#but this is Always the predominant conversation around this chapter and i think that does hugo and the novel a significant disservice.

[adamsvanrhijn]

i think that it is important to step back and think about context, both narrative and historical, when we talk about the cultural misogyny reflected in victor hugo's writing — "therein lies the whole woman’s future" and "a little girl without a doll is almost as unhappy, and quite as impossible, as a woman without children" — we are talking about a society where the vast majority of women lack agency and security unless they are married, and the scene in question is cosette, a neglected little girl dressed in rags whose abusive foster siblings have everything they could want for and are taking it for granted — "they had thrown their doll on the ground" — making a toy out of a knife, and fantine, her mother, has just died after being separated from her daughter for more than half of a decade — fantine whose lover abandoned her and the child he had with her, and who never had the opportunity to gain economic and social legitimacy and respect (for herself and her daughter) through marriage because she was jilted by a man who had the privilege to abandon his mistress without any compassion as to what that would mean for her and her chances of survival both literally and socially. this opportunity for stability, which again was one of women's only opportunities for stability, was stolen from fantine, and that theft completely ruined her life despite her best efforts to make the most of the situation and provide for her daughter — her daughter who already has the cards stacked against her as an illegitimate child, and who without intervention in all likelihood is either going to die young of neglect and abuse or grow up without any pathway to safety and security — "the whole woman's future" — because of her station.

the implication and assumption that women are most fulfilled through marriage and motherhood is absolutely misogynistic in nature. but hugo is making a statement here (one he will continue to make throughout the rest of the novel, most explicitly with combeferre's oration at the barricade) based on [his] contemporary society and culture, and when we focus discussion and thought on that statement's misogyny alone, viewed through our own modern lens as people living in the 21st century, we risk missing the impact and relevance of this cultural commentary at the time it was written in a way that easily tips into dismissing a key theme of the novel.

[makeste]

Don’t you think that Horikoshi backing up Katsuki with 1A is proof Deku’s stronger than him? Like, I really don’t think it would end in a draw if they fought it out 1v1, it would just be unrealistic at this point, (and would undermine Endeavour’s storyline, Nagant’s character and the overall power scaling of the manga). However, Katsuki winning alone against Deku or winning as a team against Deku is the same end result for him, so it’s way more realistic, and follows what MHA’s always telling us about teamwork. Maybe in the end there’ll be a Deku v Kacchan (and I hope so! And likely, considering Katsuki’s definitely the strongest in the class and the only one who can at least hope to compare) but I think Horikoshi realized Katsuki can’t win alone (and I think even Katsuki knows that rn), but that doesn’t mean he can’t win at all.

I very much do not think this is proof of that, but I am also very biased and stubborn about this, and have a lot of strong feelings about it as you probably know lol. so keep that in mind.

there are a few reasons why I think the entire class is there. firstly, to show how much they all care about Deku and how important Deku is to all of them. I said in my prediction post last week that I thought the Deku Rescue Squad would consist of people whom Deku had inspired in some way. and that did turn out to be the case -- it's just that I underestimated just how much Deku has inspired all of them, not just a select few. he means enough to each and every one of his classmates that they all came together and agreed that they were going to go out and find him and show him that he wasn't alone. and that was actually very moving to realize (no wonder Deku scrambled to hide back under his mask so quickly lol).

the second reason why I think they are all there is because, this being endgame times, I think Horikoshi wants to show how much all of them have powered up, not just the main cast. with the final battle approaching, he needs to show us that these kids are ready, or else he risks us not being able to suspend our belief when they wind up defeating AFO and the League at the end of the series. we need to see how far they've come, and he needs to show us what they're made of.

and the third and final reason is because in order to ease the fear in Deku's heart right now, his friends need to reassure him that what happened at Gunga and Jakku is not going to happen again. they need to show him that they're strong, so that he can trust in their strength. and they also need to show both him and the Vestiges that the most surefire way of defeating AFO isn't through OFA's power alone, but through the power of all of their quirks. all of their strength, combined. they need to demonstrate to him that the 19 of them acting together are easily a match for him even if he does have six quirks. and so if all of them work together, they can even be a match for TomurAFO as well.

so yeah, all of these things are very important and need to happen. but none of them precludes DvK3 from also happening as well. what I'm currently envisioning is a two-phase battle.

in the first phase, all of them team up against Deku while he tries to use SIXQUIRKS to take them down, using the same strategies that worked against Muscular and Nagant and the others. except that it doesn't work against 1-A because they're prepared for it, and they show him how their own strength and ingenuity can match and exceed his own when they all work together.

during this phase we'll get to see the kids show off, and we'll get to see what kind of combos Horikoshi can pull off with all of them acting together as a unit. so for instance, maybe Deku tries to use Smokescreen to escape, and Momo makes a bunch of giant fans to blow the smoke away, and Dark Shadow carries one of the fans up into the air, and Ochako makes the others weightless, and Kouda summons a bunch of birds to carry them, and Iida turns on Recipro and runs a bunch of high speed circles around the area to clear out the rest of the smoke.

or Deku uses Float, and Mineta and Sero and Shouto use their quirks to catch him while Kacchan and Shouto and Ochako and Tokoyami and all the other kids with flying quirks loop around to cut him off.

or Deku uses Danger Sense to try and dodge their attacks, but the same group from the previous paragraph uses the same tactics to hold him in place. or Jirou and Kami and Tsuyu use their quirks to paralyze him temporarily. or Hagakure and Kacchan use their quirks to momentarily blind him.

or Deku tries to use Blackwhip to grab them and hold them all in place, but Kacchan and Iida use their speed to evade (evading Blackwhip is a specialty of Kacchan's after all), and Shouji uses his quirk to sprout arms on all of the other kids to help pry them free, and Aoyama and Mina use their quirks to dissolve some of the Blackwhip tendrils because idk but there has to be something that's able to actually counter them (just like Dark Shadow is similarly made of "dark energy" but isn't invulnerable either), and Ojiro runs around being a diversion or something because I had to include him in these hypotheticals somewhere, and Sero and Shouto use their quirks to bind and freeze Deku's hands so he can't aim properly, and Kiri and Satou use their strength to turn the tables on Deku and yank him off balance instead using his own quirk.

anyway but the point is, they have an effective counter for each and every one of Deku's quirks and strategies, because they are taking advantage of the fact that 19 > 6. and so that's what the first part of the battle will be like. but then the second phase, I envision happening once Deku finally whips out the one quirk they haven't been able to prepare for, because they didn't know about it -- Fa Jin. I don't think Deku will use it to attack any of them directly; rather, he'll try to use it as a trump card to try and make his escape. in which case the most likely scenario is that Kacchan -- whose own speed upgrade Deku is similarly unaware of -- will take off after him, with the others following behind at a slower pace (assuming they can still track him using the GPS). which in turn leads to the second phase of the battle -- our much-anticipated DvK3 proper.

which is still going to happen for my money, and is still vitally important. because the two of them have a lot of things that they need to say to each other. and because Kacchan is still Deku's equal, and I will die on that fucking hill if I have to lol. and with respect, I can't really bring myself to worry about it potentially undermining Endeavor's storyline or Nagant's skills or whatever either, because to be perfectly frank this is something that was established long before those things came along, and this takes precedence. Kacchan staked his claim to number one in the very first chapter. he reaffirmed that claim multiple times throughout the series, including after DvK1 and DvK2. he was the second one to be tied to All Might's legacy right after Deku. he is the other half of the "win" and "save" equation. the first one Deku entrusted with his secret. the one who Deku emulates. and the reason why Deku left UA. the real reason. not the only reason, but the predominant reason which he still hasn't been able to face yet. because Kacchan's body moved on its own, and he took that blow for him, and that frightened him more than anything has ever frightened him before.

