were on.  His overt eye roll was an external contrast to the squirming he felt in his stomach.  Preppy women had never been his type anyway.

He stood waiting for the bartender, leaning on one foot and then another.  A snotty, blonde man across the bar snapped just before Marcus could order and the bartender whisked off to serve the demanding man.  Marcus sighed again and continued waiting to be helped.

“Rough night?” Another bartender had appeared, wearing the same black bowtie and vest as the first. He looked a bit older than most of the staff.

“Not my scene,” he shrugged.  The bartender looked at him curiously and then smiled.

“I think I’ve got something for that,” he said slyly.

“Yeah, I’ll just have a…”

“No, I’ve got something,” he said as he grabbed a glass bottle filled with amber liquid and began assembling a complex cocktail before his eyes.  Marcus eyed the glass curiously as the bartender handed it to him

“What’s this?”

“An Old Fashioned.” Marcus smirked.

“Seems appropriate.  I’ve never had one before.  The orange rind threw me off.” “They’re very strong. Sip slowly.”  Marcus put the glass to his lips and immediately his nose was flooded with sweet orange and harsh alcohol.  It was honestly rather tempting.  He took a sip and immediately puckered.  

“Oh damn, you weren’t kidding.”

“It’s basically just whiskey.  Got a kick.  Enjoy!”  He turned away, leaving Marcus to take another sip from his robust cocktail and check his phone.  After a few seconds of scrolling, he shoved the phone back in his pocket.  He’d already paid for the ticket, might as well try to entertain himself.  He surveyed the scene, eyeing the various attendees.

The impromptu bar was set up in the atrium just outside the ballroom of the country club.  Marcus had initially been impressed with the subdued class that emanated from the place, but he’d been here enough times now to barely process it.  There were high top tables in their area, whereas seating filled most of the ballroom.  Families tended to stay there, while the singles- and those pretending to be single- mingled out here.  He laughed as a definitely married man attempted to flirt with the two gals from the bar earlier.  They seemed interested, at least in the value of his watch.  Marcus was interrupted by a man his age approaching.

“Hello chap,” his voice was smooth and perhaps a little high or maybe he was just drunk.  “Chesterfield Winslow Devers IV, call me Ches.  What’s your business?”  He cracked a pearly white smile as he offered his hand.

“Marcus Bouvier,” he offered his hand, which the man proceeded to strangle like an unruly chicken.

“Frenchman? Not a lot of us here.  Tends to be English and German stock.” “Uh, I guess so.  I think I’m English on the other side.  My family emigrated a long time ago.” “So,what’s your business?”

“Grad school?  Is that a business?” “I mean, why are you here?  My girlfriend drags me to these.  Not that I mind the booze and the company.”

“Oh, I try to stay involved with the arts community.  I know fundraising can be hard for them.”

“How very civic of you.  My fraternity does a fundraiser for St. Bart’s children’s hospital each year.” “That’s a good cause.” “It’s an excuse to drink heavily and write it off as a donation.  Was your fraternity more civically oriented?  Mine made a show of volunteerism, but we were definitely more focused on the beer.”

“I wasn’t in a fraternity.”  Ches looked shocked.

“And you still ended up among the fine company of Rolling Acres? Quite good luck.”

“Something like that,” Marcus said as he took a deep swig of his drink. The stingy burn stuck in his mouth, seemingly clawing at his tongue and throat. He ended up letting out a deep cough.

“You alright chap?” Ches inquired. 

“Strong,” Marcus coughed out.  The room spun around him for a moment, everything looked sharper but somehow confusing.  “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I believe we were comparing your philanthropic collegiate years to mine as a drunken lout.”

“I, didn’t mean…” Marcus trailed off as Ches smacked him on the shoulder.

“I’m having a jest,” he laughed, an overly boisterous laugh that echoed through the hall.  Marcus thought people might turn to look, but no one did.

“I just mean, I liked a good party, too. Nothing wrong with throwing back a few with the dudes.”  Marcus’ memories of his intellectual pursuits at university mingled with a thought of slinging back brewskis with a pack of over privileged rich kids.  Colleges certainly were filled with them, and his had been no different.  Surely, he’d had at least a few good nights of keg stands and stumbling across campus drunk with his pals?  He could swear he remembered it.

“Very true,” Ches replied, offering his own drink for a small toast. Marcus smiled and obliged, taking the opportunity to down the remains of his cocktail. A sort of dopey smile crossed Marcus’ face as the pair said their goodbyes and returned to mingling.  Eyeing his empty glass curiously, Marcus slipped back towards the bar.

Leaning against the cold slab countertop, Marcus admitted to himself it was a pretty swanky venue.  Sure, pretentious and outdated, but it had a giant bar and a lot of space.  Definitely the kind of place you could throw all kinds of parties.  He sipped the dreg remains of his cocktail slyly remembering some of the bigger parties from his undergrad days.  A pair of frat-tastic bros in khakis and polos requested cheap beers, as though their appearance didn’t belie their youth enough.  The bartender shrugged and rolled his eyes after turning around.

“Get you another?” he asked Marcus as he cracked the cap off of two chilled bottles.  Marcus nodded in assent and the bartender quickly began assembling the cocktail while handing off the beers.

The aromatic cocktail passed into Marcus’ hands as the two frat bros from the bar sauntered by.  Up close, Marcus could admire how the banded sleeves of their polos were pressed high on their arms from the exaggerated biceps the pair sported.  Clearly, they were frequent patrons of the bicep curl.  The studs ribbed each other, not noticing Marcus, until a playful shove pushed one muscled body against Marcus.  Halfway through a sip, Marcus ended up with his drink in his throat and coughing loudly.

“Oh, damn bro,” the one who didn’t hit Marcus said.  “Sorry man, you alright?”  The guy offered a few rough pats on the back that didn’t help with the coughing.

“S’okay,” Marcus slurred out.  Up close, the pair were even more impressive.  Big-bodied and broad shouldered with belts pulled taut around youthful waistlines.

“Hey bro, I’m Bryce.  The troll that tagged you is Cash,” he jerked his hand towards the more lithe one.

“Marcus,” he offered a hand to the calloused mitt Bryce offered.  “You guys here for the fundraiser?”  

“I guess?  Got an invite from Parker Parkins, the real estate dude.  Wants to give us jobs.” “Oh, are you in real estate?” “No, I guess not yet,” Cash jumped in.  “We graduate in the fall.  Parkins is tight on our connections.  Wants to have a couple of Jags on the billboards I think.” “Jags?” “We played football for the Hillberg Jags.  D2 but big locally.”

“He’s a local legend,” Cash said with a smack on Bryce’s back.  “Figure real estate might be real easy, too.  You from around here?”

“Yes, I went to Darrish for school, though.” “Oh, big time guy, eh?  Not much of a football school.” “Pretty sure we lost every game,” Marcus said.

“Did they have one of those super fancy gyms? I figure all those elite schools are stacked.” “Umm, I guess so?”

“Big guy like you probably hitting the weights all the time.”  Marcus shook his head and laughed, feeling his thick neck muscles pull just a bit.  It wasn’t like he’d ignored physical fitness, but he’d never really been… athletic.  But when he thought of the guys he’d partied with in college, the preppy sort of men who came to socialize and maybe get a degree, there certainly were muscles to pass around.  Pecs, biceps, glutes, and thighs in pastel polo shirts and a rainbow of khaki.  And you didn’t hang with dudes like that without getting into a bit yourself.  Marcus certainly had made the weights a habit, at least by Junior year.  Maybe?  It sounded correct in his head, maybe not guys the size of Bryce and Cash, but certainly fit and toned.  Yeah, yeah that was right.

“I… well, I don’t mind a good bench!” Marcus lifted his drink and clinked with the beers in salute to the frat boy favorite.  Marcus flashed back to events in college, keg stands with a pack of meaty bros cheering him on.  Yeah, he’d definitely given it his all.  He flexed his pecs and felt them straining against this dress shirt, the collar of tie suddenly uncomfortably snug.

The college boys said their goodbye and went off to chase contacts or tail, either being an acceptable end to the night.  But between the generous cheer and the spill, his cup had already runneth empty.

Venturing back to the bar, Marcus found himself approaching two middle aged couples.  Both men were stiff-backed in black tuxedos while the women wore gowns.  Their rapturous laughter and excited demeanor suggested a type Marcus did not enjoy, drunk socialites.  The louder pair introduced themselves without hesitation.

“Colin Templeton,” he offered a solid mitt and shook firmly.  “And this is my lovely wife, Beverly.”  Beverly replied with an overly large swanning of her arms before offering a hand for a delicate greeting.  

“Your glass is empty son,” said the jovial drunk man.  “What are you having?”

“Old fashioned,” Marcus slurred a touch, his rounds catching up to him.

“Classic, classic choice,” the man replied and quickly snapped to get the bartender's attention.  “Two old fashioneds, and a glass of merlot for the young lady,” Colin cheesed, causing the not-young Beverly to slap her husband playfully.  The bartender began assembling cocktails, leaving Marcus as the fifth wheel in the couples’ conversation.

“Marcus Bouvier,” he introduced himself, nodding to Colin and Beverly.  He turned to the other couple that hadn’t spoken.  The man stood upright and chest out, his square face stony and impersonal.  His wife on the other hand smiled without teeth and nodded back.

“Ah,” Colin suddenly snapped into form, his body shifting a touch to mimic the other man.  “This is my boss, Bob Barlow, of Barlow, Bannock, and Holmes. And his wife Betty.”  After a dainty wrist offering from Betty, Marcus and the man shook hands, Bob’s iron grip caused veins to bulge on Marcus’ wrist.  Betty and Beverly decided they were needed elsewhere and quickly vanished.

“I don’t think I’ve heard of your firm.  Not running TV ads for worker’s comp?”  Bob scowled at the suggestion.

“No, our firm specializes in mineral and land rights.” His even toned voice boasted a surprisingly deep bass that reverberated into Marcus’ ears  It almost hurt to hear.

“That seems more like a mountain west kind of speciality.”

“Our international clientele has needs around the world and we strive to provide a concierge quality to their interests.”  The man’s stoic face adopted a very subtle smirk as he explained exactly how exclusive and prestigious their clientele was.  Marcus wished he’d just stayed quiet as the conversation continued.  Colin eagerly nodded and occasionally interjected.  Fortunately, the next drink had entered his hands and he took a careful sip everytime Bob “accidentally” name-dropped an important client.

“So, young man,” Bob focused intently on Marcus.  “What do you do?”

“Oh, I'm in graduate school.”

“The firm is always looking for young lawyers with the drive and motivation to move up in the world.”

“Not law, I’m afraid.  I’m ….”  Colin and Bob both looked aghast and cut him off.

“I must admit, that is shocking.  I’d expected a young man of your caliber to be concerned with his financial future.”  Marcus had definitely met these people before.  He took another sip of his harsh cocktail and forced a smile onto his face.  Sure, half of his fraternity brothers majored in business and the more aggressively ambitious certainly turned to law, but that had never held any sway for him.

“I’m afraid if I turned to law, I’d find myself drawn straight into politics, Bob.  And I can’t have that!”  Bob let out a rather obnoxious barking laugh that quickly ended.  Colin tried to join in, but found himself chortling into silence as his boss had already stopped.

“Good man,” Bob slapped Marcus on the shoulder.  “I can always tell when a man was raised right.  Not an ounce of real money in politics.  And those sorts, you know.  I miss the days when the club had a refined membership.  They’ve become far too lax in their standards.  I can tell a boy like you kept good company.”  Marcus forced his eyes wide to prevent them rolling inside his skull.  Bob continued into a well worn speech that bemoaned class and race without saying either, instead focusing on things like standards and manners.  Stepford smile plastered on his face, Marcus nodded and said nothing, having learned that interrupting or worse, disagreeing, only prolonged an uncomfortable encounter.  Once or twice, Colin attempted to get a word in, but Bob never acknowledged the meager attempts.

Except, Bob was right about some things.  Marcus had certainly grown up in a world where old men valued things being a certain way.  And it’s not that Bob was ill-intentioned, he just liked things a certain way and got upset when they weren’t like that.  There existed a simplicity in just going along with the flow, nodding and smiling to everything Bob said.  After all, he had grown up around these people, prep school boys and fraternity brothers and families generations deep in inherited social status.  Unconsciously, Marcus started to mimic Bob’s posture, his spine extending up, shoulders rolling back as his chest jutted forward.

“At the last board meeting, they discussed lowering the application.  Which, I have to tell you, is quite absurd.  The dining room is full every weekend, tennis courts still have to be reserved in advance.  And the younger generation doesn't play nearly as often as mine.”

Marcus thought about cutting him off, but something about Bob’s words struck him.  Everything had rules.  Classrooms, cinemas, every single sports team or club he’d ever been a part of.  Some rules, like traffic signs or helmets, were for your own safety.  And some, well, everybody has traditions.  His high school football team bleached their hair when they made the playoffs.  His fraternity required brothers to wear a suit and tie every Monday.  Those standards built camaraderie and helped create social divisions, who to mingle and who to manage.

“I'll tell you what Bob,” Marcus said.  “ I remember at university, the National of my fraternity made a big push about modernizing recruitment and rush procedures.  And we were not having any of that.”

New memories formed in Marcus’ head.  Fraternal requirements and standards.  He’d been held to such exacting measures his entire life, it was only natural to continue in college.  A stickler for rules, it was only natural he’d be keen on enforcing them.  Ensuring pledges were following their initiation rites, shirts tucked in, hair parted, fulfilling gym time, and housing duties.  Some of the new ones were wont to complain, but eventually they fell in line, happy even that such a prestigious organization admitted and molded them into upstanding gentlemen.  And Marcus had overseen it with aplomb.

“Exactly, son! These things have existed for a long time for a reason!  Some things just work.”  Bob, Marcus, and Colin did a small toast to that.

“What fraternity were you in, Marcus?” Colin suddenly asked.  The question stunned and confused him.  Initially, he wanted to protest that he certainly wasn’t a frat boy.  But, he was?  He’d just told a story that he remembered clear as day from his fraternal past.  And he could picture in his mind the cohort of clean cut, preppy boys drinking and going to football games and causing a ruckus.  But, when he tried to picture the house or the letters, his brain turned to static.

“I, uh, I was… drunk? Marcus finally spat out slowly.   After a moment’s hesitation, Colin and Bob burst into laughter.

“That’s how I spent my college years!” Colin replied jovially.  Bob just smiled and confirmed that he too spent copious time consuming alcohol.  The question about fraternal organizations soon turned towards college sports, and Marcus felt the gnawing questions in his brain diminishing.  After all, he wasn’t a stranger to football or baseball or basketball or wrestling, not even mentioning the prep school sports.  He’d always liked sports, so the conversation carried easily, between the hazy frat-boy fog of almost real memories and the actual experiences of his life.  Several minutes later, the wives returned, noses powdered and wine glasses precariously filled.

“What did you boys talk about while we were away?” Beverly inquired curiously.

“Manly things!” Colin joked.  “Isn’t that right, Bob?”  Bob feigned a smile that more resembled an animal showing off its fangs.  Clearly, this firm was a good place to work.

“Sports, fraternities, the club,” Marcus attempted to smooth the conversation along.

“Yes, all the changes,” Bob sighed and started up again.

“Oh, I know!” Bev agreed.  “You know, my great grandfather was a member when the club opened in 1923.  Obviously, you know, things were different back then.  And I’m okay with that, but some level of decorum should be maintained.”  Apparently, Bev and Bob shared the sentiment.  She swished her arms as she spoke, causing red waves to tumble about her glass.    Colin started to grind his jaw while attempting to derail Bev’s chatter.  Unlike Colin, Beverly had no issue talking over Bob and dragging the conversation around.  A fact which clearly annoyed Bob and drove Colin into poorly controlled conniptions.

“But dear,” Colin assuaged.  “You love the new wallpapers in the bathroom!”

“Oh God, yes.  Look, Colin, you know he can be a bit sensitive about this stuff.  I’m friends with the Hoffman’s and my father voted to allow blacks into the club as members.  I have no problem with those changes, you know?  It’s just, all those little things we seem to lose along the way.”  Her gesticulations grew grander, wine splashing just above the cup before dripping back in slowly.

“The tennis courts are practically unused,” Bob lamented.

“We used to host tournaments!  I have a photo of my Aunt Gloria with Jimmy Connors right here at the club.  The galas are all toned down and the balls!  We used to throw big lavish balls.”  The increasingly erratic hand gestures corresponded with wine flying even higher, though somehow still returning to the cup.

“There’s just a right way of doing some things,” Bob said.

“You know, Bob, when you’re right, you’re right.  And I never think you’re right!”  Beverly laughed in delight at her impertinence while Colin practically seized and Bob was clearly unamused.  As she threw her head back and roared, her hands splayed forward sending the tumultuous wine sailing out of the glass and splashing across Marcus’s white shirt and trousers.  For a moment, there was nothing but silence among the five.

“Goddammit Bev,” Colin burst out before blushing deeply.  “I mean, honestly.”  Embarrassed, he turned his attention to Bob.  “Sorry about this.”  The ladies scurried away to refresh faces and glasses before anyone could respond.

“Outbursts like that are unbecoming, Colin,” Bob spoke again in that molasses slow and awkwardly deep voice.  It felt like someone screwed around on a synthesizer.  But it was imminently commanding and Colin seemed to immediately retreat into himself at the critique.  Marcus couldn’t help but notice that his predicament went uncommented on.

“I’m, uh, I guess I’ll find a bathroom.”  Colin and Bob both offered a curt nod.  He could tell Colin dreaded being alone with his boss after the fuss, but Marcus could feel the wine seeping through his shirt.  He followed a sign for toilets away from the main area and into a side hallway.

Marcus pushed too hard on the bathroom door, causing it to swing wildly open.  He giggled to himself as he saddled up to a urinal and let go.  He needed to pee so bad, and it felt so good.  Letting out a deep sigh as he released, Marcus focused intently on the black and white tiles of the wall to steady himself.  A part of him was kind of embarrassed, he was way too drunk for a fundraiser, but it was all in good fun.  Besides, he hadn’t paid for a drink yet!

He was knocked out his mental stupor by the door banging open and another guy rushing to the urinal.  He leaned against the wall with one hand as he pissed, waving slightly from side to side.

“You alright, bud?” Marcus asked.  The man was his age, maybe a touch younger with longish sandy blonde hair brushed up from his face and lacquered back.  The man’s face was flush and he responded with a boozy smile.

“Totally, bro,” he had one of those deep, dumb voices- practically cartoony.  “Just, gotta, let, it, ugh,” he squirmed as he let out a fart and kept pissing.  “Shit, gotta get that out before I tap the ladies, right bro?”  He attempted a fist bump, but almost stumbled releasing the wall.  Marcus ended up helping him to the sink to wash his hands.

“Trip Treadwell,” he offered a calloused mitt and shook aggressively.  Marcus offered his own name while meeting his handshake with impressive strength, veins bulging over wide forearms as he shook.  Trip reached down to yank off the leather beatle boot from his foot.  “Goddam trash.  There’s a reason I only buy Allen Edmonds,” he held up the seemingly pristine boot to Marcus’ eyes.  The fine leather and simple design were refined and elegant.  Then he noticed the heel had completely separated from the shoe.

“Oh, is that why you were tripping?”

“I’m drunk, too,” Trip laughed.  “But yeah, got these as a gift and damned things fell apart.  Fortunately, I keep some back ups in the lockers.  Looks like you need a change,” he pointed at the wine stains that covered Marcus’ shirt and the crotch of his pants, having faded from a wet red to dried violet mess.

“Yeah, someone spilled on me.”

“You got clothes here?”

“I, umm, I’m not a member.”

“Oh, well, you look pretty close to my size.  I’ve always got some backup clothes stored away.  You aren’t the only man whose white shirt has been ruined by Beverly Templeton’s gesticulations.” Marcus could only laugh as Trip patted his shoulder and led him through some hallways and into the men’s area.  The whole time, Trip sang the praises of the club.  How it had the right members, the right environment, the right perks for guys like them.  Marcus didn’t bother to really correct him, the club was growing on him after all.  There was something to the grandiose monstrosity that inspired a certain envy.

“This locker room leads to the gym, sauna, and Men’s Grill.”  Trip gestured around casually.

“Men’s Grill?” “Men’s only restaurant.  Business lunches.  Red meat, you know, manly stuff.”  He let out a deep laugh and guided Marcus through the brightly lit and well designed lockers to a spacious floor length locker in an area with a dressing room mirror and vanity.

“Now then,” Trip typed in a code.  Marcus practically jumped from the loud click of the electric lock in the nearly silent room.  Trip pulled out a set of white leather wingtips and sat down at a bench.  He ungraciously yanked the boots off his feet and tossed them mindlessly towards a trash can, then he laced up the shoes and admired himself in the mirror.

“Normally, I think these would be better for a garden party or afternoon event, right bro?  But you know what?  I’m feeling this tonight.” “You look good,” Marcus surveyed honestly.  Trip was bulky, the masculine musculature stretching the thin fabric of his seersucker suit to its limit.  His searingly white shirt matched his teeth.  The look was capped off with a blue and red bowtie.  He looked like he walked out of a magazine ad.  Marcus stayed silent as Trip examined himself thoroughly, making sure everything was just so before he returned to the party.

“Why are you still dressed?  We need to get your new clothes.” “Oh, Trip, that’s okay, really, it’s just a stain…” “It’s a stain on your pedigree!  Come on, shirt and pants, off now.”  Marcus tried to dodge out, but Trip was firm and insistent.  He’s controlling glare did not take ‘no’ for an answer.  Resolutely, Marcus unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his bare chest to the air.  He bashfully turned away from Trip as he stripped off his khakis and exposed his black boxer briefs to the world.  Trip, meanwhile, had been diligently collecting items out of the locker and hanging them on a clothes rod by the mirror.  Upon seeing the practically naked Marcus, Trip shook his head.

“Oh no, those will never do,” he said as he returned to the locker.

“What ‘will never do’?” “Your shorts.  It’s summer, man.  All I’ve got is seersucker and white.  Bad breeding to show up showing off your britches.”  Marcus was about to ask what he meant when a white garment was handed to him.  It was a white, cotton undershirt, completely plain and simple.  Slightly longer than usual, but that probably made it easier to tuck in.  He slipped it on with ease, noticing how weirdly thick but also breathable the fabric seemed to be.  Marcus turned back to see Trip smiling broadly and holding up a large pair of white briefs.

“I’m not wearing your fucking underwear, bro!”

“Come on, dude.  They’re clean, hell, they’re ironed!”  He snapped the pair tauntingly.

“You iron your tighties?”

“Briefs, dude.  And fuck no, I pay people to do that shit.” “No way, sorry.  I’ll just have to be in bad taste or whatever.”  As Marcus babbled, Trip took a step forward and positioned himself uncomfortably close to Marcus.  WIthout saying a word he smiled bigger, menacingly, and reached around and grabbed the seat of Marcus’ underwear and ripped the fabric apart.

“What the fuck?” Marcus said, stunned, as the destroyed cotton drooped off his body.

“Problem solved.  Solution,” he handed the briefs to Marcus without another word.  Enraged, Marcus planned to just grab his clothes and leave, only to find that Trip had moved them.

“Fuck dude, is this a joke?” “Christ bro, it’s fuckin’ underwear.  Put ‘em on.  I wanna get another drink.” “You’re fucking drunk.” “Not as drunk as I wanna be.”  They both laughed as the joke cut the tension.  Finally, Marcus shrugged and began pulling on the briefs.  Surprisingly stretchy, the cotton seemed to grow in length as it climbed his legs, the waistband sat below his hip bones while the crotch bagged much lower.  He pulled the bottom up tighter, causing billows of fabric to rest about his privates.

“I think you’re a bit… bigger than me?  Honestly, these are huge!”  Marcus laughed as Trip rolled his eyes and marched over.

“Stand still,” he commanded and Marcus obliged.  Trip grabbed the fabric and pulled it tighter around the crotch and then pulled upwards, ensuring the waistband encompassed the hem of the undershirt, before letting it come to rest just above Marcus’ bellybutton.

Marcus felt embarrassed, standing with some other dude’s underwear on, hiked up like an old man, when he felt something akin to suction around the bands of the briefs.  Then, a sensation of tightening, filling, and something pressed against his butt, his dick, and his brain.  A warm, empty smile drifted over his face.  Trip smirked back knowingly.

“I bet you feel a lot better now.  Right, Marcus?” Marcus smiled and nodded.  “You feel better in your white briefs.  You only wear full-cut, white briefs.”

“I only wear full-cut, white briefs,” Marcus droned back.  Trip smiled bigger.

“And I’m your best bro.” “You’re my best bro.”  The sound of a door slamming caused Trip and Marcus to jump a little and stare.  Two buff men in cutoff shirts, one in shorts, the other in leggings, horsed around as they came into the locker room.  Both looked startled when they saw Trip.

“Oh, hey, bro,” they said in unison. Trip glared at the duo.  The disparate clothing was the only obvious difference between the pair.  Sweat matted sandy blonde hair to their big foreheads, they were both smooth-faced behemoths with protruding jaws and a casual arrogance.

“Where the fuck have you two been?”  The pair kind of shrugged and looked at each other.

“Gym.” “You just fucking disappeared from the party.”

“Yeah, bro, it was boring.  Plus, Rip said he could bench more than me.” “And I can!”  The one called Rip performed a side chest pose which caused the other to mimic him.  Trip rolled his eyes.

“Rip, Skip, get cleaned up.  I want to take our new boy out drinking.”  As the pair headed towards the showers, Trip called out.  “Who benched the most?”  Both of the lugs claimed to, which caused Trip to sneer in disgust.

“Morons,” Trip said, returning his attention to Marcus.  Then he smiled.  “Kind of like you, bro.”  Marcus’s smile flickered.

“What?”

“Hey, Marcus,” Trip ignored Marcus’s question. “What is your full legal name?”

