#but actually. hey cicero. HEY CICERO. I HAVE SOME QUESTIONS. FOR YOU ACTUALLY---

[sforzesco]

Crassus, Caelius, Cicero, Catiline, Conspiracy

boy howdy these four sure are something. not featured in this soup of C names, Caesar! what on earth happened here.

Plutarch, Crassus

Sallust on Crassus, Ronald Syme

Patron and Client, Father and Son in Cicero's "Pro Caelio"

Crassus' New Friends and Pompey's Return, Eve J. Parrish

Catullus and His World, T.P. Wiseman

Cicero's Catilinarians, D.H. Berry

[aaami]

for the disaster duo and cute Faurin,what's their favorite food? And they can cook? same anon of the pokemon 😅 sorry for sending so many asks >////<

Don't worry, I don't mind answering to questions about them! Feel free to ask more whenever!!

Kajo likes pretty much anything sweet and could probably eat nothing but cakes for the rest of her life (if Cicero allowed her to). Her favorite "real" food is honey glazed meat and she also really likes fish dishes and stews (even if the stews have vegetables in them, she's slowly learning to like the funny taste of veggies. She thinks they taste too earthy, like she is eating mud or smth.)

Cicero is not a picky eater (nearly a decade with probably kinda scarce resources taught him not to be too picky) and can't decide what is his favorite food. Completely different from Kajo, though, he really likes vegetables and is maybe a bit obsessed with making sure that each meal is balanced and has enough veggies (again, almost ten years in a dark dank hole taught him how important balanced meals are if you want to stay alive). He likes stews as well, since stews really fill you up and keep you warm, plus they're quite easy to make.

Different from her parents, Faurin doesn't like stews or soups that much. She doesn't enjoy the texture of the veggies in those and prefers them "dryer" and less mushy. She enjoys quite many bosmeri dishes (before anyone asks; No, Faurin doesn't follow the Green Pact nor partake in the Meat Mandate), but sadly gets to eat those pretty much only when visiting relatives in Valenwood. Cicero has also taught her not to be picky.

Surprisingly, Cicero is the cook in this family and actually enjoys cooking. It's one of those little things that help him relax for a bit, since it calms him and his rapidly moving wild thoughts. And if he allowed Kajo to cook, she would only make cakes or they would eat raw potatoes.

Kajo can cook, she is just not a big fan of it and actually manages to fool Cicero into thinking that she can't cook at all, persuading him into doing it every time they are on the road and have to camp in the wilderness. At some point he does realize that, hey, how did she manage to keep herself fed during all her adventures before meeting him if she doesn't know how to cook at least a little?

[deans-baby-momma]

Mommy’s (Not So) Good Girl-19

Standing stock still and rigid, I watch as Dean makes his way through  the crowd toward me, a smile on his face.

DEAN'S POV 

I smile as I approach Abby and I can see the confusion and questioning in her eyes. She is wondering what I am doing.

I pull her into a hug and she tenses. 

“Shhh,” I hum. “Just go with it baby.”

I feel her relax and her arms wrap around my waist. I smile as I kiss her on the top of her head. 

“Happy New Year Abs,” I mutter into her scalp. “I promise you’ll get your kiss later.”

Abby’s arms tighten around me for a second and then she pulls back and looks up at me.

“Thanks Da-” she almost slips out the nickname that only she is allowed to call me but quickly catches her mistake. “-Dean.”

I give her one more quick squeeze and then release her, heading back over to where I had left Lisa.

“What was that?” Lisa inquires as soon as I make it back to her side.

“Nothing,” I lie. “I just didn’t want her to feel left out. Her date never showed.”

“You are so sweet Dean Winchester,” Lisa purrs up at me and I give her a half-smile, keeping my eyes on Abby as she carries on as if nothing had occurred. Good girl.

This party had been Lisa's idea. And now that Abby had told me that her mother was expecting a proposal for Christmas, I understood why she volunteered.

Lisa had planned to show off; to flaunt our engagement. From the stories I've been told, usually from Stan while on the construction site,  Lisa's front door once was ever-revolving with men coming and going all hours of the day and night.

And she thought I was going to propose so she could boast and brag to her married friends.

Proposing to Lisa had never even crossed my mind. I had come to her after I lost Sam because I had made a promise to him to go somewhere that made me happy. 

At the time, I never realized that Cicero would be where I’d end up; that Lisa is who I’d turn to. We’d had that one weekend almost 10 years ago and I remembered feeling content with her, comfortable even. 

She had had a little girl but that hadn’t bothered me then and I had decided it wasn’t going to bother me when I chose to come to Indiana. 

Boy, how wrong I had been! Who knew that by coming here, I’d be in the predicament I’m in? Living with Lisa and fucking her daughter. Enjoying fucking Abby, even. 

How in the hell did I go from hunting monsters with my brother to living with two women, both of whom I am sleeping with? 

At one time during the evening, I thought I was going to have to make a scene when I watched, from the kitchen, an altercation between Abby and another of the neighborhood boys; I think his name is Brad. He and his girlfriend, I guess...the girl he showed up with anyway, were outside on the back patio when Abby walked out there.

Whatever the boy had said to Abby had made me consider going out there and interfering but Abigail set him straight quickly. He had shrunk back to the corner with the other girl and Abby had marched inside, her face hard. I was proud of her for standing her ground and putting that punk in his place.  I just wondered what he had said to her to piss her off. 

Not long after the new year rings in, people begin to leave. Lisa and I see each one to the door and I have to fight the urge to throw a dirty look Brad’s way as he and his friend leave with his parents.

As soon as the last of the party guests are gone, I jump into helping Lisa and Abby clean the mess up. Cups of half drunken beverages and empty cups are scattered on surfaces throughout the house.

In the kitchen Abby is fighting with getting the overflowing trash bag out of the can and I have to chuckle at her struggle.

“Here, let me get that,” I tell her as I approach.

She sighs and relinquishes her hold on the plastic and I swiftly pull the bag out of its prison. 

“You make that look so easy,” she laughs as she begins loading the bag even more. 

Once the house is trash-free, the three of us trudge upstairs to our rooms. Abby bids her mom and I goodnight in the hallway before walking in and closing the door.

I follow Lisa to our room and close the door. Lisa goes into the closet to change into some pajamas while I start to take my clothes off. As I’m pulling my shirt over my head, I realize that this would be a good time to get Abby alone, to give her the kiss I promised her. It’s not too far past midnight, right?

“Hey Lis,” I say as I approach the closet door. “I gotta run to the bathroom.”

“Okay,” she answers. “Hurry back.”

I make my way out of the bedroom, closing the door behind me. It’s now or never. I only have a few minutes to do what I want to do.

I approach Abby’s bedroom door and lightly knock, hoping she hasn’t gone to sleep yet but also praying if she has I don’t wake her up. Maybe this is just silly and nonsensical. 

The door opens and Abby looks surprised that it’s me. I take in what she is wearing and I internally groan. The shirt she has on is old and worn, the picture depicting a teddy bear with a football helmet on and a jersey with a giant P in the middle; I realized it’s a college tee. The material is almost threadbare and thin, the neck has been cut into a V probably more for comfort than style. 

Her legs poke out of a pair of tiny sleep shorts and as she turns to head back to her bed, I have to close my eyes to control myself because those shorts make her ass look great. I watch her crawl back into her bed and put her legs under the covers, ultimately hiding them from my view. It’s probably a good thing. 

I walk over the threshold of her room and shut the door, not bothering to lock it because I’m only going to be in here for a few minutes anyway and we can’t really do anything, as much as I would like to; especially after seeing her in her sleep clothes.

I walk to the foot of the bed and sit on the edge, making sure I am not going to crush her feet. 

“You want to tell me what happened on the back porch earlier?”

“Huh?” she answers, looking at me strangely. “What are you talking about?”

“Your friend Brad,” I prompt her and I can see when she realizes what I’m referencing.

“He so isn’t my friend,” she says vehemently. “He just said some things that weren’t true. But I set him straight.”

“I saw,” I tell her as I chuckle. “The boy never looked your way the rest of the night. What was he saying?”

Abby slumps down in the chair she’s sitting in and I begin to think she isn’t going to tell me and then I barely hear the words she mutters, her voice low and faint.

“Called me his girl. Then asked if ‘Daddy’ actually existed.”

At that moment, I want to march down to Mr Smart-ass Brad’s house and pummel him. But I knew I couldn’t. I couldn’t oust us like that, and really I am just her Mom’s boyfriend so why would I be getting that upset about her daughter being dissed? 

Sure I can be upset about it but not to the point of wanting to punch the kid, right? 

“Why don’t you come over here so Daddy can give you a proper New Year’s kiss?” I ask, hoping to change the subject.

“But-” she says, looking over toward the door to her room.. 

“Just a kiss, I promise.” I tell her.

She smiles and slides down the mattress toward me. I watch and wish that I could feel her body underneath mine, that I could bury myself inside her but it is too risky, too dangerous. We could easily get caught by Ben, his friend Noah or even Lisa! 

Abby definitely isn't the quiet type when we are having sex. If we would be caught, I’d be out on my ass.  

As soon as Abby is within reach, I grab her face and pull her lips to mine. She still tastes of whatever fruity concoction she drank downstairs. The flavor, mixed with the essence that is just Abby, makes it so hard to pull away.

I lick across her bottom lip and she grants me access by parting them and letting me in. What began as just a kiss quickly turned into more as my hands dropped, my palms curling to clutch her breasts.

Abby moans into my mouth and I swallow the noise. I pull away and look her in the eyes. 

I open my mouth to tell her how I feel but am interrupted when a knock sounds. 

"Abby? Can I come in?" I hear Lisa's voice and I look at the girl in front of me, the one I had just been kissing and feeling up. 

'Oh shit!' I think to myself as I scramble off the bed and Abby crawls back under the comforter.

END DEAN’S POV

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​ @spnbaby-67​ @tftumblin​ @sea040561​ @delightfullykrispypeach​ @larajadeschmidt13​ @vicariouslythruspn​ @squirrelnotsam​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @sandlee44​ @blacktithe7​ @deanwanddamons​ @hoboal87​ @marvelfanbrenda​ @vicmc624​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @elliloumom @stoneyggirl​  @kricketc29​

[jimmymcgools]

If you're still up for the writing ask meme: the part in chapt 13 where Kim decides to take the phone call in *another* direction (like, WHY does she decide to do that?)

(thank you for letting me ignore this for a full week as i worked on chapter 4 of slip and fall season instead ♥️)

but yes i will do this forever!!! if anyone else has scenes they’d still like to hear my thoughts on 🙏hmu

fic commentary meme and my answers 

the boring doylist answer to your question is: because considering the 1x03 call i figured if i was gonna write mailroom mcwexler i’d be letting myself & everyone else down if i didn’t include a phone sex scene!

and “hold tight to the ropes” really hooked me on the idea of jimmy calling from cicero. so huge credit to that wonderful fic, i mention it in the chapter notes because i stole (and hopefully remixed?) so much of that set up. 

A click. “Hello?” “Hey,” Jimmy says. “Happy Thanksgiving.”  this made me think of mulder and scully when i wrote it and i thought of them reading it over again now. 

“A Thanksgiving classic,” Kim says dryly. “No Way Out.” Jimmy grins. “Nice. Costner at his best.” one of those movie picks where hopefully kim’s joke works just based on the title. jimmy’s dialogue could read ironic, but i do think this is one of costner’s best roles. 

Jimmy chuckles. “We played Monopoly.” mcgill bros monopoly! writing this chapter i learned that you’re supposed to auction off properties if you don’t choose to buy them when you land on them, apparently. #research  💀that’s right i researched monopoly “10 most common arguments people have over a game of Monopoly according to Hasbro” guess i should’ve credited more in my chapter notes huh

A scrap of paper reading That Hamilton Woman rests beneath the plastic but above the original cover for The Boys from Brazil. ruth mcgill playing favourites with laurence olivier movies

“Yeah,” Kim says. “Yeah, sometimes it would snow.” i think i looked this up as well and it only snows like one in 20 thanksgivings but, uh. fanfic.  

Flat white fields dotted with fence posts, like ellipses on a page, drifting into the distance i really like using “this thing looks like writing on a page” type metaphors for kim, but also the idea of endless ellipses seemed pretty perfect for red cloud. 

A little blue dot in the endless fields of white. He exhales. “Kim?” a strange thought process for jimmy here, but he gets to white sands from it somehow. it helps that kim had made the comparison herself, too, while they were at white sands. that it reminded her of winters back home. 

“Can we go back to White Sands?” he asks. i think/hope you can tell from the convo, but jimmy’s not asking for phone sex, he’s more asking for a return to that openness/vulnerability/intimacy. they’ve had a nice conversation so far, but it’s kind of the conversation two friends might have -- “yeah, family. we fought over monopoly. how are you?” -- and he wants more. 

A beat. “What, tonight? That might be pretty tricky.” kimberly #deflection wexler

“But scared of what I might do next. Scared to get too close, maybe.” i wanted there to be this real wariness in the family around jimmy at this point in his life. i didn’t have much to work with for the acb ruth relationship, other than knowing she had nobody by her deathbed but chuck and jimmy, and that she was still up in cicero/berwyn.  i liked the idea that, as much as ruth loves jimmy, in 1992 she’s starting to close herself off from him in that way mothers can do -- she pretends everything is good, she has innocent conversations about movies, she tells him she loves him. to protect/spare him? to protect the purity of the relationship so that she has an outlet where she can pretend nothing’s wrong for a while? i’m not sure. i don’t think it’s good for them. 

It’s like he can hear the connection between them, the long strands of copper wire humming over the country. little reference to chapter 5 when they’re watching born yesterday: “But this is as precious and as fragile to him as crystal, as a string wound to its snapping point, as small human breaths down copper wire.”