so yeah, it has to happen. there are too many loose ends which need to be addressed. too much emotional buildup to be resolved with just a handful of sentences while they duke it out alongside their classmates. at the very least, if 1-A does wind up triumphing over Deku, there would need to be some kind of follow-up conversation between Deku and Kacchan alone, if not necessarily a fight.

but you know what, even as I typed that last sentence out it didn't feel right lol. ngl I do still think it's gonna be a fight. that's just what they do. they're shounen rivals. and shounen rivals share their feelings via their fists lol. and these two have a lot of feelings to share, and a shitload of trauma to unpack and address. and that moment at the end of 318 -- that solo moment with just Kacchan, alongside the "the one who can complete Midoriya Izuku..." dialogue -- that wasn't just a coincidence. there is absolutely no way.

so yeah, I stand by my previous posts lol. we doin this. not sure when, at this point, but stay tuned.

[yuraimi-lee-bunny]

GRAY’S CHARACTER ANALYSIS Part III.5. Graham Calloway: The Walking Enigma.

After a full  two weeks of work I managed to finish this part! As I mentioned before, it will be part "3.5", where you will see interesting details about Graham. It will be a long chapter guys, I warn you. Thank you very much for all your support in the previous chapters and I’m glad that you’re liking it and that it has also helped some to understand Graham in some aspects. Nothing more to say:

Here we go!

In the third season there was nothing of Gray, just a scene where it gave us to show that the moment has come: The return of Gray and his importance in the fourth season is now inevitable.

And well, who would have thought that Gray would be the first thing it showed us in the first scene of last season.

I told you, it’s something important. The first scene with which a season begins is sometimes, in some cases, used to show some signs of what the whole season holds, or what a character holds throughout the season. A great example and one that is one of my favorites, but at the same time it’s painful, is from second season of 13 Reasons Why. The first scene that opens the season is where Tyler Down comes out, a character that with his dialogues and the cut to black of the first scene with which he opens the seaso, is basically anticipating EVERYTHING that Tyler would bring in that season. Showing Tyler, a secondary character, and not showing the main characters, is an indication that you should pay attention to that character, that Tyler (and Gray) would be an important character throughout the plot to point out something, which will be important at some point in history (or the most important). Believe me when I analyzed the Tyler scene, I was fascinated by such visual/narrative language, but at the same time I almost cried to understand everything… sorry, let's get on with Gray.

Here, in my opinion, is the same: it show in just one scene EVERYTHING that will happen to Gray this season. I explain:

(Earlier, Congratulations Gray! You were promoted to Lighting Technician!)

He’s in a dark room, illuminated with the light of the work, which is a red light. As we know, Graham, actually has amnesia, he doesn't know anything about who he really is, that's why the allegory with the dark room. The red light represents Carmen, who watches over Graham, he trusts her a lot, so he's "protected", because Carmen will not allow him to remember that he was a VILE agent. For this reason, a dark room and a red light, and he’s calm and happy.

Well, no more.

ACME has arrived, has revealed his full name, has opened a door that illuminates the other side with white light. ACME is the one who will unknowingly cause Gray to know the truth, and with that, a new path for Graham that will lead him to the light.

A path where he will choose which identity will predominate in his life. But before going to light, Graham/Crackle and Gray will have to endure and deal with many obstacles and decisions. He’s the only one who will decide, No ACME, No VILE, No Carmen.

One more thing.

Graham, what is your obsession for wristbans? All I can say is: Graham likes to do his job well.

Chief introduces herself to Graham, and he can't help but know what would happen if he touches Chief's hologram. As I have already said: he wants to know the answers with his own hands.

She asks him a question and Graham, as he’s in the habit and I had previously analyzed it, he gives details that no one asked, but he likes to give. Fun fact: in the original dubbing, Graham says the english name of the Opera "The Thieving Magpie." In the Spanish dub, Graham says “La gazza ladra” saying the original name, even using a slight Italian accent.

I loved this little detail because it adds to that curious Graham/Gray habit of giving details to his answers, and let's remember something: the dubbing is supervised by the crew, so I guess they liked the idea.

Gray asks if they are Interpol or the CIA. Faced with CHIEF's response that they are "Consider us all of the above. Except they don’t know we exist" Gray thinks of a single person. That is somehow cute like him until he gets excited that maybe this is a new chance to see Carmen again. For Chief it’s a new path towards Carmen.

You don't know how much I would have liked to hear all the conversation Graham gave Chief. With those details that he loves to give. But it makes me laugh a bit as even he has a cup of coffee, hinting that the story was going to be long. And once again, showing his love for coffee. How nice of ACME to have given Graham coffee. One more thing to make you laugh more.

His expression, that expression that seems to express "Thank you but... you aren’t Carmen"

Chief's questions confuse Graham because since he already lived what Carmen does from his own experience, he’s sure that Carmen is one of the "good guys". Confusing Chief further. We move on to how Chief believes that Graham is no clue to be closer to the truth behind Carmen, but Chase arrives, and finally finds Gray again, that missing link for Carmen. Gray is still being targeted by ACME.

Chase arrives and thinks that everything will be easy, but again, he won't be able to get anything because Gray doesn't remember being Crackle back then. Gray finally reveals to ACME his "accident at work" that has caused him to have a year-long amnesia. It's funny how Graham responds to Chase that he's an orphan. As he does not like to mention that part of his life. Interesting point is the only thing I will mention.

Graham when mentioning such an accident and the consequences of it, it shows that deep down, he is worried and intrigued in all that year he disappeared from his life. As if he feels that he can't be himself if he doesn't have all the memories of him. From his body language, he shows how something really affects him.Mentioning this, in addition to showing for the first time more clearly that Graham really cares about his amnesia, this data is interesting to Chase, he believes him and that serves to make Graham closer to the truth. 

Chase and Chief reveal everything to Gray, that although Graham left the hospital, he never entered, all the details, and Gray doesn’t remember anything. It’s revealed that he is telling the truth, and Chief says one of the best ways to describe Gray.

This phrase, this phrase for me is the best way to describe Gray, and not because of his current state with amnesia, but since the beginning of the series, his actions and feelings are a mystery, his empathy for Carmen is clear, procuring the good of people he appreciates, but also his ambition and being successful, going too far to the point of taking actions of questionable morality. Now, something that has left me thinking a lot, is that he really seems very concerned when he notices that many things don’t make sense, and as I already said and this proves it one more: the truth matters a LOT to him. He cares a LOT about identity, really being himself.