“Current or former?”  Trip looked shocked.

“Did you change your name?”

“I took my mom’s maiden name after the divorce.” “Woah, bro, so, current name?”

“Marcus Dayton Bouvier.”

“Former?” “Marcus Dayton Chisholm the Third.”

“That is a much better name.  Another Trip, huh? Too bad I’m already Trip, can’t have duplicate nicknames among bros. No, I think from now on you’ll go by “Chip.”  Like, Chip off the old block.  Right, Chip Chisholm?”  Trip gave Marcus a devilish glare as Marcus stood, unnaturally straight, unmoving.  Ever since putting on the briefs, he’d felt compelled to hold this militaristically erect position, shoulder back and chest pushed out, his stomach tightly held in, eyes forward.  He felt like a soldier taking orders and Trip’s direct commands seeped into his psyche with little resistance.

“Sure, Trip,” Marcus nodded back, causing Trip to rip into a brilliant smile.

“Perfect, Chip,” the harsh enunciation when he said Chip caused Marcus to chub up in his briefs.  “Fortunately, we look about the same size.  Bet you were into sport at prep school, huh?  Big ole meathead like you.  Don’t worry, Rip and Skip have shit for brains, you’ll fit right in.”

Marcus swayed back and forth uncomfortably, this new information conflicted directly with his own version of himself.  Trip noticed the discomfort.  He rolled his eyes.

“What’s the problem, Chip?” he again over emphasized the name.

“I’m not stupid.”

“Bro, chill, it’s not a big deal.  You were just another one of the sports obsessed dudes who got mediocre grades.  No one gives a shit when you're handsome and rich.”

“I’m in grad school.” “No shit, bruh?  MBA?”

“No, I’m….” “Well, that’s not gonna do,” Trip cut him off.  “You’ll need to drop out.  That shit bores the crap of you, Chip.  You can get an MBA if you really want, but you can get a fine job in finance with connections alone.  I don’t know why anyone would work so hard when you don’t have to.  Especially you, Chip,” again with the harsh emphasis on Chip.  “You’re the kind of guy who works for the social aspect, the connections.  Bet you still ask your Father for money so you won’t have to dip into your trust fund.  Am I right?”

Was Trip right?  None of this sounded correct, not to Marcus at least.  But Trip was his best bro.  That was definitely true.  He felt that strange sense of compression around his crotch and head again.  Pushing… something out.  A little bit of resistance, a little snag of confusion.  Wouldn’t it be easier to trust Trip?  Why make things harder for himself?  That did...n’t sound like him.  He wanted things to be easy, simple, fun.  Fun, wouldn’t it be nice to just relax and have some fun?  Let someone, Trip, take the lead, and just go with the flow?

Trip sensed the hesitation and sighed.  “Damn dude, I thought this would be easier.  Okay, you know what?  Chip, I want you to imagine everything that makes you you.  Like all the interests, hobbies, thoughts, whatever and put them into a big hole.  The deeper stuff goes at the bottom, and the top is surface-oriented, shallow stuff.  You know how it is.  All that “you” stuff right at the bottom, the base of you.  Got it?” 

Marcus nodded slowly, thinking of his identity as a pit.  It filled quickly with memories and quirks, strange habits and tics.  His frequent involvement in community arts and disillusionment with other people's money sank the bottom.  He had to admit that his dubious consumption of alcohol was definitely a shallow trait.  New memories also filtered in, his desire to get great chest cleavage seemed pretty shallow and floated to the top.  His time in the club, hell, his brand new “best bro” Trip floated up there too, since the only thing they seemed to share was a narrow waist, broad chest, and a tendency to get over inebriated at social gatherings.  Which to be fair, reminded him a lot of his college buddies.  The guys he kind of remembered being buddies with, partying with.

“Got that sorted?” Trip's question smacked Marcus back to reality. He stood ever rigid and unmoving, his mind feeling mushy and slow.  “Great, now, we’re gonna take that hole and fit it in.  Like sand, but with money, money pouring into that pit of yourself and filling it in, covering all that sweet deep empathic stuff and drowning it in cold hard cash.  Cause that’s what you care about.  And that cash is gonna fill up the deep parts of your personality until there’s just a nice shallow, surface oriented stuff left.  Cause that’s who you are Chip.  Shallow, vain, and just a little bit stupid.”

Marcus felt his brain being pummeled, crushed, under a relentless assault. His head felt so heavy, hard to think or hold on.  Feeling this rush of cash just flush inside him, drowning out old traits and interests.  His needs and desires filtered upwards, simpler, shallower, surface oriented.  He wanted to be hot, to have fun, to party with his bros, to be rich.  Dad… no, Father, would make him work a job.  Riding yachts and gambling obscene amounts of cash on the daily sounded more fun, but a token career, enough to pad the bank and continue the ever important social connections wouldn’t be so bad.  Something to make sure you Summered with Senators and attended bachelor parties in Tulum and Ibiza and islands common people never even heard of.

His scrunched in face in confusion as years of personality were wiped away under a staunch onslaught of mental capitalism.  The hard facial flex bore into his skull, causing the edges of his face to sharpen, the jaw and chin become squarer and more prominent, while his furrowed brow stayed low and got a touch thicker.  He moved down the evolutionary ladder a half step while taking a solidly cute face into outright handsome territory.  His lips seemed to pull back and thin out, giving his white teeth a larger and almost carnivorous appearance.

Trip stood silently by, watching his soon to be bro’s face scrunch in confusion even as the body remained rigid.  The former Marcus trembled slightly and took a long breath in before simultaneously ripping a fart and releasing an echoey belch.  Trip snorted.

The heavy body that was formerly Marcus took a few seconds to process things after the release.  Everything seemed simpler, his wheeling thoughts pleasantly slow and delightfully inebriated.  He cautiously scratched his head and bounced his pecs.

“You alright, bro,” Trip asked.  The meathead in front of him jumped.

“Holy shit, bro,” a bassy, vapid voice escaped the maw of the muscular man.  “Trip, bro, fuckin’ scared me.”  Trip laughed in delight at the man.  “What’s so fuckin’ funny, bro?”

“Chip,” Trip said, oddly over enunciating, causing the beast to recoil slightly.  “Get dressed.  I want another drink.”  The confused man looked down at his massive body covered in white fabric and jumped again.

“Bro,” he said absentmindedly and walked in front of the mirror.  He smiled lecherously at his gargantuan form and flexed his biceps proudly.  He turned around, showing off the oversized haunches and playfully flexed his glutes in the mirror, eliciting a simple giggle.  The manly reflection was obviously excited too, given how the cotton pouch of his briefs filled up with virile masculinity.

Trip passed him an overly starched, searingly white dress shirt which he began pulling on.  His overworked biceps and triceps filled the sleeves completely, nary an extra millimeter around.  The chest buttoned perfectly, not a trace of pulling around the buttons, and not an speck of extra fabric, respectfully highlighting the well chiseled mass of muscle gracing his chest, while the trim waist scooped in around the hardened abs of his midsection.  He flexed again for good measure, delighting in how the veins of his biceps strained the sleeves even further.

“Bro,” the newly christened Chip spat mid flex.  “I look swole as hell.”

“All that time playing sports and building biceps instead of brains,” Trip taunted.

“Can’t deny the results,” Chip said as he flexed his thighs to the mirror, deep striations seeping across the legs as the muscles presented themselves proudly.  Trip tossed him a pair of seersucker trousers with matching braces buttoned in.  Chip pulled them on, his legs a bit too large for the cut. But the real trouble began at his butt.  The rotund rump outmatched the trousers in size, forcing a bit of shimmy and shake to cross over.  Once on, he finished pulling the seersucker high on his waist, letting them sit just below the tops of his underwear.  The braces slipped on tightly, the broad expanse of his backside forced the braces to pull the trousers too high, resulting in uncomfortable pressure on the crotch and schoolyard style wedgie in the back..

“Bro,” Chip muttered as he attempted to pull at his crotch to no avail.  “I think I’m bigger than you.”

“Well yeah, you got that fat ass,” Trip smacked the other man’s behind firmly as he walked over to help adjust the braces.

“You’re just jealous cause I’m bigger than you.” “You’ve always been bigger than me, Chip.”  Chip nodded in affirmation as the trousers slacked a bit, releasing his crotch from the fabric crush.  He turned to face the mirror again and sneered narcissistically.

“I’m so swole, bro.” “Yeah, Chip, we covered that.”  Trip rolled his eyes but the wide smile on his face showed his true feelings.  Chip patted his crotch, the fabric looser but still tight around his glorious package.  He turned around, admiring his luscious rump with the pride of a man who just increased his max deadlift.  Between the massive ass and the thin seersucker fabric, three lines clearly framed his buttocks.  Anyone who admired for a moment could tell the style and color of his underwear.

“Think fast!” Trip suddenly yelled and shot Chip three items, a pair of socks came via a weak underhand throw which was followed by a shoe tossed above his head. The other shoe sailed towards his shoulder, thrown like a football.  Half of Chip’s brain short circuited at the athletic demonstration.  The other half snagged the socks with nary a worry, caught the first shoe without pause, before taking a step back and catching the football shoe against his chest and cradling it.  He playfully juked back and forth, dodging imaginary tackles as he bounced from side to side.  Chip’s body moved with a shocking agility for a man of his size.  A section of his brain felt trapped in a dreamlike state, seeing itself reflected in a funhouse mirror.  But a much larger and louder part enjoyed the display of gamesmanship.

Plunking his ass down on a bench, Chip hiked up his pant legs and unfurled the socks.  They were baby blue with little white anchors embroidered on them.  They were abnormally large and Chip tried to make up some joke, but as the fabric expanded over his inflated calves, they actually looked like normal socks.  The shoes were a leather soled cap-toe oxford in walnut, the leather felt smooth and buttery on his hands as he slipped them on.  As his hands laced the tawny strings tightly, Chip couldn’t help but notice his bulge.  The ice blue stripes were distorted by the distinct curve of masculinity.  It was so prominent, so forward.  It practically forced his legs wider as he sat, carved out its own space on the bench.  And it made him so very happy.  And that made it happy too, since a gentle plumbing became apparent and the trousers filled out even more.  He gave it a comfortable pat as he stood back up.

“Pocket,” Trip said while handing Chip a massive suit jacket in matching ice blue seersucker.  A silk bow tie dangled out of the front pocket carelessly.  At first, Chip thought it was just red, but as he pulled it out the fabric changed into a sterling white before swapping to a navy blue at the other end.  Years of good grooming had taught him how to tie one.  Facing the mirror again, he had time to admire the strong form of his face.  The superhero jaw and chin were just like Father’s.  A shadow of a beard had begun creeping across his face, which helped highlight the jaw even more.  Thankfully Trip had the same overlarge neck as Chip, the bowtie might be a belt on a smaller man.  But fortunately, it could wrap around his gargantuan neck just fine.  The entwined fabric created a blue bow on the left and a red on the right, joined together by a shiny white knot.  Perfectly styled but muted Americana, just how he liked it.

Slinging the jacket over one shoulder, Chip admired himself in the mirror - again.  All the frippery of good grooming couldn’t hide the beast of a man underneath.  Those well used muscles stretched and pulled at the fabric in the subtlest of ways, flashy but refined.  He’d always been a sucker for a pattern on a suit.  He could remember windowpanes at church and plaids on holidays.  Nothing made him prouder than distorting a straight line with his gigantic pecs or thick moose knuckle.  

Trip walked up behind him, his face failing to suppress a cocky grin.  Chip hadn’t really noticed Trip’s clothing earlier, a light suit, white shirt, and around his neck a bowtie that was the mirror image of Chip’s.  Trip always liked having all the boys matching, he’d implemented all sorts of crazy dress codes at the fraternity as he took over leadership roles.  Serving as Trip’s Standards Chair, Chip became his diligent enforcer.  Chip didn’t mind, Father had always drilled into him how every social event had a uniform, just like sports.  And like sports, social events had winners and losers.  And Chip was a winner.

As a newfound spirit of team based camaraderie flowed through Chip’s mind, Trip gave his rotund derriere a firm slap.  The rippling muscle caused Chips' already prominent bulge to grow ever so slightly more.

“Good game” Trip teased and let out a low steady laugh.  Chip’s mouth opened a new, deep chuckle burst further than matched Trips in tone and meter.  Peas in a pod, bros in a fraternity, the two could pass for brothers.

“Now, where the hell are they?” Trip mused to himself.  A thundering sound followed and Rip and Skip, freshly showered and shaved and covered in the same oversized briefs and undershirt as Chip, came marching into the lockers.

“Rip, Skip,” Trip paid no mind to which one he addressed as he spoke, “this is our bro, Chip.  Four musketeers or some bullshit.  He was at Prep with me.  We all pledged Kappa Sig together, got it?”  The two grunted in affirmation, their natural tendency to follow Trip overriding any doubt they had.  Because that’s who they were, each of them, all of them, just good looking athletic boys of good breeding and good manners.  “Alright, get dressed,” Trip directed Skip and Rip.  “And you,” he pointed to Chip,” we need to fix your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?”  Chip patted the fluffed part with apprehension.

“Just a touch up,” Trip dug a small jar of pomade from his own locker and rubbed some between his hands.  Chip stared down at his bro, Trip’s eyes even with his chin.  He barked for Chip to sit.

“Ha, I’m taller than you,” Chip said as Trip massaged the paste in, causing the hair to stiffen and tighten.  The gloss made it look darker than before.  Trip ran a comb over it, creating small lines through the sheen.

“Yes, you’re taller and buffer.  Made you a good tight end.  That and your empty head,” he gave the back of Chip’s head a swat and the pair laughed.  “You know, you’d look good blond.  Not like bleach, but just some highlights.”

“You think?”  Chip eyed the crisp part and imagined if it were more like Trip’s, blond and tight.  He’d look good.  Definitely had the face for it, years of sports had left him with a brown tint of honest work, not uv light vanity.

“I’ll make an appointment with my stylist”

“Thanks bro!” “Course, bro!”  The pair of handshake-hugged it out as the now dressed Skip and Rip returned.

“Alright boys,” Trip declared.  “I’m sobering up and that blows.  Let’s hit the bar.”  A chorus of grunts assented and the herd of meatheads went searching for booze.

The quartet of bros swaggered back to the gala with entitled bravado and bodies to back it up.  Chip loved how he felt, shoulder to shoulder with his best bros, feeling the strong heft of his legs carry him, the prominent bulge in his trousers brushing back and forth against the fabric of his pants.  He was a stud.  And he knew it.  The pristine hallways of the club, lined with old photos of sporting events and members, felt like heaven.  He couldn’t imagine a better way to spend a night than hanging with the boys in a place worthy of them.  And what could be more worthy than a society building that had seen generations of power and business develop in its hallowed halls.  The subtle style of classic class mixed with the prominent display of status, just how Chip liked it.

—------

Rip and Skip were immediately distracted by pretty girls.  Trip and Chip strolled to the bar, a few handshakes and pats on the shoulder offering minor delays.  Leaning on the edge, Chip angled towards the bartender.  He wasn’t immediately served and that annoyed him.  Instinctively, he reached his right arm forward and snapped at the staff, the sound loud and prominent.  The bartender turned to him and then smiled.

“Another Old Fashioned?”  The man smiled serenely.  “Or are we old fashioned enough?”  Chip blinked a few times.  His slow mind attempted to make sense of the words but found none.

“Four White Claws,” Trip interjected.  Chip’s mouth hung open slightly before slamming shut and nodding in assent.  The bartender suppressed a snicker and fetched four from the ice.  Chip grabbed them, two in each hand and went chasing after Trip who had meandered into company.

“Parkins!” Trip shook hands with a man in a flashy, sharkskin suit with California white teeth.  His longish hair was slicked back across his head and the pomade he used gave it a plastic sheen.  “How’s business?” “Booming!  As always,” the man looked like a cross between a sleazy preacher and a desperate C-lister trying to get noticed.  Up close, Chip could tell that the man’s front teeth were veneers, expensive but a bit oversized.  And his lips had obviously had some filler.  He certainly wasn’t opposed to an anti-aging regime, but the boldness of his look repelled the more traditional Chip.  “Pretty sure I’ve convinced these boys that they can turn their following into cold, hard cash!”  He gestured to Cash and Bryce, the two football players Chip encountered earlier in the evening.  They flanked Parker Parkins, dopey grins on their primal faces.

“Always love to meet some Jags,” Trip smiled happily while shaking their hands.  “And this is my fraternity brother, Chip.” Trip introduced Chip to Parkins and the boys.  Not a speck of recognition flickered in Bryce or Cash’s dim eyes.  Chip passed Trip his drink before stashing the other two in his coat pockets and offering Parkins his hand.  Parkins shook aggressively and openly sized him up.

“In the market for a house?  Got some great ones out in Chester.  You know the McMannerlys?  Moving across the country, got that classic on the market for a steal if you get it now.”  

“Chip’s not in the market right now,” Trip cut him off before he could continue, which caused Parkins to lose interest immediately.  He passed Chip a card, the man’s plastic face smiling brightly on it.  Chip read the card graciously and stuffed it in his coat pocket.  Parkins offered handshakes again before veering off towards another mark, leaving the fraternity brothers with the football players.

“So, Bryce Matthews, I recognize you, Mr. Defensive player of the year.  Not often you see a defensive end return an interception for a touchdown!  Looking like a young JJ Watt out there.  And you bro, sorry don’t recognize you without the helmet.”  Trip knocked around introductions with ease.

“I was a free safety,” Cash replied.  “You’re some swole bros.  Either of you play?”  Trip thumped his chest proudly in response.

“QB,” the other two feigned reverence for a moment.  “And Chip was my tight end.”  He slapped the others ass to emphasize.  Chip straightened up his posture but stuck his butt out just a bit to emphasize his end.  He admired the pair with newfound appreciation.  Their bodies were pillars of dedication to sport, the kind of hard body that was made from real work.  Chip’s body had been like that when he was on the team, bulky and sturdy for pushing other guys around.  Nowadays he could focus on the aesthetics of it all.  Bryce had the thick waist of a guy who was taking hits, but Chip’s had slimmed down remarkably with diet and focus.  He puffed out his chest and twisted slightly, casually highlighting the improbable shape of his body.  The kind of body lazy men swore came only with steroids and liposuction.  They’d never know the pain of choking down vomit on a bulking cycle and then starving at ounces of plain chicken.

“Nice dude,” Cash nodded.  “You ever try for college ball?”

“Got some offers, but you know, Father insisted on Darrish and I couldn’t drag that team to a win if I tried.”  All the boys laughed.  Cash and Bryce turned to Chip, the same question hanging in the air.

“Yeah bros, loved football!  But this dude couldn’t live without me,” he ribbed Trip playfully.  “Did a lot of intramurals in college.  Kept that Panhellenic cup at Kappa Sig five years straight!  Champs in football, wrestling, basketball, volleyball-”

“-we were real bad at soccer though,” Trip injected with a sigh.

“Bro, I’m built for contact sports.”

“Volleyball isn’t a contact sport!”

“Depends how hard you spike it,” Chip shrugged with a laugh.

“Shit, I forgot you gave that TKE guy a concussion.” “He didn’t get a concussion.  I don’t think,” Chip trailed off. “No, you’re not a thinker,” Trip joked.  Bryce, Cash, and Chip cheered to that and finished their drinks.  Bryce and Cash excused themselves and headed to the bar.  The frat boys searched around for their bros, spotting the two brutes chatting up a pair of college aged girls who giggled dramatically at everything the boys said.

“Mandy Garden,” he pointed to the one feeling up Rip’s bicep aggressively.  “Her father, Daniel Garden, owns a few shopping centers around town.  Lazy money.  Not sure who her friend is, probably from college.”

“We gonna talk to ‘em?” Chip asked while sipping his beverage.

“Nah, let them get tail.  We can do better anyway,” the two chortled a bit, reminiscing about various hookups and failures from the great fraternity days.  Any story Trip told sept into Chip’s psyche and settled as a core memory, a bit foggy, but easily attributed to too much partying.  But he never regretted a good party.

—-

“Speaking of,” Trip trailed off as he tilted his head towards a pair of young women in summer dresses, one blonde, the other brunette, giggling amongst themselves as they headed towards the men.  Chip felt a bit of a rise in himself, he loved a preppy girl.  “I think that would be a great end to the evening,” he winked lecherously and guided the pair in front of the ladies.

“Evening,” Trip addressed them and made quick introductions.  The blonde smiled at the pair while the brunette rolled her eyes so hard she could probably diagnosed CTE.

“We’re leaving,” she said in a huff. 

“Oh come on, the night is still young,” Trip smiled.

“I’m Daphne,” the blonde said, clearly enamored by Trip’s looks.  “And this is Rebecca.”  Though she pointed to her friend, Rebecca did not acknowledge the exchange.

“Would you ladies care for a drink?” “A free drink?” Rebecca snarked.

“Becky, be nice.  They’re just chatting.”

“Yeah Becky, be nice,” Trip goaded with glee.  Chip remained silent, pursing his lips and pretending to admire the architecture.  He felt a pressure building up inside him.  Different than before.  For a moment he was worried his cock was going to explode.  Then he realized he had to pee.  Damn alcohol.

“Hey bro,” Chip whispered into Trip’s ear.  “Gotta piss.”  Trip gave him a slight chin up while still maintaining eye contact with Daphne.  After a brief survey of the area, Chip hustled back to the restroom.  He felt light as he walked, despite the mounds of muscle which flexed and pulsed with every movement.  That was just the alcohol he thought to himself while letting out a deep giggle.

He anchored right up to a urinal, unzipped, pulled out his dick, and relaxed as a stream of liquid spurt forth.  Clearly, he’d had far too much to drink.  Honestly, even with his collegiate fraternity years barely behind him, he was still shocked at just how much he’d drunk tonight.  At least he held himself together.  Composure, while often taught, takes years to master.  The perks of the right upbringing, he praised himself silently while finishing up.  As he strutted to the sink to wash, Chip stopped to admire himself.

The alcohol left his face flushed, but the square jaw and steely eyes were still the most prominent features.  Years- a lifetime- of being a straight up stud resulted in an air of refined arrogance he paraded around in, an invisible but ever present aura that established his status with nary a word.

Before leaving, he took a moment to survey himself.  He brushed a stray bit of hair back onto his head.  The trousers and braces were tugged and tested, ensuring he walked the tightest line between obscenity and ostentatious.  Although he played second fiddle to Trip’s leading man, he still needed to be admired, noticed, and praised.  After all, he deserved it.  Deciding that his appearance pleased, he flashed himself a cocky smile while shooting finger guns at his reflection before leaving to find Trip.  As he walked up, he could tell Trip was flailing.

“Tell you friend to leave us alone,” Rebecca snapped at Chip.  He blinked rapidly but did not move.  “Don’t you frat dudes have somewhere else to be?  A hazing or something?”

“We didn’t have hazings,” both Chip and Trip lied effortlessly.  The first rule of hell week, you never tell others about hell week.

“What fraternity were you in?” Daphne cooed.  Trip’s face burst into a charming smile.

“We are proud Brothers of Kappa Sigma-” Rebecca cut him off.

“That’s super interesting, but like I said, we’re leaving.  Now.  Come on Daphne,” she grabbed her friend by the arm and dragged her away.

“Nice meeting you Trip!”  The two girls walked away, leaving a sulkingTrip twisting his cufflink aggressively.

“Can’t win ‘em all” Chip shrugged.  Trip huffed in response.

“Why bother anyway?  I’m wearing a watch worth more than their dresses.  I can do better.”  Chip said nothing as his Kappa Sig Brother puffed himself up with righteous indignation. He’d seen this side of Trip before.  A bit too much too drink combined with being denied something he felt he was due, led to a very angry and emotional Trip.  Chip could remember one night in Tulum where cocaine blasted the whole thing up to eleven and he’d had to physically hold Trip in a cold shower to cool him down.

“Hey bro, let’s bounce.  Party’s winding down anyway,” redirection and returning some measure of control to Trip usually righted things.  The man’s hand wringing cooled immediately.

“Yeah… yeah.  I’m over this.  Fundraisers always have that problem.”  Chip grabbed his buddy by the shoulder and directed him back to the bar.  Aside from a few barfly’s scarfing down the vestiges of their drinks, it was practically empty.

“Sorry, gentleman,” the man said.  “Unfortunately, I’m not able to pour more per the manager.”

“Nah, we’re good.  Just wanting to check tabs for the night,” Chip took the lead while Trip remained the quiet one.

“Drinks are complementary, sirs,” the bartender said with a smile.  “However, tips are greatly appreciated.”  He gestured towards a glass filled with cash.

“How much?” Trip pulled out a tiny wallet and produced a collection of bills.

“Normal percents, pretend you had paid.  How much would you tip?”

“I don’t know,” Trip got heated again.  “I didn’t come here to do math.”

“Bro, chill,” Chip interjected.  “I had like four old fashioneds?  Fifteen bucks maybe? Then four seltzers.  Surely you drank a bit before we met up?  Twenty percent on a hundred is twenty, but we aren’t fucking poor are we?”

“Hell no!” Trip cheered up as they fist bumped.  Chip reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a wallet, and handed the bartender a crisp hundred dollar bill.

“Have a good night,” Chip nodded to his bartender who pocketed the money with a big smile.  The muscle men swaggered drunkenly out of the building, giving a few goodbyes and salutations as they went.  Out front, in a reserved spot, Trip’s shiny Jaguar sat waiting.  The pair swung open the doors and sat down.  Trip inserted the key, causing cool air to blow on them both for a second.  They sat in the car quietly for a few moments.

“I think we should call a car,” Trip said with a quiet burp.

“Yup,” Chip nodded in agreement as he stepped back out of the vehicle.

“Another round?” Trip said jokingly.

“Tomorrow night?” Chip laughed.  “Actually, aww, yeah.  Here we go!”  he slipped the two cans originally destined for Rip and Skip out of his pocket.  Passing one to Trip, the drink clinked their cans and cracked open the seltzer.