“Is there anything you can do?” Kim asks finally. kim the fixer 

staring up at the vine-patterned cornice. oh great jimmy’s looking at a ceiling again 

He counts the leaves, one-two-three, but his brain keeps racing okay whew, at least i only mentioned this one because i brought it up in the white sands chapter -- “His childhood bedroom back in Cicero used to have one, too, carved with vines or flowers or something” -- because he’s staring at the cornice in the motel room while he’s wondering what else he can do with his life. 

he still feels half a step behind something, like there’s something just around the next bend, like the top of a mountain that keeps vanishing into the distance,  two road trip references for the price of one in this paragraph -- them driving up the sandias out of abq, here

And then, as if she can feel the tension and wants to break it, Kim says, “You know, we could do more than just talk.” ayyy we made it, moment of truth!! so why does kim do it, in the fun, watsonian way? 

i think it’s largely what you’ve brought up before -- like she does in breathe, and elsewhere in acb -- i think it’s kim turning to sex when the emotions get too muddy. and you put it better than me! “Kim seems to go physical instead of talking about things”. and when they’re states apart on a phone call? close enough! 

it’s also fixer kim still, right? she can tell that she hasn’t really helped at all with her responses, that jimmy’s still hurting. so here’s take 2. and maybe it’s kim following her own advice she’s just given to jimmy: “is there anything you can do?” 

and there’s that “kim and jimmy giving the other person what they think they need” thing that we’ve all talked about before. and i can’t remember the origin of it now! some interview? 

also she’s definitely hungry for it right now, too. that, like, addictive connection after she’s walled herself off for so long. and after she’s had that “i should call jimmy--oh shit i can’t. huh. hm. this is fine.” moment earlier in the day, too. 

“I’m kidding,” Kim says quietly. “Don’t leave me hanging.” and yeah, with the jimmy pov im always worried about trying to show how much kim wants jimmy, too. i hoped to give the sense that she needed the connection in this scene, too. 

“I mean, I haven’t checked the window, so Gene Hackman might be out there with an audio dish, but—yeah.”  always time for a movie reference. a bit of an ironic one -- he’s referencing the conversation, and i’m pretty sure the chuck stuff in 3x10 is inspired by the scene at the end of that movie when hackman tears up his apartment hopelessly looking for a bug.  (also jeepers, second gene hackman movie of the phone call, he’s also in no way out)

“I miss touching you.” It’s the first time he’s really spoken out loud about that physical intimacy, and something unwinds in his stomach, something that’s been coiled there a long time. oh man, spoilers for safs chapter 4 -- but interesting to reread this part of the conversation in particular when i’ve just written a chapter trying to show a really comfortable physicality between them. aw man. 

He breathes out, tipping his head back against the cold door, eyes tracing over the bare basement ceiling. there he goes there he goes again.mp3

And Kim exhales, and it sounds heavier than it did earlier. “You know, I had bruises there after last time.” starting from jimmy’s “i miss touching you” and then this from kim, i wanted to play with this shift in excitement/energy in the phone sex that comes when they both start actually opening up about the specific emotions/fallout from white sands that’s otherwise mostly gone unsaid. it drifts into more of a pure fantasy scenario after this but i always liked that honesty being a catalyst  kim: “I thought you might notice somehow.” :( 

and then it also seemed very them that they’d end up going with this HHM fantasy with discovery stakes and everything 😂they love their hypotheticals. and also i kinda got to weave in mailroom sex to the fic, almost, sneakily! 

“Thank you yourself,” she says you’re welcome seriously

i hope that wasn’t just me repeating everything we’ve already talked about back at you! 😂

[spiiderwiick]

Wick had ended up quickly distracted from their chaotic weekend adventure by the haunt tear down deadline. A month to build it all and two weeks to tear it down, clean everything up, and leave no trace behind.

Still, the conversation with Patches was ever present in the back of their mind. In denial? Them? How could they possibly be in denial when they were the one actively befriending monsters? Patches had brought up their friends in that moment too, hadn’t she? What did their friends know that they didn’t?

Wick ruminated on this for a good week of teardown before they finally made the decision to act on it. Who to ask? Nyx seemed like a no-bullshit sort of person who would tell them the truth.. If they could get him to talk instead of tease them about cryptid hunting, especially after the fucking weremoth. They decided against going to him first. There was Cicero, he seemed more likely than Nyx to answer them without assuming they were going on about hunting monsters. Unfortunately, Wick knew those two would be together out here, so there was no talking to one without the other. Maybe Nova. Nova was nice, she’d never judge them. 

Wick found her packing props into crates, getting them ready to be loaded onto the trailers. The starry raven beamed at them with a small wave as they hopped in to help, “Hey hon!” “hey yourself.” Wick smiled and went to grab a few of the heavier looking items for her, “i actually had something i wanted to ask you.”

“Oh? Well I might have an answer for you.” She leaned on the edge of the crate, letting them do the heavy lifting for a moment.

Wick hesitated, wondering how best to word their questions, “so uh... you know how patches is some kind of fuck shit magic clown monster, right?”

“Yes honey, we’re all familiar with the kind of fuck shit magic clown monster she is, especially after Halloween night.” Nova laughed, “What about her?”

“not.. her per se. but uh.. after her and that. weremoth. thing. as she described it. i’ve been wondering a lot about what else is out there, you know?” Wick can’t help but feel anxious about what might come out of their friend’s mouth next, not that she’s ever given them reason to feel that way.

Nova tilted her head ever so slightly, “Is that your question? What else is out there?”

Despite the lack of judgement in her voice, Wick still felt judged, “i guess. i mean... yeah. i mean. unless you’ve seen something i haven’t. then i guess it’d be have you seen any weird magic or monster stuff?”

Nova didn’t reply immediately, but something about the way her gaze drifted told Wick she had something to say. In their anxiety, they interpreted it as something derisive, at least until she waved them closer, “It’s.. A secret, but..”

The raven pulled out her phone from a hidden pocket in her scarf and navigated to her photos. Wick watched intently as she scrolled down to a series of what looked like regular crow photos until she opened them. The crow in question was awfully faint looking. Spectral, even.

"They help me with my work, and only ever seem to want my spare pins and needles in return. I don’t think they even eat.” Her voice was quiet, but she couldn’t hide her excitement about sharing such a big secret.

“nova it looks like a ghost, ghosts don’t eat.”

“How would you know? Are you suddenly an expert on all things magic?”

“well. i mean. no, but..”

“Then you don’t know.” She replied cheerfully, “And isn’t that neat?”

Wick dropped the next item into the crate with a loud clunk, “so let me get this straight, you have a pet ghost.”

“They’re not a ghost!” Nova almost sounded offended. Almost, “And they’re not my pet either.”

“dude if it floats like a ghost and is transparent like a ghost, you have a fucking ghost. they’re a ghost.” Wick started off incredibly serious but their face soon split into a grin, “and if you’re feeding them pins and needles, and they live in your house, then you’ve got yourself a goddamn pet ghost.”

“If they’re a ghost they don’t live in my house.” Nova teased back.

“semantics.” Wick snorted. It felt good to release the tension they’d been holding, “is your pet ghost the only weird thing you’ve seen? cause like. i’m quickly learning how magic and monsters are somehow common as fuck but still rare? or are we just weirdness magnets?”

“Hon, you’re helping me tear down a haunt. You’ve got a severed head in your hands. We are absolutely weirdness magnets.”

That earned another laugh from Wick as they chucked the foam head into the crate, “i know the whole deal is that everyone fits in here no matter how much of an outcast or weirdo they are at school but like... i didn’t think that applied to real ass monsters.”

Nova raised a brow, “Which one of us invited a murderous clown to act in the haunt?”

“look she showed up here all on her own last year. i just gave her something to do that didn’t involve a potential lawsuit landing in our laps cause she decided to get hungry in the middle of the night.” Plus, you know, the whole saving them as a consequence of hanging around the show each night. They couldn’t forget that.

“And the shape shifter? You said he was an eldritch god?” They hated the smug smile that had creeped onto her face.

“benrey is my friend and he’s not even from this world he doesn’t count.”  This had gone in a circle, “you didn’t answer my question!”

Nova laughed as she hauled a few more awkward props into the box, making sure they fit snugly in there, “Wick... Have you ever seen a moth with wings like Nyx’s?”

“uh? nyx? obviously?”

“Hon....” She sounded exasperated in record time.

“what? are you gonna tell me he’s some kind of monster? just cause he’s got weird wings? that’s kinda judgmental of you, don’t you think?” Wick crossed their arms stubbornly.

“I love you but you really are oblivious sometimes.” Nova shook her head, “A lot of people are.”

Wick opened their mouth to speak. Then closed it again. It was one thing having Patches tell them that and something else entirely coming from one of their closest friends. It hurt a little. Part of them felt defensive about it, “well gee, i’m sorry for just assuming my friends are... not monsters???? in a world where monsters supposedly don’t exist???”

They almost blurted out “normal”. That would have been a mistake. They were glad they caught themselves.

“Ah...” The raven smiled, “That’s a fair point, I suppose. Did you think Patches was from some other world too?”

“well? yeah???? obviously? she hasn’t been shy about the fact that she can apparently travel literally anywhere in any universe. so. yeah.” Wick found themselves fidgeting with their claws, even as Nova relented, they still felt judged, “nyx never like. brought up why his wings look like that, so i never asked, you know?” Wick paused, “he’s not secretly actually mothman, right?”

That one got Nova laughing, “No. God, don’t let him hear you say that. I think he’d actually fly you out to the middle of the lake and dump you there instead of just threatening to.”

“but he’s a moth monster?” Close enough to mothman, in their book, especially visually. He had the black and red aesthetic going for him, which was the whole basis of them teasingly comparing him to the famous cryptid all these years.

“Yes, hon. He’d have to explain the specifics to you, but you’ve been friends with monsters for years.”

Wick squinted at her. That was plural, “monsters?”

Nova had a twinkle in her eye, although with her uniquely shaped pupils, she usually did anyway, “I’ll let you figure that out yourself.”

“oh you fucker.”

“If it took you this long to realize monsters were real in the first place, good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

“i hate you.” Wick grinned and punctuated the statement by throwing a foam organ at Nova, who ducked out of the way, laughing.

Patches was right. Their friends had known the entire time. That opened a whole new world of possibilities for them. What else was out there? How many monsters had they run into over the years that they rationalized away as just being weird or eccentric people?

They wanted to know.

They were going to find out. That much they were sure of.

[annecoulmanross]

Rules:

Pick 5 TV shows, then answer the following questions. Tag 10 (or however many) people.

I was tagged by my dear @princess-of-france​ – loved your answers, Hal, and thank you!

1. The Terror (surprising no one) 2. Black Sails (haven’t finished yet but we’re in that age of sail mood) 3. TURN: Washington’s Spies (AMC history show hours) 4. The Borgias (okay we have no shame about history shows today) 5. HBO Rome (hey, why the hell not; all history it is)

Who is your favorite character in 2? I’m very partial to Thomas Hamilton, partly because, even though I haven’t finished the show, I do know where it’s going thanks to tumblr. Also, gotta love a man with a vision of a classical res publica. Also (part 2), who else can make Marcus Aurelius so sexy? (I swear I do like this show for more than just its classical reception.) Others on the favorite character list so far are Anne Bonny and Flint himself – he’s so gosh darned fun to watch; Toby Stephens is a gift of an actor.

Who is your least favorite character in 1? I mean, there’s no character in The Terror who doesn’t fulfill an important narrative role. But just because, (for example) Hickey is interesting and complex and well-written doesn’t mean I like him. I suppose, though, the character I find most repellent would be Des Voeux. Again, he’s narratively necessary and yet deeply emotionally distasteful. I’m not a villains person.

What is your favorite episode of 4? I’m also not finished with this one, so my favorite episode out of just the first two seasons... it’s very hard to choose, but “The Beautiful Deception” (02x03) is particularly stellar.

What is your favorite season of 5? Well, the first season is vastly better paced than the second season (a fun side-effect of a show that thought it was going to have a few more seasons than it actually received), but the second season has “These Being the Words of Marcus Tullius Cicero,” (02x03) which, tragically, has been vitally important to my honest-to-god career. So uhhh this is a toss-up.

Who is your favorite couple in 3? Favorite canon couple would be our darling tragic André/Peggy. Favorite non-canon couple would be the irrepressible boys, Ben/Caleb.  

Who is your favorite couple in 2? Hhhhhh so yeah again, I started this show with a fair amount of fore-knowledge and Flint/Hamilton basically ticks all my ship boxes. Flint/Hamilton/Miranda also.

What is your favorite episode of 1? Oh god, it’s such a tightly written show that it’s very hard to choose. A part of me says that an early episode would be happier (I’m quite partial to “Gore” (01x02) since it has the best sledge party hours anyone’s ever seen, before everything goes wrong) but the tenderness toward the end of the show is so heartbreakingly lovely. For all its pain, “The C the C the Open Sea” (01x09) is incredibly beautiful.

What is your favorite episode of 5? As mentioned above, “These Being the Words of Marcus Tullius Cicero,” (02x03) is uhhhhh something. My “favorite” isn’t necessarily how I’d put it, but there’s no other episode that comes even close, so here we are. (I am haunted by the abstract concept of peaches...)

What is your favorite season of 2? Thus far, season 2, but I haven’t gotten to the third and fourth seasons yet, so this means very little, apart from the fact that I have a general preference for seasons with flashbacks with Miranda and Hamilton in them.

How long have you watched 1? I just watched The Terror for the first time this year, about two months ago. Yeah, I don’t remember what life was like before that either, for many reasons.

How did you become interested in 3? My dear @princess-of-france​ showed me the entire show this past summer and we discussed it episode-by-episode – an absolutely incredible viewing experience.

Who is your favorite actor in 4? Well, we were just talking about the glorious François Arnaud.... I also love Jeremy Irons, though. Both; both are good.

Which do you prefer, 1, 2, or 5? Why is this being done to me? Not Rome, that’s for sure, but I do really like both Black Sails and The Terror. Right now, I’m still so deep in The Terror that it’s hard to deny that it’s my preference, tragically. But I’m getting rapidly more into Black Sails.

Which show have you seen more episodes of, 1 or 3? I’ve seen all of both, but there are more episodes of TURN: Washington’s Spies than there are of The Terror, so TURN it is.

If you could be anyone from 4, who would you be? Oh this is NOT the show I would want to live in out of these five at ALL. Um, to be honest, I kind of adore the absolute moral conviction of Della Rovere. It would be... interesting to see what his journey is like from the inside.