Graham already said it, he's an orphan. Of course, no one but him cares to know the truth, of all those memories that are blank. In himself, he doesn’t know anything about his roots, the phrase "Not that I know of. I’m an orphan" suggests that he really doesn’t know ANYTHING about his parents, he doesn’t even know if he had siblings. Surely he doesn't even know if they died or abandoned him. I may be over-analyzing everything, but I think that's why Graham/Gray cares about being himself, being a person of integrity, and want to be successful: because he only has himself. And he can only trust himself. He wants to show himself that he can achieve many things. But everything is for his own benefit. Something that has caused me a lot of curiosity is that Gray is never seen around people, or that he is seen to be extremely sociable. He gets off work and he's alone, he's at work and he's alone, he's in the cafeteria and he's alone. I don’t know if it’s the factor of the series, I mean the fact of not putting more character in the story and the whole story mobilizes faster. But I want to believe that this also reflects how Gray is lonely, for his own sake, because he just trusts himself. Yes, he has a certain personality of being able to work as a team and interact with them, but that was within VILE, but outside, in the world, it seems that he doesn’t connect, or doesn’t want to connect with the world. Why? I think I have a slight idea:

we had already heard it before

Although it’s a good joke, it’s curious that he asks this kind of thing. He’s afraid of the unknown and that it may harm him. This is just my little theory, but maybe just maybe, Gray doesn't like to be and feel vulnerable. He always looks calm, being out of the unnecessary drama, he recovers quickly to any failure or mistake he makes. But deep down, I've noticed that at the 3 phases: Graham/Gray/Crackle, they don't like being vulnerable, being in the unknown and not knowing what to do, being in danger and being harmed. Physically and emotionally. I think I understand why: the world has already hurt him since he was born, living alone, not knowing what to do and why he came into the world.  He doesn’t know his roots, he doesn’t know why he came to the world. What kind of parents he may have had and what kind of "customs" he inherited from them. He only has himself, what he knows is the only thing he has, his memories, his experiences are the only thing he has and he knows what his personality has shaped him, his way. Nobody built his path, nobody guided him, it was him alone. We don’t know if somebody adopted him or if he just wanted to survive as he could. But at least, from what I can see, is that he has always wanted to be alone. Now that he doesn’t have that amnesia, he feels that he has lost himself, because that year of experiences, of memories is important for Graham, because it’s the only thing he has that makes him feel complete in this world where he is alone. I hope I have been clear and haven’t confused you.

His actions and personality come from there, from realizing that he only has himself, that he doesn’t belong to anyone or anything, but still he will give everything to himself, he will not let anyone or anything make him feel bad. He will take advantage of everything he knows and can learn to do, live his entire life completely, be successful, show himself that for him and for him, he will be able to do interesting and great things.

This makes me a little thoughtful and empathetic, because here Graham, seeing all the details that his stay in the hospital doesn’t make sense, that he doesn’t know what happened, and just having himself, as never before, Graham feels lost, he maintains control as much as he can, but little by little he’s overcoming the situation, he feels a little vulnerable and the saddest thing in some way is that there is no one to help him. Apparently there never was. And let's be honest: Chief is proposing the experimental method just because she wants to know about Carmen and the connection she has with Graham, nothing more, it isn’t to fully help Graham. It isn’t by putting ACME as being “not at all empathic” but rather that this reaffirms how alone Graham is in the world. I hope I don't sound exaggerated with all this I have mentioned.

The moment has arrived:

They put the device on Graham, activate it, and memories begin to emerge.

When Chase asked about the train trip 18 months ago, it’s one of the first memories he sees: attacking Carmen with the Crackle Rod. He screams, and I think I know why, because he appreciates Carmen and can't believe he was going to attack her.

This scene in his eyes is VERY important for later, in the next part of the analysis it will be mentioned why. I loved this scene because taking this approach to his eyes invites you to be inside Graham's head and his memories. And at the same time, it will have a reason for being later.

Seeing the scenes of how Graham suffers without understanding anything, seeing VILE, the Faculty, the training, his first mission. Graham, the one back then who cared about being one of the "good guys" was facing memories where he was a "bad guy." The crew seriously did a good job of showing how much he is shocked and suffered when dealing with so many memories that made him confront his morals.

They turn off the device, Chase worries and wants to see how Graham is doing. But, as someone had already mentioned before:

he woke up AND CHOSE VIOLENCE

He goes out. Without a problem he takes down some Acme agents. And he leaves ACME.

The reason for his uncontrolled "bad" side is because Graham believed that he only had amnesia, but as we already knew at the beginning of this season, they also suppressed his stealing side, his "VILE side", the device not only caused a clash of memories , but also one of morals. Crackle left ACME, but on the street it was Graham, remembering only numbers to dial, which was VILE. Crackle did actions that only confused Graham more and more. Crackle was awake but only unconsciously and for lapses.

Crackle dials the number, but Graham is the one who answers. He doesn’t recognize anything that he does, but those memories, that unconscious that is Crackle is the one who responds. This shot to his eyes again, now with a green glow. The visual language they use in the series in general is simply wonderful.

One of my favorite scenes: Graham saving this boy.

Believe me something, this scene, this action is not filler, it wasn’t only to continue the suspense of "Crackle to Graham and vice versa" but it tells you a lot about Gray's true morality, of his experiences in 18 months with empathy are beginning to bear fruit.Including how much Carmen impacted on his life.

I mean this: Gray is supposed to have had his "VILE side" suppressed, the side of him that steals, but only that, the rest that complements Gray's personality is still intact. Now that Crackle is unconsciously awake, it’s only for lapses. Because Graham didn’t understand those memories in VILE, Graham, the one who cared so much about being one of the "good guys", that body identifying himself as Graham who lived 18 months of empathy, had an effect on his cognition.

Remember in part 3 of this review, I asked if everything that was presented to us in past seasons about Graham was a lie? Well, from these first 3 episodes of this season I can confirm that NO, all that moments weren’t a lie. Although Crackle/Gray didn’t voluntarily make the decision to be "good", his body, his cognition responded well and he agreed to do those actions. Crackle didn’t take full control of Graham, he appeared only when he saw the opportunity to steal.

But when doing something for others, Graham appeared.

The Graham/Crackle body was having a "moral" discussion. Graham was holding on to his belief that he was the good guy. Graham is latent like Crackle. If we call it very crudely, the "good" and "bad" side of it are coming out at the same time, one doesn’t predominate more than the other. Very chaotically and unwillingly, because of ACME's experimental apparatus, he was being Gray. Without fully understanding yet that he’s what he really wants to do: be empathetic or ambitious. When actually it can be both, but then we'll get to that part later.

Graham goes to the boy's house. He considers going to boy’s house to return his wallet.

A point that isn’t from me, but from a friend who insists that I put this. I appreciate her very much, so I will: My friend thinks this smile is because Graham when he looks the house, he imagines what it would be like to have a home and a family. I leave it to your own criteria.

When he looks out the window to see if there is someone, it opens for isn’t properly closed. Again, Crackle emerges.

The unconscious never speaks, it only acts. It's interesting to see that whenever Crackle shows up, he never speaks, it just acts, it just steals.

This is one of the most interesting scenes (and at least for me, it hurt me a little bit)

Do you notice how Graham returns when the world has contact with him? When Crackle arises it’s because he sees his ambition, when those VILE memories come out and they’re the ones that impacted him the most, that marked his life. But when the outside world makes an appearance, makes contact with him, Graham appears again. Graham in 18 months of empathy vowed to be good, and his cognition agreed with that, no matter how strong his memory drives were in VILE. Because this is his personality as he has already been mentioned several times: he’s committed to what he wants to achieve, to what is really born to him.

He sees this woman, and remembers the archaeologist. It’s the same as with the boy who was almost going to get run over, this scene isn’t only for the suspense, it’s to show that memories in VILE have marked Crackle back then. Being in VILE, studying there, the crackle rod, the adrenaline of stealing marked him, but the archaeologist's event also and from another way. When he was going to take a life for the first time. In the second part of my analysis I said it, it was obvious that he wasn’t convinced to do it, something inside him didn’t like doing such an act. This confirms it.