“You’re my best bro,” Trip said happily.

“You too, bro,” Chip felt it with all his being.  “But seriously, we down for bars tomorrow?”

“Sunday?  Sunday funday!  Hell yeah!”  They fist bumped again, planning a good night on the town as they waited for their ride.  They may grow up, but they didn’t plan on growing older any time soon.

[lesbiansforboromir]

"Yet even so it was Gondor that brought about its own decay, falling by degrees into dotage, and thinking that the Enemy was asleep, who was only banished not destroyed. 

 'Death was ever present, because the Numenoreans still, as they had in their old kingdom, and so lost it, hungered after endless life unchanging. Kings made tombs more splendid than houses of the living, and counted old names in the rolls of their descent dearer than the names of sons. 

  Childless lords sat in aged halls musing on heraldry; in secret chambers withered men compounded strong elixirs, or in high cold towers asked questions of the stars. And the last king of the line of Anarion had no heir." 

Faramir's explanation for Gondor's ‘decline’ is... incoherent.. what the hell are you on about m’love?

The way this reads is so completely misleading when looking at the actual history and reasons for Gondor's receding borders and the loss of the watch on Mordor. Faramir puts the onus on Gondorian Kings wanting to live longer and not having kids... babe? Did you forget... the plague? Gondor WAS watching for activity in Mordor. For 1640 years! And then there was a plague so devastating that it turned the country’s most populous city into a near ghost town. It took 200 years for Gondor to recover, and even then it never truly reached the population levels it had maintained before. Osgiliath was never the same! And by then Mordor had taken the fortresses at the Morannon! 

There is absolutely no mention of Kings or Stewards who were desperately seeking to extend their life in Gondor’s history. Where are these tombs more splendid than the houses of the living? All the Kings not buried in Osgiliath are buried in the Silent Street... There is no mention of achingly elaborate tombs anywhere! 

There WERE however some Kings who did not marry or have children! ... Two, there were just two of them... out of thirty three. Narmacil I was Atanatar's son and reigned in the HEIGHT of Gondor's wealth. He essentially allowed his nephew Minalcar to run the country whilst he had a great time writing poetry and kissing men. And Minalcar did a really good job! He fought wars, he made alliances, he built the Argonath and when it actually came around to his time to be King, he had a nice and peaceful reign! And when his son Valacar wanted to marry a Northern Princess? Even though the worry in Gondor was that that would ‘weaken’ the King’s line and reduce their lifespan? He supported him! Gave his blessing! 

The other King who never married or had any children was Earnur! You all remember Earnur? Oh sure, he desperately wanted to extend HIS life past its natural limits! Fighting in two wars and then riding off into an obvious trap just because he'd been challenged really gives me a whole 'old man in his dotage fears death' vibe. And that was the ‘last king of the line of Anarion who had no heir’. You know WHY he was the last king? Because the King before his father Earnil II (King Ondoher) and his two sons had died! In a massive fuckall war with the Balchoth that nearly saw Gondor destroyed! PRINCE Faramir was TOLD to stay behind! But he was so anxious for his family and so wished to not simply sit and wait for death that he HID amongst the ranks of the Eotheod and went to war anyway!! AND DIED!! Asking questions of the stars??? Making strange elixirs?? Mused uselessly on heraldry??? WHEN? FARAMIR?? Was Ondoher daydreaming about stars and heraldry as he was cut down by a chariot??? Was Artamir brewing potions mid-battle?? WHAT are you talking about!!!

Where are these men fearing death who brought Gondor into it's decline that Faramir is talking about? Is he lying? No, I actually believe Faramir when he says he would not even snare an orc in a falsehood. The things Faramir says are things he believes. But then how, when he is so well known for his loremastership, can he be so misleading and plain wrong about something so basic to Gondorian history? Well I have a suggestion but it means Faramir’s at least a little homophobic so bear with me and I promise this is relevant.

So, obviously, the ups and downs of Gondor society in terms of queer liberation would be complex and rely upon a diverse number of factors. However, I’d say that, if you looked at an overall trend, it goes up in times of peace and takes a hit during times of strife. The basic reasoning for this is that one of the fundamentals of Gondorian society is the concept of doom and fate. This can give both correct and erroneous impressions of cause and effect throughout history. Gondorians tend to believe everything happens for a reason. And due to the (sometimes quiet but always present) elf-and-faithful-numenorean-ruled thinkers, who push ideas of proper marriage, celebacy, romance-superiority and other cis-het-normative agendas, the ‘reason’ that bad things happen is often blamed on the queer liberation of the times. The populace is open to being given reasons for bad things happening and Academia in Gondor is very much elf-revering, so it is often respected scholars who are pushing that narrative. 

HOWEVER, the queerness is rarely what is actually remembered or recorded in history, the wording of records are often bound up in the faithful numenorean rhetoric of ‘heretical kings’ and ‘they fell into the trap of king’s men ideology’ and so on and so forth. Scholars might understand what this means at the time, but it gets muddled further down the road and even academics in the future have trouble finding the intended emphasis. So! By the time we reach 3018 TA, the academic community as a whole has reached a general consensus that ‘the old sins of our past’ are to blame and that, whilst queerness was a part of it, it was more a symptom than a direct cause. 

So! The thought process I’m proposing for Faramir should be easy to guess at now, but I’m going to go more specific for the sake of... me uwu. 

GONDOR has not known peace for the last 500 years, not since Steward Denethor the first’s reign wherein the so called ‘watchful peace’ ended and Sauron returned to Mordor. NOW, before Denethor, his uncle Dior was the Steward and, as you’ve probably guessed, he had no children and nor did he marry. I would suggest that Dior lived through one of the most tolerant and open portions of Gondor’s history. I think he not only was open about his choice not to marry, but he also had a socially accepted partner and lived with him all his life with only a small, vocal minority voicing their objections. 

But then Sauron returned! And it was brutal, bloody and horrific. And that vocal minority saw an opportunity to use Dior’s life as a method to push Gondor once again into it’s regular crisis of conscience, faith and purpose. ‘We betrayed our founder’s’ and ‘We should have been ruled by Dior’s son but because of his weakness against his ill-fate we are doomed, he abandoned his duty! A pitiful fate but pitiful for us as well!’ And so on and so forth, there are reems of academic works written about it.

Now, this doesn’t have an immediate crushing effect on queer rights that one might fear. Denethor I loved his uncle dearly and would not hear a bad word about him, as did Boromir I! And Cirion? Cirion was almost more alternative than Dior. He sold off portions of land when the Stewards had been told to keep them IN TRUST for the king’s return. He made enduring and reciprocal alliances with the Eotheod ‘middle men’, he was very much anti-traditionalist! However, it was after his reign that Gondor truly felt the backlash of all this, spurred on by Cirion’s very alternative views, actions and methods. Because whilst he may have been an effective and charismatic Steward, Cirion had not found so much time to be a good father. And Hallas had been fifteen when his father had left him behind and ridden to war. He had a frightening and lonely childhood and was very open to the idea that his father was wrong, had gone too far, that things should be ‘brought back to normal’. Stability being key and all. The vocal minority had his ear. 

And since then, whilst opinion has still fluctuated, the constant unrest and simmering crisis of Gondor’s day to day has made progress against such concepts difficult and slow going. And it’s informed the opinion of history too, a lot more academic writing has compared Dior to Narmacil I (the first unwed and unmarried King) and has tried to find parallels between them and Earnur. Any explicit discussion of queerness has been relegated to Sindarin scripts (the language only really understood by academics and the upper classes), but the underlying tone is there HENCE! 

“falling by degrees into dotage, and thinking that the Enemy was asleep“ = Dior ‘abandoned his duty’ and Narmacil I ‘was indolent’.

“the Numenoreans still [-] hungered after endless life unchanging.” = A melding of heretical beliefs that occurred over centuries into one monolith that applied longing for endless life automatically.

“Childless lords sat in aged halls musing on heraldry; [-] compounded strong elixirs, [-] asked questions of the stars.” = This is all both reaching back to heretical practices in Numenor, whilst also harkening back to the periods of time in which Dior and Narmacil lived, peaceful times where more introspective and experimental pursuits could be indulged. 

SO! This is where Faramir’s erroneous and misleading opinions come from. And why he is at least a little homophobic. There, I told you all I’d get there. 

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket Manga Review (ch 90-91)

Since I discussed the first few pages of ch-90 that contains kyo & tohru in my previous preview, this one will only be kyoko’s story.

Kyoko’s story brilliantly explores the effects of unhealthy domestic environment on children without the use of the zodiac curse as a metaphor for abuse. My first-reaction of kyoko’s story is the following:

I really enjoyed how kyoko’s descend into darkness was explored & how the psychologically-informed writing of her behavior was depicted.

I was troubled by how Katsuya was presented as the magical solution to all her problems. Kyoko was saved by romantic love in a more basic writing than machi. Both girls just needed a guy to listen to them vent abt their family issues once & tada~ they’re in love.

Kyoko’s story made me realize that Arisa is just a more modern & healthier kyoko.. The only difference is that Kureno didn’t save Arisa. She herself changed gradually due to kyoko & tohru’s influence.

1) Kyoko’s descend into Darkness:

Kyokyo told kyo that she was already “out of control delinquent before she got to middle school”, “ fell into the wrong crowd”, “ enjoyed beating innocent ppl”. subtly citing the influence of “delinquent peers” & the innate desire be noticed at home. I’m bad, notice me! love me, listen to me!

There are some elements in her story that faintly reminds me of yuki & strongly reminds me of kyo:

Kyoko’s parents gave her a treatment similar to “ yuki’s parents”: cold, neglect & devoid of love. Her dad, similar to kyo’s dad, felt ashamed & disgraced by her.

Kyoko similarly to kyo was angry, full of self-loath & self-destruction. However, kyo was never violent like she was. I believe kyo’d have turned like her if he didn’t have Kazuma to discipline him with love, care & attention. Hence, we saw kyo carry on a code of “ not beating girls, or ppl who aren’t hurting them, or don’t know martial arts”, like Arisa or the student council guy whop loves yuki.

Kyoko’s mom similarly of kyo’s mom talked abt the dad venting his anger on her after being pissed off with kyoko. So, a hint of domestic violence between husband & wife.

Kyoko described herself as “ made of shattered glass”. Tohru once said both kyo & yuki are very sensitive. yuki blocks the world behind the prince mask & kyo puts on the annoyed attitude to push ppl away from hurting him.

Society thinks that “delinquent/bad ppl” are always happy with what they’ve become. Satisfied with their destructive choices. When in most of the times... they’re as bewildered & confused as the community around them..

I really don’t blame the teachers for being defensive. Teachers aren’t supposed to be “life-coaches” or “saviors of students”. That’s sth the educators with their research gush abt & what society demands & what families wish for. The fixer-teacher!!!! Teachers are ppl teaching a subject, doing a specific job, underpaid & overworked most of the times, also, they come from various backgrounds, beliefs, & sometimes even if they meant good & wanted to “ save” a student, they aren’t equipped with the suitable psychological training. Yeah, there are ppl for that in schools, but so many students with lots of issues. Also, let’s be real, we love kyoko cuz she’s the “epic mother of tohru, we grew on her teachings thro out 3 seasons” but if you meet a loud, delinquent, gangster head, violent chair throwing student who rarely comes anyway, would you wanna deal with them?

2- Katsuya “ the magical savior”:

so, why did teacher katsuya helped a screaming delinquent? cuz he IS interested in kyoko. He said so. He approached her, talked & tried to help cuz he intended to “never let her go since he saw her honesty” ~ romantic? maybe to some.. I find it weird & creepy. him eyeing her & getting interested & approaching her & earning her trust. It is true that he has no intention of hurting her or forcing her & he DID save her in more ways than one. But why is this all wrapped in romance. He DID flirt with her intentionally many times from the moment he saw her until then.

If Im being honest, had he not be her teacher (trainee or not), & had she not be very veeeeery young! I’d be enjoying his flirting so much. He’s so smooth, playful & cool (not looking head over heels in love) which is normally such a fun dynamics. She was so head over heels, tho. Finally found someone who noticed her tiny efforts “ drawing eyebrows”, someone who listened & someone who didn’t forced her to do her “duties”. She tells him (her teacher) that she is ditching classes & he’s okay with that~ not lecturing, not urging. why? cuz He only wants HER. she comes to see him in the lunch break everyday. school? classes? that’s her choice~ not his business~ In a way, Katsuya is intentionally made not morally correct. Why? cuz a good moral adult wouldn’t be in love with a middle schooler & would care for her future as an independent person from him. He must be written with intentional desire to NOT care for morals or right or the likes. Yes, he later helps her to study & graduate but ONLY when that is HER choice & she made it ONLY to catch up with him. To cleanse herself & be “ like the other girls” . Kyoko deemed katsuya “ good person” &  herself “ bad person”. That’s why she was motivated to be good to catch up with him since she can NO LONGER see him everyday in lunch break. He fixed that. How? teach her in the weekends & provide better chances to flirt since he’s no longer a teacher & she’s his student. The issue is not teacher-student love... it is adult-kid love!! but hey~ they’re cute (they’re written to be, so they are) so it’s cool ( it isn’t at all..eww).. oh the dilemma that is Takaya-san’s love for weird big age gaps where one is an underage teenager...

Furuba’s has this big theme of “ love doesn’t heal or save”. yuki took tohru’s love & grew up by himself. Kyo’s love for tohru didn’t save tohru, she was scared to be in love & forget her mom. Tohru made the decision to be free from her past, herself.  Tohru’s love to kyo made his trauma 10 times more complicated & he acted based on his love for her & decided to leave her. It wasnt until he decided to face his trauma, past & bio dad by himself, that he accepted tohru’s love. Only two characters were totally saved by love:

Machi: has the excuse of being solely created to be yuki’s reward for acknowledging platonic love for tohru & everything abt her is rushed & made as a lighter copy of all yuki’s issues to quickly create shared grounds for them to connect. Machi needed to vent her issues to yuki once & all her issues were never brought back to the service again. She was happier, calmer & healed.

I expected more for kyoko. She IS a bigger character than half of the zodiacs! but she just needed katsuya to listen to her & she was in love & her issues solved.

I don’t deny that it IS true that sometimes all we need is someone to listen to us. Tohru herself said so & even yuki said it to kyo. But Even if someone listen to us & we love them, the issues that troubled us dont magically disappear until we face them or do sth abt them aided by those who love us. Kyo’s issues remained even with his love until he faced them, tohru’s too!

Katsuya:

had off-screen issues with expressing himself. He said that he loved kyoko cuz she was “honest abt her ugly feelings” while he pretended to “humor & please his dad”. He gave a wonderful speech to her parents abt the expectations of parents on their kids & the refusal of their “human weakness” again furuba’s main vision. Unfortunately, this was followed with confessing, marriage proposal & kissing her on the lips all while the whole issue is abt kids/ parents exceptions of middle schooler/ neglect & his own acknowledgement that she’s minor while he was “in love”.

Like the author wants to tie kyoko’s issues & katsuya’s issues so bad & present him as her ONLY chance for normal life. Kyoko was just repenting & understanding that her actions got consequences which is an epic moment! but romance triumphant & saved the day~ yay~! marriage!

The story would’ve been better romantically if it was given time for kyoko to “ grow up” just like katsuya himself said when they were at the beach. He said “ grow up, middle school is not the world”. He continued meeting her but never confessed & never crossed the line despite the flirting. But he KNEW what he was doing “ i never planned to let you go since I saw you”. He was cementing his place as the ONLY one in her world.

Had kyoko grew up, saw the real world, kept taps with katsuya, he helped her broaden her world, then they’ll marry without needing her dad to sign papers, then that would be a better love story than this.

Side Notes:

The writer didn’t shy away from confessing that pairing Katsuya & kyoko is problematic & stated it in canon (kyoko called katsuya “pedo”). She did the same with Arisa & kureno (Arisa thought the age gap is big & hana questioned if kureno is a married man). However, making the story acknowledge that as an issues doesn’t make it less uncomfortable, but at least, I respect when writers do what they plan to do regardless of fans. even if I dont agree with the writer. It’s way better than when writer becoming fans toy/ fans pleaser.

Still, couldn’t the author state that kyoko was held back few years in jmiddle school & failed & repeated school years? like make her i duno 17 or sth... this would at least lessen the big age gap... but no~~~ kyoko is what? 14? ... -_-’.

You bet this won’t change a bit in the upcoming anime spinoff abt kyoko. Just this year an anime abt an adult man & his high school love interest that he pursued stubbornly was highly popular & my real life friends were gushing abt “ him finally winning her/ being respectful & only kissing her lips once or sth/waiting for her to “catch up” with him”/ consent age differ in X & Y countries..I’m not dictating my beliefs on anybody or any country or saying my way of thinking is the just way. I’m saying, Personally, I think, there are better romantic stories than adults & kids couples.. The fact that this trope of (adults & kids romance) is still popular even today is sad~~

I dont mind HUGE age gaps as long as BOTH characters are adults. If any of them makes a crime, they’ll be held responsible by the law. & sometimes the younger adult is the one dominating the relationship. but “kids or teenagers” can’t. They’re easily groomed & manipulated, so it bothers me when a love story between an adult & a kid is portrayed as  “equal”. it isn’t.

I’m not judging whoever loves such trope in “ fiction”. it IS fiction, & as long as you don't pursue a real kid/teenager in real life, you can like whatever in fiction. moving on~

kyoko’s delinquent life is well-written & if done right, would send a powerful message of being able to start over. But the romantic love aspect will steal the spotlight by (a) directing uncomfortable hate/disgust towards the story & hence all the discussions will abt the “pedo” aspect. (which is fair). (b) Perceived as so lovable romance since katsuya is the prince who to saved the neglected princess which is a trope that has stood thro time garnering lots of support & attention always, so all the discussion would be abt their “cute romance”. (which is fair since the author weaved elements that endeared their romance, such as: cute nicknames “miss no-eyebrows”, him giving her space, home & respect, saving her from the streets & poverty & having the most endearing tohru”. So, yeah, the romance will be the center of attention regardless.

I like katsuya’s character type in fiction generally: the flirty, mischievous & a bit cool guy who is so aware he’s wrong most times & plays his cards smart to not get caught red-handed. He’s a cooler version of shigure. It’s just the blatant fact that he’s been planning to “get” a middle schooler from the first glance & that she is wayyyy young for this, that is bothering me so so much~~ T_T.

I wont expect the anime to change their age gap cuz it is the essence of their story that she’s a lost kid with no protection against the world & he’s the savior providing everything at once!~ Remember kyoko went on to be the savior of an entire clan tho tohru~ So in a way, katsuya saved the sohmas by saving kyoko....

“ i’m like a stray cat that he looked after instead of chasing away”. kyoko with katsuya is like kyo with kazuma! >_<!. When kyo met tohru, he wasn’t a stray cat, most of how he dealt with her was cuz he already knew her & was tormented by remembering kyoko’s death & feeling guilty towards tohru’s constant pain. That’s why when kyo started falling in love with tohru, he unconsciously stopped pushing her away little by little & just wanted to be with her until akito said “ i’ll hurt her” that’s when he totally gave up.

the way katsiya appeared in the right moment to save kyoko from her dad~ oh the drama. XD

Hospital Discharge & chase. like mom like daughter~ but thank God the kids got a more balanced love story.

Comparing kyoko/katsuya to Arisa/kureno in the broad writing of their romance without diving into details: (a) I hate the age gap in both but at least Arisa is older & nothing happened until she graduates & become an official adult. (b) Kyoko/katsuya are more fleshed out & if you forget the age gap,m their dynamic is so cute & endearing. (c) the love at first glance, never meeting afterwards yet still sickly in love to the extinct of screaming made Arisa/kureno shallower. (d) now that I saw teenage kyoko, Arisa is really just her clone! I hate that this steals from Arisa’s uniqueness. (e) both couples ate ramen in their first meeting/first unofficial date signalling their blooming love.

I’ve said this more than once, but I was the high-schooler that fancied adult independent men growing up, I never pursued anyone tho cuz I understood it was a crush even tho I’m pretty sure my “ *_*” face was clear to one or two, but I’m definitely lucky none of them tried to woo me or influence me. Now that I’m a grown woman, I think back & laugh at my self. I fancied them cuz they were independent & mature compared to the silly high school boys, which is what those men are supposed to be (adults) & what those boys are supposed to be (living their young age). lol. Still, I wish I found someone somehow to be my life’s partner since then, it would’ve made my life less lonely~ T_T.

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

Foto: Panorama Helsinki / Finland - Dom und Parlamentsplatz (by tap5a)

“We only do this for Fergus!” is a short Outlander Fan Fiction story and my contribution to the Outlander Prompt Exchange (Prompt 3: Fake Relationship AU: Jamie Fraser wants to formally adopt his foster son Fergus, but his application will probably not be approved... unless he is married and/or in a committed relationship. Enter one Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp (Randall?) to this story) @outlanderpromptexchange​

Chapter 1: Life offers you many surprises

Berlin, Französische Straße Friday, 25 July 2025, 8.50 a.m.

         Five minutes earlier, Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp had entered the large, light gray house, built in the neo-Renaissance style that dominated the whole Forum Fridericianum. In the lobby, which was dominated by marble and dark wood, Claire was greeted by a receptionist. She was asked to sit down for a moment in one of the dark leather armchairs, of which four were grouped around an elegant round table. As she waited, her eyes wandered up the high walls of the entrance hall. A few steps of a staircase led out of the hall through a large glass door that ended in a round arch at the top, reminiscent of a gate entrance. Above it was a large ornament of dark stones inlaid in the light marble. The ornament showed a circle, which, as it seemed, was formed from a belt. The words "Je suis prest" could be read in the curve of the circle and in the center of the ornament was the head of a stately stag, which looked directly at the observer.

“Französische Straße Berlin” by Jörg Zägel / CC BY-SA (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)

         Claire knew that the French motto meant "I am ready!", but just as she was wondering what the sign meant, an older lady approached her. She introduced herself as Mrs. Fitz-Gibbons. This employee, whose blue costume gave the impression of a uniform, led Claire down various small staircases and long corridors to the room where she was now sitting. Wherever they had gone in this house, it had been extremely quiet. The heavy, dark red carpets that covered all the stairs and hallways, had swallowed every sound of their footsteps. Now she sat in a room whose furnishings were characterized by dark wood and light brass and whose dimensions were more like those of a hall. But it was the antechamber of the CEO’s office of "Fraser & Son International" and behind the large double-winged door that Claire was now looking at was the study of Dr. James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, one of the country's leading business owners.         Until two weeks ago, Claire did not know the man's name or that of his company. She didn't care about the gossip press, which also reported on the local "high society" in Berlin. But then Geillis Duncan, her best friend, came by one evening and showed her a job ad from the "Wirtschaftswoche" newspaper. At first Claire was completely surprised. How did Geillis, who loved to read the gossip press, come to show her an ad from Germany's leading weekly magazine for managers?

         "Dave left it on the kitchen table, and since I didn't have anything else at hand, I looked into it while having breakfast. But now take a look at this job ad!"

Geillis had emphatically pointed to an ad that featured the same ornament as the one she had seen in the lobby.          Claire had started reading. A pedagogically trained caregiver was needed for an almost seven-year-old child. The woman should speak fluent German, English and French. Further foreign language skills were welcome but not required. Furthermore, an extensive general education and an impeccable curriculum vitae (i.e. no entries in the Federal Central Crime Register) were expected. Special emphasis was placed on the knowledge and practice of the literature written by Adolph Freiherr Knigge. Three times the current monthly salary was offered, 30 days paid vacation, free board and lodging, private health insurance 1st class.

         "Just imagine Claire!" the girlfriend had exclaimed enthusiastically, "If you got this job and worked there for a few years, all your problems would be solved!”

         Geillis was right, well, almost. Surely not all her problems would be solved. But the financial problems she had to deal with could at least be significantly reduced by this job. She had to acknowledge that and so Claire, Geillis and her friend Dave met that very evening to write a letter of application. Dave, who worked for a large media company at Potsdamer Platz, immediately agreed to help her with his knowledge. The next day, Claire had sent off the application. Then she had bought an updated edition of "The Knigge" and started reading it. Shortly after, Geillis came and brought her a large pile of current newspaper clippings so Claire could learn all she needed to know about the person of James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser and the family business he ran.

         She learned a lot about the company from various business magazines, but the person of James Fraser seemed almost like a phantom. It seemed to her that this man also didn't care about the so-called "high society" and obviously he didn't deliver any headlines to the gossip press. There was neither an article about him nor a photo of him on the company's homepage. Even a Wikipedia article with his name only gave the basic data (birthday, place of birth, family, studies) and otherwise dealt more with the globally active company. "Fraser & Son International" was one of the few family-owned companies that to this day had no shareholders and, having invested in a wide range of economic sectors, not only survived the financial crisis of 2008 well, but had even emerged from it stronger. In this Wikipedia article, however, there was a photo by James Fraser. It showed him with a group of business leaders at a national conference. However, this picture was over eight years old and also very pixelated. At some point everything turned in Claire's head and she hoped that she had not learned all this information for nothing. If she would at least be invited for a job interview.          Ten days later, she hadn't dared to hope that she would ever hear of Fraser & Son International, and to her surprise, her smartphone rang just before the lunch break began. A Dr. Ned Gowan called on behalf of the company, explained that he was the lawyer for "Fraser & Son International" and asked if she could come for an interview at the company's headquarters two days later at 9:00 am. She told him that she had to ask her department head to give her time off first and would call back. As the summer vacation period was over, it was no problem to get a day off and so she called Dr Gowan fifteen minutes later and agreed to meet him (and Dr. Fraser!) two days later. Claire had to be extremely restrained not to cheer out loud. This would have immediately drawn the attention of her colleagues in the department, and she definitely did not want to tell them about it. During lunch break, she left the clinic and sat down on a bench in a nearby park. From there she called Geillis and told her the good news. Right after the end of her shift, the friends met in the parking lot of the clinic to go into town together and pick out a suitable "outfit" for Claire's job interview. Geillis, who had worked as a freelance fashion consultant for many years before she met "the rich Dave", dragged her friend directly to the fashion department of the KaDeWe. There, after a while, they found a muted dark green business costume that emphasized Claire's figure but still looked respectable.