Would a crossover between 3 and 4 work? If one has the ability to time travel, I suppose? A Long Island Yankee in Pope Alexander’s Court?

Pair two characters in 1 who would make an unlikely but strangely okay couple? Given the dedication and care that The Terror’s fandom has shown to minor characters and rare pairs, I’m not sure any pairing would feel truly strange to me. I’m partial to some niche couples like Rossier and Goodsir/MacDonald, but those are still stronger than just “strangely okay.” In the spirit of trying to provide a genuinely unlikely pairing, I would say that I basically never EVER consider separating Bridgens and Peglar (our canon couple, the lights of my life) – but I do think that, in some horrible Peglar-less universe, Bridgens and Goodsir could be a good pairing. As it is, I love Bridgens and Goodsir as friends.

Overall, which show has the better storyline, 3 or 5? This isn’t at ALL fair, because TURN got the number of seasons it wanted, and HBO Rome was cut off early, but even without that, TURN is a vastly superior show in my book. It’s TURN, no question.

Which has better theme music, 2 or 4? Wow, this isn’t the kind of thing I typically notice? My instinct is Black Sails over Borgias, but tbh I’d have to go watch a few episodes of both and pay more specific attention to the music. (If TURN was in here, it would win for all the beautiful covers of period-era songs. I have a TURN playlist that’s in regular rotation.)

I honestly have so much fun doing these kind of tag games – thank you, Hal, for the tag!

As for me: @kaserl​ @frauncis​ @endofvanity​ and anyone else who’s interested!

[kennettwrites]

Summer Days

Summary: A simple day with friends, a picnic, and soft shows of affection between a witch and his tired, werewolf boyfriend. This is a short story set within my novel series, The Witch and His, as such some things will not make entire sense without novel context, but can be inferred from textual context. An enjoyable read even without knowing the novel.

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“You kids have been visiting the cabin less since spring started.” His mother comments. Her eagle-like eyes watch as he packs the picnic basket with the food he carefully prepared earlier.

He nods. “The cabin is pretty and we still love it, but the others insist on meeting in other places besides the cabin. Romeo thinks that it will become too monotonous if we only hang out there.”

Meredith hums thoughtfully. “They’re right, you know. I know the cabin is your pride and joy, but having other places to hang out is good for changing things up. Besides, I’m sure Romeo enjoys taking you to the club.”

Meredith all but cackles at the expression that crosses her son’s face. Cicero, on the other hand, plans to completely ignore everything about that statement. He’d like to forget those memories right now, please. He takes a moment to compose himself and then changes the subject.

“Ever since August built that table out at the lake it’s been much easier to say yes when they ask to go there. It’s beautiful during the summer time. I dare say, I enjoy it.” He admits.

His mother smiles. “That’s nice. Enjoy your time, dear.”

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The lake is out of the way, beyond even their cabin, and the only path there is the one they’ve made for themselves. It’s barely noticeable to the untrained eye, but they all know the forest like the back of their hand. There is no doubt in his mind that they could make the trip drunk. Plus, the view was to die for. None of them even minded the walk.

Cicero follows the faded, dirt path that leads to their spot. For a change he is not walking with either August or Elaina. Elaina had stayed the night with a friend and was arriving with Benny, and August was going to be late because he had to stay over and finish a bit of work for his father. It was a strange occurrence, but it allows him to contemplate and simply enjoy the nature around him. It was a lovely day and it would be a shame if he didn’t fully take advantage of it.

The picnic basket is a heavy weight in his hand but he finds it relaxing rather than irritating. Jasper used to bring food as well, but it’s harder for her to cook now that she’s, well, a ghost. In his opinion, Romeo was way too stubborn regarding the possession argument. It’s not like his girlfriend would do anything to hurt him. Still, he doesn’t fully mind making all of the food for their outings.

He hums to himself as he walks. Unlike Romeo’s obnoxious singing and other, assorted noise making, it is not a shitty pop song played at the club. Although Cicero will admit that they can be catchy, the tune he is humming is something more personal. Not that he would ever let the man know that he found any of the music from his short lived time as a “rock star” appealing. It would simply blow his ego up to extreme parameters.

He’s distracted from his thoughts by a flock of birds taking off a little ways off from him. He pauses.

For the briefest of moments he thinks Romeo might actually be on time. However, if that were the case, Cicero would already be hearing the vampire’s loud, obnoxious voice. If a single Romeo trips in the forest then yes, it does make a sound the whole town can hear.

He makes a logical assumption that it is an animal and continues on. However, the sensation of being watched does not go away. In fact, it only gets worse. The intent around him is focused, obsessive.

He closes his eyes as he walks, not bothering to give himself away by stopping, and extends his magic outward to find the source of his discomfort.

In hindsight, he feels a bit dumb. He should have figured it out sooner. That feeling is all too familiar to him, after all. Still, August was supposed to be late. Not early like Cicero always was. Cicero’s thoughts flood with questions, but he decides to play along with August’s game. He strolls on ahead, pretending to be blissfully unaware and caught up in his surroundings.

It feels like a decade of tense peace before August decides to make his move at the lake. A stick crunches under heavy boots as August leaps from his hiding spot. Without acknowledging him, Cicero elegantly steps out of the way. August attempts to skid to a stop before catching his own foot on an exposed root and tripping in front of the witch. Cicero watches him fall with a twisted sort of amusement.

“That was cruel, Cero.” August whines as he sits up. Cicero isn’t sure if it’s on purpose or not, but August fixes him with the puppy dog eyes that the Grimmwauld family is almost known for.

Cicero wants to tell him how adorable he is, but instead he rolls his eyes and says, “You’re too loud, August. Even a deaf buck could hear you coming a mile away. Perhaps next time you should consider not attempting to tackle me.”

August pulls himself to his feet and dusts himself off. “I wanted a hug. You know, that thing people do?” He pouts although his words carry a sort of cheeky haughtiness.

“I don’t like being touched.” A simple reply, really. Cicero hates it when others touch him. Even the touch of his own mother hurts him on the worst of days. Yet, August’s touch is never painful. Not that he would ever admit that; his pride would never return from that particular grave.

August beams. “Yeah, buddy, I know, and that’s okay. I’ll still try though ‘cause you’re worth it.”

Cicero snorts at their old joke and sets the basket down on the table. August’s gaze is immediately drawn to the dark oak basket. Cicero doesn’t have to imagine the wagging tail behind him. He clears his throat, pointing after he has August’s attention. “Hey, dog-breath, careful there.”

August looks at his tail before shrugging. “My control has been slipping lately. I’m not worried yet since I’m not like going feral or anything, but I mean… It’s understandable? I’m under a lot of stress right now. Besides, I’m tired and hungry. Very, very hungry.”

Cicero’s gaze softens. “Is it that bad?”

August shakes his head. “It’s not that. The Lestern family has been very amicable and they’re very easy to work with. It’s just,” he makes a vague gesture with his hand, “difficult to put pacts into effect without throwing both parties into disarray and it has been hard trying to find what works for both groups.”

Cicero had never truly thought about the bureaucracy that went into shapeshifter politics especially those that involved the Grimmwauld clan. Rowan had always had that under control and agreements were just made, and Cicero hadn’t had need to think of it beyond that. It’s been a lot more in his face now that August and his brother are being groomed to take their father’s place. He doesn’t know whether it’s a good or a bad thing yet.  Either way, he doesn’t like it.

August attempts to open the basket without Cicero noticing, whining when Cicero smacks his hand away. “Wait for the others.” Cicero chides.

August bites back a complaint or whine -not that there was any difference between the two with August- and settles Cicero with a thoughtful look. “Anyways. What’s on the menu today, mister chef?”

“Bacon and tomato sandwiches, Italian pinwheels, five bean summer salad, watermelon slices, raspberry lemonade, and blueberry brownies for dessert.” He rattles off the dishes with little thought to how much work that actually went into it. Though their friend group did this often, Cicero took pride in the work he did and would gladly slave away in the kitchen if it meant seeing that toothy grin August always gave him when good food is involved. Plus, he typically found his joy in putting together plans and making sure his friends had a good time.

August grins. “Sounds amazing as usual, Cero.” He takes a seat at the picnic table and pats the spot beside him. Cicero hesitates for a second as he considers it before taking the spot. Grinning, August scoots closer to the witch until their thighs are touching. Cicero allows this contact even if it does make his anxiety rise three whole levels.

He coughs, embarrassed, and glances back at the dirt pathway leading to their meeting spot. “We still have to wait until Romeo and the others arrive before we can eat.”

August whips his head around, eyes wide and watery. Even though he looks like he’s on the verge of tears Cicero is more than aware that they are crocodile tears learned from his eldest sister. “But Romeo’s always so late,” He cries, “and I’m so hungry. I’m dying!” He throws himself over Cicero so that his head is in the witch’s lap. Cicero flinches, face quickly heating up, but he miraculously keeps his composure.

“Manners maketh man, mutt. A fact that you should be well aware of being a member of the Grimmwauld family. We will wait for the entire group to arrive before we eat and that is final.”

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It takes Romeo thirty minutes after their set meeting time to arrive, and he’s not even the last one to arrive. By then, August has fallen asleep using Cicero’s lap as a pillow.

Romeo raises an eyebrow at the sight. “Just one of those dog days, isn’t it?”

Cicero glares at him. “Don’t even think about waking him, lame-ass.” Rowan had been working his son to the bone lately. Considering the importance of the Grimmwauld-Lestern pact it’s understandable, but Cicero still worries about August. He needs all the rest he can get right now, and Cicero will be damned if he lets Romeo of all people ruin that.

“He’s going to be mad that you let him sleep through lunch.” Romeo takes a seat across from them. Jasper, bless her heart, floats awkwardly behind him. She takes a moment to look over the spread that Cicero has laid out on the table before turning to him. “The food does look good, Cicero. Too bad I can’t eat it.” She says, polite as always. Cicero gives her a gentle smile before turning an icy glare to her companion.

“We’re still waiting on Elaina and Benny. Until they arrive, you can be quiet and let August sleep. If he wakes up- I swear to the gods, Romeo, I will pluck every hair from your head and feed them to you. After that, I’ll turn you into a horrifically disfigured, naked mole rat so that you will never again find a date at the bar.”

Romeo blanches and swallows the stone in his throat. “Holy shit. You’re absolutely terrifying when you want to be, my dude.  Yeah, sure, let him sleep.”

Behind him, Jasper giggles as he pats his head. “Are you checking to make sure it’s still there?” She asks. He huffs. “Of course. One can never be too confident around Cicero.” (He’s learned the hard way that Cicero is never kidding, and to always be ready to run. Friendship be damned when angry Cicero is involved.)

Appeased, Cicero relaxes. He begins to run his fingers through August’s unruly hair, humming a comforting tune as he does so. Romeo watches this with dark eyes and a heavy frown.

“If I say the obvious, am I going to be hexed into eternity?” Romeo asks, and Cicero shoots him a scathing look. Immediately, Romeo puts his hands out in front of him placatingly.

“Alright, alright, chill. I won’t say a thing then.”

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August wakes up with a grumble of murmured words. He sits up in bed. He pauses. The environment comes into focus and he starts blinking owlishly. “What the…” Cicero, nestled in the corner of the room like some oddball sort of creepy doll, looks up from his book. “You slept through lunch, so I floated you home.”

August startles. “I slept through lunch? And you let me sleep through lunch? What the hell, man.”

Cicero shrugs, closing his book. He stands. His joints make an discomforting creak. “You needed the rest. Besides, there’s no need to worry. I made you dinner and cleared your schedule with your father. I’ll loan you a pillow tonight.” August stares. “You did what now?”

Slowly, the man’s words begin to make sense in his head and he grins. He lunges from the bed in his excitement and wraps Cicero into a hug. 

“You are the best! What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Cicero accepts the hug, smiling into August’s shirt. “I believe the better question is: what did I do to deserve you? I’m - in Romeo’s exact words - Satan’s bitch, and I’ve definitely done my best to avoid being friends with you.”

August laughs. “You might be a bitch, but if I didn’t like you I definitely would have spent the last thirteen years befriending another stubborn, magic wall.”

Cicero bites his lip to avoid giggling like a schoolgirl. “C’mon, dipshit. Let’s go eat dinner before it gets cold.”

If Cicero sequesters August away for another day after that and tries for a third then that’s his business. They both needed the rest and comfort in company. What could Cicero even say? He had a weakness in the form of broad shoulders and blinding smiles, and it hurts him to see August as exhausted as he was.

Of course it probably wasn’t a good idea to threaten to smite the teen’s father when he came to collect him. It is a very good thing Rowan is as good-natured as he was, having lived with his ex-biker wife for years now. So, all’s well that ends well, Cicero supposes.

[bamby0304]

The Hart II: Highway

Summary: Off on her own, without the Winchesters, Bobby, Ellen or Jo, Lizzie tries to get back to what she does best... hunting. But time is running out, Dean’s soul is on the line, and now everyone knows Lizzie is psychic like Sam. Can the brothers and Lizzie work through their problems? Or will they lose everything?

Bamby’s Masterlist The Hart Masterlist The Hart II: Highway Masterlist

Part Three: Surprise

Warnings: Nope...

Bamby

EPOV

Smile on my face, I lifted my hand and knocked on the door in front of me. It had been a few weeks since I'd finished the case with Bobby and the Winchesters. Since then, I'd found some anomalies in a town I'd been driving through. Two fathers and a baby sitter had died in the same week. All of them home accidents.

I'd been planning on just driving through town, but there was something telling me to stay and check the place out. Which is why I was here, at the front of some lady's house, a flyer in hand.

The door opened, revealing a young woman a few years older than me, with dark, thick, long hair and large, gorgeous brown eyes.

"Hi?" She looked at me confused.

"Hi." My smile widened as I lifted the flyer. "I heard you're looking for a sitter?"

"Oh. Yeah. Yes." She nodded, smiling back at me. "I'm Lisa Braeden." She offered me her hand.

"Elizabeth Hart." I reached forward to shake her hand with my own. "But please, call me Lizzie."

DPOV

I walked into the diner where Sam sat at a table, on the phone and his laptop in front of him. As I reached him, he quickly hung up and closed the computer, which I found a little suspicious.

"Hey." He tried to act casual as I sat across from him.