Remembering that whole event, how he almost took a life shocks him so much that he fell to the ground. He’s actually suffering from confusion, but also from remembering something so vile that he was about to do.

He answered not only because the woman asked him, he's telling himself too. You can see that by the tone of his voice, the way he's closing his eyes. He wanted to deny that the one he sees in his memories is him. He doesn't want to believe that he was bad.

Well… now Graham is going to jail. Making him a target now of all: ACME, VILE and Carmen.

He’s locked up in jail, just because Iceland has a very low crime rate, he doesn’t want to eat, he looks sad, and not even the police are there to investigate further his answers. Graham claims that he doesn’t know why he wasn’t in that house. The police only answered by mere logic, that if he had other people's belongings, it was theft. They don’t bother to delve further into Graham's answers to at least realize that he suffers from amnesia and incoherent seizures. Again: he feels alone in this world.

... you know? this whole chapter watching Gray so confused and sad made me feel sick. I'm a very empathic person, so everything that was going on Graham really I feel it. And seeing this scene with Gray's photo, I was between laughter and suffering. I couldn't bear to see him more and more confused.

This shot makes me very sentimental but it's great, can we appreciate it for a moment please?

In addition to showing how frustrated Graham is, the visual narrative in this image also explains his situation. He’s alone, he feels that no one can help him, the shadow covers the part of his head, his forehead to be concrete, where are all those memories that he doesn’t understand and he doesn’t want to accept. Where he lies and now is awake unconsciously Crackle. But his body is in the light, he clings to the light and in believing that he is Graham Calloway and he always was. And at that moment, he’s no longer alone, Carmen's shadow emerges from the light, somehow erasing the fence, that separation between the two. Because unconditionally she was always there. She will always be there Carmen for Graham.

He’s amazed to see her but at the same time he feels so relieved. She’s the person he trusts the most and that he knows that she will help him. But the cleaners arrive and give Carmen a tough fight. Graham helps her with whatever he can. After they leave, Carmen doesn't know why but she doesn't waste time trying to get Graham out of the cell. But the Bellum Robot arrives. And now Graham is in VILE’s hands.

Did you realize that these 3 episodes happened in a whole day? Graham basically hasn't slept. The boy goes a long way without sleeping I guess.

I never believed that he would analyze so much in these 3 episodes, I’m still surprised but very happy. I hope you liked it and as I always tell you: if you have any questions or want to comment/add something that was commented on, do so, what better than feedback from everyone. The fourth part will be published soon, I promise. Greetings!

Part. I Introdution

Part. II Empathy vs Ambition

Part. III Amnesia and it’s Future Consequences

Part. III.5 Graham Calloway: The Walking Enigma (HERE)

Part. IV Integrity At a high (and unfair) price

Part. V The final decision and a new beginning

Plus 1. Gray and his strange habit of explaining things

Plus 2. Crossover: Sabrina And Gray: New Beginning

Plus 3. Crossover: Hawk/Eli and Crackle/Gray: Redemption

[seasidewriter1-writes]

Answering Asks from @fadingclamalmondrascal : “Hi! I hope you're still doing asks, but I understand if you're not, it sounds like you've got a lot going on. I've got 3 questions for you:

1: What made you want to adopt this story and write an "Anakin's big sister who falls in love with obi" au? What about it appealed to you initially, and what about it keeps you coming back?

2: I love Elara's Sith name! Carus is so cool. What kind of thought did you put into that name and her sith design?

3: What does your writing process for each chapter look like?”

Hi!! My asks are always open, and even if my life his completely hectic, I’ll always get around to answering them! But, thankfully, my life has started to calm down in the last week. I’ve gotten a lot of writing done in the last day, so I’m in a very “Balance” mood, so I’m super stoked to answer these!! (I also wrote a lot again, so buckle up!!)

1. So fun backstory on my finding the story: I was living in England for my first year at University, and I was on a big ol’ Star Wars kick because The Force Awakens had just come out in December. It was January. It was cold, the evenings were getting rainy, so one night after dinner and scrolled through FFN to find something fun to read. And when I first found and read the original story, pre-adoption (which I believe is still up and called “Another Skywalker”), I remember being like ‘wow, this is an interesting concept.’ And as I read it, in my head, all of these ideas were coming to my head; and I remember being kinda sad about that. I didn’t want to write my own story, then have it seem like I’d ripped off the concept from the author. Because this was the first fic with the “Anakin’s older sister falling for Obi” concept that I’d ever seen. I didn’t know if it was something of a trope for an Obi x OC pairing, or if this one was an odd one out. So I finished reading the 11 chapters, and the author had posted a note saying that the story was, effectively, up for adoption. I have never jumped on something so fast. I drafted out two scenes (a now obsolete scene where Elara sees Obi-Wan off to Kamino, and a chunk of the final battle RotS) and sent it to the author. When she told me that the story and concept were all mine to do with as I pleased, I was so excited. Because I realized that all the ideas that had been tentatively brewing in my head, I could now fully bring to fruition.

What initially drew me to the concept was the idea of being able to explore a story and a romance that is, in a way, a foil to Anakin’s. Almost a way to show that maybe, if things had gone differently, Anakin and Padmé’s romance didn’t have to be doomed. Because I have always believed that there had to be some way that it didn’t have to end in disaster. Presenting a Jedi OC x Obi-Wan can explore similar issues (and there’s a lot of fun to be had with that concept, too). But then you have two people who were raised with/to follow the same ideals. Though they are both unique individuals, they will come up to very similar blockages––struggling with breaking the Code, with sloughing off ideals and a way of life they’ve followed all their lives. But with a Skywalker OC… that changes. You get someone who wasn’t raised to keep her emotions in ultra-check. Someone who, like Anakin, is family oriented, passionate about protecting those they love, and innately wishes to express their emotions in a more open manner. Those characteristics present unique conflict (particularly in conjunction with Obi-Wan’s characteristics), and I just… I wanted to, and continue to want to, play with that. Because Elara is dedicated to the Jedi Code. She’s a good Jedi. But put her want to be a good Jedi (for herself, for her brother, for the good of the galaxy) right up against an undeniable, innate need and want to love (because, at her core, Elara is just a purely loving person)––you get whole other obstacles to overcome. It’s a lot of fun to figure out how her overcoming her obstacles helps Obi-Wan overcomes his, and vice-versa. How we can see, in recent chapters, that Obi-Wan realizing he can’t hold Elara at arm’s length anymore affects her; how she starts being more gentle towards him again, tentatively letting him back in. I just love playing with stuff like that!!

And there are a whole lot of things that keep me coming back to this story. One of the biggest things, I think, has to be the idea that ‘love prevails.’ I love myself a complex romance. Maybe that’s why I love Regency/Period Dramas so much; because there are so many ups and downs––and that’s what makes it feel so good! Because while there’s hope and love and happiness, there’s also drama and frustration and confrontation. But through all of that, at the end… love prevails. I’m a hopeless romantic, I’ll own up to that any time of the day. So seeing a couple, so hopelessly in love, go through trials and tribulations and come out on the other end completely alright? That’s my jam! And when you’ve got someone who stands so steadfastly by their ideals as Obi-Wan, but who very clearly is… so passionate and loving… That just feels like the way a love story with him would go. And ‘love prevails’ doesn’t just apply to the Obi-Lara stuff either. It’s about the familial love between Anakin and Elara, and how that love for each other may thrive or suffer in events to come… it’s the platonic love of Elara and the men of the 442nd. Star Wars is a story of many things––family, adventure, coming into your own… but it’s also about love. And getting to add to that aspect of the story in any given way, for people who enjoy reading it, to have fun conceptualizing and writing everything… it keeps bringing me back for more.