“Kaufhaus des Westens (KaDeWe) - Foto by Avi1111 dr. avishai teicher / CC BY-SA (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)

         "That's perfect," exclaimed Geillis as Claire stepped out of the dressing room.          "Yes, perfectly too expensive for me. Have you seen the price?"          "Don't worry about that," Geillis replied. Then she whispered:          "I'll pay for it. If the job doesn't work out, we'll just give it back afterwards. And if you get the job and want to keep it, you'll give me the money back when you get your first salary.”

         They bought the costume and also a matching blouse and shoes. Claire was not allowed to think about the amount of money they had spent within a few hours or she would get sick.          But that was all forgotten at that moment. Now it was time to concentrate and make a good impression.          Mrs. Fitz-Gibbons had led her into this room and instructed her to use one of the twelve large brown leather armchairs. With the words          "You will be called in when it is your turn,"          she had said goodbye.          Claire had taken a seat and scanned the room as inconspicuously as possible. Seven other women sat in leather armchairs of the same type, which were set up on three side walls of the room, each separated by a small table. On the tables were glasses and bottles of mineral water, but none of the other women had made use of them. Claire had not intended to drink anything either. She was far too excited to drink, and she was afraid that she might have to go to the bathroom in the middle of her upcoming job interview. Slowly, her gaze wandered across the light-colored carpet to that large, two-winged mahogany wooden door. On each of the wings was a coat of arms, divided into four sections. On the upper left and the lower right quarter were three white flowers on a blue background. The upper right and the lower left quarter each showed three red, pointed crowns on a white background. Behind this door, Claire assumed, must be the director's room. What would she expect there? She did not know. Why had she only gotten involved in this thing that Geilis Duncan had suggested to her? Out of desperation? She wasn't sure. Only one thing was sure: she had never thought that she would have to have another job interview at the age of almost 30. But that was her life. Much of what had happened in her life had not been planned, nor had she ever expected her life to be like that.          Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp, almost divorced Randall, had lost her parents in a car accident when she was five years old. For the next fifteen years she was raised in the loving care of her uncle 'Lamb'. Dr. Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, an archaeologist and Egyptologist whose research focus was on the Old Kingdom of Egypt and who was highly revered by his students, came to Berlin in 2015, where he taught at Humboldt University in the last years before his retirement. There Claire had also met her future husband, Dr. Frank Randall. He had been assigned to her uncle as a research assistant. Randall had courted her like no man before and they had already married in May 2016. The first four years of their marriage had gone in a way that Claire would still describe as happy today. Although, she was no longer quite so sure. What did happiness actually mean? Was there a definition for this term? And even if there was a definition for the term "happiness", was it really valid for all people? In any case, the first four years of her marriage had not been very negative. Together they had made regular trips to Paris, Madrid, Prague, Budapest, Dubrovnik, Palermo, Venice, Turin, Marseille, Amsterdam, Florence, Milan, Barcelona and Bruges.

“Palermo/Sizilien” by  nataliaaggiato 

         Claire enjoyed getting to know these cities and experiencing their cultural particularities. When Lambert Beauchamp died unexpectedly in February 2019 as a result of a stroke, Frank had been kind and, in her opinion, very sensitive to her needs. But in the spring of 2020, a strange development had set in with him. At first Claire had blamed it on the effects of the corona pandemic. After the start of the lockdown, Frank was mainly at home, giving lectures via Zoom and otherwise writing a new book on the history of the Scottish Jacobite uprising in 1745. Claire, on the other hand, was working as a nurse in the children's clinic of Berlin's Charité hospital, as she had been before the crisis. Frank had insisted that Claire should give up her job. The possibility that she could become infected with the virus seemed too high to him. But Claire could not bring it over her heart to leave her fellow nurses alone, especially in such a severe time, and thanks to the strictly observed precautions she got through this difficult time without any problems. While she could be happy about the successes in her profession, the problems in her marriage with Frank seemed to become bigger and bigger. At some point, she felt that Frank was becoming more and more monosyllabic and that they were drifting apart rapidly. But evem then she thought this was a temporary phase that would end after the pandemic at the latest. At least she hoped so. When a vaccine against the virus was finally found in July 2021 and became available in December 2021, Claire breathed a sigh of relief. She and Frank would get vaccinated and then they could travel again. This would change Frank's mind and make her marriage blossom again. But it all turned out differently. Once they were vaccinated, Frank suddenly didn't feel like traveling anymore. Again and again he put off his work. Regularly he worked until late at night at the university and sometimes he spent whole nights there. It was always about important analyses, which he published in specialist publications and for which there were tight deadlines. Even on evenings when Claire was off, he was rarely at home, and whenever she tried to initiate a little marital tenderness, he was too tired for that. In the spring of 2022, they had slept together for the last time. A few months later, Frank had stopped kissing her goodbye, as he usually did when he left the house.          What happened then had the potential to throw her completely off track. By the fall of 2022, a hunch that Claire had suppressed again and again had been confirmed. Frank had a mistress. When she returned from her work at the children's hospital one evening in October, she saw Frank saying goodbye to a slender blonde at the door of their shared house, kissing her intensely. She stood there frozen. Everything inside her urged her to turn around and run away. But then the anger that built up within her gained the upper hand. Like a burning ray that shot out of her stomach through her whole body, he took a breath. She ran to the front door, unlocked it and found Frank standing at the sink in the kitchen, where he was just rinsing out two wine glasses. He turned to her in surprise, but before he could say a word, Claire's purse hit him in the left half of his face with full force. Frank had lost his balance and had fallen over. His glasses had come off his head and had broken when he hit the kitchen floor. Claire no longer knew what insults she had used to call him. Frank had picked himself up and collected the parts of his glasses. He had not even set out to explain the situation or apologize.Claire would not have listened to him either. She had turned on her foot and had run into the shared bedroom. When she arrived there, she had taken Frank's bed linen, run back downstairs with it and threw it all into his study. Then she ran back into the bedroom again and locked herself inside. She did not know how long she had cried angrily. But before she had fallen asleep, she had made a plan. The next morning she went on the morning shift. During a break she called a lawyer and that same afternoon she went to see her to discuss the formalities of a divorce.

“Brille” by  jottbe

         Frank had had the injuries Claire had inflicted on him treated, but had not reported them to the police. It was only later that he let it show that he had orchestrated the whole situation. He had simply been too cowardly to have a conversation with her about a divorce, as two adults normally do. He probably wanted to make her feel guilty, too. Claire was convinced of that, at least. Frank had always been against her going back to work. When she accepted the job at the children's hospital a year after their wedding, he had expressed himself very negatively about it. What kind of impression would it leave on his colleagues if the wife of a prospective professor went to work? And in the last year of their marriage he had not missed any opportunity to tell her how much he felt neglected.            It took three months before Claire was able to move into a small room in one of the Charité nurses' homes. During these three months she did everything she could to avoid Frank as much as possible. Anything she couldn't take with her to the nurses' home, she stored in her friend Geillis Duncan's basement. Claire hoped that the divorce would be finalized in October 2023 after the obligatory year of separation and that she could finally start a new life. But this time, too, everything turned out differently than she had hoped.          It was a rainy autumn day in September 2023 and it was to be the last day in the life of Dr. Frank Randall. On a country road near Lübeck, where he had attended a conference for historians, Frank's car skidded for some unknown reason. The car broke through the barrier and then came to a halt in a field. There it was discovered the next morning by a farmer. When the police arrived at the scene of the accident, Dr. Frank Randall was strapped in the seat belt and sat in the driver's seat as if nothing had happened. He was uninjured and even still wearing his hat. But Frank Randall was dead. An autopsy performed later revealed that Frank had had a heart attack that caused him to lose control of the car, causing it to veer off the road. It was, as the police later said, very lucky that no other car had been hit. Claire was shaken.

“Lübeck”  by scholty1970 

         But an even greater shock struck her on the day of the reading of the will. On that day, the notary told her that she would not inherit any money, only debts from Frank. Her still-husband had bought a condominium for his mistress for 250,000 euros, which he had signed over to her. For this gift Frank had gone into debt and Claire, who was still married to him by law, inherited his debts. It was one big nightmare. Although Claire had also inherited the rights to Frank's books, these reference books sold only in very manageable numbers and brought in little money. With her salary as a pediatric nurse, it would take her decades to pay off Frank's debts. Meanwhile, Sandy Travers, this  bleached ...., was sitting in her apartment, probably enjoying herself with her next lover. Once again the anger about Frank rose in Claire's heart, but before she could think about him any further, a familiar voice tore her from these thoughts. 

[jxmieswxnter]

midsomer season 19-current: queer representation (surprise, it’s problematic)

I write was going to write another ‘@ midsomer writers’ thing but I wanted instead to look at all the Jamie Winter era episodes (because I remember them well enough) and look at the queer characters in them and what happens to them. (obviously only including explicitly queer characters, and not those queer-coded or have been read as such by fans.)

Season 19:

- Death by Persuasion Two gay men, both unhappily married to try and be straight, having an affair. One of the gay characters is being blackmailed to keep his sexuality from his family, specifically his wife.

Season 20:

- The Lions of Causton Two gay men in a relationship. One is the rugby coach and specifically talks about how he’s experienced homophobia since coming out, and how people aren’t happy about it in relationship to his coaching role. The other is closeted. In the process of the episode, he comes out to his daughter who accepts him. Also revealed to be the murderer and commits suicide.

- Till Death Do Us Part A gay woman in love with her straight friend. Took to sending her friend dead animals in the post so she’d seek comfort from her. She was murdered.

Season 21:

- The Sting of Death One gay man and one bisexual man. The gay man is a widow (so they also technically killed off - not murder - his husband pre-episode) and talks about how he’s been excluded from the village because of being gay. Ends up murdered. The bisexual man is involved with multiple people through the episode, including the gay man. Turns out to be the murderer, having killed the other queer character in the show.

Season 22: (minimal spoilers)

- The Stitcher Society One gay woman. Murdered. Her partner is also murdered prior to the events of the show.

~

So do you see the problem with this? The queer characters are either 1) the murderer, 2) being murdered, or 3) re-enforcing outdated stereotypes - the bisexual man is promiscuous, for example.

HEY @ MIDSOMER WRITERS STOP THIS!! The fact that this ‘bury your gays’ trope has become so blaring noticeable to so many audience members is a problem.

There are other episodes, pre-Winter with queer characters I know, and they don’t all die I know that too, but I’m focusing on the Winter era episodes because 1) they’re my favourite and I remember them best, and 2) they’re bringing in a lot of younger people to the fandom (Charlie Nelson also did such a thing, and I am included in those brought to the show through Gwilym Lee).

I couldn’t find any specific, explicit information about the show’s target audience, but it’s clear it’s aimed older people (45+ at least), and those of, say, middle class over working class. While a show should start true to there audiences - as it is a business and they want as many people to watch their program as much - the show, garnering a younger and younger audience, also needs to address this shift.

It is incredibly frustrating as a young, queer, trans person, who is such a massive fan of this show, to keep watching this over and over again. I get it, it’s white-dominated, conservative England, I get it, but it still sucks. I want to watch a Midsomer episode with a queer character who’s out and proud and accepted by everyone, and if they’re not accepted, they’re not murdered at least.

Why is the bare minimum I ask of this show is to not keep brutally murdering people like me?

Often, these characters aren’t killed because of their sexuality, and apparently to some that makes it all fair game. And yes, in a show which kills, say, three characters an episode, some of those character will be queer, I’m not saying that queer characters should be exempt from Midsomer’s phenomenally high murder rate, I’m saying that there should be some queer characters that should get to live, that shouldn’t be criminals, that should be demonised by their quaint little village.

God this wasn’t supposed to be a rant like this, but I just feel like the writers don’t know or fully understand what they’re doing. I don’t think it’s an active conversation of “let’s have a gay character and then kill them,” ��or better yet, they’re the murderer,” but it’s still happening.

And this isn’t even mentioning that there are no trans/non-binary/gender non conforming people on the show, like, as all.

[ms-march]

12 Days of Turn- “Festival”

uhm yeah you’re not being deceived by this header collage.  Happy day 3 of 12 Days of Turn!  Here is a collaboration with @tallmadgeandtea​ on a ss:sp and lbl crossover!  While it is not inherently holiday themed, like at all, it was just too good to not post for the prompt “festival.”  If you like it please be sure to give it a like, comment, and/or reblog!  Disclaimer: there will be some serious lbl spoilers ahead!

May had blossomed in Virginia once again, and Belvoir’s grounds were as beautiful as always.  Ever since John had resigned as an aide de camp and taken a fighting command in Nathanael Greene’s Southern Army, Adrienne had occupied herself by taking trips and hosting extravagant parties at her childhood home.  The guest lists and menus never ceased to distract her from whatever certain peril John placed himself in daily.  Today she dressed in a blue and yellow polonaise gown with a blue brimmed straw hat for a garden party, hosted in the extravagant and freshly manicured gardens behind the Manor.  Her blonde curls were arranged perfectly atop her head as she walked down to the large main entrance hall with a grand doorway leading straight out into the gardens behind it.   

Adrienne stood atop the landing on the grand staircase, and the footmen opened the large front doors, two more appearing and stepping outside to assist guests out of their carriages.  Adrienne gladly smiled at each of them, motioning them behind her and out the doors to the garden.  Most of the guests were members of Virginia high society: Martha Jefferson, Dolley Madison, Elizabeth Wythe,  Martha Washington, Elizabeth Randolph, Catharine Greene, Dorothea Henry, Anne Lee, and many more.  But none of them piqued Adrienne’s interest as much as the additional guest requested by Martha Washington.

Adrienne had known the older woman for as much of her life as she could remember; the woman was as a mother to her, so she was more than willing to grant such a request when it was brought to her.  Upon hearing the name Mrs. Elizabeth Tallmadge, however, Adrienne became excited.  She held Major Tallmadge in high esteem, considering him a friend of hers, and was more than delighted to extend an invite to his wife, even if she would likely be unused to such luxury as was provided at Belvoir.  Adrienne trusted Martha would make her presentable, but when Martha began to ascend the stairs, there was not some pretty faced and practical middle-class girl following her, rather a well-dressed and beautiful tall blonde woman.  She was mesmerizing to Adrienne as she climbed the staircase, her blue and white chintz gown brushing the steps.  It was slightly clear the girl had no governess or formal studies of such, but Adrienne was entirely confident that she could perform to the highest tier without so much as a headache appearing.

The blonde had a radiant and warm smile, complimenting Martha’s own motherly grin, as she looked around the extravagant hall in awe, admiring the murals across the walls and the marble of the stairs.  Her hand hovered over the ornate railing as she floated up the stairs.  When she finally joined Adrienne and Martha atop the landing, Martha smiled, waving the slightly shy girl over to them. “This is a lovely house, madam,” she spoke clear and confidently, “It is certainly a rarity in the colonies.”

“Yes,” Adrienne offered her own warm smile to the woman, seeking to ease her shyness, “It is solely a European style house, based around the classics of Hampton court and the elaborate plaster halls of the baroque style.  My father’s pride and joy.”

She nodded politely, and Martha began to speak, the motherly smile still soft across her face, “We shall see you in the garden, dear.” And the blonde was whisked away, her eyes lingering on Adrienne for a moment as she was led by Martha.

When the long parade of guests had all arrived and been accordingly received, Adrienne slowly made her way to the doors leading to the stone staircase leading down into the gardens.  She took her time as she descended, allowing the chatter to wash over her in waves.  The musicians began to play their light and jovial music- the newest pieces straight from London - as Adrienne exited the doors.  There was no need for the crowd to hush and greet her- this was not a formal ball after all-but there were still a few who made to greet their hostess once again, giving her curtseys as she passed.  Adrienne nodded at each of them with a respectful smile as she drifted through the group of merry guests.  She floated happily from table to table before stumbling upon Martha engaging in a conversation with Catharine Greene, and the blonde from earlier observing the party from an ornate bench with a small flute of cherie in her hand, untouched.  

“You do not drink?” Adrienne asked as she approached, “I can send for another beverage if you would like, madam.” 

“Oh,” the girl startled from her observations, flushing light pink in the cheeks as she gleaned down at the untouched glass before looking back up at Adrienne, “No, that is really unnecessary.  I just find this place too intriguing to be bothered with my drink.  There is far too much to observe.”

Adrienne smiled.  This woman was undoubtedly Major Tallmadge’s wife. “It would be no trouble,” she assured her, “Please notify one of the servants about or myself if you should find yourself in need of anything at all.”

“And if I find myself in need of your name, madam?”

“Then it shall be readily given,” Adrienne smiled brightly, “Lady Adrienne Fairfax Laurens of Virginia. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, madam.”

The blonde answered her own question in response. “Mrs. Elizabeth Walker Tallmadge of Philadelphia,” she bowed her head for a moment to acknowledge Adrienne’s title, “My Lady.”

Adrienne’s face turned to a quick shock, followed quickly by excitement as she rushed to sit beside the woman. “Walker?” she asked excitedly, “As in the same family that owns the mysterious Walker Manor?’ An amused nod was given to signal that her assumption was correct, allowing Adrienne to continue in disbelief, “That old brick house with closed gates, locked doors, and empty grounds?  No one has been seen living there for years!”

Elizabeth laughed at the younger girl’s seemingly naive antics, “I have indeed been living there, though mostly alone for the past 10 years.”

“Alone?” Adrienne asked, astounded, “Without so much as a governess?” Another nod, “Then I should imagine you cherished social outings during such a period, madam, for I cannot fathom such a miserable experience.”

Elizabeth shook her head in dismissal, “Unless you count Sunday church as a social outing, which I am sure you do not.”

Adrienne’s jaw dropped open slightly, her eyes widening slightly, “How horrid!  I do believe I would suffer greatly under such circumstances.”

Mrs. Tallmadge looked around the gardens at the decor, servants, and guests galore before responding, “I do believe that you would, my Lady.”

“Oh!” Adrienne reached out, placing her gloved hands atop those of Elizabeth, “Please call me Adrienne or Miss Fairfax at the very least.  I do believe it is well deserved after allowing me to pester you so carelessly.”

“Oh, it is no problem at all, believe me. I rather enjoy being pestered.” Elizabeth grinned at her, allowing a happy laugh to escape, with Adrienne’s own laughter joining her. “Now, allow me to pester you in return,” she continued, “Are you at all perhaps related to the Laurens’ of South Carolina?  I am friends  with Lieutenant Colonel Laurens, who has recently retired to a field command in the southern campaign.”

“Yes, I am” Adrienne spoke, and forcing a smile, she felt a good deal of joy seep out of her body at the mention of her reckless husband, “I married Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens in 1778- our son is inside with his own governess as we speak.”

“Oh!” The woman sounded shocked; Adrienne supposed it was from the lack of such knowledge.  She was sure that John did not speak of her often, if at all before he resigned from the northern campaign. “You must be delighted.  He is a good man. I was married myself in ’78. He attended our wedding.”

“He is a good man,” Adrienne sighed, attempting to keep the smile on her face, “Even if he is occasionally a little too reckless for my liking.”

“Like taking up a field command in South Carolina?” the older blonde asked, lips pulled into a humorous smile with knowing eyes and raised brows.

Adrienne did laugh lightly as she sighed, stress seeping into her voice, “Yes, precisely like taking up a field command in South Carolina.”  

This time it was Elizabeth’s turn to reach her hands out to hold Adrienne’s, “I am sure he will be ok.  He has the tendency to pull through even the most difficult of situations, I assure you. It is something he and my husband have in common.”

A servant came around to Adrienne’s side of the bench from behind, presenting a singular letter upon a tray.  Adrienne took the letter carefully, curiosity seeping through her fingers as she broke the seal.  Her hands unfolded the paper delicately, and she held it in her lap as she began to slowly scan the words.  

“On May 12th, 1780, Charleston, South Carolina, was captured by His Majesty’s Royal Army forces under the direction of Lieutenant-General Sir Henry Clinton.  Major General Benjamin Lincoln provided them an unconditional surrender, turning over himself and all 3,000 men under his command to the mercy of the British.  Those included in these troops are as follows…” 

Adrienne’s eyes scanned quickly down the list, heart pounding against her chest as they searched for the one name that mattered the most to her.  Her heart ceased in its incessant pounding, stopping entirely as her eyes glazed over the words on the paper before her.

“Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens”

Her throat was dry, and her layers became constricting.  She did not notice as the blonde’s astute eyes beside her examined the paper in Adrienne’s hand.  Until Elizabeth  spoke up, “Adrienne, I am sorry-”

She stood abruptly, swallowing thickly, “You will have to excuse me, Mrs. Tallmadge.  I need to get some fresh air.” Adrienne hurried away as quickly as she could into the house and to the room directly to the right of the garden’s entrance, drawing Martha’s eyes and mind from her conversation with Catharine Greene.  She excused herself from the woman and began to make her way into the house, Elizabeth trailing closely behind.  

Adrienne had called for her son, just a year old, and swaddled in blankets.  She sat on a chaise against the wall of the entirely empty bluish-gray room, the letter lying face-up beside her.  She did not look up the sound of heels on the tile, attention focused solely on her child.

“What happened?” Martha asked Elizabeth as she rushed through the doorway.

“She got news of her husband,” she replied, electing to forgo discretion in this instance, “And it is not all good.”

“Not good as in he prefers the new position or not good as in he is dead?”

“Neither,” she replied as they rushed into the room, the swishing noise of their silks and the click of their heels across the tile having no effect on the young girl who sat, holding her child. “Charleston has been lost and the Lieutenant Colonel taken prisoner.”

“Oh, not good,” Martha spoke, cutting the conversation off as they approached.  Martha took a seat on one side of Lady Fairfax, moving the letter to her hands so that she could sit, with Elizabeth sitting on the girl’s other side. “Adrienne, dear,” Martha spoke, placing a hand on Adrienne’s forearm, “Tell us what has happened.  We only wish to help.” She continued trying to soothe the distraught girl for several minutes to no avail.  Martha finally excused herself to send for some cold water and a washrag, hoping that would be enough to pull Adrienne out of the shock that had overtaken her body.

Elizabeth stayed with her, observing the young woman as she cradled the baby in her arms, holding him close against her chest.  She watched as Adrienne softly shushed the baby, bouncing him just slightly. “May I hold him?” she asked, pulling the girl from her stupor.

Adrienne’s eyes glanced over to the woman in blue beside her before clearing her throat and snapping to attention, “Yes, of course, you may.” She carefully handed the bundle of blankets over to Elizabeth, her eyes never leaving the baby’s face. “Be gentle with him,” she spoke in what sounded a bit like a plea, eyes still focused on the baby’s face, “Little John is still just barely a year old, and he is very precious to me.”

Elizabeth nodded, the baby taking her full attention as well.  A happy smile rested on her face as the baby cooed, but unlike Adrienne, she made no attempt to shush him. “He is named after his father?” she asked the young girl softly.

“Yes,” Adrienne smiled in a similar way to Martha Washington as she looked upon the baby, “He shares his father’s eyes.” The baby whined, prompting Adrianne to reach out and caress his soft cheeks and comfortingly hum to the child, Elizabeth recognizing the song as the chorus of “In Days of My Youth.” When the boy finally quieted, satisfied with her attentions, “And his temper as well.”

Elizabeth laughed a little at that, making faces to baby John. “He is an angel,” she whispered to the young woman beside her.

“He is incredibly well-behaved today,” she agreed, “But do not let him fool you.” She whispered, caressing his cheek, “His lungs are as strong as can be.  I should think he could give Colonel Hamilton a run for his money once he is older.”

“As his father already does?”

“Precisely,” Adrienne replied, prompting the two girls to begin laughing once more.

A moment of silence passed over the room and between the young women, the coos of the baby being the only things stopping the room from falling into complete silence.  Finally, Elizabeth spoke, turning to look at Lady Fairfax, “I could write Benjamin for any news on Lieutenant Colonel Laurens if you would like, Miss Fairfax.  It would be no trouble at all.”

Adrienne opened her mouth to reply before closing it with a sigh, “No, it is likely the news has not yet reached the northern campaign.” Elizabeth opened her mouth, no doubt to offer a statement of hope or a plea to at least attempt the contact, but Adrienne waved her off kindly with a tired smile. “There is very little General Washington could do for John, besides make his situation worse.  No,” she brushed invisible dust from her skirts, “I shall go to Charlestown.  As a member of the British Aristocracy, I benefit from accommodation by any of His Majesty’s forces.  And they will be forced to heed to my wishes out of respect for the hierarchy of British society.”

Mrs. Tallmadge placed a concerned hand over Adrienne’s own once more, her brow furrowed in concern, “Are you sure that is a good idea?”

“It is the best idea I have got, and the best chance John has got,” she spoke, attempting to sound convincing, to herself as well as Elizabeth, “Even if he will be cross with me for my interference.”

Elizabeth pursed her lips slightly, trying to pull them into a smile as she did so, “Are you sure you do not wish for the General to interfere on your behalf instead?”

“Yes,” Adrienne nodded, forcing out a shaky breath, “Unveiling any further connection between the Lieutenant Colonel and Uncle George will only make easing his situation even harder.  They will make it worse, attempting to dangle him before the General.”

Elizabeth nodded, observing the girl a little closer upon her comment, ‘Uncle George?  That is certainly new.’  

Adrienne looked away from the older woman, down to the baby now sleeping peacefully in her arms.  Adrienne laughed quietly at his little snores, “Would you mind coming with me to put him to bed?  I fear it will wake him if I were to take him.”