"Who was that?" I nodded to his phone.

"Oh, I was just ordering pizza."

I looked around us. "Dude, you do realise you're in a restaurant?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "Yeah, oh, yeah. I just felt like pizza, you know?"

"Okay, Weirdy McWeirderson." Placing my newspaper on the table, I opened it up to a possible case. "So, I think I got something."

"Yeah?"

"Cicero, Indiana." I turned the paper to show him. "Falls on his own power saw."

He grabbed the paper and gave it a quick read before turning to me, a little unsure. "And? What, that's it? One power saw?"

"Well, yeah." I shrugged.

"And you think that this is a case?"

"Well, I don't know. Could be."

"I don't know, Dean-"

I cut him off, dropping the act, "All right, there's something better in Cicero than just a case."

He grinned, no doubt knowing where this was going. "And that is?"

"Lisa Braeden," I answered simply, smiling widely at him.

He chuckled, dropping the paper. "Should I even ask?"

"Remember that road trip I took eight years ago? You were in Orlando with dad wrapping up that Banshee thing."

"Yeah, yeah. Five States, five days."

"Well, kind of. I spent most of my time in Lisa Braeden's loft."

He scoffed. "So, let me get this straight. You wanna drive all the way to Cicero just to hook up with some random chick?"

"She was a yoga teacher. That was the bendiest weekend of my life. Come on, have a heart, huh? It's my dying wish."

"Yeah, well, how many dying wishes are you gonna get?"

"As many as I can squeeze out," I answered without missing a beat. "Come on. Smile, Sam. God knows I'm gonna be smiling after twenty-four hours with Gumby girl." We both chuckled. "Gumby girl. Does that make me Pokey?"

I'd dropped Sam off at a hotel before coming over to Lisa's. Standing on her front porch, I lifted my hand and knocked on the door. As I waited, I looked over my shoulder at the balloons on the mailbox, wondering what they were doing there.

The door opened. I turned to see Lisa looking as gorgeous as she had all those years ago.

It took her a moment, but when she realised who I was she smiled, her face beaming. "Dean!"

"Lisa. How's it going?"

"Wow." She gave a light laugh. "So how long's it been?"

"Eight, going on nine years now." I nodded, still giving her a charming smile. "Crazy, right?"

"Yeah. So… what are you doing here?"

"Oh, I was just... I was just passing through, and I couldn't resist." I shrugged. "I remembered that you love surprises."

"Yeah. Dean Winchester. Wow, just wow." She laughed again. "I'm sorry. You kind of came at a bad time. We're having a party."

That piqued my interest. "Party? Well, I love parties."

A kid's party. A party full of kids. Kids everywhere.

What the hell?

Sure, I liked kids. But this was not what I'd been expecting when I decided to come see Lisa again. I certainly hadn't thought she'd be a mum, but by the looks of things, she wasn't just throwing this party for the neighbourhood.

"So, who's the party for?" I asked as we stepped into the back yard.

"Ben." She smiled. "My son."

"Oh, you have a...?"

"Yep." She gestured over to some people sitting at a table. "That's him."

I looked over to see a kid with short, dark hair in jeans, a black shirt and a jacket grinning as he unwrapped a present which turned out to be a CD.

"Yes! ACDC rules!" He turned to the woman next to him. "You're so awesome!"

Looking to the woman, I tensed. Liz?

She smiled down at the kid, ruffling his hair. "Happy birthday, kid."

Watching the scene in front of me, I decided to ignore Liz for the moment as I turned to the kid again. There was something about him, something familiar...

"How old-"

"Eight," Lisa cut me off to answer my unfinished question. "Could you excuse me a minute?" Without waiting for an answer, she was off.

I kept watching the kid, wondering. It had been just over eight years since I'd seen Lisa. This kid was eight. He dressed like me, looked like me, had the same taste in music as me… could he be? Was he my son? Did I have a son I didn't know about?

As I pondered the thought, Liz looked up, her eyes meeting mine. As much as I couldn't stop wondering about the kid, I also couldn't stop looking at her.

She wore her usual red leather jacket, but instead of jeans, a tank top and boots, she wore a grey dress the fell just above the knees and clung to her, and brown sandals, with her hair falling down her back. She looked relaxed, and casual, and as good as she always did.

Yeah, sleeping with Lisa is clearly not gonna happen.

EPOV

I walked over to the table where Lisa and I had set up the food for the party. I'd noticed Dean the moment he'd walked out of the house with Lisa, but waited until she went back into the house and he moved to the food, before I went over to talk to him.

Dean was looking down at the cake on the table, grinning at the little cars on the frosting road.

"I made it," I told him as I stopped on the other side of the table.

He looked up, surprised that I was talking to him and that I'd made the cake. "You made this?"

"Yeah." I shrugged, grabbing the knife to cut a slice. Putting it on a plate, I handed it over. "It's chocolate. Can't have a kid's birthday party without some chocolate."

Slowly, he began to relax, returning my smile with one of his own. "So, you like kids and can bake? Always something knew to learn."

"I'm a never-ending list of surprises." I grinned.

Things still weren't good between us. I knew he didn't know why I was so upset, and I'd rather it stayed that way. But just because things were a little rough right now, didn't mean I hated him. He was my friend. I loved him and Sam like family. So being able to act friendly with him right now, to act normal, it was nice.

Movement over his shoulder caught my attention. I looked over, seeing two mum's whispering to each other as they glanced over at Dean every now and then.

"You've got some fans, I see." Speaking to Dean, I gestured to the women.

Looking over his shoulder, he found them smiling at him. "Hi." He gave them a charming grin.

"Hi." The dark haired one looked like she could barely breath.

While the red head looked like she wanted to eat Dean alive. "Hello."

Chuckling, I shook my head and walked around the table to stand next to Dean. "You wanna meet the birthday boy?"

"Uh… yeah, sure." He nodded, tearing his eyes from the mums as he followed me over to the Moon bounce.

Ben was leaning against the fence, watching the kids, waiting. He was a cool kid. We'd gotten along in an instant. He was funny, smart, and cool. So cool. Coolest kid I knew. I mean, what eight-year-old is obsessed with my Chevy Camaro, loves classic rock, dresses like he's some kind of badass and is totally chill with everything? He was the best.

DPOV

"Hey, bud." Liz smiled at him, offering the plate of cake she'd gotten for him. "Got you an extra big piece. Don't tell your mum." She winked.

Bed grinned up at her. "Thanks Liz."

I looked from the kid to Liz. Only I called her that. I'd never heard anyone else call her that...

Ben glanced up at me. "Who's the guy?" he asked her.

"Ben, this is Dean. Dean, this is Ben."

"He your boyfriend?" The kid actually had the nerve to stand up straighter and size me up.

Liz laughed. "No. Just a friend."

"Cool." Ben shrugged, a little more relaxed now that I wasn't a threat, apparently. The kid had a crush. But who could blame him? "What's up?" he asked me.

I shrugged back. "What's up with you?"

"Lizzie?" someone called from inside the house.

"Oh, uh, I gotta go." Liz smiled down at Ben. "Keep an eye on Dean for me, okay? He tends to get himself in trouble," she told him. Turning, she grinned at me before walking off.

Both Ben and I watched her walk away, our eyes following her until she disappeared. Once she was gone, without even realising it, we both took a piece of our slices of cake and ate it.

"So, it's your birthday," I noted, trying to start a conversation.

"Guilty."

"It's a cool party."

"Dude, it's so freaking sweet. And this Moon bounce? It's epic." The way he spoke, he was so excited but so cool about it as well.

"Yeah, it's pretty awesome," I agreed.

"You know who else thinks they're awesome? Chicks." He punched my arm. "It's like hot-chick city out there." Putting his plate down on the table next to him, he then hurried off to the Moon bounce. "Look out, ladies, here comes trouble."

I stood there for a moment, doing the maths and how much the kid was like me...

Spinning around, I bumped into a trash can as I hurried for the house, needing to find Lisa to get some answers.

Walking into the house, I found Lisa watching one of the mum's leading her daughter out of the house. I could tell, just by looking at the scene, that things were tense and something was clearly wrong. But it was none of my business, so I wasn't going to push for answers, just as long as Lisa was okay.

"Hey." I walked over to lean on the kitchen bench by Lisa. "So, I met Ben. Cool kid."

"Yeah." She nodded, but here attention was still on the other mother.

"You know, I couldn't help but notice that he's turning eight," I hinted. But when she just looked confused, I went on. "You and me. You know..."

She laughed, moving to check the oven. "You're not trying to ask me if he's yours?"

Seeing her reaction, I quickly tried to reassure her. "No, no, of course not." But I knew that not knowing would kill me, so I had to ask, "He's not, is he?"

Slamming the oven closed, she turned to me. "What? No." By the look on her face, I wasn't sure if that was the truth or if she was keeping the truth from me.

But I knew better than to push, so I simply nodded. "Right." Changing the subject, I gestured to where the mum and daughter form before had left. "Something wrong with your friend?"

"She's been through a lot. Her ex just died in this horrible accident."

Pushing off the bench, I wondered if this accident was the same one that Sam and I were meant to be looking into. "Didn't I read about that? The power saw?"

"Yep." She nodded, voice soft, clearly upset. "I guess there's been a lot of bad luck in the neighbourhood lately."

This caught my attention. "What kind of bad luck?"

SPOV

I sat at a diner, on my own, researching, again. I was in my own little world until someone came to stand by my table. Looking up, I found it was the woman who'd saved me the other week.

She sat on the chair across from me, smiling. "Hello, Sam."

"You've been following me since Lincoln," I noted, tensing up, getting ready for anything. I didn't know or trust this girl, despite the fact she'd saved my life.

She closed my laptop. "Not much gets by you, huh?" Reaching over, she grabbed one of my fries and took a bite out of it. "Mm," she groaned in pleasure. "These are amazing. It's like deep-fried crack. Try some."

Ignoring the fry talk, I looked around to make sure no one was listening before leaning forward and speaking in a low voice. "That knife you had, you can kill demons with that thing?"

"Sure comes in handy when I have to swoop in and save the damsel in distress." She grabbed the small plate the coffee mug had sat on, then grabbed the ketchup.

"Where'd you get it?"

"Skymail," she answered, squeezing a ridiculous amount of sauce onto the plate.

"Why are you following me?"

She smiled, finally giving me an answer I could believe and work with. "I'm interested in you."

"Why?"

"Because you're tall." Dunking the fry in the sauce, she then took another bite and continued to answer my question, "I love a tall man. And then there's the whole antichrist thing."

"Excuse me?"

"You know, generation of psychic kids. Yellow-Eyed Demon rounds you up, Celebrity Deathmatch ensues, and you're the sole survivor."

"Elizabeth survived as well," I countered. "She's still alive, and can actually use her powers. I can't. Besides, how do you know about all that?"

"I'm a good hunter." She shrugged, grabbing another fry. "And I'm not here for Elizabeth. Yellow Eyes had big plans for you."

"Had being the key word."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah." She nodded. "That's right. Ding-dong, the Demon's dead. Good job with that. But it doesn't change the fact that you're special. In that Anthony-Michael-Hell ESP-vision kind of way."

"Nope. None of that stuffs happening anymore. Not since Yellow Eyes died." It was the truth.

Actually, I thought that would be the case for Lizzie too, but when I saw her use her abilities the other week, I'd wondered if it was because of Meg's blood. She was the only one of our kind to have a recent dosage…

"I'm thinking you're still a pretty big deal." The woman shrugged. "I mean, after all that business with you mum."

Anyone saying anything about my family got my attention and made me put up my defences. But to hear this strange woman speak as if she knew some kind of secret, that had me on edge.

"What about my mum?"

"You know, what happened to her friends." She noticed when I tensed my jaw, having no idea what she was talking about but also getting pissed that she knew something I didn't. "You don't know. You've got a little bit of catching up to do, my friend." Reaching over, she grabbed my hand and pen before she began to write on my palm. "So why don't you look into your mum's pals, and then give me a call and we'll talk again." She finished writing and stood up, smiling at me.

I looked down at my palm, reading the phone number she'd written down.

"And by the way, you do know there's a job in this town, right?" she told me before turning around and leaving.

Just as she left my phone began to ring.

"Hello?" I answered it.

"Dude." It was Dean. "There is a job here."

I looked over to the door where the woman had left, wondering how she would have known that and why should told me instead of doing it herself. "Really?"

"Yeah. You know that one freak accident we read in the paper? Turns out there's four more that never even made the paper. All in this Morning Hill gated community. People falling off ladders, drowning in Jacuzzis all over the neighbourhood."

"That is weird."

"Yeah, something's up. Something these nice big gates can't protect them from. Oh, and guess who's already working the job?"

EPOV

I sat outside in the backyard of one of Lisa's friend's house. She'd lost her husband recently. He'd fallen off a ladder in their back yard while changing one of the outdoor light bulbs. Being the babysitter for one of the friendlier mums meant getting people to trust and talk to me was pretty easy.

Karen- the mum- walked out of the house, having just answered the front door. The person who'd been out the front was right behind her. The person being Sam, dressed in a suit, undercover.

"Once again, I'm very sorry to disturb you. We just wanna expedite that life-insurance policy," he told Karen.

"Of course." She nodded as she turned to me. "Uh, Lizzie, you don't mind do, you? I'll just be a moment."

Offering a kind smile, I shook my head. "It's fine."

Sam looked over to me for a moment, an understanding passing between the two of us. He knew I was on the job just like him. He also knew that I would know more than he did. I could tell, he wanted to work together, just like the good ol' days. Chances were, I'd go with it too. I'd always had a hard time saying no to Sam.

Karen- oblivious to the silent message sent between Sam and I- showed him to the ladder where he husband had fallen. "This is where he fell."

"I see." Sam moved closer to the ladder. "Now, how exactly did he...?"

"He was just inside, changing a light bulb. Must've lost his balance."

"Were you here when this happened?" Sam asked.

"No, I was out," she answered. "The only one here was our daughter, Dakota."

I watched Sam as he did a scan of what he could see of the house. His eyes landed on the same thing I'd noticed the moment I arrived. Some kind of red mark was under one of the windows. It appeared to be blood, but we couldn't be sure.