2. I had so much fun thinking up all the Darth Carus stuff!! It was prompted by a question in a review, asking what I thought Elara would be like as a Sith/what her name would be. So I started looking at all the other Sith names, and realized a lot of them were words that stood for descriptors of the Sith Lord. “Maul” for (the literal usage of) “maul,” “Tyrannus” for “tyrant” (derived, likely, from Latin tyrannia or tyrannos), “Vader” for “invader” (or “father”). So I decided I would use a Latin word for her Sith name, and decided I needed to think of what she would be like as a Sith. Tyrannical? Violent? Rampaging? And none of those seemed… right. It felt, to me, that if she were to become a Sith, it would be out of heartbreak. And it wouldn’t be a denial of love kind of heartbreak; it would be losing someone she truly loved (Anakin or Obi-Wan) forever. Their death, perhaps by a mistake that she made. So I went, ‘okay, the birth of her being a Sith is related to love.’ I searched up some Latin words and found “Carus” which means heart. And because Elara, Jedi or Sith, is so involved with her emotions and with love, with her heart… it just seemed to fit.

Now, the outfit––ohh, I had so much fun with the outfit. I’ve got a BFA in Theatrical Arts, so I’m big on costumes and costume details, so creating Elara’s Sith outfit was absolutely delightful. Again, I started with what I thought Darth Carus would be like. There’s a mournful aspect to her, so black as part of her color palette works, but I didn’t want her to be dressed in all black. I thought that, in the wake of her heartbreak, there would be a dangerous passion about her. An angry passion. So ‘anger’ and ‘passion’ are typically associated with burning colors like red, so I through red (and orange) into the mix. And I wanted them to be bright––Darth Carus is no longer hiding in the neutrals of Tatooine or the Jedi Order. She’s letting the galaxy know her pain. I did, however, want to stick with clothing articles that were more robe-like. It’s what Elara’s known her whole life. But instead of multiple layers, I stripped it down to singular, more form fitting articles. In a way, the fewer layers is displaying the vulnerability that turned her towards the Darkness. Red is the predominant color (the tunic) because it draws attention. You have to look at her, you have to see her pain. It’s almost like staring into a fire, or gaping at an open wound. And because all good Sith Lords need a dramatic cape, I thought I’d do a fun take on it and do one of the ones that attaches at the shoulders instead of drapes over them. Maximum drama for sweeping down staircases or jumping off of tall platforms. Now, like I said, I’m a sucker for small details… hence why I added the embroidery on the tunic collar. It’s floral. It denotes her love of life. Now, if this were all real life, real costume design in an actual movie… the embroidered flowers would be Gleannish Snow Blossoms. And, of course, amidst all the bright reds, vivid oranges, and swaths of black… against all this intensity… you have the delicate, cool softness of the real Snow Blossom pinned to the spot over her heart. The very same Snow Blossom that Obi-Wan gave her on Gleann. A gentle reminder of better days… of the reason she became the ways she is… of the man she loved so wholly and deeply that, in losing him… she’d much have rather killed her own heart instead. (Also, a friend of mine and I had a wonderful conversation discussing how much of a terrifying, badass power couple Sith!Elara and Sith!Obi-Wan would be. It’s delightful.)

3. So, if I’m writing a chapter that deals with a chunk of movie or episode, what I’ll do first is sit down and watch what I perceive I’ll be writing. I’ll take down notes on things that I’ll want to add in/describe. I’ve also got a whole document of ideas I’ve already written down, and a document of bullet-pointed ideas, so I’ll give that I skim/edit, too. I always have to pick what scenes to leave in or take out, decide if they can be summarized or should be left in. Sometimes this’ll happen the same day I start writing, but sometimes I take a day to really think things over, sleep on it, then start the next. Then I’ll start to write, and I’ll have the movie/episode open for reference. When I write canon dialogue, it’s a lot of: watch, listen, pause, transcribe; rewind, read subtitles, listen, pause, transcribe. I also usually have, like… five safari tabs open with different research pages open––one for the movie/episode, probably one for a character of some kind, a google image search of a costume or something, and another one that’s got, like, different kinds of starships or droids (because there are so, so many). A lot of the time I’ll just transcribe/describe a chunk of canon stuff, then go back and add in extra details, weave Elara into it, or change up the dialogue to fit. An example being Obi-Wan and Sugi’s conversation in the barn. I beefed that up a little bit, added in references, and used it to benefit the overall storyline.

With chapters that are more original content based, those take a little longer to plan. Even if I have an idea of what’s going to happen, it takes a bit of time to figure out how to order it all, how to get a proper lead in, how to make transitions. And I also contemplate whether or not what I want to write is really going to be beneficial to the story, or if it’s going to end up being meaningless filling. There are a lot of ideas that I have had or do have that would be fun to write, but don’t really… work into the story well enough (like, god, do I want a girls’ day chapter 😂). And it’s in writing these chapters in particular that I do a lot of my music listening. Star Wars soundtracks, the story playlists I’ve made… the right music can help me find the mood or setting of a scene, inspire a moment. Like, I cannot tell you how much of the bunker scene on Ryloth was inspired by Sebastian Böhm’s rendition of “Blue Monday.” Music plays a huge role in writing for me. I’ll have music playing when I’m driving or doing dishes or cooking, and I’ll start to formulate ideas while listening. There are times, too, when I feel stuck when writing that I’ll swap on over to YouTube and I’ll watch some Star Wars edits. There’s an amazing edit of “War Pigs” by Black Sabbath over battle sequences from the films, and it’s just… it feeds my soul when I get stuck writing battle sequences. I’ve got, like… a go-to list of edits I watch when I feel a little stuck, and they’re all phenomenal. And when all is said and done and I’ve finished the chapter, I usually take a break and sit on it for a bit. Then go back, read over it, do grammar edits, change things if I see fit too. Then it’s on to review replies and I get it uploaded and posted!!

[senbons]

(belated) Shikatema Week

/new tsafv2 chapter: on Spite

(on ao3 and ff.net too)

It’s only a second in the grocery store, a momentary glimpse in her periphery, but somehow, Temari is attuned to her. And Temari knows, even as she walks past one aisle and over to the next one, that it can’t be, because it makes no sense for her to just see some ponytail out of the corner of her eye and think, oh, her.

It’s not as though the girl is particularly enticing. She isn’t glamorous like some of the other women in Konoha; and she isn’t distinctly attractive, nor does she carry herself in any superlative fashion that might draw Temari's eyes to her — and yet, tonight, Temari finds herself foolishly backtracking and looking over her shoulder because she can’t tear her eyes away.

God. It’s not like Temari isn’t confident or anything of that sort. She isn’t worried.

She knows their relationship is solid.

Well, maybe not solid, but at least, she knows that he loves her.

And she knows that Shiho had never even stood a chance against Temari, if one considered them to be competing at all. Which they shouldn’t. They had never been adversaries — and not because the girl just wasn’t worthy of competition because Temari was so much better, but because Shikamaru had been the one to pursue Temari in the first place and so she hadn't actually had to fight anyone off.

But surely Shiho had stood a chance in general, hadn't she?

She is… kind? And definitely smart. Smarter, in the ways Shikamaru could be, than Temari (in books and patterns and dedication to the minutiae).