Elizabeth nodded and rose slowly, following the shorter blonde out the light blue room’s large entranceway, farther into the house.  She followed Adrienne up an elaborate white staircase, across an upper terrace of a small tiled ballroom, through a paneled door to a less ornate but large room of yellow and green.  The room had a plush alcove bed with two doors on each side of it, several chairs, and a chaise.  There were toys of obvious expense that the baby could not yet hold arranged decoratively on the floor.  Adrienne led her to the bed, instructing her to place the baby atop of it.  She pulled a little lever connected to a wire with her finger and sat on the edge of the bed.  Elizabeth watched as she sang softly to the baby in the bed.

“From the court to the cottage convey me, away for I am weary of grandeur and what they call gay; From the court to the cottage convey me, away for I am weary of grandeur and what they call gay.  Where pride without measure and pomp without pleasure, make life in a circle of hurry decay.” Adrienne continued to hum the melody softly until the door left of the bed opened and a woman, a servant, stepped out, curtsying to the two ladies.   She rose wordlessly, smiling warmly at the woman as she took a seat in the room before ushering Elizabeth out of the room with her. “I like to have someone watch over him as he sleeps,” she explained to the older woman, “It makes me feel better when I leave him to rest.”

Elizabeth nodded at her, smiling back to Adrienne, “A mother never stops worrying about her child.”

“Are you yourself one?” Adrienne asked politely as they stood in the hall outside the bedroom.

“No, Miss Fairfax,” Elizabeth smiled sadly, “As badly as I wish for a child of my own, my husband wishes to wait till after the war. Though I cannot help but agree with him. I can not imagine how hard it is to be a mother during times like these. And who knows how I would manage.”

Adrienne smiled comfortingly up at the tall woman, “And I have no doubt you will make an excellent one.” She offered her arm to Elizabeth, who looped their arms together as they walked down the hall, turning before reaching the terrace they had crossed originally, slowly strolling down a long and wide hallway with a series of proudly displayed portraits.

Elizabeth’s eyes scanned the walls, recognizing one of them, a very young little girl with blonde hair with a white linen gown and blue silk sash wrapped around her waist.  It was Lady Fairfax, she realized.  Her eyes darted away, noticing another young woman, not as young as Adrienne, but a child nonetheless.  She had wavy brown hair and wore a solid blue dress similar in shade to Adrienne’s own.  There was a plaque underneath the portrait that read “Lady Anne Fairfax 1748-1763.” The girl was only a mere fifteen years old at her passing.

The next portrait that caught her eye was one of a man in a blue and gold silk coat, this was also labeled, “Viscount George William Fairfax 1729-” there was no year of death, and Elizabeth realized he must have been older than the General.  The final portrait that caught her eye was not dressed in blue or white, but pink.  The plaque read “Sarah Walker Fairfax 1719-1754” and Elizabeth paused, jerking Adrienne’s attention to her.  1719, that was a Walker older than her own father.

“Is everything alright, Mrs. Tallmadge?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth cleared her throat, giving the girl a smile, “I was just admiring this portrait, and the name startled me.”

“Oh!” Adrienne exclaimed with a large, genuine smile, “That is my grandmother, of Virginia’s original Fairfaxes.  Do not let her poise fool you.  She was born in the Colonies, rather than England.  Was raised in the Caribbean, actually.”

“And born where?” Elizabeth asked curiously.

“Pennsylvania or Maryland, I think,” Adrienne replied, “I am not sure.  Why do you ask?”

“I have seen this portrait before,” Elizabeth spoke, eyes examining the painting, “In the storage of Walker Manor.  Every time I asked about it, my father would simply ignore me.”

“Walker Manor,” Adrienne asked, moving to stand beside the tall blonde, “Do you think she could be related to you in any way?”

“Who were her parents?”

“I do not recall her mother, but her father was a man named John Francis Walker.”

Elizabeth gasped, turning quickly to Adrienne, “That is my uncle!  I have never met him, he has long since passed, but my father has spoken of him several times when complaining about old fixtures around the house. He likes to say he was the one who inherited both the Philadelphia status and the messes that came with it.”

Adrienne’s face lit up as well, not caring about the previous comment by Elizabeth’s father.  She reached out to hold each of Elizabeth’s hands in her own, “That is very exciting, madam, that I could have just met you today only to find out that we are related!”

“Indeed it is!” Elizabeth spoke happily as she laughed at Adrienne’s childish joy. “Though I suppose it is not too surprising. Old Philadelphians may complain about Old Virginians, but we have all found a way to get into each society’s most prominent families.” She turned to face the rest of the hall, eyes scanning portraits until they landed on a pair of paintings, each of a young man in a red and blue military coat.  She walked to them gladly, Adrienne trailing behind her.

“Oh!” Adrienne exclaimed as she realized who the two twin paintings that hung from the walls were. “Those were gifts from Mrs. Mary Ball Washington.  The one on top is Uncle George when he was a Colonel in the British-American Army during the French-Indian war.” She pointed up to it, “And the one below it is his elder brother, Lawrence Washington, a Major in His Majesty’s Army.  I was engaged to him for a short period between the deaths of my sister, Anne, and his own.”

“His elder brother?” the woman asked, astounded, “But the general is approaching fifty years of age if I am correct!”

“Yes,” Adrienne laughed, “There would have been quite the age gap between us.”

“Would a child even be possible in such a match?” Mrs. Tallmadge asked as they continued to walk along, turning from the hall and down a separate set of marble stairs with even mural-sized portraits lining the walls.

“Yes,” Adrienne replied, “But I would have been married far younger.  With Lieutenant Colonel Laurens, I was given the luxury of time, and I am very grateful for it.”

The women descended the stairs, and Adrienne ushered her out the door underneath the staircase that led out to the gardens. “I must collect Martha.  We will return to the party shortly,” she assured Elizabeth, “I have already been absent for too long.  It is unbecoming of a hostess to abandon her guests in such a manner.”

Elizabeth reached out, grabbing Adrienne’s elbow as she turned away from her, causing Adrienne to look back at her as she stood in the doorway. “If you ever should find yourself in need of anything, please, let me know,” she smiled softly, letting her hand fall back to her side.  There was a knowing gleam in her eye, “I have a way of getting things done.”

Adrienne smiled brightly back at her, laughing happily at her statement, then turned around entirely and disappeared down the sunny corridor.

[shypotato-translations]

QTVW Chapter 21

Showbiz* Sexy Queen (VIII)

----

After this incident, Bai Jieying's gaze on Mei Mu Lan took on a vague disdain and condescending arrogance, and she was smart enough not to confront the crew with this attitude, but to specifically target Mei Mu Lan.

And after recalling the memories of the original owner, Mei Mu Lan found that this kind of contentious situation was actually the form of daily life between the original owner and Bai Jieying. After analyzing the Bai Jieying in her memories and the eyes of Bai Jieying now, she compared them and came to the conclusion that the eyes and expressions of Bai Jieying's original owner and the Bai Jieying after crossing over were exactly the same when she looked at Mei Mu Lan.

In this way, it seems likely that the traveler in front of her has obtained all the memories of the original Bai Jieying. Now, Mei Mu Lan and her situation are completely similar, both have lived in real life and both know the plot, and most importantly, they both have memories of the original owner who crossed over.

And the only difference is that the informed part of the plot is different.

Mei Mu Lan is right here in the plot, in a dominant position, but in other areas, the two are actually evenly matched.

Thinking of this, Mei Mu Lan would glare back with the same glare when she encountered Bai Jieying glaring at her again, and this behaviour of hers completely reassured Bai Jieying, dispelling the idea that this Mei Mu Lan in front of her was also a traveler.

And when Bai Jieying went to the director's side for her second audition, Mei Mu Lan secretly made a plan in her mind: next she had to spend a long time to observe this traveler's behavior, and the current image of Bai Jieying in the cast was all finely crafted and acted out, not real.

Then in order to see what she was really like, she had to get into Bai Jieying's daily life in order to do so.

When Mei Mu Lan thought of this, she decided to move out of Aunt Wen's house and go back to the Mei family for a while to see how she acted in her daily life and how she behaved in private, and once she was familiar with Bai Jieying's style and behaviour, she could plan for her subsequent task of "solving the travelers".

So, Mei Mu Lan waited until the day's filming was finished, then she immediately said goodbye to Ling Yi Yao and ''made out'', then drove back to Aunt Wen's villa. By the time she got home, Aunt Wen was not at home because she had a design job and had gone abroad to get some experience, so after thinking about it, Mei Mu Lan left a note which said,

“Aunt Wen, I've been out for so many years and I understand somewhat what my father did, so I'm going to move back in with the Mei family for a while and thank you for taking care of me, all these years!”

After writing it, she read it out a few times and found it to be quite fluent, so she left the note on the dining room table, turned to her room, packed her few bags and left the Wen family home.

Mei Mu Lan followed the route she remembered and drove back to the Mei family mansion in the wealthy residential area of the Second Ring Road.

Because the Mei family is a family of scholars that has been passed down for hundreds of years, the Mei family's mansion, which maintains the style of hundreds of years ago, is the modern well-known courtyard, in the modern world, such a set of courtyard, in the outside world can be sold for hundreds of millions of dollars, but this is really nothing for the Mei family.

The Mei family's family ethos pushes the boundaries of money and dirt, and the Mei family's family wealth ranks among the best in the world.

Mei Mu Lan drove back outside the Mei family home, she walked inside the old mansion and as far as the eye could see there were flower pots, water tanks, recliners…… and other furniture, all of which are relics of hundreds of years old, is an expression of the cultural heritage of the Mei family.

Mei Mu Lan casually swept a glance, and then saw that a middle-aged man wearing a Republican tunic greeted her, with a warm and kind smile on his face, the whole person gave people a feeling of a gentleman as gentle as jade.

He took the luggage from Mei Mu Lan and handed it to the maid who was waiting with his head down, then called out affectionately,

“Missy, you're back at last.”

Mei Mu Lan knew from memory that this man was the butler of the Mei family, the child of a friend of Grandpa Tai, and had been given the surname Mei after being brought back to the Mei family by Grandpa Tai when he was three years old.

He grew up in the house of Mei and was always brought up by the great lord of the Mei family. Although he was called a butler, his status was not that of a servant, but that of one of the rulers of the Mei family, managing the internal affairs of the house as well as some of the external affairs, a man of great means, loyal and intelligent.

He has a high status in the Mei family and most of the Mei family are close to him. Even Mei Mu Lan's father, who was the current head of the Mei family, would adopt a slightly friendly attitude when facing him.

When Mei Mu Lan thought of this, she lowered her eyebrows and smiled slightly poutingly,

“Butler Mei, it's been a long time, you're still as handsome as ever.”

The smile on Butler Mei's face deepened a little as he said,

“Miss, I am relieved to see you in such good spirits. No matter what happens at the Master's place, you will always be the Mei family's Miss in my heart, and as for that one and her daughter, you need not bother at all.”

Mei Mu Lan heard his concern for herself in his words, and she was moved to say,

“Thank you butler, I understand, I just want to go home for a while, no matter what, I am my father's own daughter, before I did not know what to do, and made my father and butler worry about me.”

With a relieved smile, Butler Mei said,

“It's good that you've figured it out. There's nothing in life that you can't get through. All external things are false, only blood is real. Now, I have ordered your room to be taken care of, you are tired today, go and rest, I will order someone to call you at dinner time.”

“Thank you, butler. I'll go to my room.”

After bidding farewell to the butler, Mei Mu Lan went back to the original owner's room.

When she opened the door, she saw a literary and elegant room, which was decorated with a combination of Chinese and foreign elements, which matched her imagination of a woman's bedroom from a scholarly family, whereas the original owner's room at Aunt Wen's house was filled with Ling Yi Yao's photos and dolls, which made Mei Mu Lan's heart feel creepy, but for the sake of the mission, she had to maintain this style, which was really depressing.

And this time, finally, she could stay in a normal room, whatever the purpose of going home this time, at least she slept much better and was sure that she could sleep well for the next while.

When she thinks of the original owner, she can't help but think of Ling Yi Yao. She is now numb to her "obsessed" state and as soon as she sees Ling Yi Yao, her whole being will automatically switch to another channel.

Fortunately, the villain this time, Ling Yi Yao, although ruthless and with blood on her hands, is a very nice person to be around when she is in normal society.

In the face of her own obsessions in and out of the film, she has not even expressed her displeasure verbally, which makes Mei Mu Lan often exclaim that the villain is really well brought up. If it were up to me, I would have taken such a character to the ends of the earth.

And Ling Yi Yao now, apart from a vague, emotionally unstable expression on her face as soon as she saw her, there was nothing else on her face, which reassured Mei Mu Lan and made her even more aggressive at the same time.

I feel like I've suddenly gone feckless, and it's definitely the fault of the cannon fodder girl!

When Bai Jieying returned to the house in the evening at the time the Mei family had set for dinner, she saw Mei Mu Lan sitting on the sofa, sipping tea in a dignified manner, and then gave her usual snide remarks, it was only when her mother made a glib remark to stop her that she skipped away and walked over to her mother and sat down affectionately.

Mei Mu Lan watched coldly, this Bai Jieying was gentle and kind on the set, pouting and half-angry at home, and in front of her stepmother, she was like a real child, chattering about what had happened on the set today.

Her mother learned from her that she and Mei Mu Lan were filming in the same production, so she glanced at Mei Mu Lan from top to bottom.

In a lighter tone, she said,

“Mu Lan, you are from a scholarly family, the family style of your Mei family is to despise the lowest class such as opera singers, if your father finds out about your acting, he will definitely be angry, so think again, change your job, I remember that you sang Peking Opera very well before, you can continue to go into that profession, it is after all something your mother taught you, it is always bad to leave it behind.”

Mui Mu Lan, with her long, narrow eyes, said with the aura of a Peking opera, singing and chanting in a long, short voice,

“You know, I don't know what this lady is to me. What does the affairs of our Mei family have to do with you, a second-married woman? You claim to be a member of the Mei family, but in the olden days, you would not have been worthy to carry the shoes of a Mei family servant.

You think that just because you have my father's help, you can really do whatever you want. The Mei family has been passed down for a hundred years, and although my father is the patriarch, he has less resources at his disposal. And who are you to talk to me like that? I have a good temper, otherwise I would have asked someone to slap your mouth!”

Her stepmother's brain ached with anger at her sharp, eloquent tongue, and she trembled, raising her hand and pointing, unable to say a word.

And Bai Jieying, at this moment, had a weird smile on her face, looking straight at Mei Mu Lan without saying a word.

Mei Mu Lan put down her cup of tea in bemusement, then said to Mei's butler who was beside her, watching the show as an invisible person,

“I'm also the recognized next head of the Mei family, so if I don't show them what I'm made of, they'll think I'm a paperweight.”

With that, she stood up, glanced scornfully at the two women with different faces, tilted her head proudly, and turned to leave.

In the days that followed, Mei Mu Lan went to the film set during the day and flirted with Ling Yi Yao; at night, she returned to the Mei family to anger her stepmother, and lived a very happy life.

Although she and Bai Jieying live under the same roof and work on the same set, they are never together, always staggering their time and appearing one after the other in full view of others. This also made the crew aware of the fact that the two sisters were not on good terms.

Even so, Mei Mu Lan's concern for Bai Jieying did not diminish by half.

She was following the movements of Bai Jieying every moment, and she found that Bai Jieying was now a queen of all changes, her acting skills were perfect, in life, in acting, in and out of film, and she was showing her superb acting skills all the time.

While watching Bai Jieying act, Mei Mu Lan secretly instructed the detective to continue filming and tracking Bai Jieying's whereabouts.

She put it all together and waited for the day when it would come in handy.

Three months later, the crew of 《The Burial Man》had completed all the indoor filming and it was time to shoot outdoors.

After much deliberation, the director decided to head immediately to the Kunlun Mountains for a real outdoor shooting.

[j-crawley]

1OO IMPORTANT CHARACTER QUESTIONS

PART 1: THE BASICS

What is your full name? James Crawley

Where and when were you born? London, England in 1875

Who are/were your parents? (Know their names, occupations, personalities, etc.) James’ sire’s name is Isabelle. He also recognises her as his mother because his birth parents were killed before he could remember. Isabelle is an ancient vampire who is over four thousand years old and is one of the few who kept herself out of the supernatural wars when they were waged across the earth. 

Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like? The only ‘siblings’ he has are the other vampires Isabelle has sired throughout her life, of which there are four others. He has only met two of this four. 

Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people. Krovs Town and with his cats. 

What is your occupation? Police officer

Write a full physical description of yourself. You might want to consider factors such as: height, weight, race, hair and eye color, style of dress, and any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing marks. Blonde hair, blue eyes. 6″1, 165lbs, Caucasian. Dresses smart most of the time. He enjoys fashion and being stylish and tends to keep it tasteful and less over-the-top. No tattoos or scars.

To which social class do you belong? James was born to a family in the middle class and Isabelle brought him up to the age of thirteen accordingly. Isabelle herself is amongst the upper class and she introduced him to that life after he was turned. 

Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses? Being a dhampir (half-vampire, half-human), James is the weakest of the vampire hybrids and is susceptible to the weakness of his species. Other than that, he has no allergies or diseases.

Are you right- or left-handed? Left handed.

What does your voice sound like? (link)

What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently? “Oh dear.”

What do you have in your pockets? Notebook, pen, vials of feline blood.

Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics? James is a clean freak and is very particular about the cleanliness of his own space.

PART 2: GROWING UP

How would you describe your childhood in general? James had a pleasant childhood with Isabelle until she disappeared when he was about thirteen years old. The trauma of losing his parental figure had him becoming obsessed with finding her ‘killer’.

What is your earliest memory? Reading a children’s book with Isabelle.

How much schooling have you had? He studied hard enough and went through the proper education system to become a constable in Scotland Yarad and eventually a detective.

Did you enjoy school? Of course. James enjoys learning and he considers his university days some of the best of his life, even if it happened quite a long time ago for him.

Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities? He leaned a lot about life from John, his mentor who took him in after Isabelle’s disappearance. His deductive skills were picked up through a mix of John’s training, school and his various stints as a police officer/detective in various towns. His skills as a vampire were mostly learned from Isabelle.

While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them. Isabelle and John.

While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family? James gets along very well with those he considers his family.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up? James wanted to become a police officer since the age of thirteen.

As a child, what were your favorite activities? Reading, collecting insects. The latter of which is something he grew out of.

As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display? Curiosity, dutiful, cheerful, generous, polite, extraversion.

As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like? James was quite focused on his studies when he was a child and his only friend was John until he went to university. He started making more friends at university where he found himself amongst those who were in the high society and made a lot of connections that way. 

When and with whom was your first kiss? He got drunk with his university friends on a night out at a men’s social club and kissed a man named Thomas in secret. They started an affair before he met his eventual wife, Elizabeth, and he decided that he needed to settle down with her as society deemed a man should.

Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity? No. He lost it to the same man in the previous answer.

If you are a supernatural being (i.e. mage, werewolf, vampire), tell the story of how you became what you are or first learned of your own abilities.  Read all about it here.

PART 3: PAST INFLUENCES

What do you consider the most important event of your life so far? Being turned into a dhampir.

Who has had the most influence on you? Isabelle.

What do you consider your greatest achievement? Finding Isabelle again.

What is your greatest regret? He sometimes wonders what his human life would’ve been like had he not been turned. 

What is the most evil thing you have ever done? After becoming a dhampir, James has taken the law into his own hands and killed a number of times when the authorities would not do what he believed they needed to. As a law-abiding person, these actions went against his moral code and he considers them ‘evil’ in a way.

Do you have a criminal record of any kind? No. He lived in a time when being gay was illegal, but he was never caught for having an affair with a man.

When was the time you were the most frightened? When he almost killed his wife and son when he lost control. It was what spurred him to leave them.

What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you? Elizabeth catching him with Thomas about a year into their marriage. James was still in love with Thomas but had to ultimately end things with him for his family. It was both embarrassing and heartbreaking.

If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why? He wishes that he had gone to visit his wife before she died, but he had been too afraid of how she would react and so he stayed away. He considers himself a coward because of this.

What is your best memory? The birth of his son - Johnathan.

What is your worst memory? Visiting his elderly son on his deathbed and having Johnathan recognise him and hate him for leaving. This was James’ first experience of losing someone mortal and it served as a harsh reminder of his very immortal life.

PART 4: BELIEFS & OPINIONS

Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic? Mostly an optimist.

What is your greatest fear? Losing control and killing an innocent.

What are your religious views? James would consider himself spiritualist and his faith is very personal to him.

What are your political views? James is heavily influenced by Isabelle’s stance on not siding with the current ruling power - the Vampires - even if he is one himself. 

What are your views on sex? Over the years, he has learned to loosen up when it comes to sex. Having grown up in a time that was more puritanical, it took a long while, despite Isabelle’s more liberal views on sex and sexuality, before James was able to view the act as something fun to engage in -- especially gay sex.

Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable? Yes. Being half-vampire, the desire to kill is always there but James keeps that urge on a tight leash. He has killed in the past (see answer in P3) when he felt that he had no choice.

In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do? Harming children in any way.

Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love? Leaning undecided to no.

What do you believe makes a successful life? Happiness and sense of purpose.

How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings (i.e. do you hide your true self from others, and in what way)? This actually depends on who James is speaking to. He’s usually more guarded and would put on a mask when he is with other vampires, but who’s to know if that mask is actually a part of him too?

Do you have any biases or prejudices? He would like to think not.

Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it? James refuses to drink the blood of humans and other supernatural creatures because it turns him into something he does not like. It is why he only drinks animal blood.

Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)? He hasn’t thought about this...

PART 5: RELATIONSHIPS W/OTHERS

In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how? In general, James is very polite and friendly to everyone he meets.

Who is the most important person in your life, and why? At the moment, it’s his cats.

Who is the person you respect the most, and why? Isabelle. She taught him a lot about the world and he is forever grateful for that.

Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? Describe these people. James has many friends in all the places he has lived in, but due to having to move around often, there are not many that he would consider best friends.

Do you have a spouse or significant other? If so, describe this person. His wife passed away in the early-1900s and he has not married again ever since. While James has had a few lovers after that, there are not many that he could consider particularly significant.

Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened. Yes. James met and fell in love with his university friend, Thomas, and started an affair with him. This was highly illegal at the time, but they continued the affair until after James got married. It ended when James’ wife found out about them. James was more in love with Thomas than he was with Elizabeth and she knew this.

What do you look for in a potential lover? Someone he can be at ease and be himself with.

How close are you to your family? He is still very close to Isabelle, the only family he has left.

Have you started your own family? If so, describe them. If not, do you want to? Why or why not? James had a wife and son, both of whom have passed on in present day. He has not settled down again since.

Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help? Isabelle.

Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why? Isabelle. While he lives his life separate from her, she still keeps tabs on him and James trusts her to look out for him if it ever came down to it.

If you died or went missing, who would miss you? Isabelle.

Who is the person you despise the most, and why? The closest is probably Izaak because the man killed his birth parents. But James rationalises that he never knew his birth parents and Izaak is like a brother to Isabelle, and so he has somewhat forgiven him.

Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict? James tends to avoid conflict and will only argue if absolutely necessary.

Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations? Only if there is no one else to do so. James prefers to follow.

Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not? James enjoys socialising because people intrigue him, even if he keeps them at arms length. 

Do you care what others think of you? Yes, he actually does because of the time period he grew up in. He has loosened up a lot more over the last few decades but it’s not something he can easily put out of his mind.

PART 6: LIKES & DISLIKES

What is/are your favorite hobbies and pastimes? Reading. Cleaning. Spending time with his cats.

What is your most treasured possession? His first edition copy of A Study in Scarlet that Isabelle gifted to him when he was a child. Crime novels were all the rage during the Victorian Era and these books were also what spurred him to become a police officer.

What is your favorite color? Light green.

What is your favorite food? Before becoming a dhampir, one of James’ favourite bakes was the Spotted Dick.

What, if anything, do you like to read? Crime fiction.

What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, movies, art, etc.)? A good book. (Are you sensing a pattern here yet?) He enjoys films from time to time but strongly prefers the written word.

Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit? He smokes occasionally because he finds the act of it enjoyable. As an immortal there is little point in quitting.

How do you spend a typical Saturday night? He alternates between going to a bar to meet new people and staying at home on Saturday nights. This is something that he has yet to do in Krovs Town.

What makes you laugh? His cats.

What, if anything, shocks or offends you? Rude and disrespectful people.

What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself? James is usually very good at finding something to occupy his mind with. If he were burdened with insomnia, he would use the time to 

How do you deal with stress? James stress cleans.

Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan? He can be spontaneous on occasion but takes comfort in knowing that he usually has a plan.

What are your pet peeves? Being micromanaged.

PART 7: SELF IMAGES & OTHER

Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted? Wakes up, feeds his cats, showers, gets dressed while having his breakfast, heading to work. Comes home, feeds his cats, eats, extracts blood from one of his cats, showers again, gets ready for bed. He does not like his morning routine being messed with but he will roll with the punches anyway.

What is your greatest strength as a person? Being able to anticipate another’s needs.

What is your greatest weakness? His fear of not being able to be in control of his vampiric half.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? To be less conflict-averse. He feels like he could achieve a lot more but he really does not like being pushed into conflict.

Are you generally introverted or extroverted? He can swing between both, whereby he is generally extroverted but still values his alone time.

Are you generally organized or messy? Organized.

Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at, and three things you consider yourself to be very bad at. Good: Small talk, powers of deduction, reading people. Bad: Cooking, singing, dancing. ((ooc: LOL what even!))

Do you like yourself? Most of the time.

What are your reasons for being an adventurer (or doing the strange and heroic things that RPG characters do)? Are your real reasons for doing this different than the ones you tell people in public? (If so, detail both sets of reasons…) James takes his role as a police officer and servant to the people very seriously. He is someone who tends to wear his heart on his sleeve when it comes to this subject as well, so what he usually says what he means when asked about his profession.