Standing in that window now was Dakota. She watched Sam and I with a look in her eyes as if she wanted nothing more than for us to go, and she was willing to do whatever it took. It honestly scared the crap out of me.

"Okay, well, I think that's all I need." Turning back to Karen, Sam got back to business. "I'll get out of your way now."

She nodded. "Thank you." Turning around, she went to walk off when Sam noticed something on the back of her neck.

I'd seen it as well, when I first got here. It was some kind of bite, but all so a bruise like something had sucked on the skin. I had no idea what it was, but it was a clue.

Sam looked to me again, yet another silent message being passed between us.

Understanding, I got to my feet and smiled at Karen. "Look, I should probably head off, too. Maybe we can catch up later?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, of course." She rested a hand on my arm. "Thanks for coming by to check on us, Lizzie. You're too sweet."

"Please, anything for a friend of Lisa's." I then gestured to Sam. "I'll show him out. You go make sure Dakota's okay."

"That'll be great, thanks." She gave me a small smile as she then walked off.

Sam and I headed for the front door to leave. We didn't say a word until we were on the front porch, heading to my car.

"You get a taxi here?"

"Dean had the car," he answered.

"You staying at Cicero Pines Motel?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Yep." I pulled my keys out. "Got nothing better to do, so why don't I drop you off? Then I'll get back to work."

He laughed lightly then. "Dean told me you're a babysitter. Also told me the kid has a crush on you. And that he thinks the kid might be his."

"Wait..." I came to a stop. "What?"

"Yeah." Sam stopped as well, going on, clearly not seeing my confused face. "He hooked up with Lisa eight or so years back. They spent an entire weekend together. That's why we're here. Because, you know, the deal."

I just rolled my eyes. "Right. The deal." Sighing, I continued for the car.

If I was being completely honest, now that I thought about it, Ben could be Dean's. There were so many similarities between the two of them. I'd even say Ben was practically a mini Dean. The way he dressed, spoke, even ate. All his likes and dislikes...

Oh my God...

DPOV

I was heading for my car when I noticed Ben sitting on a bench in the park alone. I thought about leaving, but when I saw how upset he looked, I found myself walking over to him.

"Hey, Ben."

He looked up at me. "Hey. Dean, right?"

"Yeah." I nodded, moving to sit next to him. "So, where's your mum? Or Liz?"

"Mum's busy cleaning up the house. Liz is getting ice-cream," he answered, looking down at a leather pouch he held in his hands that sat on his lap.

"Everything okay? Something wrong?" I asked, but he simply shrugged. I looked to the pouch and then around the park, seeing a group of four kids crowded together as one played on some kind of game. "That your game they're playing with?"

Ben answered, but didn't look up as he spoke. "Ryan Humphrey borrowed it. And now he won't give it back."

I shifted to get up. "You want me to go-"

Before I could finish my sentence, he grabbed my arm to stop me from going. "No. Don't go over there. Only bitches send a grownup."

I was surprised, amused and impressed by the kid. "You're not wrong."

"And I'm not a bitch," he assured me, letting go of my arm.

I laughed. "Is that Humphrey? The one who needs to lay off the burgers?" Ben grinned and nodded at my question. "Hmm... well, here's what you gotta do."

Bamby

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My Fiery Heart reread response (my Indigo Spell one here, my first-time Fiery Heart one here from 7.5 years ago)

before I get into it, I remembered looking up the Iolanthe coven name Sydney used; that wasn’t something I looked up until after reading it the first time though, so I didn’t realize the fairy court connection to Sydney recommending Zoe do her literature assignment on Midsummer Night’s Dream... I’m very certain it was an intentional reference to that opera now (even though the purple flower meaning was enough on its own)... if they get around to adapting this one, I half want to see Amberwood Prep put on a production of MND where Jill is helping with the costumes and Zoe gets to play Titania or something; I never got around to reading Richard III (Zoe’s original pick) but it’s interesting that free will/fatalism is apparently a major theme, and that Richard contrived to have his brother Clarence sent to the Tower of London...

also, I’m not sure if I cared about “White Rabbit” by Jefferson Airplane all those years ago, but I got a thrill seeing it referenced this go around.

we get the first namedrop for Cicero (though we had heard about his propensity for killing birds and some other mention in the earlier BL books ETA, 7/19: “My family had a cat back in Utah that I was pretty sure was more responsible than Angeline” pg 31 TGL

Anyway, gosh Sydney makes bad decisions in this one. And it’s not because she has too much to do- she has no real outside strenuous challenges to protecting Jill or her group this go around. The friend group actually had to decide “yeah let’s go hunt down a Strigoi in LA” for there to be a major action scene. I realize she’s in her late teens and the burdens put on her are unfair, but she’s a great example of someone who thrives under pressure and falls apart when she’s given too much free time.

The switch to dual narrators was unnecessary. It wasn’t bad, but it was clearly only to set up for the big cliffhanger at the end, and so feels a bit pointless in this one. Btw, Rose didn’t lose her spirit link into Lissa’s mind after Lissa went on antidepressants. Now admittedly, the chemicals in Adrian’s mood stabilizers would have probably worked differently, or maybe Richelle was trying to retroactively make things more consistent (since alcohol could affect the bond), or maybe it was “Adrian and Jill’s bond is less established, so Jill can’t break through like Rose could”... but the sudden decision mid book (with no repercussions- Adrian doesn’t even bring it up to Sydney to be like “hey, one of your main concerns about having sex is taken care of”) is so pointless and really goes to the minimal page-time of the larger ensemble. I said it the first time I read the book, the absence of Kristin and Julia, and Micah, and even more important characters like Angeline or Trey is so frustrating. I realize Richelle couldn’t write a book that was 900 pages long, but I would have gladly taken any of those characters instead of the completely unnecessary Terwilliger/Malachi romance. Especially to see Jill’s reaction to getting to be a more typical high school human, since I think she would have gotten even more attached to Amberwood than Sydney did. I also just... really, the Alchemists decided to have Sydney’s bio sister on campus... pretending to be a cousin... while she was playing sister to Jill? I get they kind of backed themselves into a corner, but weird. That being said, I was happy to have Rowena and Cassie around. (give me Adrian and Rowena being wlw besties excellence to make me really happy)

Sydney’s coven initiation taking place in chapter 2, then she meets Inez (who gives her the books on charms)... and we never see a witch other than Jackie again in this book? Honestly, why bother with writing the initiation at that rate? I still like the cloak they made Sydney though. On reread, there’s the randomest bit where Trey’s like “is Neil even really British” and I wonder if that was a dropped storyline where Neil was faking. Olive and Nina are still pleasant characters, and I liked that they had a “unique” background, but knowing how those stories end was kind of a buzzkill on reread. Olive, especially, deserved better.

This is another one where I forgot quite a few events- Adrian getting drunk and the pawnshop (I think I remembered that obliquely, but not so much on it), or the trip to Texas (which actually came before the pawnshop but oh well). I was happy to finally get some actual Christian content again, although I regret we didn’t get more from Sydney & Rose or more Sydney & Lissa. On Adrian’s mental health storyline... I am less impressed by it than I was the first time (though I didn’t remember being super-impressed, but according to my first review?). I do actually like Adrian being insistent, once he’s started taking meds, that he’s going to continue, but the diagnosis of bipolar disorder doesn’t actually feel like it fits? I will say, I find Adrian’s “chicken or egg” pondering over whether spirit causes mental illness or mental illness means a predisposition to specializing in spirit is fascinating (though it’s probably for the best Richelle never actually answered it).

The way Adrian spoke (or thought) about Zoe really pissed me off. Like, one, you’re an adult, stop antagonizing the sister of the girl you like and just be cordial (which is less suspicious than suddenly acting like you and Sydney don’t get along at all), and two... Adrian’s super protective over Sydney after realizing the emotional abuse Jared heaped on, but somehow doesn’t realize that this fifteen year old has been spending time with said father’s attention solely focused on her for ages now, and he has no sympathy for her? Instead of seeing Zoe being like “Sydney shouldn’t have to provide for you all the time” and being like “aww, that’s a nice protective sister instinct even if she needs an attitude adjustment” he taunts a 15 year old about drinking from her the way he did to 20-something actual-predator Keith. He could have engaged yet another Sage sister in talking about his awesome car on the drive over, or at least made other good faith efforts.

The dabbling stuff made me more uncomfortable this time around (I think). Especially Sydney comparing her getting Keith’s eye ripped out to Adrian’s assault of a human girl... that was some real false equivalency on Richelle’s part. But other parts of it, like “oh here comes Adrian to save the day and at least he’s changed from these guys he used to hang out with (oh, look at that convenient statement that even back in the day Adrian wasn’t on the same level of bad as them)”  was really frustrating, or the fact that Adrian was very deliberately withholding information from her in his own chapters and it made me question his trustworthiness in her chapters. Or the “oh, hey, he made the concession of getting treatment for his mental illness, so all is forgiven” handwaving. Like, Richelle brought this in to be an obstacle to their relationship, but it’s addressed so quickly (with maybe a pittance effort of later being like “oh, at least Adrian didn’t take advantage when Sydney accidentally absorbed some Moroi endorphins- he learned his lessons!) that it doesn’t merit the actual consideration of so important a topic Idk. I do feel like I enjoy the Sydrian relationship more in this book than the others, but I also have some huge issues with it.

Adaptation-wise, I think genderbent Adrian would definitely mean a change to the dabbling storyline (yes, women can be sexual predators, but I don’t think this storyline would be maintained with different social expectations). Honestly, give me an Adrian who, instead of having victimized someone, doesn’t immediately fully grasp how upsetting this idea of vampires preying on her species (and risking exposure) is to Sydney... Adrian being like “it isn’t sexual, those guys would never consider sleeping with a human” but the consent even to give blood still being critical to Sydney. And you know what? Let Lissa “compelled a guy to almost hit himself over the head with a baseball bat for molesting a Feeder” Dragomir have a spirit freak out moment of rage and go off on these subjects of hers the way that was deserved (and then once she cools down, maybe she can’t punish them fully, but she uses it to leverage their royal families’ agreement to the Family Rule amendment). And just finish that law by the end of the season, so that when the Alchemists pull out Sydney and Zoe, they’re actually closing down the whole Palm Springs operation in a rage. (if I remember correctly Alicia kidnapped Jill between books 5 and 6, but that was a stupid plotline imo- let Sydney and her coven take care of Alicia in the downtime of this book instead) Let Rose figure out that Sydney and Adrian are in love- she’s smart and she would pick up on that; let her celebrate them and encourage them to be happy together. Also the “Sydney and Adrian get three days at an inn to sex it all up” was stupid... like I’m happy for them but am I really supposed to buy that they could afford all that time away from Palm Springs?

As bad as I feel for Syd, and Adrian, and Eddie, and Jill, and Jackie at the end of TFH, I do remember that I’m going to feel worst for Hopper. I’m sorry that demon dragon Calistana has my heart and I remember one scene from Silver Shadows featuring the little guy prominently...

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @theswandive!

Read on AO3

*****

The Great and the Bloody    

Alec wiped the sweat from his forehead as he tried to focus on the early morning traffic and the Fall of Rome playing through the speakers. In the passenger seat beside him, Isabelle nodded absently to the pulsing rhythm of the electronic dance music on her headphones.

“There is no duty more obligatory than the repayment of kindness,” the historian quoted Cicero, just as Alec reached up to pause the podcast.

“Which exit is it?” he asked.

Izzy’s bobbing head continued, fingers tapping with a plastic crinkle against her thigh.

“Hey!” Alec elbowed her. “Where are we going?”

Izzy dropped her headphones to loop around her neck. The music kept pounding through them, too hype and aggressive for so early in the day, in Alec’s opinion. Not that Rome’s destruction was particularly peaceful. Izzy scrolled through her phone, nails trimmed short, but painted bright red. “Thirty-five B,” she said finally.

“On the right?”

“Most exits are on the right, Alec.”

“Hey, don’t get snippy. I’m doing you a favor.”

“Sorry,” she grumbled. “I’m thirsty. And hot.”

“Yeah.” Alec pushed his t-shirt against his skin to soak up the drop of sweat sliding down his chest. “Can we turn the heat off now?”

“No. This chick’s manager said she won’t take the fight if I’m an ounce over 125.” She adjusted the blowers, aiming them at herself even though they already were, and turned the heat up high, even though it already was. She’d been wearing the crinkly plastic sauna suit since the night before, trying to sweat out every extra drop of water weight.

“I’m not sure I like you taking a fight on short notice with a fighter we know nothing about at a venue I’ve never heard of.”

Izzy shrugged, and Alec supposed it was that casual recklessness that made her the fighter and him the driver in this scenario. “I’ve read her Wikipedia page,” she said.

“She has a Wikipedia page? Do you have a Wikipedia page?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, Alec. It doesn’t matter.”

“Okay. So tell me about her.”

“Camille ‘The Bloody’ Belcourt,” Isabelle read.

Alec shook his head. “Fight names…”

“Couple of her fights are on YouTube. See?”

She turned her phone to him and Alec glanced over just in time to see a dark-haired woman slam her opponent with a sharp, fight-ending left hook.

“That her getting clocked or doing the clocking?”

“Doing the clocking. She’s undefeated.”

Alec took in a deep breath.

“And so I am, Alec.”

“Damn right, you are,” he said, veering the conversation away from dangerous territory. “That’s going on your Wikipedia page that I’m going to create when we’re at the hotel.”

Izzy laughed.

Alec never did enjoy watching his little sister fight, or seeing those bruises and black eyes heal, but ever since she was little, a Happy Izzy was always a bit rumpled. She didn’t feel like herself if she wasn’t elbows-deep in entrails for an autopsy, or her knuckles raw from gi burn and learning a new collar choke. It was something his parents never understood about her. But then, his parents didn’t understand a lot about him either.

“Raphael says it’s all okay," she said. "His text says, ‘Magnus Bane is a good man.’”

“Magnus Bane. Now that’s a good fight name. ‘Great’ Bane. Bane of your existence.”

Izzy looked at him, silent, clueless.

“Magnus means ‘great’ in Latin,” Alec explained.

“Okay. I don’t think he’s a fighter, though. He just owns the venue. The fight night’s this charity thing he does for a teen shelter. That place that Raphael talks about, remember? For queer and trans youth? He’s known Magnus forever.”