She watches as Shiho makes her way, her back to Temari, down the aisle and over to the checkout line.

Temari holds her breath. Her heart is pounding, as though she has been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been doing.

Without thinking, she reaches to her right and grabs an extra-large box of condoms. She doesn’t even look at the brand. She isn’t even in need of condoms right now. But she does it. And, joining her ice cream, vegetables, and bag of apples, she leaves the box on top and follows Shiho to the checkout.

By the time she rounds the corner, the person before Shiho is paying.

Temari pauses, still not seen, and straightens her dress around her hips, brushes a stray hair back, and licks her lips.

She knows, she knows, she is being ridiculous. Foolish.

"Good evening, Shiho.” She says, grin plastered on her face and shoulders pulled back.

The other girl turns and gives a noise of surprise. "I didn't see you there! Oh. Hi, Temari.” She smiles in kind and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

Shiho’s groceries, laid out on the counter, consist of mostly greens and a surprising amount of cereal and instant ramen.

“Where are you off to?"

Shiho looks down at her food and then back at Temari. She is shorter, her shoulders slimmer. ”Oh, uh… I'm cooking dinner for my niece. She's visiting."

Temari continues to smile, unsure what to say now that she’s approached the woman. Why did she come over here in the first place? It isn’t as though she really had finished buying all the things she’d set to buy and she was ready to check out. And it isn’t as though she’s defending any territory. Staking a claim or whatever. Shikamaru isn’t hers to claim. No one ever is, in general, but especially not him. Not to her.

"That's sweet of you."

"And you? I didn’t know you were in town.”

Temari looks over her basket. “I’m only here for a few weeks. Nothing too interesting planned.”

When she'd first come to the register, she'd had every intention of laying out everything from the basket, predominately the condoms, perhaps hoping to spite Shiho; as if to say, hello, yes, we have sex all the time! Like maybe it would demonstrate something to Shiho, something that would make her jealous of the relationship Temari has.

But now that she’s here, she doesn’t want to do that anymore. This is clearly Temari’s own… insecurity, maybe. And so, she stacks the box of condoms behind the apples on the conveyor belt and tries not to draw attention to it.

Shiho smiles.

"How have you been?" Temari asks as the checkout man started to ring up Shiho's basket.

"Good, good." Shiho adjusts her glasses again. They’re so thick, it’s hard to see her eyes.

"And how is work? How is the cryptanalysis team these days?"

Shiho perks up at that, the words working as a switch. “Great!” She breathes. “Hokage-sama just approved our request to start a sub-unit to go through all the archives of letters intercepted from the First Shinobi War that were never deciphered!"

Temari frowns. "Is there any use to going through old letters?"

“Well, uh,” she pulls out her wallet as the man rings her up. “No current use, which was why we kept being denied. But now that there isn't much work for us, we have time to look through everything. It’ll be so much fun!”

Temari laughs, stepping forward as Shiho moves to gather her first bag.

“I’m glad this is so exciting for you guys.”

Shiho blushes and looks down. After a moment, her gaze moves back to Temari, brows furrowed. "Shikamaru doesn’t — Yurika and I both asked him for help, but he said he doesn't understand the point of going through old records like that unless we need to. I guess he has a point. I mean, it’s not like other countries still use the old systems."

Temari shrugs. "They might again, who knows. If the cyphers were never broken, why wouldn’t they come back?”

There is a pause as Shiho groceries are fully bagged and the cashier hands her her change.

“Frankly, it’s not particularly likely. But you’re right. It is possible.” She smiles to herself and turns back to Temari. “Cryptanalysis was always the most interesting past-time for me.” She looks back down. "So any opportunity is welcome."

Temari smiles. If she could offer up Shikamaru, she would.

No. No. Nevermind. She could offer up Shikamaru. Maybe not technically, but that’s never stopped her before. She volunteers him all the time! At least once a week. She could easily say he’ll help, easily promise him, or at least, she could promise to talk to him. But she doesn’t. She keeps her mouth shut.

“It was good to see you.” Temari does say, after a moment, as Shiho takes her bags. And then, “I’ll tell Shikamaru you said hi.”

Shiho blushes, her shoulders rising to her ears. “I, uh, yes. You too! Good to see you too!”

That’s it, and then she is gone and Temari’s few items are being run up and put in a bag.

She wants to slap herself.

What the fuck was that? Why did she say that? Was that a nice thing to say? After all, there is no question that Temari would be speaking with him… Shiho must know that…. Or was it better to let things lie? To not acknowledge the other’s relationship to him at all?

Why is she being like this?

Temari sighs and watches, not paying attention as she goes through the motions of buying her groceries and then walking home down a mostly empty street. It’s early evening on a Friday and, while many people are still out, there is a lull between work and going out for dinner or whatever the youth do these days (Shikamaru never wanted to go anywhere — she had no idea what most people her age did on their off-time) so there are only a few people about.

Here’s the thing: Shiho is a good person. At least, as far as Temari knows. She’d only met her a few times and all except one, at a birthday party for Shikamaru, had been in passing. And that party was long before she and Shikamaru had gotten together, and Temari had spent a good hour or so in conversation with Shiho. And then she’d noticed Shikamaru’s eyes on her (they had always been on her, didn’t Shiho know?!) and Shiho’s eyes on him. And they hadn’t spoken much after that.

But from what she understands, from what she’s seen, Shiho is kind and wickedly smart and is very compatible with Shikamaru platonically. They make good coworkers. And when he was in the cryptanalysis unit, he was happy. Even now, he is happy to be consulted by them, even if only on occasion. He likes work where he can go at his own pace, where the people around him also want to keep the human interaction down to a minimum.

Temari is nothing like that. It’s nothing like their relationship. And in the end, it was nothing like Shikamaru. As far as she knows, from what she’s seen, he may enjoy that type of work, but deep down, he needs more. He’s led an army. He is never going to be satisfied behind a desk like that.

She turns the corner and there is no one on this street. Temari shifts the bag of groceries from one hand to the other.

She wishes she understood why she had done that. Why was her instinct to buy more condoms than she’ll need? Honestly, she is only here for a week. There is absolutely no way they will go through all of these. Though, she supposes, they could be saved for whenever she makes her way back.

But that’s not important. No. It’s not about stupid household purchases. It’s about why she wanted to do it, why she felt the need to buy them and gloat them in the first place.

She genuinely doesn’t understand it. Not fully. She knows, objectively, that she has become softer since dating Shikamaru (he softens her, her brother once said). She knows she is more emotional. But she is still more rational than that! There is no excuse for whatever wayward and misplaced jealousy that whole thing was… that whole, consuming feeling was. It makes no sense. And feeling it is absolutely without merit.

After all, Shiho is just a woman. Surely there have been more people who’ve had crushes on him. It can’t be helped. He is wonderful… mostly. And maybe, if (when) they do break up, eventually, he will find one of them.  

When she arrives at his house, she finds the door unlocked. There are no lights on and the place is silent. Temari turns on the light in the entryway and, still holding the groceries in one hand, looks into the living room. Shikamaru had been at work this afternoon, but he’d said he would take off early so she expects him back by now. Still, she’s surprised to actually find him asleep on the couch.

Temari huffs and walks around the couch to the front, staring down at him. He’s on his back, legs up on the far arm and face serene. Behind her, on the coffee table, is a cup of tea. She touches the mug. Still warm. He hasn’t been asleep long.