What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime? James does not have a far-reaching goal. He is mostly focused on his job and doing it well for whatever community he is serving.

Where do you see yourself in 5 years? Hopefully still living in Krovs Town.

If you could choose, how would you want to die? Peacefully.

If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left. Make sure his cats are taken care of. Other than that, James is actually happy to spend his last moments with himself.

What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death? James wants to be remembered by how he made others feel.

What three words best describe your personality? Kind, generous, helpful.

What three words would others probably use to describe you? Nice, pushover, slow-on-the-uptake.

If you could, what advice would you, the player, give to your character? (You might even want to speak as if he or she were sitting right here in front of you, and use proper tone so he or she might heed your advice…) He needs to be a bit selfish and figure out what he wants in life for himself. James is mostly living his life in servitude of others at the moment.

[lacedbeauty]

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚ lily collins, cisfemale, she/her. yes, i know DELILAH ASTOR. the LIBRARIAN AT WORMWOOD LIBRARY has been in sage lake since 2013, and waited 6 YEARS for their soulmate, HENRY CAVILL / DANIEL SHARMAN / JAMIE DORNAN / ASK MUN / UTP. they’re known around the lake for being WARM-HEARTED & ORGANIZED & PERCEPTIVE, though it’s rumored they’re JEALOUS & INSECURE & MALLEABLE. may they live blissfully through the ageless autumn.

BASIC STATISTICS

FULL NAME: delilah rose astor

NICKNAME(S): lilah, rosie

OCCUPATION: librarian at wormwood library; former vice president of operations in one of the branches of their hotels.

DATE OF BIRTH: june 19, 1988

AGE: 25 / 32

HOMETOWN: new york, usa 

SOCIAL CLASS: upper class

NATIONALITY: english & american

GENDER: cisfemale

PRONOUNS: she/her

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: heteroflexible

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: heteroromantic

MARITAL STATUS: tba / formerly engaged

SIBLINGS: 6 siblings / 3 older brothers, 2 younger sisters, 1 younger brother

RELIGION: christian

POSITIVE TRAITS: warm-hearted, organized, perceptive

NEGATIVE TRAITS: jealous, insecure, malleable

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: lily collins

HEIGHT: 5'5"

WEIGHT: 110 lbs.

BUILD: slim

EYE COLOR: hazel

HAIR COLOR: brunette

PIERCING(S): earlobes

GLASSES: reading glasses

BACKGROUND

delilah was born in new york city to the famed astor family, who owned several dozen of hotel chains all over the world as well as different real estate around new york. she was basically the middle child, but also the oldest of their girls. after having three boys in a row, her parents were overjoyed to finally have a girl and she was pretty much treated like a princess.

however, their parents demanded perfection from their children in the sense that they always wanted them to excel and achieve great feats. and being the oldest of the girls, they expected nothing less from her. she was sent to the best schools, learned from the best tutors but no matter how well she does, her younger sister who followed her seemed to be doing better. the spotlight soon diverted from her to her younger sister, casting a shadow over delilah as the sibling who was just good enough.

her insecurities began to grow, especially when they always compared her younger sister to her--jealousy forming in her chest even though she cared deeply for her siblings. there was an unspoken sibling rivalry between the two with how their parents made them compete, one wherein she almost always lose. one misstep from her sister though had her parents favoring her again.

when she was twenty-three and her sister was twenty-one, they found out that her sister was pregnant and having an affair with a married man from high society as well. her parents were severely disappointed by her sister and infuriated by the events that transpired as well as the scandal that it brought into their family. so, they tried to mold delilah into their perfect daughter once more, putting all the pressure on her.

unwilling to let the same tragedy befall their eldest daughter, they’ve taken matters into their own hands and arranged for her to be married to someone from a reputable family instead. and not wanting to disappoint her parents, delilah simply agreed with it. they’ve staged a relationship before announcing the engagement. 

it was only a month before the wedding when delilah found herself in their private plane from france heading back to new york after attending a conference in paris. the last thing she remembered was their pilot telling them to brace for impact before everything went dark.

afterwards, she woke up in an unfamiliar hospital with a watch she doesn’t remember owning. she’s never heard of a place called sage lake and no matter how much she tried to contact her parents, it does not seem to get through. 

it took some time for her to adjust to this place and perhaps, she’s still trying to adjust because for once in her life, she has absolutely no idea what to do--no one telling her what she should do or should not do. the brunette found herself working in the wormwood library as a library aide at first before learning enough to become a librarian. her compulsion for always wanting to have things organized seemed like a great fit in a place where organization and stability was needed.

delilah has been told before that she could be a little uptight, but the brunette would deny that and say that she knows how to loosen up. truth is she was just a bit of a workaholic before in an attempt to please her parents and well, anyone she meets really. the brunette has a habit of being a people pleaser, one that she’s trying to get rid of now. she has a difficulty in saying no and feels guilty when she does so. she wasn’t exactly a recluse, but she only kept a few close friends back in new york and most were just acquaintances. being in sage lake though seemed like a great opportunity for her to work on that and become more personable. when she’s heard of the whole soulmate thing, delilah wasn’t really sure what to think of it. though part of her wanted to meet this person who was supposed to be her other half, she was also scared of what if they don’t get along and all that. to her surprise, her soulmate wasn’t a stranger at all...but someone she knew from outside of this enchanted place.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

friends / close friends - please throw some people for her to be friends with who drags her out to have fun or have movie nights with. she has missed on this opportunities so much back in new york. but now that she has a more laxed lifestyle here, she’ll definitely have the time for them.

best friend from sage lake - someone she met in this place and the two of them quickly gotten along. they could have even been the one to show her the ropes of this place if they were here before her or vice versa if she was here first.

antagonistic relationship - someone she simply doesn’t get along with or even some kind of frenemy. for some reason we could discuss, they just don’t really see eye to eye and seem to always be on each other’s throat.

angsty ex boyfriend - although the numbers on their watch didn’t stop when they met, there was chemistry between the two of them and they still wanted to try to be together. their relationship could have been really good at the start but as one of them gets closer and closer to meeting their soulmate, the other could start having doubts over what they’re doing until they just decided to end their relationship.

past flings - just some flirtationships and people she had a date or two with or even casual hookups she had from before.

AND ANYTHING ELSE YOU HAVE IN MIND! honestly, i’m pretty much down for anything so just hmu or give this a like if you would like to plot with my bby. <3

[catalysisrp]

As mobile tumblr no longer likes to let people click page links ( 😒 ) we've decided to drop today's preview in a post for all our mobile users' viewing pleasures!

PERDITION, NV POPULATION 1,974

Sitting stubbornly in the southern tip of Nevada, Perdition is 111 miles north of Las Vegas in rocky, sparsely habited Lincoln County. It sits in a scorched valley between the South Pahroc Range and the Delamar Range. Big Rock Wilderness stands directly north, across highway 93, so from any point in town you can see the teeth of jagged desert mountain ranges jutting up from the horizon. Its population is a small and ever-shrinking 1,974. Despite the harsh surroundings, a variety of flora and fauna surround the small town, digging out life from the feet of the mountains. Mesquite, creosote, greasewood, yucca, and more than 30 varieties of cacti dot the landscape. Sheep, foxes, coyotes, bats, wild horses, owls, tortoises and reptiles are among the hundreds of species co-existing in the rugged landscape. Check your shoes before heading out the door: three different types of scorpions live in the deserts of Nevada. Emergency rooms are also frequented by those bitten by local snakes: sidewinders, the Great Basin rattler, the western diamondback, and kingsnakes are all venomous and common.

WEATHER & CLIMATE SOUTHWESTERN USA

Perdition enjoys highs from 100 degrees in the summer to as low as 50 degrees in the winter. On average, they get 159 days of sunshine year-round. It is a semi-arid climate with very little precipitation.

NEIGHBORHOODS & RESIDENCES

King’s Canyon Estates - Home to the ever-shrinking upper echelon of Perdition, patrolled by a security guard and watched by hawkish blue bloods out of gleaming windows. The lawns are unsettlingly green and the manses are polished and opulent. Rebel Creek - Perdition residents call this run-down, burnt-out neighborhood ‘the wrong side of the creek’. Populated by shotgun houses and a few poorly maintained trailers, Rebel Creek is where the down-and-out lurk. As more of the city falls on hard economic times, more residents find themselves washed up here. It’s not advised to walk through at night. Steptoe Terrace Apartments - Close to downtown, reasonably priced, utilitarian. Nothing fancy, not run down; lived-in. It’s a step up from Rebel Creek, at least. Sunridge Court - Middle class Perdition residents live here in their modest but well-built houses and small but pleasantly tended yards. It’s close to the schools, the small city library, and most of downtown proper. Alta Vista - ATLAS employees have brought an unusual white-collar wealth to Perdition, driving up property values and forcing some people out of their homes altogether. This new development sprung up shortly after the ATLAS compound’s arrival, built on land wrenched from the impoverished hands of ranchers and homeowners on the outskirts of Perdition. Eminent Domain and skyrocketing property taxes have left a small but not insignificant portion of residents relocating to Steptoe and Rebel Creek, unable to afford to rebuild and unwilling to move away from the town their families have called home for so many generations.

PERDITION PROPER & LOCAL BUSINESSES

City Hall - The administration building of local municipal government, like everything in Perdition, has seen better days. Not many folk in town are particulalry pleased with their mayor, but no one ever seems to run against him. Sheriff’s Department & Perdition Jailhouse - Sheriff’s office, a small dispatch office, and a few jail cells for penning any rowdy drunks from the Widowmaker. Red Rock Elementary School - Pre-k - grade 6 Perdition High School - Grades 7 - 12, home of the Fighting Mules! Pike’s Food & Drug - The only grocer & pharmacy in town, owned by the Pike family, six-generation Perdition locals. It’s a snapshot in time, especially the functioning-and-fully-stocked cigarette vending machine and the soda fountain that’s still in service. Golden Oasis Casino - With the promise of a major highway to connect Perdition to the rest of the world, eager investors saw dollar signs and poured piles of money into a brand new casino in 1952. When the highway development fell through and the money dried up, it decayed into what it is today: a place for locals to pull the creaky levers on old penny slots and ignore the indoor smoking ban. Silver Strike Diner - While its silvery accents and vinyl booths are dinged and sunbleached, the food is just as good as when the Silver Strike opened in 1950. Cheap, greasy, open 24/7. The jukebox hasn’t worked since 2002. The Widowmaker - This saloon, built in 1902 and originally named The Silver Dollar Saloon, stands right on the edge of Rebel Creek and decent society. It’s an utter dive: dark, dingy, cheap, and rowdy. Look out for bar fights and pickpockets. Sandman Motel - Its peeling-paint neon sign can be seen from the highway, a symbol of bygone days (and missing the ‘T’ on one side). You have to be pretty desperate to stay here; all-sorts roll in off the highway to rent out these rooms. Last Chance Gas - Local gas station open 24/7 selling cold beer, cigarettes, essentials, and lotto tickets. It’s the ‘last chance for gas’ for the next 100 miles down America’s Loneliest Highway.

OUTER PERDITION & SURROUNDING WILDERNESS

Professor Chromium’s Monster Museum & Creature Feature! - Just off Highway 50! Come, be amazed! Mysterious creatures great and small from the world over; creatures as you’ve never seen! In the time-honored tradition of now-defunct circus freak shows, Professor Chromium’s Monster Museum is a sprawling old warehouse made into a maze of clever taxidermy, creative Frankensteining of stuffed creatures, jars of mysterious claws and limbs. Locals serve as tour guides for tourists and cashiers at the wildly overpriced gift shop stuffed with kitschy souvenirs. Some even say a few of the creatures are genuine horrors, but who would believe them? Perot Mine - There’s a saying around town, and it’s ‘all the money in Perdition comes from Perot’. The mine opened for operation in 1902 when prospectors were hunting for new veins as the mine in Delamar had been providing dwindling returns for a few years before the fire ravaged the town in 1900. William Perot founded the mine and the town of Perdition sprung up nearby. All of high society in Perdition is related to, or married to, a Perot. It employs a huge portion of the Perdition population, but its returns are now dwindling, too. Quarter after quarter, less and less gold and silver ore has been hauled out of Perot. There are whispers of lay-offs on the horizon and even the upper crust of Perdition is starting to get nervous. Perdition Uranium Mine & Mill - from 1951 to 1968, a uranium mining boom swept across America. Spurred by the Atomic Energy Commission and the Cold War, Nevada was a focal point for substantial uranium prospecting and mining. Just outside Perdition, a uranium mine and mill cropped up, employing hundreds of locals and bringing an additional economic boom to the small town in addition to the long-standing gold mine. It was shuttered in 1972, boarded up, and now stands as an ugly relic littered with radioactive warning signs all along the perimeter. Curious teenagers have gone missing inside, and sometimes strange noises can be heard across the flat desert from within its neglected depths. The ATLAS Compound - In 2015, after a flurry of federally funded construction activity behind high chain link fence, a collection of bureaucratic government buildings cropped up like a deposit of hard, shiny minerals along the horizon just outside of town, near the old Perdition Uranium Mine and Milling site. Its perimeter is gated and the gatehouse is always manned by armed guards. This government compound includes a huge lab, offices, and a medical wing. Officially, it is designated as an arm of the Department of the Interior. Delamar - A ghost town dubbed ‘The Widow-maker’ due to deadly dry milling techniques that killed dozens and dozens of the men who worked at the Delamar mine. Established in 1891, the mine operated lucratively until 1900 when nearly the entire city burned to the ground. After a difficult recovery, the mine closed in 1909 and by 1914 the town was abandoned. Nothing but the skeleton of old buildings and lingering ghosts remain in Delamar. Big Rock Wilderness - Fully encompassing the southernmost portion of the South Pahroc Range, this gorgeous national park includes steep and jagged mountains, canyons and an expansive field of large, jumbled boulders loved by rock climbers all over the state. Recreational opportunities include climbing, camping, hiking, horseback riding and hunting.

[recentanimenews]

Random Reads 2/18/21

Are You in the House Alone? by Richard Peck Are You in the House Alone? came out in 1976 and though I totally could’ve read it when I was a teen—and thus still a member of its target audience—I never did.

Gail Osburne is a sixteen-year-old high school junior and native New Yorker who’s not at home in the quaint Connecticut village her family relocated to several years back. I knew that the plot involved Gail receiving menacing anonymous notes and phone calls, and I was expecting these events to get started quickly and the suspense to remain high throughout. But that doesn’t happen.

Instead, the story is told retroactively, so we know Gail survives. Also, obvious culprit is obvious. (I hope the reveal wasn’t intended to be a surprise, but perhaps readers were less savvy about such things in 1976.) Initially, much more of the focus is on Gail’s relationships with her parents, boyfriend, and best friend, and in particular how the latter two are in the slow process of dissolution. Eventually she receives some threatening notes and creepy phone calls, gets scared, is let down by people in positions of authority, and comes face-to-face with said obvious culprit. That happens halfway through this slim novel. The rest of the book is about Gail’s recovery from her ordeal.

I thought Are You in the House Alone? was going to be fun, suspenseful fluff, but it turned out to be fairly serious and occasionally (intentionally) infuriating. I really appreciated how Peck was able to weave in a couple of threads that seemed very random at first and make them integral to the denouement, too. Ultimately, I didn’t love the book, but I kind of… respect it, if that makes sense. It didn’t go the cheap route.

The Automatic Detective by A. Lee Martinez Mack Megaton is a hulking robot who was created to destroy. He developed self-determination, however, and went against his programming. Now, he’s a probationary citizen of Empire City, where mutagens and pollution have created a very diverse population. While some “biologicals” are still “norms,” others have been physically transformed (like rat-like Detective Alfredo Sanchez) and others have been changed in not-so-visible ways (like Mack’s friend, Jung, a talking gorilla with refined literary taste). Mack works as a cab driver and is trying to keep a low profile, but when his neighbors are abducted, he can’t help but try to rescue them. This gets him into all sorts of trouble, of course.

Despite its name, The Automatic Detective isn’t really much of a mystery. I suppose it’s more… sci-fi noir. Mack meets various thugs, beats some of them up, gets beat up himself, etc. Slowly, he makes progress on uncovering a huge conspiracy. At times, I felt like Martinez was a little too enamored of the gimmick he created, and places in the middle dragged a bit as a result, but the ending is pretty satisfying and overall the book was enjoyable enough, even though it’s quite far from the sort of thing I usually read.

As a final note: I really liked that Martinez limited himself when it came time to invent universe-specific profanity. Instead of the text being liberally sprinkled with words like “frell” or “frak,” the phrase “Oh, flurb” appears but once (during a moment where the meaning is 100% apparent) and made me laugh out loud.

I don’t know if I’m necessarily eager to read more by Martinez, but I’m glad I read this one.

The Inimitable Jeeves by P. G. Wodehouse When I read My Man Jeeves back in 2010, I was somewhat disappointed because so much of it was repetitive. While there are some common elements that recur within the eleven stories that comprise The Inimitable Jeeves, it is still so very much superior that I’d now say… forget about that first book. Start here. Go back and read My Man Jeeves for completist purposes, if that’s your inclination, but start here for the best introduction to these characters and Wodehouse’s uniquely charming and amusing writing.

First published in 1923, The Inimitable Jeeves contains a linked set of stories that typically involve affable Bertie Wooster being imposed upon by either his eternally lovesick friend Bingo Little (who is “always waylaying one and decanting his anguished soul”) or his mischief-making younger cousins, Claude and Eustace. One plot thread involves convincing Bingo’s uncle (who provides him with an allowance) to agree to Bingo marrying a waitress. Jeeves comes up with the idea to ply the uncle with romance novels featuring class differences to soften his heart, and it ends up that Bertie is compelled to go visit the old fellow and claim to be the author. In addition to containing the most elegant description of sweat I’ve ever seen—“The good old persp was bedewing my forehead by this time in a pretty lavish manner.”—this situation is referenced a few times in subsequent stories until Bingo succeeds in getting married to a different waitress who really is the author of those romance novels.

So, even though you’ve got episodic happenings, it’s rather a satisfactory conclusion. Bertie is endearing, Jeeves is competent, the writing is excellent, and it made me laugh. (I especially liked when a character was described as resembling “a sheep with a secret sorrow.”) I’m so glad that I didn’t give up on the series after the first book; now I feel as though I finally see what the fuss is all about. I’d also like to give credit to the fabulous narration by Jonathan Cecil. I’m not sure if it’s deliberate, but I hear echoes of Fry and Laurie in his performance, and I heartily approve. I will certainly seek out more unabridged versions read by him.

The Murders of Richard III by Elizabeth Peters This is the second in the Jacqueline Kirby series of mysteries. I haven’t read the first, and wouldn’t normally begin with the second, but the book promised an English country mansion plus “fanatic devotees of King Richard III” so my usual routine flew right out the window.

Even before university lecturer Thomas Carter likened himself unto Watson, I’d noticed the similarities between how this tale is told and the Sherlock Holmes stories. We are never permitted inside Jacqueline’s head. Instead, we see her how Thomas, hopeful of one day securing her romantic affections, views her. It’s fairly interesting, actually, because Thomas’ opinion of her fluctuates, sometimes peevishly. “You drive me crazy with your arrogance and your sarcasm and your know-it-all airs,” he says at one point. And though he soon after claims “I’m no male chauvinist; I don’t mind you showing off,” the fact is that earlier he was grumbling inwardly about her feigning “girlish ignorance” to reel in mansplainers and then walloping the “unwitting victim” with a cartload of knowledge. It’s true that Jacqueline isn’t especially likeable sometimes, but for remorselessly trouncing the sexist louts she encounters throughout the book, I must commend her!

The mystery itself is somewhat bland, unfortunately. The leader of a Ricardian society has received a letter purportedly written by Elizabeth of York, which would exonerate Richard of the deaths of her brothers, the “princes in the tower.” He calls a meeting of the society, with each attendee costumed as one of the historical personages involved, and summons the press, planning to unveil his find with much fanfare. But someone begins playing practical jokes on the Ricardians reminiscent of the fates of the people they are pretending to be. The book isn’t a long one, and soon the pranks start coming right on the heels of one another. Because of the swift pace—and some shallow characterization—the solution is rather anti-climactic.

Still, while I’m not sure I’ll seek out any more Jacqueline Kirby mysteries, this was overall a decent read.

A Perfect Match by Jill McGown The series of books featuring Detective Inspector Lloyd (whose first name is a secret for now) and Detective Sergeant Judy Hill begins with a short yet enjoyable mystery in which a wealthy young widow is found dead in a small English town on property she’d just inherited from her recently deceased husband. Unlike some mysteries of which I am fond, there’s no preamble where readers get to know the victim or the circumstances of their life. Instead, immediately there’s a policeman discovering the body and then Lloyd turns up to question the victim’s next of kin. This same lack of character development hampers the romantic tension between Lloyd and Hill, leaving me with no idea what motivated Hill to finally decide to act on her feelings for him, betraying her marriage vows in the process.

The mystery itself is interesting enough, however, involving long-married Helen and Donald Mitchell who have ties to both the victim, Julia—her late husband was Donald’s older brother and Helen thinks they were having an affair—and chief suspect, Chris, originally a friend of Donald’s who has fallen in love with Helen. I can’t claim to have mustered anything more than a mild curiosity as to what the outcome would be, but neither did I guess the specifics, so that was good. I liked the interrogation scenes, too.

McGown’s writing had some fun moments. I loved the super-evocative imagery of Lloyd telling Hill that her new perm makes her look like Kevin Keegan. I also really appreciated a recurring bit where each chapter ends with the point of view of wildlife. When Chris is eventually brought in by the police, his arrest is depicted from a bird’s perspective, for example. There are also ducks, a moth, a fly, a cat… I don’t know if this device recurs in later books in the series, but I look forward to finding out.

Reconstructing Amelia by Kimberly McCreight This is the second mystery/thriller I’ve read in which a single mom who is a lawyer with a cold and unfeeling mother of her own attempts to work out the mystery of what happened to a family member (the other being Girl in the Dark by Marion Pauw). Is that some kind of trend these days?

Kate Baron has a demanding job at a swanky firm, but she’s trying her best to be a good mom to her fifteen-year-old bookworm daughter, Amelia. She’s shocked to get a call from Grace Hall, the prestigious private school Amelia attends, saying that her daughter has been accused of cheating, and by the time she makes her way to the school, Amelia has evidently jumped to her death from the school roof. The police are only too happy to classify her death as a suicide, but when Kate gets a text that says “Amelia didn’t jump,” she starts trying to put together the pieces of what happened.

Reconstructing Amelia has quite a few problems. Despite her better judgment (and a promise to her best friend), Amelia joins a clique of bitchy girls at school who end up publicly humiliating her and trying to get her expelled when she falls in love with someone deemed off-limits. It’s hard to muster sympathy for what she ends up going through when one remembers the cruel prank she was willing to pull on someone else as part of the initiation process (largely kept off-camera to keep us from disliking her too much, I guess). We’re repeatedly told about the great relationship Amelia and her mom share, but never shown it. The subplot about Amelia’s dad is the literary equivalent of wilted lettuce. And the fact that the new detective who gets assigned to the case allows Kate to question suspects is absolutely ludicrous.

And yet, I couldn’t hate the book, largely because of Amelia’s friend, Sylvia. For much of the book she comes across as shallow and self-absorbed, but when Amelia really needs her, she’s there. She gives Amelia this tour of “great moments at Grace Hall” to cheer up her impressive pal, right before breaking down about her own legitimate pain. I never would’ve thought at the outset that I would have such immense sympathy for Sylvia, but I do. I find myself hoping that she’ll be okay.

Shutter Island by Dennis Lehane It sure is nice going into a book unspoiled, particularly one as twisty as Shutter Island. I was quite happy with the book as it began, with U.S. Marshals Teddy Daniels and Chuck Aule taking the ferry to Shutter Island to track down a patient missing from Ashcliffe Hospital for the Criminally Insane. It’s late summer 1954, and these guys are manly but accessible, and surprisingly funny. Consider this relatiely early exchange that cracked me up:

Pretentious Doctor: *makes remarks on the lives of violence the marshals must lead* Chuck: Wasn’t raised to run, Doc. Pretentious Doctor: Ah, yes. Raised. And who did raise you? Teddy: Bears.

For a while, all seems straightforward. Then Teddy confides to Chuck that he’s actually come there looking for a patient named Andrew Laediss, who was responsible for setting the fire that killed Teddy’s wife two years before. Gradually, one starts to doubt everything (and there was a point where all of the uncertainty got to be a little much for me) but the ultimate conclusion is a very satisfactory one.

Why Did You Lie? by Yrsa Sigurdardottir Set in Iceland, Why Did You Lie? starts out with three different storylines taking place a few days apart. The first involves a photographer on a helicopter journey to take pictures of a lighthouse on a rock in the middle of the ocean, the second is about a policewoman whose journalist husband has recently attempted suicide, and the third is about a family who returns from a house swap with an American couple to find some of their stuff missing and weird footage on the security camera. Of course, as the book progresses, these storylines converge, and it’s pretty neat when the police activity the helicopter flew over in chapter one turns out to be almost the culmination of the policewoman’s plot thread.

For some reason, I can’t help wondering how Ruth Rendell might’ve written this book. I think Rendell would’ve done a lot more with characterization, for one thing. There’s certainly some here, especially for the anxious husband who struggles to make his wife admit something really has gone wrong with their houseguests, but the primary concern seems to be getting on with the suspenseful action. Quickly, each plot features some kind of creepy lurker and then ominous notes (variations on the “why did you lie?” theme) figure in to all three, as well. Nina, the policewoman, digs around and talks to people and works out that everything connects to a supposed suicide from thirty years ago.