“Oh.” Alec shrugged. “Cool name.”

Off the 35B exit into the city, shining office buildings surrounded the Pandemonium nightclub and the only parking was a four-story garage attached to the Radisson hotel. Signs declared anything closer to be “For Deliveries Only.”

A van marked “Downworld Warriors” sat idling outside the service doors, their fighters climbing out with their gym bags and gear.

“You’re a delivery,” Alec said as he and Izzy cruised by the otherwise dim, unimpressive building. “I could drop you off.”

“Nah, go park at the hotel. I can sweat more on the walk over.”

In fact, Izzy chose to jog over, conveniently forgetting that that left Alec to carry her gym bag and her cooler filled with water and Powerade, along with his own backpack. But Luke always reminded them that a focused fighter was a ready fighter, and a focused fighter was sometimes an oblivious fighter. Alec shuffled slowly after her, actually sort of enjoying the empty city sidewalks on a cool, sunny morning.

A few minutes later, he struggled through the door of the nightclub in time to hear a voice greeting his sister. “You must be Isabelle,” the man said fluidly. “Raphael told me to look for the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”

Alec suppressed an eye roll. It wasn’t the worst line he’d heard a guy give Izzy, and at least the guy followed it up with information for a fighter, not an invitation to his private suite at the Radisson (Alec had heard Izzy get that one before).

Inside, Pandemonium seemed gray. Gray in a way that nightclubs always seemed during the day. No flashing lights or sparkling people. Just strained sunlight revealing an open space that felt more like a warehouse than a dance floor. But as Alec set down Izzy’s bags, he noted that the place looked clean. No disturbing stains on the fancy velvet couches along the walls, no dust clinging to the liquor bottles, and the only unpleasant smell Alec detected was the familiar musky stink of his sister’s boxing gloves. Alec glanced around and pondered that he might actually be the dirtiest thing in here.

“Who are you?” he heard that same voice breathe.

“That’s my brother. He’s cornering for me,” Isabelle answered as she disappeared through a far door, and Alec turned to see the most incredible-looking person gliding toward him. He blinked, trying to take in every bit—and everywhere he looked was something to admire from the dark liner around darker eyes to the handsome goatee around perfect lips to the glittering necklaces against a strong, broad chest to the fitted slacks to the—were those shoes suede? And how did a person move like that?

“I’m Magnus,” the man said smoothly. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.”

“Alec.” The smile on his face felt decidedly dopey.

And this man, Magnus, smiled back at him, all flowing confidence, shoulders swaying. “I expected to see Luke this morning,” he said.

“Oh, um. He’s on his honeymoon. So—so you get me.”

“Do I?” The tone in Magnus’s voice sent strange heat down Alec’s spine.

“My sister—Isabelle—her water,” Alec stumbled, awkwardly lifting the cooler. “She’s thirsty.”

“I know the feeling,” Magnus said with a smirk, then he nodded.   “Yes, you should join your sister. The weigh-ins are in the back room.”

Alec nodded once, short and distracted, then ran after Izzy, tripping over her gym bag before he remembered to carry it too.

He found her in a tidy storage room packed with other fighters and their coaches, the walls lined with boxes stamped with the names of fine liqueurs. His skin trembled as he stood next to her. “You have my towels?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah.” He heard Luke’s voice in his head again and muttered to himself. “Focus on your fighter, Lightwood. Focus on your fighter.”

So he followed Isabelle as she ducked into a nearby room. He paused at the door, reading a metal placard on the door that stated, “Restroom - Gender not enforced nor required,” then walked in to help Isabelle peel herself out of her disgustingly sweaty sauna suit.

Usually Alec liked going to weigh-ins. Nothing but dozens of men in fighting shape, dropping down to their underwear to flex and step on the scale. But his gaze kept sliding over to Magnus as he strolled in and out, answering questions from Duncan, the representative from the athletic commission; talking with caterers; directing crews arriving with chairs, tables, and the massive chain-link walls of the cage. None of the nearly naked athletes with their youthful aggression could compare to Magnus’s casual competence, the way he moved like the lord of a kingdom.

Leaning against the wall beside him, Isabelle noticed nothing, too distracted by hunger and thirst, mind focused, and her head bobbing to the beat pulsing through her headphones. She noticed, though, when Camille “The Bloody” Belcourt herself arrived an hour late.

Izzy’s opponent strolled in wrapped in a red silk robe, followed by an entourage of what Alec assumed were her training partners—women and men with round boxer’s shoulders and sculpted abs on display. He glanced at his sister, but if she was intimidated, it didn’t show.  

The other fighters, all the young and hungry guys ready to bang, parted for her like subjects before their queen, and Camille looked at them the same way. She strode across the room, high heels clicking on the concrete, and came to stand beside Commissioner Duncan and the scale.

“Hey, Camille,” Duncan greeted, and marked his clipboard with a sigh.

Alec peered around; no one seemed surprised she was late. And for that matter, Alec didn’t see Magnus Bane anywhere.

“Where’s the other girl?” Camille asked. “I want to see her make weight before I bother taking off my shoes.”

Duncan read off his clipboard, “Isabelle Lightwood, Wolfpack MMA,” but Isabelle was already crossing to them, feet and body bare save for her sports bra and swimsuit bottoms.

Alec felt the air stir beside him and tensed to realize it was Magnus sliding into Isabelle’s place. “Your sister looks like a real warrior,” he said.

“She is,” Alec replied, swallowing. Magnus smelled incredible, some masculine scent that Alec wanted on his skin, and he felt keenly aware of his shirt soaked by his own sweat, and Izzy’s sweat, and his unwashed hair and unshaven jaw.

“And you?” Magnus turned to him, back leaned against the wall.

“I still train, but I don’t—uh, I stopped competing a while ago.”

“Why’s that?”

“I didn’t want to get hit in the head anymore.”

Magnus laughed lightly. “Understandable.”

Alec’s eyes met Magnus’s and he searched for words to say, even if he could have just gazed at those brown eyes in silence for an embarrassingly long time. “You? I mean, do you—fight?”

“No, no. I’ve always just been fight adjacent.”

“How’d you end up fight adjacent?

“I dated Camille.” Magnus smiled a bit tightly.

“Oh.” Alec looked away, back to the scale, just in time to see Camille drop her silken robe to reveal matching deep-red lacy lingerie. The men around them let out hoots and appreciative whistles. Alec didn’t need to be attracted to her to know she was gorgeous.

“She does bring in a lot of money for the shelter,” Magnus continued, tilting his head toward Alec to be heard over the clamor. “Some love her, some hate her, but everybody pays to see her.”

Alec watched Camille’s toned, unblemished body on the scale and wished he could read on Magnus’s face how he felt about her now. He tugged the sleeve of his t-shirt down, as if it would do anything to hide the black ink decorating his arms, his scars or his coarse hair.

“I would say it's hard working with an ex, but it's really just Camille.” Magnus shrugged. “Duncan’s my ex, too, and he and I get along just fine.”

“Oh,” Alec said, and no other words came to his mind. Except maybe, Oh, thank god.

Magnus cast him a glance, as if maybe that was exactly why he’d mentioned it. Alec breathed a little easier.

Izzy stalked back over to them. She didn’t acknowledge Magnus as she grabbed the Powerade from Alec’s hands, cracked the lid, and downed half of it in one go. “I need food,” she said.

At the same moment, a woman in a chef’s coat approached. “Mr. Bane?”

Alec and Magnus looked at one another. “Duty calls, for both of us,” Magnus said as he backed away to join the chef.

“Yeah,” Alec said, watching him go, and he turned to follow Izzy.

_______

In their small room at the Radisson, Alec dug through his backpack, searching for something—anything—nicer to wear. He smelled the armpits of a black button-down, forgotten, folded and wedged at the bottom. Wrinkled, but clean.

While Izzy sprawled on the bed devouring her pre-fight carbs and protein, Alec showered, shaved, and cleaned himself from head to toe. Steam billowed out the open door as he stood before the foggy mirror, tugging on his damp hair.

He didn’t notice Izzy standing in the doorway until she spoke. “Thought you were going to make my Wiki page,” she said knowingly, eyeing his clothes.

Alec glanced over. “Oh—I…um…”

She laughed and waved away his explanations. “You look nice.” She came in smirking and turned him toward her, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt.

“What’re you doing?” Alec swatted her hands.

“Show off some of those tattoos, big brother.” She grinned. “I bet Magnus likes them.”

Alec narrowed his eyes at her. Normal Izzy with food and water in her body was a dangerously perceptive creature.

_______

When they returned, Pandemonium had been transformed. A huge, six-sided ring sat in the center of the dancefloor on a dais, closed in on all sides by vinyl-coated chain-link fencing. Folding chairs with lush red cushions surrounded the cage and blue lights cast sparkling, magical patterns on the walls and floor. Caterers rushed back and forth, preparing food that smelled rich and savory, and Alec breathed in deep through his nose as he followed Isabelle through the red-velvet of the VIP section to the contained “fight stink” of the backroom where all the fighters warmed up and waited.

Hosting this lavish event turned Magnus into a ghost, a gilded, beautiful thing shimmering in and out of the room—but from the glances cast his way, Alec let himself imagine maybe the apparition appeared in the backroom more than necessary. Maybe Magnus was finding excuses to look at him, too.

Magnus still cut the finer figure. He’d changed clothes as well, his earlier outfit only revealed to have been casual in contrast to his evening finery—a jacket lined with glittering metal studs and a blue vest fitted tightly over his chest. Rings glinted on his fingers, necklaces highlighting the incredible lines of his throat, and Alec had never understood until now how magical fashion could be on the body of a man who knew how to use it.

And the kids. Teenagers from the shelter trailed after him like ducklings with their short-cropped hair dyed hot pink or spiked through with purple, wearing their best jeans and hoodies, or sundresses with fuzzy knitted cardigans. Magnus smiled and laughed with them, all at ease, like a favorite uncle. Or a perfect father. Alec remembered what Raphael had texted Isabelle: “Magnus Bane is a good man.” You might have undersold that, Raph, he thought.

“You can go talk to him,” Isabelle said.

“No, it’s—I’m here for you.” Alec returned his attention to layering gauze around his sister’s knuckles. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, Alec.” She nearly rolled her eyes, but Alec also saw the glance that skittered over toward the corner where Camille warmed up with her coach. Alec could hear her harsh breaths and the smacks of glove against hand pads. He knew his sister well enough to know that she was nervous. She’d never faced an opponent as tough as Camille, and he’d been too distracted by Magnus to pay attention to the weigh-ins. Maybe Camille said something to her. Maybe Camille had actually managed to intimidate her.

He tore the gauze, then pulled out a long strip of white athletic tape to secure her hand wraps. “So, Isabelle Sophia Lightwood—excuse me, Doctor Isabelle Sophia Lightwood is an undefeated MMA fighter. Brown belt in jiu-jitsu and she’s won a ton of tournaments; we don’t even have enough room on Wikipedia to list all the tournaments she’s won. She got her doctorate in forensics in 20...15?”

“2016,” Isabelle corrected. “January 13th.”

“January 13th, 2016—so she can not only choke someone, but she can autopsy them and diagnose the cause of death afterward.”

Isabelle let out a laugh, followed by a steady sigh that Alec had wanted to hear. She rested her chin on her arms, gazing at him with a smile as he firmly taped her fists. “She’s a really, really bad cook—”

“Hey!”

“She once ruined pre-made cookie dough that her mom got for her brother’s birthday party—”

“That’s true...”

“But she makes a mean bowl of cereal. Oh, and she figured out that it was the mushrooms in the neighbor’s yard that were poisoning the chipmunks. Remember that, at the old house?”

“Oh, yeah!” Isabelle said, laughing, and Alec grinned just to hear her.

For once that night, he didn’t notice that magical Magnus Bane was in the room. He didn’t notice that Magnus Bane was watching him, watching them, with admiration in his eyes.

_______

A good-looking guy in a tailored suit joined the ring-girl in her evening gown in the cage. Both of them circled the mat to admiring hoots and cheers as they carried signs over their heads reading, “Round 1.” Alec had known of Magnus’s existence for all of eight hours, but it didn’t surprise him to see that the man had arranged for a “ring-girl” and a “ring-boy” for his guests.

And what guests they were. Alec straightened the collar of his Wolfpack hoodie over his button-down and reminded himself he was there as an athlete anyway. Everyone seemed to shine, in every way a person could shine. Alec tried not to gape at men walking through hand in hand, wedding bands prominent on their otherwise bare fingers. Women in puffy cocktail dresses introducing each other as “my wife.” It was dizzying. Dizzyingly beautiful in a way Alec hadn’t known was possible.

Among them, Camille “The Bloody” Belcourt had a lot of fans. They booed and screamed, leaning over the railing at Isabelle as she strode out from the backroom to take her place in the cage. During his own fighting days, this had always been the part Alec liked least. He loved to train and spar, part of him even loved to get out there and test himself against a fighter he didn’t know, but he never could thrive on the attention the way Isabelle did.

“Yeah!” she cried, throwing her hands in the air. The crowd got louder as those who weren’t fans of Camille bellowed their support into the air, a battle of voices among the plush red chairs.

Isabelle’s grin glowed brightly as she strutted toward the cage, waving and winking at the crowd. She always made for a great show. Promoters loved her for it. Alec kind of loved her for it, too. He shook his head, laughing, and proudly followed her.

As Izzy got checked over by the cutman, Alec took his spot just outside the cage, near enough to talk to her during the fight. Near enough to coach and help. “Stay loose, Izzy,” Alec said, trying to keep his voice steady as she trotted to her corner on the mat. “Be first.”

Camille stalked like the cage like an animal, whatever coyness she’d shown at the weigh-ins burned away by aggression. She stared at Isabelle across the mat, eyes narrowed to dark slits. Her mouthguard showed red and white between her lips, fashioned to look like she had vampire fangs.

Isabelle cracked her neck and the referee chopped his hand down. “Fight!” he yelled.

Camille and Isabelle moved toward each other, fists up. For the first round, Izzy held her own, but just barely. The second round felt like a nightmare.