She leans down to nudge him back, pushing at his hip. Without opening his eyes, Shikamaru groans. He does move though, rolling onto his side and scooting to press the back of his body into the back of the couch, giving her more room.

Temari drops the bag of groceries on the coffee table and turns to take a seat in the middle of the cushions, her tailbone against his hips, letting him curl his body around her.

He is breathing slowly and she knows, if she stays still for only a minute, he’ll fall back asleep.

She looks at him. He’s always been so beautiful. She’s always found him attractive. She hates, sometimes, that it took so long for her to actually tell him that. She hates all that time she wasted wanting him and doing nothing about it.

This is what Shiho wants. This is it. She wants to be sitting here, against him, being loved by him.

On the one hand, she wonders what is so special about him anyway? He’s often a pain. But on the other, she wholly understands. He is everything.

It’s been almost a minute since she sat down. She doesn’t want him going back to sleep.

Temari reaches out and grabs his chin, turning his face to hers fully. She looks at him, looks at the lines of his features and the beard he’s beginning to grow.

“You should shave.”

Slowly, Shikamaru opens his eyes, blinking, trying to bring her into focus. “You don’t like it?” He asks, voice gruff from rising from his nap.

Temari turns his face again, observing another angle and then lets go. She shrugs. “No.” She says, but she does kind of like it. No use giving him compliments though.

Shikamaru closes his eyes, slowly, lids heavy, completely unaffected by her comment. He shifts, moving further up the couch, so his head rests closer to the armrest. His knees bend as the top of his thighs press against the side of hers, allowing his whole leg to fit on the cushions.

“I saw that girl you used to work with,” Temari says, after a moment. She hadn’t wanted to say anything, but it’s on the tip of her tongue, as though waiting to be said. She recalls their meeting, and her ridiculous reactions, like a twinge in the back of her neck, right at the base of her skull. She’s embarrassed about it.

“Hm?”

“From the Konoha Cryptanalysis Team.”

Shikamaru makes a noise in his exhale and nuzzles his head into the cushions, eyes still closed. “Shiho? How is she?”

Temari stares at him. Why is she still doing this? Why is she pretending?

“She wants your help decoding some old cyphers. Or code. Whatever.”

“I know.”

They’ve obviously approached him. Shiho had said as much. And he’d turned them down. She wonders if Shiho is the one who spoke to him. Did she call? Send a letter? Stop by the Hokage’s or by his house? Had Shiho ever been to this house? When they’d spoke, at his birthday party years ago, it was at his parents… so Shiho had been there. Had she been here? Had she sat on this couch? Temari, after all, doesn’t live here. He must have people over when she is gone. She has people over all the time without him.  

“She likes you, you know.” There is a bitterness to her tone that even she can hear. “Has a crush on you.”

Shikamaru, much to her chagrin, doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even move.

“She blushes when she talks about you.”

Temari doesn’t know why she wants the rise. She doesn’t know what she wants him to say.

He opens his eyes now, brow furrowed. His body is warm where it is touching her.

“Temari,” he says, and he leaves it hanging even though his tone implied there was more of the sentence to come.

“Yeah?”

He continues to stare at her, frowning, trying to figure something out. Then, after a long moment, he looks away. “Nothing.” He says. “Nevermind.”

She sighs and leans back, pressing what she can of her back against the couch, but she is limited in her comfort by his hips. He’s right. He hadn’t even said anything, but she feels it anyway.

Shikamaru has resettled, closing his eyes again. Temari tips her head back to look at the ceiling and drops her hand to the back of his neck, gently brushing her fingers to his skin, back and forth up the line of his neck. He makes a noise when she scratches him lightly, but otherwise stays silent. Maybe he falls back asleep.

Temari, though, is too caught up to wake him up again. She blinks up at the ceiling, taking in the wood panels and the stains on it.

What the fuck is wrong with her? Why on earth would she do this? Why is he turning her into this…this person? What is it about him that turns her into this?

She regrets everything about that interaction. She regrets all of it. She has never been this person. There is no need to feel threatened. There never will be. If they break up because of a third-party, that’s on them, not on the interloper. And, while possible, she has no inkling that that potential third-party would ever be Shiho. Acting otherwise — considering otherwise —, being so cruel, even if only in her head — it is unacceptable. Why does she hate Shiho so much?

Shikamaru, apparently not asleep, reaches for her hand, pulling it away from his neck and using his grip to tug her down. Naturally, Temari adjusts, letting him pull her so that she is lying against him, back pressed to his chest, held by him.

It’s easy, now, to relax into his grip, to be comforted by his touch, to let the parts of his body fall in against the parts of hers. She can feel his breath against the back of her neck, the beating of his heart against her spine, hand holding her sternum, fastening her tightly against him.

How lucky, she is, that he wants her too. How lucky, that she doesn’t have Shiho’s lot. How lucky. Because if he didn’t want her, wouldn’t she be in the same position? Would she not want him, still, as Shiho does? Wouldn’t she also spend the days waiting for him to look her way, like Shiho seems to?

Because there’s no reality, she admits, only for a moment and only to herself (she’ll never say anything so naive to Shikamaru), in which she doesn’t love him.

It’s hours later when they wake up. They’ve slept through dinner and all the melted ice cream she’d bought, not well-sealed apparently, has ruined the box holding the condoms.

[bastillewolf]

The Grand Tranquility Hotel (IV)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: An eccentric hotel owner and an inquisitive writer find solace in each other when they both seemed to be at the edge of rock bottom.

Notes: Continuous angst and drama, but I promise next chapter Alex will show some of his better side. Love you lots for the wonderful feedback!

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list.

Chapter IV - Four Out Of Five

“Today is not just a day of celebration. It’s a day of gratitude. It’s a day where we realize our accomplishments were not only made by ourselves, but through the support of the people around us. When I built this hotel, I vowed to each of my guests that they would always have a room here, that they could place their trust in me. And in turn, I placed my trust in them. Without you, my guests, my friends, my family, I wouldn’t have been able to host this gathering. Because of you, this hotel got an exceptional rating that made not only our staff proud, but the entire country.”

There was a round of applause echoing through the large room, while a few local reporters took the moment to snap a few pictures. It quieted down again when Alex cleared his throat and raised his hand.

“I especially wanted to thank someone in particular. She is unfortunately no longer with us, but we will always remember her as one of our most esteemed guests who visited this hotel since it first opened. She’d written me a personal letter saying she had this wonderful young man who was very willing to come and work for me, who I now see as one of my most trusted employees. I am so grateful to have known her and am honoured to have her daughter remembering her amongst us tonight.”

He raised his glass, along with everyone else in the room, and held a toast to her mother’s name. All she could do was play along with a frown. Alex Turner was not the man she’d expected him to be. It all felt very forced.

“This hotel… It might hibernate from time to time, sink back into the swamp. I think the cyclical nature of the universe in which it exists demands that acquiesce to some of its rules. But we’re always waiting there, just around the corner, ready to make our way back through the sludge and smash through the glass ceiling, looking better than ever. And there’s nothing you can do about it. Have a nice night, cheers.”

The last part of his speech seemed oddly specific and she could tell it was a pointed remark. She just wasn’t sure who it was directed towards. Turner didn’t wait for the second round of applause to get off the stage, instead opting to immediately grab a flute of champagne from a tray one of the waiters was holding. “He can be so dramatic sometimes,” someone to her right chuckled.