The result is certainly an entertaining book, but not one I could really love. One major issue I had is being able to predict something very significant. The number of characters who could’ve been angry enough about the 30-year-old lies in question to terrorize people in the present is very small. And once the existence of a certain person is oh-so-casually mentioned two-thirds through the book, I thought, “Oh, well, it’s them, then.” And then a little later, I figured out which of the characters it must be and I was right. This made for an anticlimactic ending that was clearly meant to be a shocking one. Also, I would’ve liked to have cared more that one character ends the novel poised to move on with life but, in reality, still in jeopardy.

I still would read more by this author, though.

By: Michelle Smith

[mydearsaddiary]

 This is a Speakeasy Tonight fanfic on how I imagined Neil Season 3 would go like. This is chapter 2, here’s a link to chapter 1: https://mydearsaddiary.tumblr.com/post/618558632607514625/neil-season-3-chapter-1-1933-little-curiosity

WARNING: Includes a hot scene and mention of drug use

Little curiosities: Hey guys!, this chapter we’ll be traveling to Columbus! MC’s family will be here and Neil will meet them, but younger sister Hazel gets the spotlight here!

Author notes: This chapter is a bit longer but I hope you guys enjoy it! Thank you for your feedback on Chapter 1! I plan on continuing this story and posting as much as I can! If you like this story please like and reblog!

-Candy, My Dear Diary (05/21/2020)

Neil Season 3

Chapter 2- I love you, my dear sibling. Even when you irritate me.

1926

-It’s not that small-Neil said, looking incredibly uninterested on his first look of the town. He carried our luggage, after all I could still take some advantages of being a lady. We walked out of the Columbus Train Station and into the cab I signaled to

-Whaddya expect? Dairy farms and corn fields? - I teased him getting myself comfortable in the taxi seat. I knew those were around not too far from Columbus, but I wasn’t going to let him win

-From the way you talked about it, I really thought it was the middle of nowhere- He closed the door on his side. However, he couldn’t keep his cynical façade for long. I did catch him trying to take a peek outside- It’s definitely not Boston, or Chicago.

-There’s the Armory me and the others used to beat our gums about nothing for hours, besides wetting our whistles- I whispered that last part- It’s a bit far but you can see it there! Oh, and there’s the church Momma would take us to every Sunday. It’s your mighty luck we’ll be scrambling out of here before Sunday an-

I turned around to notice he wasn’t paying much attention to me. His right leg was restless and he rested his chin on his hand, fixated on what looked like nothing outside

- Are you alright? - I asked, he didn’t reply right away and just gave me a blank stare. I noticed outside the sights changed from a more commercial area to rows and rows of houses, and then it dawned on me- Are you… Is the calm and steady Dr. Dresner nervous to meet my parents? - I fluttered my lashes at him

He chuckled turning his head away again- Don’t get any ideas, tomato- He paused for a few seconds- I’m just missing my bourbon.

-I’ll say!-I couldn’t argue with that, I’m sure he did. For Momma and Poppa, Neil had to pretend to be the ritziest Boston Brahmin, high society upstage type, and the biggest bluenose they’ve ever seen. Lucky for Neil, he had plenty of experience. No morphine, no practicing medicine illegally and that also meant: No bourbon. For him, I bet the hardest part of all of it was the last one.

I had my job to do too. Uncle Charlie was supposed to turn me into Mrs. Grundy and my acting lessons from Elliot and playing the part for the temperance meetings sure made me the perfect Jane for the job. Thanks, Graham.

The taxi stopped in front of my childhood home. The houses were close together in Columbus, far apart enough for barely any privacy. As Neil once mentioned, the middle-class in me was very noticeable, and it was in the place I grew up too.

There it was, the humble castle. The white exterior presented everybody with windows and more windows along with the corny reddish-orange roof. I could see my old room’s window from the cab and it made me giggle with nostalgia from the times I snuck up there from my secret parties at night. Neil gave the cab driver his coin and went to get our luggage

While he played gentleman, I turned around to see the wooden-colored door open and Momma along with Edith and Hazel appear. I could see Poppa and Oliver, Edith’s husband, right behind the excited dames.

I chose the right outfit to impress my parents, a long sleeve loose dress that ran its course to right below my knees. It was cream-colored with some rose flowers on its pattern. At the hip it had a bow that matched the one on my rose-colored chicken-platter hat. My delicate heels were the same rose color. From her eyes I could see Momma appreciating the finesse

Neil carried our bags behind us as I walked towards the porch to greet them

-Mary Catherine!- Momma yelled. Gee, she made me sound like an old bug-eyed Betty.

-Heya, Momma!- I smiled giving her a hug- I sure did miss you guys-I stepped away looking at everyone else- Edith!- I went to her next- I thought I’d have to go over to your house to see you

-I thought I’d make it easy for you-She smiled hugging me

-That’s a lie, Mary, Edith wouldn’t stop talking in my ear until we were here- Oliver, the only stuffed bank fella to ever look like a redneck, came by her side and she took his arm.- Nice to see you back- He should tell that to Sweeney. We particularly never got along.

-Well, couldn’t stay away for too long! - I replied to him, turning my attention to Edith again- You’re glowing aren’t you? And starting to show too, have you thought about names yet?

-No, not yet. We thought we’d wait a little- She said and I was happy for her. Her eyes started to shine at the mention of her pregnancy. The thought scared me. I couldn’t put myself in her shoes right now and still imagine me with a grin like that on my face

-I got you something- I gave her the little bag from the maternity shop I had chosen with Cleo

-Thank you, MC- She held it close to her body- It’s beautiful- She smiled- We all missed you. I’m glad you’re staying with us for a few days

Momma interrupted us with Poppa asking me about Chicago, I told them Uncle Charlie regretted not being able to be there and Poppa mentioned I had to tell the “old geezer” he was coming to pay a visit to him in Chicago soon.

-MC- Edith said- You’ve been keeping this fella a secret for long enough- She mentioned Neil

-I have, haven’t I?- I walked back to him, I couldn’t tell what he was feeling with that stone-face- Well, there’s someone I’d like you guys to meet- He put the our bags down and took his hat off to shake hands with Poppa and Oliver

Momma looked Neil up and down and anyone could tell she liked what she was seeing. Neil was from the high society and one could tell. I mentioned he was from Boston in the letter I wrote her, and I felt bad about having to paint such an upstanding snobbish figure of Neil. He understood it and didn’t complain about it once. Whatever did I do to deserve this man?

-It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Granger- He said. I don’t think Neil had much pleasure in meeting people like my parents. However, he knew everything about acting like he was raised. Although I do think they had a pass to be on his good side due to the fact they were my and Uncle Charlie’s family.

-Well, come on in. Dr. Dresner, right?-She said hurrying him inside. Uh… Hello? Daughter you haven’t seen in months?! Ugh, no use.

Neil sat down in the living room. The place seemed to be set to gossip, it reminded me of how Momma and her lady friends would sit on the relatively old sofas and seats around the coffee table to talk about the neighborhood and how the youth behaved extremely improper these days. Poppa would have his own seat by the radio, but right now, he was interested in the man I’d brought home with me as well. Even Edith and Oliver sat around him, but not Hazel. She was still outside

Her eyes looked down and she was as further away from the party as she could be. I took my hat off hanging it in the coat rack by the door, then made my way to her

-You look so blue people would think you’re the summer sky- I sat next to her on the porch- What’s eating you, Hazel? Didn’t you miss me?

-I missed you MC… Or do you go by Mary now?-She looked at me, reluctant and reserved

-You just call me how you always did- I snuggled up to her- Momma and Poppa have been giving you too much trouble?

-And how! Since you went away, Ted’s been inviting me for dances. It’s fun and all but now they are watching me closely so I can never stay too late- She shrugged- Guess life changes, even for you, huh?

-Whatever do you mean? - I distanced myself a little to be able to look at her face

-Well, I’m happy for you, MC. You know, you’re putting on the Ritz and everything- She motioned to my get-up- Almost didn’t recognize you

-Hazel, you must know I’m just putting on a show for Momma and Poppa

-Yeah, says you! - She gave me an angrier look- You brought in the high class, ritzy man, Boston Brahmin Doctor. Bet he has a deep pocket to go with it too. Momma and Poppa are all over him. Edith, you, and now they’ll be expecting me to marry some boorish stuffed fella

-Neil isn’t like that, Hazel- I took her arm- I’m sorry things have been hard for you. But I’ll tell you not to change who you are. I am the same MC that left. Say, how about I take you out for a spin tonight to the armory, after dinner? We can say we’re going to the movies. Well, if you don’t mind Neil coming along

She looked up at me- Really? Stuffed-shirt is going to go for that?

-He ain’t the bluenose you think he is- I giggled lowly- We’ll keep it secret, like old times.

-Alright-She smiled brighter this time, a little disconcerted, like she was embarrassed about something- So you really didn’t go off to turn into some Mrs. Grundy

I hugged her- Same little old me- I got up- Well, I better rescue Neil from the claws of Momma and Poppa

However when I went inside, Neil seemed to be doing just fine without me. He sat and talked about his Med school, how he went on to the war (But he kept it clean, nice and short), and how he came back and finished school and went to work. He basically told them everything everyone already knew about him and nothing else. He mentioned how he took care of Uncle Charlie and the neighborhood around and that’s how he met me. He painted a pretty picture of how respectable I was. Made me think of how many times he had to do that when he was younger

I sat by his side and even Hazel joined us- I hope they aren’t tiring you out

-Can it, Mary Catherine, he was just updating us on Charlie- Momma said

Poppa then spoke- Charles really got you on the straight and narrow. This one’s got my blessing- He shook his hand all Rotarian-like and Neil shook it back like it meant something- Charles tells me you’ve been working with the Temperance folks up in Chicago?- He asked wanting a confirmation from my own lips

-Yes, I go to the meetings when I can. Uncle Charlie can’t handle going to them anymore because of his health so I go instead. I have been helping him around the appliance store too.

-Oh, look at our girl, Eddie- Momma said looking like the cat who ate the canary- I’m so proud of you- It really looked like she was going to cry. Seems like she really thinks I just found my way back to heaven again- You take care of our little girl, now, you listen!

Neil nodded- I’ll take care of her- He said in a low tone, but looked at me and gave me a secret small smile, the one that let me know all was right in the world

However, with my traditional parents it meant me and Neil had to sleep in separate rooms, but it didn’t mean we had to be separated all the time when they weren’t looking. I declared I wanted to take a nap since I was tired from the trip and Neil suggested he was doing the same if they didn’t mind. Momma hushed us to go “to be all rested up for dinner”. I left my bags in my old bedroom. It now gave me a weird feeling, like I wanted to be out of there as soon as possible, so that’s what I did

I knocked softly on the spare room’s door Neil was staying in and walked in. He gave me a side smile and I closed the door behind me. I had a more comfortable dress in my hand which I put on top of the dresser- Thought I’d change in here

He answered coming up to me, pulling me close and kissing me deeply- Awfully dangerous to do that now, since I worked so hard on building a good reputation for your parents.

I laughed- Sorry. But the worst is over, right?

-If you say so. How likely is it we’re going to get away with this?- I could see the fire in his eyes

-Shh- I put my finger up to his lips, listening. I could hear Poppa listening to the radio and Momma talking to Edith and Oliver downstairs, activities they’d could be engaged in for at least an hour. Hazel wasn’t much to worry about- If we’re quiet, I’d say we got about forty minutes, it’s not much time…

-Plenty of time- He whispered crashing his lips onto mine. The feeling was electric. His hands on my lower back pulled me closer and roamed around that area with urgency. I don’t know if it was the excitement of hiding away and doing something that would get us in so much trouble if we got caught, but I was burning up inside. From the way Neil unzipped my dress he was too.

He pulled it down so aggressively the zipper came off in his hands and he had to force the dress open the rest of way. I would’ve cared if for it being expensive if I wasn’t so lost in him at the moment

We breathed heavily in between hot and desperate kisses as he basically teared my dress out of me in one quick strong pull. I swear I heard it rip before it fell on the floor. He picked me up and I was sure his strong hands were leaving marks on my thighs where he held me.

He put me down on the bed, this time kissing my neck. I made him back away to start working on his clothes. I undid his tie, throwing it away. Next I got rid of his jacket. His impatient hands got rid of his shirt and undershirt while I undid his belt and pushed his pants down.

It wasn’t long before there was nothing more in between us, only my stockings remained on my legs, but without their support they were soon falling out. Neil kissed, licked and touched everywhere he could. I breathed loudly, too loudly. When he got to work around my most sensitive area I let not just a gasp but a moan come out.

-Quiet-He said from down below in a demanding tone

-I’m trying- I whispered back. He knew he wasn’t making it easy for me and I knew he enjoyed knowing that. I placed my hands on my mouth as he continued his work. His tough grasp on my legs weren’t helping either. I wanted to scream and just let everything out.

He did something that made another noise escape from me. This time I looked down and I could meet his fiery eyes. Something in them had more fire than before- I told you to stay quiet- His tone of voice and the look he gave me made me weak on the knees.

He backed away to turn me around to lay on my stomach and I could feel his weight on top of me- Since you can’t keep your mouth shut, seems like I’ll just have to do it for you- He whispered in my ear, and I felt his strong right hand cover my mouth completely

And then we were one in our repeated motions. The only noise now was from our bodies colliding, which somehow he made it not loud but the feeling still feel just as deep. I was still sure I was moaning, but Neil’s hand on my mouth prevented the sound from going any further. It was hard to breathe and I could feel his hot breath on my neck as he moved.

The feeling grew higher and higher until it reached its peak and I knew I’d be crying out his name if it wasn’t our need for discretion, which he enforced by his hand still on my mouth

Even as we quiet down our panting, I didn’t want to leave just yet. My head rested on his chest. A thought occurred to me and I turned around to grab my dress on the floor. This thing was just rags now!

-Hey, buster!- I turned around to show him- You owe me a new dress.

-I’d say it was worth it-His smug face looked pleasantly satisfied and I threw the pillow on his face, to which he whispered an “Ow!” and threw it away on the bed – Alright, fine. But I’m getting you something from Boston.

-Oh, something too expensive for my shallow pockets?-I teased sitting up, putting on the other dress I thankfully brought into the room

-I’m not really a person to give presents around, so take it and don’t say anything about it

-Fine, Doctor. Get dressed. We’re going out- I fixed my hair on the mirror

-To where, exactly?- He looked at me this time- I thought we were staying here for dinner

-We are, and then after we’re taking Hazel down to the Armory

-God forbid you take me to one of those bathtub gin escapades you used to go to- He started getting dressed himself either way- What is that fella name you used to date, “Teddy” was it? You want me to go meet up with nineteen-year-old Teddy and fit in with the youth?

-Don’t worry he’s not nineteen anymore, he’s twenty- I said it like it made it any better

-It’s out of question, MC-He gave me that stern look he thought could convince me as something. He knew I was stubborn

While we got ready for dinner we fought back and forth about it and we ended up in “Yes, you’re going, even if I have to put a leash on you and walk you out.”

----

Dinner was uneventful. Me and Poppa talked about Uncle Charlie some more and I gave Poppa the letter he gave me. Then came Momma asking the big question

-So, when is the wedding?

I looked at Neil then back at her- Well, I was thinking maybe we should wait until the cold went away, like late April or May. It’d give us enough time to plan everything and not have to get married in the cold.

-Why wait that long?! People start talking if you’re engaged for too long!-She complained and Edith agreed- Besides, are you planning on marrying here in Ohio?

-We were thinking about Chicago, Momma- I didn’t want to make any big moves about the whole situation and Chicago felt like home, but I still needed an excuse that’d convince them- Uncle Charlie took really good care of me and now I’m helping him out. I’d like for him to attend the ceremony too, but with the health and all he can’t travel much.

-Well, Momma- Edith started- It’d give us a chance to go see his place up in Chicago, get out of the state and go visit the big city!

-Heh, that ain’t so bad- Poppa said- Chicago seems like a nice place to have it. That old geezer Charles better be looking sharp when we go

-I still think it should be sooner, Mary Catherine- Momma said, but before I continued to disagree she talked again- But, I understand. As long as it doesn’t take any longer than that.

-You got it Momma!

----

After dinner I dragged my cat Neil on a leash to the car. I told Momma and Poppa the three of us were going to a movie night. He said we could borrow his old jalopy and didn’t even give us a time to come back. I think he felt weird giving a thirty-two year old a curfew.

-Well, you take care of this one-He said to Neil pointing to me- And our little Hazel, it will do some good her spending time with you all. She can be a lot though

-I’m sure Mary will be able to handle her- Neil said. Didn’t like any responsibilities he didn’t care about put on him.

-Yeah, I’m sure- He looked at me and I agreed. After all he did believe my change to the bluenose side

Me and Neil waited for Hazel in the car, who said she’d come in a minute

-Your sister, she… She seemed restless today, like something was bugging her- Neil started

-Oh, Momma and Poppa have been hard on her. I told you before, they interfere with her life all the time now

-No, it’s not that- He had a weird look on his face- It’s… Never mind

-C’mon, spill it out

-It’s, the shakiness, the goosebumps on her arms, she was sweating like she was the Niagara Falls.

-You know I don’t speak doctor, right?-I looked at him, now worried. I was with her, but I didn’t notice those things- You think she’s sick or something?

-No. But I know the symptoms of withdrawal when I see it.

-Withdrawal? That’s applesauce! - I looked at him in disbelief- You think she’s hooked on morphine?

-Morphine is hard to get, you need a prescription or access to it like I had. If I’m right, it’s something easier to get

-I think you’re over the edge here. Hazel was always crazy, but she never did anything worse than I’d done

-If you say so-He turned his attention to outside- You know her better than I do

Hazel came outside looking ritzy, wearing a nice dress, lipstick and everything. She went in the back and yelled- Well, let’s scram!

Neil started to drive and I turned to talk to her, occasionally stopping to give him directions

-You’re all dolled up! Is there someone you’re trying to impress?- Realization dawned on me- You have a beau!

-Well, we started seeing each other a while ago. It’s not just for fun, but I ain’t gonna go and get hitched like you!

-Who is it? Do I know him?-I was interested. Neil on the other side drove in silence, like he tuned out the whole conversation

-Well, yeah, actually…

-It’s not Johnny Phelps is it?-I looked at her disapprovingly- You carried a torch for him before and he always seemed like trouble to me

-Martin Phelps’s little brother? No! I only had to go on one date with him to realize he was a flat tire

-I’ll say! Well, who is it then?

-Well, it’s Denby…-She shrugged, this time she was blushing- A few weeks ago he told me he thought I was always hotsy-totsy

-Teddy’s little brother Harry? I mean… He’s alright, but he always seemed like a goody-goody, I never even imagined him hanging around your crowd

-No… Not Harry, Theodore. We have been going out and-

-Teddy Denby?! You have been going out with Teddy?

-We’re not just going out, MC, we’re steady too. The real thing!

Neil snorted- Seems like he’s going around the family

-Hazel Rose Granger, you are not going steady with Teddy Denby!

-Why not? Just because you went out with him in high school once and then like three other times after that? I thought you guys were history

-Of course that’s history, Hazel but he’s a real flat tire too!

-Might have been for you, he treats me well.

I knew Teddy enough to know what he was like. He didn’t treat no girl like a lady and he definitely was after getting under skirts

-Tell me you didn’t sleep with him!

-How’s that any of your beeswax?- She retorted.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Neil had become more entertained with our conversation, even though I know what he was thinking about it.

-Ugh!- I turned around- Neil, turn left here! You’ll see a HUGE armory, there’s no way to miss it! Big huge double doors!- I said with a bummed out emphasis on my voice, turning back to Hazel- Teddy Denby ain’t a real man

-People can change, MC. I don’t know why you’re making such a huge deal out of it.

I didn’t have any more energy to discuss with someone as stubborn as I was, so I let her be, besides, Neil parked in front of the armory. I let Hazel go ahead in front of us and into the big space

-So, this is the object of your doom- Neil said

-It sure is, but you wouldn’t really fit in with the crowd. I used it more as an excuse to make Hazel happy and get you out to show you around for a bit!

Neil and I were gone for about an hour. He seemed a relieved I didn’t drag him into a teenager/young adult party where he wouldn’t fit in. It was all dance and no bourbon. But I dragged him to have dessert in one of my favorite ice cream spots in town. Even though Columbus didn’t burst like Chicago it still had its night life.

Once we were back to pick up Hazel I opened the double doors on the armory, revealing the party happening inside. The people were all around my age. A Victrola was set up that played hot jazz, some of the kids stole liquor from their parents houses or paid bootleggers to give them some. It was always watered down so everyone could drink it. They’d dance and drink and there were petting and necking parties everywhere. Some of the kids would go out in cars and their necking would evolve to more than that. Teddy Denby tried it on me a couple times, but I’m glad I saved myself for Neil. There were about fifty or some kids there, I recognized most of them as kids I went to school with

-It’s a playground- Neil said- It’s literally a playground

-Make fun of me, will ya? I had to have my fun the only way I knew how!-I crossed my arms looking for Hazel

-Well, let’s get your sister and get out of here.

-That’s all fine, but I don’t see her

I scanned the room and someone came up to me- Look who’s back into town!- Tall, brown-haired and blue-eyed. Great, just who I wanted to see- MC Granger. Missed us?- She looked past me and gave Neil and appreciative look. Ugh, she was always a little floozy- Who’d you bring here?

-Neil. Meet Millicent Shumway- I said with a tone in my voice that indicated I wanted her to go away

-Pleasure, mister- She said extending her hand

-Juliet from English class, right?-Neil talked to me and ignoring her hand, but she continued like he talked to her

-Oh, MC was always jealous she didn’t read as well as I did- She replied. Gosh, she was still just as childish. I didn’t like her, but I wasn’t going to start a Dumb Dora contest over here with her, not in front of Neil anyway

-Did you see my sister?-I decided to make use of her if she wasn’t going away

-Hazel? Little poor thing fell in the spell of your ex-squeeze.

-Yeah, I did hear she and Teddy were seeing each other, that wasn’t the question though. Where is she?

-Seeing each other? Guess you didn’t hear the whole thing

-The whole thing?

-Teddy asked Hazel to marry her. They worked it out with his parents, they were planning on going tomorrow to go tell your folks

I was at a loss for words. Didn’t she say this was a couple weeks ago?- You’re over the edge! Marry her?!

-Yeah. Rumor is she’s got the bun in the oven. That’s why they’re going so fast at it

My expression got darker and darker- Applesauce! Where is she?!

-She and ol’ Teddy were necking before going out on his Model T. They screw every night. She’s definitely pregnant

I didn’t even stay to talk to her any longer turning to go outside, but Hazel and Teddy came back in from the back, cuddling too much. She was in disarray, dress all messed up along with her make up. She was definitely jazzed and so was he, but it was obvious what they were doing in that car

-Hello Hazel, how was your stay on the hotel on wheels?

-MC Granger!- Teddy Denby looked surprised at me. He had this characteristic blush on his face that appeared there when he drank. Teddy was a handsome young man, that’s why I had the hots for him when I was in high school and why many girls did too. He was always a sheik among the girls. He was not as tall as Neil, but he was still taller than most. He had a handsome face, bright green eyes and a light brown hair that turned blonde in the sun, he always had a wicked smile on his face that made the girls swoon. We all were under the spell of the “bad boy”. He liked to play gangster and do illegal things because it made him feel powerful. No one could blame Teddy Denby for wanting to be a little rebellious, he was young. However, nothing was just a little with him

-I didn’t know you were back into town-He looked embarrassed

-Well, here I am Teddy. Sure been keeping my sister company- This time I turned to her- What’s this I hear about you getting married?

-Who told you that?-Hazel looked too surprised to me

-Millicent didn’t hide anything, is it true?

Teddy opened his mouth this time- Who said anything about marriage?

Neil observed from behind me, he left but I didn’t even notice out of madness and disbelief

-Hazel, we’re going home! Right now!-I grabbed her hand and left Teddy Denby behind. I got in the car and she got in after me. It was the first I noticed about Neil being gone, but as soon as my eyes looked for him, he opened the door in the car and got into the driver’s seat- Can you take us for a spin around town? Just drive us around and I’ll tell you the way to go home from wherever we are- He didn’t make a fuss about it and did as he was told

My attention turned to Hazel now- Start spilling! You have a lot to clear up

-Alright, alright!- She shifted uncomfortably- I don’t need you on my case too- I was about to yell again but she got the message loud and clear and started talking, very agitated- I’ve always had a thing for Teddy Denby, alright! But you were always around him and all that and I wasn’t just about to steal my sister’s squeeze. But a little while before you moved to Chicago you said Teddy Denby was a killjoy and you didn’t like him so I thought when you were gone I knew there wouldn’t be no hard feelings because you weren’t interested in him anyway! After a while, I went after him and told him I liked him and he asked me out on a date three days later. It’s just the two of us together, we’re not seeing anyone else. It’s steady.

I breathed more calmly this time- Teddy isn’t a great guy Hazel, but… Who am I to say what you can and can’t do- I turned around- So that’s it huh? You’ve been going out and you fell for him? And he treats you nice? That’s all there is to it, no marriage or pregnancy?

-I thought you knew better than listen to Millicent Shumway, she was just trying to get a rise out of you. There’s no marriage and God, no pregnancy! And he does treat me nice

-Nicer than you’d imagine- Neil said, this time tossing me something wrapped in a cloth

I opened it and there was a glass bottle, and a… Syringe- What’s this?

-Heroin. – His tone was brute and simple and my heart sunk. Neil was right, Hazel was feeling the withdrawal symptoms earlier. I looked back at Hazel who had the ashamed look in her face again- I found it in his car when you’re having your sisterly conflict

I was at a loss for words, so Hazel talked instead- Teddy doesn’t use. He didn’t get me hooked on the dynamite. I found my own trouble.

-How long…?- I asked

-A few months. Some fella at a drug store corner said it’d was better than booze and I tried it once. I didn’t know it was bad

-You thought it was a toy, huh?- Neil said

-What do you know about it?!- She yelled at him- Perfect stuffed-shirt are you?