Alec had seen his sister in plenty of ugly fights, but Camille seemed faster, more brutal than all of them. Her every strike aimed to permanently damage, not just win the fight, and left—right—hook, a violent cross and Isabelle dropped to one knee. For only a fraction of a second, but it was worse than Alec had seen her do before. It meant she was hurt.

Isabelle turned toward him, pivoting on her foot and her left eye was a mound of red, swollen flesh. Blood poured down her chin from her nose. Even the crowd behind him reacted, the sound of a hundred people hissing in sympathy. And suddenly, Alec was four years old and holding the baby his parents brought him from the hospital and she was his, he called her his. And he was twelve and shouting back at his parents for making Isabelle cry, fighting for her in a way he never fought for himself. And he was nineteen and stealing his dad’s car in the middle of the night to pick up Isabelle from a friend’s house when everyone had gotten drunk and out of control, and he didn’t scold her or complain because at least she was safe, and they were together, and she was his baby sister. Alec told Luke he couldn’t do this part. He could cheer for Izzy, he could train and spar and root for Izzy, but he couldn’t do this. He wanted to throw in the towel and just scream at the referee to Stop this! Can’t you see she’s hurt? That’s my sister!

He didn’t realize the ragged panic in his breath until he felt a steady grip on his elbow and Magnus at his side. “Hey, hey,” Magnus soothed. “It’s okay. She’ll be okay.”

Alec turned to him, let himself drink in the caring calm of his face. “Listen to me,” Magnus said, and Alec did, as though his life depended on it. “Your sister knows what she’s doing. She’s a warrior. Right now, she needs you as her coach. Help her see what she can’t.”

Alec heard the familiar click of the 10-second warning and the crowd’s cheering intensified along with the fight. He knew Izzy would be pouring out her last bit of energy before the end of the round.

“Camille drops her right with her hook,” Alec said.

Magnus smiled, warm and fond. “Yes, she does. And she can’t sprawl worth a damn. Tell Isabelle all of that. Go.”

The bell sounded the end of the round. Alec grabbed his cornerman’s bucket and ran up the steps into the cage. Isabelle’s injuries looked even worse up close. Alec’s gaze darted to the man, the stranger who felt like a friend, still standing outside the fencing. Magnus nodded comfortingly at him.

“Can you see?” he asked his sister.

“I can see. It’s okay.” She took the swig of water he offered her and winked with her good eye. “How do I look?”

“You look like a warrior, Dr. Lightwood.”

A smile flickered across Isabelle’s broken lips. Alec pressed the cold metal of the Enswell against the hot, straining skin of her cheek and told her everything she needed to know to defeat Camille “The Bloody” Belcourt.

“Seconds out!” the ref shouted, and Alec left the cage. Magnus had waited for him and Alec fell in beside him, staring up at the third round in the cage.

Izzy rolled her shoulders, let out a breath, and stepped into the center of the cage with fists raised and first-round fire in her step. This is what Alec admired and loved about his sister. He made a mental note to tell Magnus about the time she’d been paired against a 200-pound jiu-jitsu champ at the PanAms, or the time she’d beat up a guy at school who kept unhooking the girls’ bras in the hallway, or the time she’d aced the SATs with a head cold. Isabelle had no quit in her.

And she wasn’t starting now. Camille threw one of those sharp, fight-ending left hooks—but Izzy bobbed and blasted a left hook of her own into that vampire-toothed grimace. In a flash, she’d dropped and slammed Camille to the ground.

“All right, Izzy! Yes! Stay heavy!” Alec screamed amid the cheering crowd.

In the cage, Isabelle dominated. Camille flailed on her back like a cockroach, trying to get a hold, but Izzy spun and grabbed her arm. Alec’s arm twinged in sympathetic memory as Isabelle clamped down the arm bar, forcing Camille’s elbow to painfully hyperextend. The 10-second warning clicked.

“Hold it! Stay tight!” Alec yelled.

Isabelle did. The clock counted down—and then, three seconds before the round ended, the pain was too much. Camille tapped.

The crowd erupted. Alec jumped on his feet, screaming, with Magnus cheering beside him and all the people behind them. Mixed in, some of Camille’s clan still booed and hollered insults, but Isabelle’s comeback had won most of them over. A wave of excited chanting roared through the room.

The ref stopped the fight and a second later, the timer buzzed the end of the round. Camille “The Bloody” Belcourt—undefeated no more.

Alec ran up into the cage as soon as the door opened and he lifted Izzy into a sweaty, triumphant hug. She grinned as best she could with a swollen eye and blood staining her mouthguard. Alec half-turned to bring Magnus into the embrace, but he wasn’t there. Because of course he wasn’t, Alec realized. They barely knew one another. Of course Magnus wouldn’t have come in.

He glanced back to his spot through the fencing, but Magnus wasn’t there either. He was gone. But that made sense, Alec insisted to himself. Magnus was a busy person and this was his event. Of course, he didn’t have time to linger just for Alec. They were strangers. They didn’t know one another.

They were strangers.

_______

The quiet

plink-plink-plink

of the dripping faucet in the bathroom soothed the hum in his ears from the screaming crowd just outside the door. Isabelle sat on the counter, eyes closed as Alec gently cleaned the blood from her chin and neck. He valued these moments almost as much as the victories. Izzy had patched a lot of his wounds, too—physical and otherwise. It made the distance from their parents a little easier.

Izzy hissed in pain as the cloth dragged over raw skin. “She hits hard for a tiny thing.”

“So do you, tiny thing,” Alec said. “And she’s the one with a loss on her Wiki page now.”

“True,” Izzy agreed, and fell silent again. She breathed steadily, calmly, under her brother’s care. “I’m surprised you didn’t freak out when I started bleeding.”

“I did, actually.” He rinsed the towel in the sink, staining the water pink. He hesitated, then added, “Magnus calmed me down.”

“He did?” Izzy opened her good eye.

Alec nodded, wiping carefully under her nose.

“Did you thank him? Or get his phone number?”

“No.”

“Alec,” she said, like he was the stupidest man in the world. “What are you doing? Go find him.” She snatched the towel from his hand.

“You’re hurt.”

“So what? You like him and you never like people.”

Alec wanted to argue, he wanted to be by her side—but he wanted to see Magnus, too. And the thought tickled maddeningly at his mind that maybe he never wanted another day where he didn’t see Magnus.

Alec burst out of the bathroom, feeling like the hero in a romantic comedy as he darted through the crowds watching the headlining fight. He didn’t know exactly where Magnus would be, but he didn’t see him among the sparkle and finery around the cage. He didn’t see him in the VIP section, or by the bar, so Alec rushed through the departing fighters to the backroom.

And there, he saw him.

With Camille.

Alec halted, almost skidding on the concrete. Magnus stood placidly as the medics tended to Camille’s minor wounds. “I don’t know what you think you have without me,” she said to Magnus.

“We agreed upon a price, Camille. You didn’t specify a bonus should you lose.”

“Because I shouldn’t have lost.” She glowered at him. “Are you done?” she barked at the medic, who nodded and backed away, hands raised.

Alec watched them. For as much as they looked beautiful together—both dark-eyed, graceful and effortlessly fashionable—they looked utterly wrong together. Magnus all warmth to Camille’s coolness, soulful to her sinful, a smile to her sneer. Camille showed almost no sign of the fight, save for a small mark by her eye and the ice pack the medic fastened to her elbow.

All he could think of was the blood pouring down Izzy’s chin and the ugly swell of her eye. He stared at the wounded expression on Magnus’s face and Alec wondered if that was the irony of calling her “The Bloody”—even when you defeated her, you were the one left bleeding.

Alec thought of Cicero and strolled into the room. “Magnus,” he said, as though he didn’t realize Camille was there. “You free for dinner?”

Magnus turned to him, his expression open in surprise. Alec glanced at Camille, just one cursory look. Just enough to be sure she knew he wasn’t scared of her any more than Izzy was. Camille smiled with only half her mouth, an unkind, nasty thing.

Alec returned his gaze to Magnus and those bright, honest eyes. “I couldn’t leave without seeing you,” he said softly, hoping Magnus would hear the truth in the words. The soft curve of his lips seemed to say that he did.

“Of course, Alexander,” he breathed, then cleared his throat and tugged the hem of his vest. “I’m afraid we’ll have to adhere to the contract, Camille, unless you’d like to schedule an appointment for our lawyers to hash it out. You can add a ‘loss clause’ next time.”

“Maybe there won’t be a next time, Magnus,” she said, imposing as though the folding chair were a throne. “We’ll see how your little charity project does then.”

If Alec expected a cynical smile from Magnus, he didn’t get one. Instead, he looked upon Camille with disappointment, and sorrow. “You can do that, if that’s your choice. As they say, a true fighter reveals herself in defeat.”

Magnus turned his back on her and fell into step beside Alec as they left the room. Their shoulders brushed.

They walked in silence for few moments, just making it into the dim and comfort of the VIP section before Magnus tugged Alec to a stop and turned to him, sudden and sure. “Thank you,” he said. A heartbeat later, Alec felt Magnus’s lips pressed against his, gratitude raw even in the gentleness of his touch.

Alec couldn’t speak with Magnus so close, the heat of him so near. So near that he saw the worry begin to cloud Magnus’s features. “I’m sorry—” Magnus started.

Alec grabbed him by the lapels and kissed that worry away.

As Alec drank in the scent and feel of him, some scattered thought reminded him that Magnus was a stranger, that he’d known this man for only a matter of hours. Truly, he didn’t know this man at all. But another, stronger part of him knew he did. He knew him and trusted him and couldn’t wait to learn everything else.

When they parted, Magnus’s smile was a blissful, radiant thing. “So where are we going for our first date? he asked.

Alec ducked his head, feeling a laugh glowing in his chest. First date, and not a doubt that there would be a second, a third.

“We can stay here,” Magnus continued, “but my team knows what they’re doing and frankly, it might be nice to get away from work for a while.”

“Izzy always wants to eat her body weight in tamales after a fight.” Alec shrugged a little apologetically. “I know tamales with my sister’s not very romantic, but it’s—we’ve had this tradition since her first tournament—and I’d like you to come if—”

Magnus lifted a finger, nearly touching Alec’s lips to silence him. “I understand," he said. “I’d love to come."

Alec couldn’t help but smile, and watched those ring-gilded fingers drift away. “I left Izzy in the bathroom,” he said, as they stepped back out into the main room.

“She’s not now.”

Alec followed Magnus’s eyeline to the cluster of young people from the shelter. They surrounded Isabelle, fight programs held out for her autograph, cellphones clutched in their hands for selfies.

“My family found yours,” Magnus said. “I spent time at the shelter after my parents...Well, that’s a story for another time, but it’s my second home. My chosen family, you could say.” He nodded toward a little girl with pretty brown skin and fluffy braids. “That’s my Madzie.” The girl beamed, stars in her eyes as she gazed at Isabelle and asked for her signature. “Looks like I might have another crowd pleaser, if your sister is interested in a more permanent arrangement.”  

Alec turned to him. She’d love it, he thought to say. Or You’re amazing. Or I didn’t know I could feel this way about someone. A breathless “How did I not know you this morning?” came out instead.

“I don’t know.” Magnus’s eyes shown open and honest. “But we know each other now,” he said, and slid his hand into Alec’s.

[mightbedamian]

#TMIishTuesday #60 - Make a democracy a democracy!

Hey, This is a very important topic. Please keep reading - and most importantly: Go, use your vote! Be it upcoming Sunday, the Sunday after or any time later. Thanks! Hey there mighty people of the internet! And welcome to issue #60 of #TMIishTuesday - my weekly Tumblr post about what goes through my weird mind and on what you guys want to know more about. It can be something very personal, it can be something political, it can be completely pointless - but in 99.9 % of the cases, it involves opinions. And mine as well. // Last week I discussed bisexuality and the stereotypes and misconceptions regarding the topic. Check it out, once you're done reading this. :) // Within the next two weeks we have two elections coming up in Germany. Both are elections for state parliaments - those of the Schleswig-Holstein and North Rhine-Westphalia. Given the latest events in countries like the UK (Brexit), the US (The Trumpet), and France (Le Pen), it is even more important that you - you reading this - make use of your vote! Ever heard of the AfD? Let me give you a little bit of a break-down as to what happened in the elections mentioned above and then move on to the situation in Germany - and why I think we have some scaring tendencies here. 1. The UK, aka. "we want to leave the EU so badly!" - 23 June 2016 For the past few years there had been more and more public voices who felt the UK was not treated properly by the European Union (EU) - especially with regard to the migration situation (aka. the refugees coming into the EU being distributed equally among the member states). After a years-long debate, Prime Minister David Cameron kept a promise from his 2015 election campaign and held a referendum about a possible move of the UK to leave the EU. The weeks before the two campaigns were picking up speed and the closer the referendum came, the closer the parties were. In the end, it was a very close race, but Cameron's campaign to stay in the EU was not successful. It got 48 % of the votes. Which in turn meant that the UK has officially started talks to negotiate the terms of their leave. Also, as you probably know, the leave voters had a significantly higher average age than those who voted to stay in the Union. I already posted @glenrules's tweet back then in my an general update post on my life, but it's just ridiculous. And his caption "Ever been fucked by a pensioner before ? You have now." is just spot on! The younger population - and Scotland and the city of London - showed a high percentage of stay voters. Why do I tell you this story? You probably know all of the things I just told you. Well, the leave campaign got a mere 1.3 million votes more. With nearly 18 million people, who could have voted, but didn't. 35 % of those, who were allowed to vote in the referendum, didn't. But surely they joined in with the incredible vocal "this was not a fair referendum" shouts. I don't see how it was not fair. You knew the facts. You knew it would cost the UK millions every year to leave the EU. You knew your relationship towards the EU would change. You couldn't expect that you were allowed all the benefits at no costs. What would have worked: Preparing yourself well enough before the vote, checking both opinions, and finally: actually voting. Take-away: Go, use your voice! Vote! 2. The US, aka. "God bless this mofo!" - 8 November 2016 Elections in the US are quite a happening. Still, all the "Let's make America great again" and "Hillary for America" didn't quite get the people to the polling stations. Only 60 % of the voting eligible population actually used their power. And while Hillary Clinton got the popular vote (meaning she got more total votes), she still didn't become president. The American voting system is f*ed up!  No, the Trumpet became president. And we saw the same we saw with the Brexit vote: People shouting: "This is not fair! We need a re-run of the election!" Well, I have to give you that: To me it also feels unfair when the majority of people voted for Clinton, but they got the Trumpet as a president. :D But: That's how their election system works. And has been working for centuries. You can't say "it's unfair". You knew how it worked. What would have worked: Getting the remaining 40 % to vote. Changing the election system during the last election period. Fleeing the country. Okay, leaving the country is not funny. I shouldn't say that. But the first two: Definitely! 3. France, aka. "Let's switch the political situation completely!" - 23 April 2017 The latest election in France shows how sudden a change can come by. From two parties winning pretty much every electoral district to winning barely any in just five years. This again shows how agitated the whole political situation in Europe has been lately. Take-away: Don't let the right-wing parties take over! France, if you're reading this: Don't be silly! Don't hand the Èlysée Palace to Madame Le Pen just like that! Right, let's turn to Germany cause that's what we're here for. Looking at recent polls, we can expect the AfD well above the 5% threshold needed to claim seats in the Bundestag, the German national parliament. As if 9% of the German voting population were asleep for the last few years - or simply feel SO "invaded" (quote by Bernd - pardon, Björn - Höcke) by immigrants. A party built on hatred. A party that basically denies the Holocaust. Höcke, spokesperson of the AfD in the German state of Thuringia and chairman of the party in the state parliament, called the Holocaust memorial in Berlin a "memorial of shame". Wilhelm von Gottberg, another member of the party, once mentioned a "flaw of guilt" which clearly states he believes the Holocaust is nothing you should apologise for. Yepp, and I could mention lots and lots of other statements. But it's not the topic of today's post. I think I made my point here: The AfD is an ultra-right party. Some say calling them "nazis" would be too much. But, quite frankly: They are nothing short of the stuff the NPD preaches. And you call them nazis. As far as I am concerned: Only because the AfD doesn't have the N of "national socialism" incorporated, that doesn't make them any better. Aaaanyway. This post should be more about why you should vote. The first reason is stated above: Don't give those ultra-right idiots any more power. The more votes for other parties, the less their votes will weigh. As long as you don't vote for them, I don't care what you vote - it's completely up to you. And that's why we should be proud of how far we've come! We learned the lessons from the Third Reich: Anti-democratic behaviour leads to dictatorship. Sooner or later. As Cicero told us more than 2000 years ago. What a wise man! Why is democracy important you might ask? Cause who care when you only have one vote and there are 60 million others, who also do? Well, I have some answers for you. 1. Every vote counts the same. If you vote, you can be sure that your vote counts exactly the same as any other vote. We don't have the conditions of the empire times where only certain people were allowed to vote - and those of the noble and the clergy would count waaay more than those of the "common bourgeois". That's freaking important! 2. You are free in the party you vote for. You have the choice. You can decide between the 30+ parties that run for the election (granted, if we're talking Schleswig-Holstein, there are only 13 parties. And no one can tell you off for voting for that particular party. Take a look to Turkey to know how a situation would look like when you were not allowed to choose freely. Do I have to say any more? 3. It's fun! If you're young, that sounds ridiculous. I know that. But: Politics are fun! Developing an opinion on topics you have an interest in - and on those that are very important - is cool! Not only does it help you when you engage in discussion with friends, family or class mates - it also makes you realise some stuff you wouldn't have realised before. It makes you realise opportunities. Go, catch them! Also: It fills me with a lot of pride that I actually haven't missed a single opportunity to vote. National, state-wide, communal, European - I used them all. You do the same, please! Btw, did you know that you can also vote, when you know you won't be able to on the day itself? Just request postal vote. There are forms online for the respective elections. If you forgot, you still have some time left. For the election in Schleswig-Holstein upcoming Sunday, the deadline for requesting your postal vote is Friday, 5 May, 12.00. For North Rhine-Westphalia you have 6 hours longer. The deadline is Friday, 12 May, 18.00. Whatever way you use to vote, whatever party you choose to vote - do the same as 78 % of my Twitter followers and go, vote! I'll like you a little bit more then! Go, do it! Do you plan to vote? If so, why do you think it’s important? If no, what’s your reason? Place a comment, tweet me, dm me, or do anything else you can think of to get to me. Queer Shoutout you say? Technically this isn't too much of a queer shoutout, but 1/3 is queer. That counts, right? It's just too fitting. Three wonderful videos on why voting is such an important part of a democracy. And why it's even more important in these times. Jodie Calussi gives you a little talk on the history of voting rights, Lisa Sophie talks about the difficulties of making decisions and help with finding the party that fits you best and Applewar's MasterJam and his friends created a lovely cover of Die Toten Hosen's song Willkommen in Deutschland to tell you that voting can keep those nasty AfD people off you. Check all those videos out. They deserve it! :) As always: Next #TMIishTuesday next Tuesday. If you have any questions in the meantime, just ask away. Whatever you’re curious about - I don’t bite. :) Until then: Stay mighty! Linkage: - glenrules’s tweet: https://twitter.com/glenrules/status/746228140792381444 - My post mentioning #Brexit last year: http://mightbedamian.tumblr.com/post/146622442867/tmi-ish-tuesday-16-wrap-up - Wikimedia graphic for the 2012 presidential elections in France: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:2012_French_presidential_election_-_Second_round_-_Majority_vote_(Metropolitan_France,_communes).svg - Wikimedia graphic for the 2017 presidential elections in France: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:%C3%89lection_pr%C3%A9sidentielle_de_2017_par_d%C3%A9partement_T1.svg - Welt.de: SPD büßt noch mehr in Wählergunst ein: https://www.welt.de/politik/deutschland/article164132054/SPD-buesst-noch-mehr-in-Waehlergunst-ein.html - Wikipedia: Election threshold: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Election_threshold - Fabian Leber for tagesspiegel.de: Flüchtlingskrise: Die AfD drängt auf die Straße: http://www.tagesspiegel.de/politik/fluechtlingskrise-die-afd-draengt-auf-die-strasse/12466360.html - Sidney Gennies for tagesspiegel.de: Nationalsozialismus: Die AfD provoziert am Holocaust-Gedenktag: http://www.tagesspiegel.de/politik/nationalsozialismus-die-afd-provoziert-am-holocaust-gedenktag/19310794.html - Zeit.de: Wilhelm von Gottberg: AfD-Politiker lehnte Distanzierung von Holocaustzitat ab: http://www.zeit.de/politik/deutschland/2017-03/wilhelm-von-gottberg-afd-holocaust-zitat-distanzierung - Wikipedia: De re publica: https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/De_re_publica#Inhalt - NDR.de: 13 Parteien stehen in SH zur Wahl: https://www.ndr.de/nachrichten/schleswig-holstein/13-Parteien-stehen-in-SH-zur-Wahl,landtagswahl1190.html - Poll among my Twitter followers: https://twitter.com/MightBeDamian/status/859146811486998529 - Jodie Calussi: Ihr wollt es.. | 80% Challenge: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aJNIPuQMk4Y - Lisa Sophie: Wen soll ich bloß wählen? - Entscheidungskrisen | ItsColeslaw: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YEy1_80PqRw - MasterJam: Willkommen in Deutschland (Cover Musik Video “Die Toten Hosen”): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ru91LJ_R6e8 Oh, and here’s some self-promo: - Last #TMIishTuesday: http://mightbedamian.tumblr.com/post/159982754723/tmiishtuesday-59-bi-what-on-bisexuality - All #TMIishTuesdays: mightbedamian.tumblr.com/tagged/tmi - More #TMIishTuesdays on politics: http://mightbedamian.tumblr.com/tagged/mightbeserious - More very cool stuff: www.twitter.com/mightbedamian - Even more very cool stuff: mightbedamian.tumblr.com 

[belphieslilcow]

What better way to decide about Cassian then to do one of my favourite things with him, filling out surveys.

[LINK]

Part I: Let's Start at the Beginning... 1. What's your name? 

Cassian. 2. Give me your full name...

Cassian Ennis, quite a interesting tone you have there... 3. Do you have a nickname? If yes, what is it and how did you come to have it?

I don’t personally have one, unless people call me something when I’m not around. I have the title of Listener if that counts, everyone in the Sanctuary calls me that most of the time. 4. What species are you? (Human, werewolf, etc? Or are you an alien?)

Bosmer, or Wood Elf, if that’s more familiar. 5. Where/when were you born? 

I’m... not actually sure. I was raised in Cyrodiil to Imperial parents, so they’re obviously not my birth parents, they never told me anything about that, though I guess I never did ask... 6. I see. And that would make your age...?

Oh~ Don’t you know it’s impolite to ask a man his age?~ In terms of how I am in human terms I’d say I’d be about... 23? 24? 7. Okay, now...are you a good guy, or a bad guy?

Hell if I know.

Part II: Tell Us More About Yourself... 8. How would you describe your personality?

In a word? Loose. 9. Would you say you're someone who can handle pressure?

Ahh... I guess as well as the average person does? 10. Do you like to read?

Indeed! I make sure to always bring a novel or two with me whenever I stay somewhere. 11. Favorite color?

Hm... I’d never really thought about it too much, but maybe purple? The way the Deathbells and Nightshade stand out in Skyrim’s bleak atmosphere, it’s nice. 12. Do you get along with others?

Depends on the person... I’d say generally, yes? 13. Do you have any enemies?

Not personally. 14. How about friends?

Quite a few, yes. 15. Are you patient?

You have to be in my line of work. Sometimes one has to follow your target for days just to learn their schedule well enough to know the best time to strike. I once waiting upwards of an hour just to wait for someone to get in just the right spot for a clear shot. Part III: Hypothetically... 16. Suppose that you could become any creature you know of. What would you pick, and why?

Some kind of bird. I love to travel and it’d make it so much easier, and cheaper...  17. One of your enemies in question 13 just complimented you. Response?

Um... I guess in line with the title this would be a hypothetical enemy? I’d just say thank you, I’d think. 18. One of your friends in Question 14 just insulted you. Response?

I’d definitely be taken aback. I’d feel bad in the moment, but ask them about it later to know what was going on.  19. If you could change anything about yourself...

I can’t think of anything at the moment. 20. About your home...

What about it? Oh, talk about it? Well it’s quite cold, being in the far North of Skyrim does that to caves. Other than that, I quite like it. It’s a place that I can really feel content staying for a long time and I’ll defend it and my family there with my life. Part IV: Now We Get Personal 21. What're your parents like?

They’re nice, raised me well. Not much to say about them really. 22. Do you have any siblings?

Not that I know of, no, 23. What's your occupation?

Listener of the Dark Brotherhood. Or in simpler terms, I’m an assassin.  24. I see, that's a good job to have. Do you like it?

Of course, I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t like it. It does sound a bit morbid, liking being a murderer... 25. Are you seeing/dating anyone?

Kind of, Cicero and I confessed our feelings to each other recently, we haven’t discussed anything official yet. 26. Thinking about getting engaged, married, other?

Not yet, I don’t want to rush him, or myself for that matter. 27. Tell us your biggest secret.

... ? 28. Your worst fear? You don't have to answer this one if you don't want to.

Truly? Everything I love being destroyed. I was devastated when the Falkreath Sanctuary was ransacked, I saw them kill Arnbjorn right in front of me, you know... If that were to happen again, with our new Sanctuary, and I had to go through with that again, seeing everyone that I love dead in front of me, and I couldn’t do anything about it... I don’t know what I’d do... 29. Favorite food?

I like savory foods, things like steaks and other meats. 30. Favorite drink? 

I’ve grown to love mead since I’ve been in Skyrim. I drank some while I lived in Cyrodiil, of course, but tasting it from where it comes from? Delicious.

31. Tell us one thing you're the most proud of.

Assassinating the Emperor? *laugh* Other than that, I’d say getting Nazir and Festus’ respect. It took a while, but was worth it. 32. Something embarrassing? You don't have to answer this one, either.

May not seem so, but I felt really bad about Anoriath, there aren’t many Wood Elves in Skyrim, and he and his brother were always nice to me when I stopped in Whiterun and I helped him on a couple hunts. An assassin is supposed to be cold and heartless to their targets, yes?  33. If you didn't answer Questions 28 and/or 32, tell me why.

I didn’t really answer the secret one, because I don’t have many secrets I don’t think. 34. Is that a good reason?

I think so. Part V: Breaking the Fourth Wall For these next few questions, I'll briefly remove the fourth wall between your world and your creator's. Try to remain calm. 35. Before I remove the fourth wall, tell me: would you be willing to accept the fact that you're actually a character?

*laugh* Yes, I’d be fine with that. 36. Now the fourth wall's gone. Response?

The fact that I’m essentially a self insert so my creator can date Cicero is kind of funny, but hey, I get to date him too. 37. This is your creator's world. What's the first thing you notice?

No elves... No magic... at least not that I can see. 38. You just met your creator! First impression of him/her?

Someone please give him a hug or something. 39. Okay, let's put the fourth wall back. See, that wasn't so bad, was it?

No. Part VI: Closing 40. Are you satisfied with your life?

At this point, yes. I can feel that there’s still more for me to do, but that’ll come when it comes. 41. Anything you feel like you have to do? It can be something long-term, like a bucket list, or something you need to do right now.

I generally take things as they come, but I do want to reestablish the Dark Brotherhood in Cyrodiil. I’m still trying to figure out how I would get contracts to them, or if they would take them in different ways... 42. Any hobbies?

The lute!  43. Quick, you get one wish! What did you just wish for? It's alright, you can tell me...

I wish I had skill in magics... I’ve never been good at them. 44. How would you describe that wish? Good? Bad? Selfish? Selfless? Other?

I’d say it’s good, maybe a bit selfish. 45. Have you been honest with these questions?

Yes. 46. Your personal quote?

I don’t have one. 47. Do you like change?

Change can be good, change can be bad. It all depends on the circumstances. 48. What's your most valued possession?

My Sanctuary. 49. Anything else you feel like sharing?

Not unless I have to. 50. Last question!...yup, that's it! How do you feel?

... More free... Like I got some things off my chest that I’ve needed to talk about without knowing so.