I was going to talk back to her but Neil said something first- It’ll be hard to be off it, but there’s a way. You sweat your way through it and you can go back to just doing your bathtub gin- Neil, Mr. Compassion for the sick, ill and the incapacitated. I imagined he felt for her, even though the circumstances of him being hooked on morphine weren’t the same as my sister and her case was pure stupidity, I think he was putting himself in her place- You want to be off it, don’t you?

-I do. It was fun the first night, I felt incredible. But then I thought that was all there was to it. The night after I felt pain, I couldn’t sleep, I felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest. I did it again and it eased it, since then I can’t stop doing it… It’s the only thing that eases me- She hugged herself- You’re not going to tell Poppa or Momma are you?

-We’ll be back in Chicago in a week and a half. We could convince your parents of you paying a visit to stay with Charlie for a week alone, it should be enough to get you started- I started telling Neil where to drive to as he talked- You pack your bags and I can get you off the worst part. You come back and you just have to keep it going. Think you can handle that till then?

-A trip to Chicago sounds just like what I need right now. Time away from the folks and all that- She sighed lowly looking at me

-If there’s anyone who can help you it’s Neil. I promise to keep it a secret if you work with us.

-Alright…- I could tell she didn’t know how to react, but it was always interesting to watch people appraise Neil when he started talking doctor- I can… I can hold on till then. Thank you Doc Dresner- She said as Neil parked in front of the house.

----

That night I was talking to him before we went to bed- You know you didn’t have to do that

-I’m a doctor, MC- And I knew what he meant when he said that. Duty. Can’t turn a patient away- Besides- He looked at me smiling this time- I’m also doing this for you too. She’s your family

I smiled back, knowing that Hazel was going to be okay now- Thank you- I hugged him, giving him a gentle kiss on his lips- I can’t believe her.

-“Old enough to find my own trouble. Not enough to know any better”- He reminded me of a conversation we had. That was Hazel, alright.

That was the most eventful night of Columbus. We spent a few more days going out and catching up with the family. It wasn’t long before it was time to go.

Everyone said their goodbyes, Momma, Poppa and Edith were still in awe of Neil. He talked to Hazel one last time about it, telling instructions to keep her in check until he saw her again.

I left Columbus that time with a much better feeling than when I left before. Even if it has its ups and downs it was a good feeling. One that made me prepared to face whatever Boston held in store for us

-Seems like your parents had your hands full with their daughters- Neil said when we got to the train station- Makes you wish ours don’t give us nearly as much trouble

-Ours…?-I blushed slightly

-Sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest that-

-No, no!- I cut him off- I was just surprised. We just never really talked about the future like that you know. This is the first time you mentioned kids, our kids- It was scary to think about kids right now, I’m not going to deny it. However, it was a warm feeling knowing Neil thought about our future together- But yeah, one day when we do have them, I would hope they don’t give us much trouble- I laughed- But with my genes, I’m sure all they’ll do is fight each other and create hell on earth

-If they have your genes, I’m sure they’ll be just as frustrating- He teased me and I hit him in the arm

1933

-Alton...- Charlie shook her older brother- Alton…!-She said it louder to wake him up

-What is it, Charlie?! I’m sleeping here!- He turned around to face the girl

-I’m sorry. I had a nightmare, can I sleep in your bed tonight?-She looked at him with big pleading eyes

-No! You shake too much and kick me off the bed when you do!- He turned back the way he was

Charlie shook him again- Please! I promise I’ll stay quiet, please, please, pretty please!

He turned around again- Alright, fine!- He lifted the covers and she went underneath them

-Thanks, you’re the best brother ever, Alton. Don’t tell Luke I said that!

-I know! Go to bed, I’m tireeeed!- He closed his eyes again

-I love you, Alton- She said, now closing her own eyes

-… I love you too, Charlie.

Little curiosities: I thought I’d tell you guys a little sneak peek into the next chapter! MC and Neil are going to Boston next before returning to Chicago. In Boston they’ll meet Neil’s family and the high society! Neil’s mother, father, his siblings Lucille, Maude and Warren and Neil’s ex-fiancée Lillie, who’s is Lucille’s best friend and Cornelia’s Godmother. I also decided to make her Alton’s younger sister in this story! After Columbus, the whole gang will participate in the story and the speakeasy business story will be back! (Along with a quick visit from Hazel)

Author’s note: Thank you guys so much for reading this chapter! I hope you guys are enjoying it and as always, like, reblog and send me any private messages with suggestions, criticisms or any comments! Love y’all!

[henrohenry]

The man with the red cups

CW: Violence, Abuse

There is a world in which hands are no longer used. 

Hands have become a distant memory. When a freak virus happened causing people to lose their hands the world simply adapted to fusing solo cups on their infected nubs to prevent the infection from spreading to others. However as time went by, most of the world simply lost it’s need for hands, children were born with cups instead of hands now. In this way society overcame its challenges and so began a class system based on cup color. Red and Yellow cups were the most common cups to be seen and were therefore lower in this system. Green cups were less common, but were still seen fairly often making them the middle class of society. The most rare cup type to be born with was blue. The higher class of society, blue solo cups took on the weight of only producing the best offspring they could manage. They were the ones to only marry and have children with others like them, which were harder to find and they often intermingled with the lower classes and simply lived happy lives. This however was not the case for two such people. Their names were Mia Tringo and Danny Talon, forced into an arranged marriage by their parents they produced a son. His name was Jimmy Talon. When he was born the rank of the talon family was brought down my tenfold. For he was born with red cups instead of blue. Outraged by this genetic mishap, Mia and Danny resented their son, calling him a freak of nature and neglecting him as he grew up.  Though Jimmy was only a child he was bullied and beaten up for his cup color, the children at the boarding school he went to often making fun of him and  torturing him endlessly. Only for him to go home and receive the same treatment there. One day, after saving up for months, Jimmy took his money to the craft store and bought a large can of blue paint. He rushed home to his room and dipped both of his hands into the bucket until they were coated in blue paint. He waited for them to dry and ran downstairs to his parents. “Mommy, Daddy look at my hands, they are blue like yours now!” He chirped out excitedly. Mia and Danny looked at their son in disgust and scoffed. “Go clean your hands. You will never be like us and until you die you’ll regret the way you were born.” Danny spit at him. After that day Jimmy decided he was never gonna be made fun of again for his cup color. He began to get stronger, working out past his body's limits. He began fighting anyone for bullying him, coming home bloody and beaten, only bringing his family's status lower. Once he had graduated from high school, Jimmy decided he had enough of his parents abuse. He could have simply left or even moved far far away. However, he instead chose to kill. Years of abuse and torment had turned him cold. One night, after everyone had fallen fast asleep, Jimmy snuck into his parents room and suffocated them both using a pillow...

After that he lived his life on the run. He eventually found a place where no one had cups for hands. A different world. He was happy there and so he stayed. There he made friends and slowly stopped killing those who hurt him, with some help of course. He learned not all worlds are bad, simply the one he was from was flawed.

[novantinuum]

Bi the Way...

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen

Words: 2.8K~

Pairings: Steven/Connie

Summary: Connie has a question, and also something to say.

Or: the one where Connie comes out as bisexual :D Set post Steven Universe: The Movie.

You can find the AO3 link in the reblogs! (I have to omit it from the original post these days to ensure this will show up in the tags.) If you enjoyed this, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos on AO3 as well.

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Bi the Way...

Outside the familiar coziness of Steven’s bedroom, the late autumn rain pours steadily, the choppy waters of the Atlantic crashing onto shore with a ferociousness Connie hasn’t seen for a number of months. Historically, Beach City has been blessed to be host to consistently good weather. But even the most consistently stable meteorological systems aren’t immune to the odd unexpected shake-up. It’s a necessity to clear the air with a great thunderous clap, sometimes. It relieves pressure that’s built up long term amongst the clouds. It leaves the atmosphere noticeably cleaner, the dirt below sparkling with that fresh scent that comes about after torrents of cool rain.

On this particular afternoon, she’s found that this is a lesson that holds just as true for people as it does the weather.

It begins with a stray comment, as things often do.

They’re watching TV, the two of them, tangled together on his bed. About once a week they’ll try to have one of these cuddle sessions, just some time alone together to relax and enjoy each other’s company in private. Working alongside a myriad of Gems to aid in the restructuring of an entire society can be excruciatingly stressful at points, and so can rigorous AP classes and the eye-rolling drudgery of high school drama. There’s no placing a hierarchy on these things for them, no matter their outward difficulty or importance, they’re all just... the challenges in life they have to win. And on occasion, they’re the challenges they need a quiet break from. Both of them are no stranger to throwing themselves at a problem and working endlessly towards a solution until they hit rock bottom and crash, but over the years they’ve started to recognize this tendency for the bad habit it is. It’s okay to take 'me' time, Connie’s constantly reminding Steven (and herself) whenever she catches him about to stubbornly sneak away to the galaxy warp with clear stress lines rimming his eyes. And without fail he’ll groan halfheartedly, knowing he’s been caught red-handed, and retire to his room to relax with a book or a board game or a few rounds of Lonely Blade: Resurgence instead.

Today’s workaholic distraction is a marathon of old Under the Knife episodes. It’s been a while since they’ve binged through this show, and when Steven brought it up and she started to feel super nostalgic about it, in a flash their entertainment for the afternoon was selected.

“Gosh, I honestly forgot how good this is,” he says in the middle of an episode, nudging her arm with his elbow. “The satirical nonsense, the passion, the drama? Eh?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty pulpy,” she giggles, nudging him right back. Then, directed at the unhearing characters on screen: “Ughh, Marigold, come on, just go out with him already! We all know you like him!”

“I can’t believe they kept this a slow burn for five entire seasons,” he comments, pursing his lips. “They’re literally perfect for each other!”

Connie throws her arms down against the mattress, palms stretched wide open. “I know, right?? Adrien’s like, a total dreamboat of a man.”

“Yeah, he is pretty cute,” Steven says, an unmistakable blush coloring his face and ears.

Connie pauses upon hearing this, gazing at her boyfriend thoughtfully with a soft smile as he continues to watch this old episode with the same level of investment he exhibited upon its first airing. He props his chin in the cradle of his hands, which of course only further exaggerates the curve of his chubby cheeks. His eyes are blown wide with youthful endeavor, the TV’s glow glinting against his irises in a myriad of continuously shifting colors. He is pretty cute, she thinks, his own adorably smitten words echoing through her mind. And then that blush...

There’s a question she’s had for quite a while but has never asked. Something she’s suspected of him, but had no concrete proof of. The reason? Even if they’re best friends, and now— boyfriend and girlfriend on top of that— the idea of asking him something like this just felt too... what’s the word... invasive. Not that there’s anything wrong with discussing this sort of stuff, no, no, of course not! That’s definitely not what she means. But talking about something as important as this, she just knows it would turn into an in-depth conversation, as most worldly topics tend to do with Steven Universe, and it’s only inevitable this conversation would eventually turn back on her. On why she cared to ask in the first place. And that answer was... well, straightforward, but something she’s not sure she’s ready to broadcast. As if she’s taken command of but a single fragment of Garnet’s future vision, in her restless mind she’s already mapped out what feels like every possible response he could have to her. Most of them are no more than anxiety laced fabrications, things he would never ever dare think of with his upbringing, but believe her when she says she’s been burdened with considering every possible outcome in great, excruciating length.

Now that she knows for sure there’s a strong chance he’s the same way, however... that narrows down these possibilities significantly.

Connie threads her fingers together, gathering the courage.

Come on, you. It’s just Steven. No script, no planning, just... say it!

She opens her mouth to speak before her anxiety laden mind can beg to differ.

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask- do you like girls and guys?”

Steven glances away from the television set to meet her curiosity head on. “Oh, you mean like, romantically?”

Running in automatic, she nods in confirmation. Here she goes. The answer to both her spoken question, and the question of which river of possibility this conversation will careen down.

He grins, scratching at the side of his neck. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess I do! But I think I could like anyone, really. Guys, gals, none of the above. Doesn’t matter to me. That’s... okay, yes?”

“Silly, of course it’s okay! You don’t need my permission to like who you like. I just asked because I-“ Her heart pounds as she pauses briefly, focusing on the nervous jitters, but not in fear. Not anymore. Instead, that soft fluttering in her heart is nothing less than sheer exhilaration. She parts her lips once more, bravely speaking her inner truth into reality for the first time in her life. “I’m like that too. I... I’m bisexual.”

Her boyfriend’s whole expression lights up so bright she may as well be looking at a newborn star.

“Oh, really? That’s awesome!” he says, throwing an arm around her shoulder to side hug her. (Knowing him, his keen empathetic ability likely led him to sense the internal battle she waltzed through just to state this out loud.)

The forgotten soap opera continues to play in the background as Connie gives a bashful laugh.

“Hehe, glad you think so. You’re actually, um... the first person I’ve ever said that out loud to,” she says, blushing.

Steven looks as if he’s about to say something in response, but then he pauses— fades into a silence that’s deliberate and measured— as he gazes back at her. Drinks in the moment. Wonders how he could be so lucky to hold her trust like this, or how— heck, he could be thinking anything, she has no idea! Unlike him she can only catch small glimpses into how he feels, the truth woven like gossamer threads through his words and actions, but in this one hallowed moment she doesn’t need to guess. The spark of affection dancing within his dark eyes is soft, perhaps softer than he’s ever looked at her before.

More than anything, Connie feels seen. Years back, long before sword training and Gem missions, long before that fateful day she discovered the beautiful temple (it looked like it could very well be a Hindu goddess, and that cultural connection alone made this slice of beach instantly familiar) hidden on the other side of the hill and decided to park herself there with a book, she’d grown used to feeling invisible. Before she bravely chose to step into this world of magic, it’s as if she forgot that she even had a choice to stand out, to openly shine as the unique, extraordinary individual she is. Admittedly, she still struggles with that to this day. But whenever she’s with him, with her Steven? It’s as if her universe explodes into a kaleidoscope of dizzying color where everything is so, so beloved and worthwhile. She’s worthwhile.

She can only hope being with her makes him feel the same way.

“I know it’s silly after everything we’ve been though,” she continues in time, still having a few things on her mind she suddenly has an exhilarating need to set free, “but I always kinda worried that people... would belittle me for it, I guess. Especially my parents. That like, there’s some upper limit to the number of unusual things about my life they’ll accept.”

“It’s not that unusual, though,” Steven says with a shrug. “I mean, Ruby and Sapphire are legally married. Sure, the Gems aren’t exactly women, but they do present that way. And then Pearl was in love with Mom, of course. Oh, and Amethyst once told me, and I quote, that ‘like a whip, I swing in every direction.’”

Connie snorts at this, and even he can’t help but laugh.

“Let’s see, what else...” he muses, peering at the ceiling thoughtfully as he continues to list the queer individuals he knows of. “Jenny, Buck, and Sour Cream are all dating each other. Mr. Smiley finally reconnected for real with his old comedy partner, and they’re dating. And my dad may not be seeing anyone but he’s always been openly pansexual.”

“Well, it’s not usual in my family,” she says glumly, nestling her chin into his bed’s comforter as the terrifying possibility of rejection hits her harder than expected. Her glance roams. On the television screen, the episode they were watching had paused automatically, a message asking if they’re still there popping up. Clearly it’s been a while since anyone’s handled the remote. She blinks past tears, shame settling at the pit of her stomach for even daring to cry them when others have gone through so much worse, and you’re lucky, what do you even have to feel lost about, and suddenly she begins to feels shameful just for feeling shame, and what cyclical, bittersweet irony is that, and what’s wrong with her, why can’t she stop obsessing over distant possibilities that likely have zero chances of coming to pass, why can’t she—

Steven breaks through her downward spiral with a gentle hand on her shoulder, rubbing away the physical evidence of her stress. She melts into his touch, forever smitten by this kind of casual intimacy they get to experience together here, alone. It’s innocent, still merely the wandering hands of two teenagers barely beginning to break the boundaries between close friendship and romance, but when words fail she’s discovered that touch can be a language of its own. And right here, right now, she knows he’s talking her down from the mountain of anxiety she’s marooned herself on. He’s leapt effortlessly into the stormy sky and cradled her in his arms, ready to float back to Earth’s surface together.

Outside, the rain continues to slap in rhythmic sheets against the deck. She shivers. Maybe it’s in reaction to the gloomy weather beyond the sliding glass door, maybe it’s despite it. She has no idea.

Steven scoots forward on his belly a bit, and rolls to his side so they can talk face to face without turning their heads. During this, his shirt rides up— ever so slightly— ambient light catching on the lower facets of his gem. The reassurance found in that beautiful, familiar smile of his is dizzying. “Well, at least no matter what happens with your family, you have more than one, huh?“ he says.

“Yeah,” she breathes shakily, eyes glistening with emotion at the metaphorical hand he’s extending with that statement.

Hopefully it’ll never have to come to that, though.

“I do think my parents will be fine with it, if I ever do tell them,” she continues, dabbing the dampness from her eyes. “Especially my mom. She works with queer patients all the time at the hospital, so she’s pretty used to stuff like that. I just... get anxious sometimes.”

“Yeah, I get that. It’s tough dealing with identity stuff.”

She hums, mind immediately harking to the years he spent doubting his own personhood. Seeking any kind of physical connection she can get, she nuzzles her cheek against his forearm, which he’s currently leaning on. They lay there like that in comfortable silence for a good while. Steven, laying on his side, one hand lazily trailing through her wavy hair, and her, curled up close to his heartbeat, hugging his free arm.

“Hey, while we’re on the topic, can I ask you something?” he asks eventually.

She nods. “Anything.”

“How’d you distinguish bi from pan, when you were figuring all this out? I know they’re pretty similar, and my dad tried to explain it a while ago when I asked, but I still don’t exactly get the nuances.”

Connie shifts to sit up, pursing her lips as she considers her words here. She’s done a lot of research into queer identity in her time, checking out books from the school library and looking up stuff online on incognito mode, but there’s probably still a ton of holes in her knowledge. “Hmm, okay... so I’m no sole authority on any of this of course, but to the best of my knowledge bi means you’re attracted to two or more genders, and pan means you’re attracted to people, but like... their gender isn’t really a factor in the way you experience that at all? I‘m pretty sure? There seems to be a lot of overlap. From what I’ve read people just sorta pick whatever feels the best to them.”

“Huh, that makes sense,” Steven says. “So picking labels is kinda like fusion, then! Whenever I fuse, we decide our own name, and it’s sorta... based on a feeling, y’know?”

“Yeah! And like, with Stevonnie... Even though Amethyst kinda inspired the name, they still had to figure out who they were as a person on their own.”

“Exactly! And then, even if two fusions are made of the same gem types, they could still have different names because they’re different people, and that’s what they choose. Anyways, that’s just what this reminded me of,” he says, glancing up at her with a bashful smile. “Honestly... I don’t actually know how I identify.”

The corner of her lips edge upwards. “That’s fine,” she reassures him with a pat, “it took me a while to sort through all this stuff.”

“I really wanna figure it out, have a word for it, but nothing’s clicked yet. For a while I thought I was pansexual like my dad, but that didn’t quite... feel right. Like—“ he too shifts to sit up, folding his feet under his legs as he continues to speak— “I love getting to kiss you, but no offense, I don’t... know if I'll ever want to have- to do anything more than that, y’know?”

She snickers at his inability to simply say the word sex. He’s seventeen now, he knows full well what that is, yet still his faux innocence on the matter remains. It’s one of his charms.

“None taken. Love and attraction is a bizarre, complicated world.”

“You can say that again.”

“Bogus.”

“Whack,” he agrees with a playful grin. Reaching for the remote, he presses play a few times to wake up their streaming site. The episode starts up right where it left off, and they continue to watch together, the air somehow feeling sweeter after her much needed release of emotion.

The satirical medical drama quickly fades into the background, though, as Steven’s hand curls around hers.

“Hey,” he says quietly, blushing. “Even if I don’t know everything about labels yet, I do know one thing for sure.”

She raises a curious brow. “What?”

“I know I love you.”

And before she can open her mouth to respond in kind, he’s kissing her cheek, swooping in like a bandit just like she did for the first time all those months ago, and her heart swells with affection for this boy. He leaves her with one kiss, then two. At the exact moment she turns her head to reciprocate— to sneak a gentle kiss to his cheek right back— he turns as well and she ends up meeting him at the lips. It’s but a quick peck, but she's almost floating. The two of them stifle a laugh as they gaze at each other, their noses almost brushing together.

“Hey, it stopped raining,” he comments then, grinning against her cheek.

She drapes her arms around his shoulders, and hugs him close. Her eyes trail to the glass sliding door. The clouds outside are still thick, but after releasing their load they’re visibly lighter now.

“Yeah,” she breathes, feeling her muscles finally relax as she sinks into her best friend’s embrace. “Yeah, I guess it finally has.”

[metareview]

mindhunter sentence starters episode 3 - 4.

i'm gonna grab coffee. you want some?

how's your family?

since when did you care about any of that?

i'm adopting a façade of caring.

you want to dive right in?

i've read a lot about you.

sure, these men all have wives, kids, dogs, goldfish, but not because they stopped being psychopaths, but because they just had different leanings.

do you think they have the same underlying personality traits?

it's crazy in the way that anyone with a truly new idea is crazy.

that hasn't been the feedback we've gotten so far - actually, this is the only feedback we've gotten so far.

these men are just sitting here, locked up, and we're too afraid of the morality of it to see the far-reaching value of their insights.

i didn't realise this was so informal.

you think people would be interested in this outside of law enforcement?

imagine, like, truly imagine what it takes to bludgeon someone to death.

narcissists don't go to the doctor. psychopaths are convinced that there is nothing wrong with them.

i've spent enough time with him to know what it means when he gets that crazy look.

you know, this is really important work.

it's good to get some encouragement, even if our hands are tied.we realise this is somewhat unorthodox.

well, that's the last time we give them advanced notice.

ever feel like you're on the cusp of something and it keeps spinning out in your head?

did you smoke my pot?

not only is this exactly what we predicted, but he's getting a taste for it. there will be more.

your unsub will have bite marks.

guys in unhappy marriages have hair triggers. they lash out.

my bet is poor white trash.

well, now what has he done?

who the hell have you brought into my home?

just take a fucking moment to breathe.

you trying to suck me off?

what kind of fucking question is that?

don't you stick up for yourself?

what a bitch.

i think she actually likes me.

there's nothing behind his eyes. it's like standing near a black hole.

we're good at this shit, even if it turns my stomach.

guys in my high school always thought my mom was hot and it always really disgusted me.

i can't let these guys rub off on me - the way they view sex. and women.

if going down on me while i'm filing my nails is your idea of being kinky...--

i'm kinky. i'm very kinky.

i could impale you with this nail file.

you sound like you have a crush on teacher.

i'm teaching a class on the intersection of sociopathy and fame.

how do you get to be the president of the united states if you're a sociopath?

you think this might help?

what do you say we get down to brass tacks?

how did you choose your victims?

you want to diddle around, we'll walk out of here. we'll go have a nice leisurely lunch wherever the fuck we want, and then take the picturesque drive home.

what he's too polite to say is we're talking to men like you because we can't understand how someone could fuck up their life so completely before he's barely old enough to vote.

i gotta keep checking in or they send me back.

it's like the idea of doing it pops into your head like a - like a sneeze, you know what i mean?

your science buddy might have something there.

you don't expect us to buy your mercy horseshit.

he's an olympic-class bullshitter.

we just need to extract what's useful and discard the rest.

here's the fucking law, pal!

why am i so upset?

i didn't see it coming. you could've been killed and i didn't see it coming.

i feel like we're failing him somehow.

you have no idea what i'm trying to say, do you?

let's make that our term of art.

isn't that just life?

what else is a criminal except somebody who can't function in society?

why do i get the sense that 'reductive' is your worst insult?

i meant to say you were right.

i did not want to be in california, that's for sure. nobody wanted me there either.

when i was nine, i shot my cousin in the ass with that gun.

i got into all kinds of shit.

nobody wanted me. nobody on this earth ever wanted me.

you guys mind if i bother you a minute?

you don't think somebody local did this?

we shouldn't jump ahead of forensics, am i right?

we're gonna have to go over ground you've covered: witnesses, crime scene. we don't mean that as a challenge to you.

we're all on the same side.

i'm not trying to make you feel bad... maybe a little.

i'm curious why you're cutting this guy so much slack.

he's never seen this kind of thing before. he's rattled.

without a doubt, you have more experience, but why rub it in his face?

what did the killer see in her?

you need to be with family at times like this.

no apology necessary. we're all learning as we go.

events we process as good news sometimes hits these killers the wrong way.

sometimes the killer will insinuate himself into the investigation.

what kind of dog do you have?

if we want to find something out, we will.

i was scared the cops might want me for it, okay?

those wounds were inflicted posthumously.

you're not under arrest.

the idiot was with me the whole night.

nine times out of ten, it's the boyfriend, husband, somebody close.

can't say how much i appreciate all your help.

you're in the middle of an ongoing investigation?

my assumption is that you're good at your job, which means you're gonna be more focused on solving an actual crime than the theoretical work we're doing.

we can't end crime, no matter what we do.

the psychopath understands how to play his audience.

i'm trying to frame an overall taxonomy, except i don't know where to start.

the class is great, but he's obsessed with the meaning of shit.

all shit has meaning, man.

should i be jealous?

would i have invited her to go out with us if i was interested in her?

i've seen men do stranger things.

do you plan on getting married? having kids, the whole thing?

for a fed, he's not so bad at having a good time.

are you in law enforcement also?

i'm not intimidated being around women who are smarter than me.

he has a lot of flaws, but surprisingly, that's not one of them.

is there anything i need to know?

my job is to provide guidance and quite a bit of protection.

you have stepped outside of the shade of my umbrella and you are now exposed to direct sunlight.

so much for the protection i might have afforded you.

congratulations, i suppose.