Glancing over, her eyes found the face of a man she’d probably describe to have the most British face ever. Not unattractive in any way, his hair cut short and his hazel eyes locking hers in a warm and kind-hearted sort of embrace that made her feel immediately at ease. “You’re Miles Kane,” she blurted out. He smiled, “Correct. And you must be the ‘honoured’ guest I’ve been hearing so much about.”

“Only good things, I hope,” she said with a strained chuckle. “Only good things,” he winked. The corners of her mouth quirked up. She now understood why people chose him to be mayor, even if it was only because of his charisma. “I presume you already knew about the hotel review as well?” she continued curiously. He nodded, “They asked me to give a bit of a statement for the papers. Alex told me beforehand, though.” She hummed in interest, while her thoughts wandered back to that morning where she’d only then found out about the cause of the night’s celebration.

She’d casually strolled into the dining hall where most tables had either been removed or pushed against the walls of the room. At the back, the big stage had been cleared out and now only held a microphone and a few chairs. “You look happy today,” she commented, taking a seat at their usual spot. Matt looked up at her, silently sipping his coffee as he slid a newspaper towards her.

‘The Grand Tranquility Hotel was well reviewed; rated an exemplary four stars out of five. Mayor Kane states his joy, proclaiming “it’s unheard of.”’

She smiled, “That’s fantastic! Congratulations, Matthew.” Matt waved his hand bashfully at her. “So, that’s what the whole ‘gathering’ is about. Did you already know about all of this?” “I did,” he answered, “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, miss. Mister Turner was pretty set on keeping things private until everything was set to go.” “That’s quite alright,” she replied. However, deep down she knew the predominant reason why no one had told her, thinking back to the argument she’d had with the hotel owner just the night before. They didn’t trust her, no matter how kind they were being.

“Speaking of, how are the preparations getting along?” she wondered. Matt sighed and set his fork which was still piercing a heaping amount of eggs back down on his plate. “In all honesty, miss, there’s still so much that has to be done. Nick is out looking for more temporary personnel after some cancelled at the last minute, Jamie’s preparing everything in the kitchen and you already know what kind of chaos it’s like when he’s stressed and I’m just making a list of the things I still need to figure out before the gathering. We’re not used to doing this sort of thing with a limited amount of staff, so we’re all a bit disconcerted.”

She glanced down at the notepad he had been scribbling on. “Then allow me to help. I might not be an expert party planner, but half of the things you’ve mentioned on there I can manage.” Matt shook his head, but before he could protest, she shot him a strict look. “Look, I’m offering you my services here, like you offered yours. I won’t tell mister Turner a thing and if he does find out for some reason, I’ll just tell him I was helping a friend out.” He smiled at that. “Alright then,” he finally agreed, “But you’ll have to promise me Alex doesn’t notice anything.”

And with that, she spent the afternoon moving furniture, decorating, dusting, vacuuming, tidying and all the works. She’d even aided Jamie after he’d had a breakdown over accidentally burning the cake that was sitting in the smoking oven. Using one of her mother’s trusted recipes, she’d baked him a new one that had tiers, icing and everything while he continued working on the appetizers. It resulted in him spinning her around and giving her a big kiss on the cheek.

She glanced over where her creation now stood proud and tall on a pedestal. Well, proud and tall with heaping chunks missing from it. “Jamie really outdid himself this time,” Miles commented, taking a bite of the sponge on his plate, “This cake is the best I’ve ever had.” She didn’t argue with him, because she felt Jamie deserved more credit for his work. Even if it wasn’t exactly his.

Her eyes roamed over the assorted crowd. They were what she’d expected them to be; stereotypically ritzy and exuding money. She wondered if that’s why Matt, Nick and Jamie were so adamant on letting her know she was too kind to them, because all other folks they had to deal with were like these. They weren’t the type of people to have a normal chat. Oh no, these were the personas who whispered and were opinionated about everything. When you’re so filthy rich you only hang out with the wealthy who are as impeccable as you, all forms of judgement you’ve got left is directed nit-picking and slanderous gossip.

She heard people comment on her dress, hair, makeup, she could name it all. But none who reported it directly to her. It was just loud enough so she would think it was a whisper and she wouldn’t be sure who it was from.

It was while wandering around when she finally heard comments that weren’t being made about her, but about something that most definitely interested her.

She reached for a glass from a waiter and smiled to him in thanks as she casually pretended to look for someone in the crowd while her ears picked up the conversation happening behind her.

“You know what I think?” A woman muttered, “I think this whole night is just a charity cause. He’s trying to petty us into giving him funds so he can continue his bland excuse of a hotel.” Another man  joined in, “I don’t think that’s true. Did you hear his speech? He’s trying to cover up the fact he’s going bankrupt. His little act of intimidation was rather mournful, though.”

“He’s trying to cover up a lot of things, from what I’ve heard,” the same woman stated as a matter-of-factly. She let a short, yet effective pause draw out to spark their interest, before she continued. “A little birdie told me that the poor fellow got his heart broken. Got addicted to gambling because of it, lost all his funding and then some in one night.” They gasped dramatically, and she’d heard enough.

Like the person who had been observing her from across the room, had seen enough.

She came across Matt as she moved towards the exit, who gave her a questioning look, to which she simply responded that she was tired from everything the day had brought her. “I understand, ma’am,” he said, before he gave a small smile, “I can’t explain how grateful I am-“ “Don’t worry,” she interrupted him, “Like I said, I was just helping out a friend.” She gave his arm a kind squeeze.

He called after her, “Oh, if you see Alex, tell him I’m looking for him! I’ve been finding too many empty glasses where I’ve seen him.”

As she closed the door of the hall behind her, a wave of silence washed over her like a cold breeze. She had a headache and she was sure it wasn’t because of the champagne. A walk would do her some good.

It was as if her feet had known what she was thinking, because she found herself in front of the picture with her mother in it. She actually found some of the faces to be familiar now, probably through having passed them during the party. Her eyes moved back to inspect the man between Matt and Jamie. It was a gut feeling that told her she should find out more about this particular person.

She heard the shuffling of feet beside her, but she’d half-expected the noise so she didn’t even flinch. “Got enough material for your book?” He slurred.

She blinked at Alex, the little respect she’d held for him slowly but surely dripping away like water from a tap that’s been leaking. “How could I have enough material when you won’t even tell me anything about your bloody hotel?” she shot back.

He scoffed, leaning against the wall. He clearly wasn’t sober enough to keep his balance. “You don’t need me to find out about all the details now, do you? You’ve clearly been making your own assumptions through the stories from my loyal guests.”

She raised her brows in surprise as she took a daring step towards him. “Have you been spying on me?”

“Being able to observe people is a real writer’s trait, is it not? Always keen on finding the truth, even when it’s been covered by decades of dust and grime. It’s what makes for a good book.” He pushed himself forward until he was directly in front of her. He smelled like cigarettes and expensive whiskey. “The only thing you’ve done so far is brush the surface of that grave. You’re just another cheap journalist looking for a good story to get your job back.”

His words stung and before she knew it, so did her hand.

She really hadn’t meant to slap him. She wasn’t one to slap people. Yet, it had been her body’s first instinct. It was as if a gravitational force had pulled her palm to his cheek in a very violent way. She could’ve just held his face for all she knew, if it hadn’t been for the anger rushing through her in that particular moment, inducing her decision-making to be more erratic.

He almost didn’t seem fazed at all. He just looked at her. And in the flicker of a moment, she thought she’d seen an ounce of remorse in his eyes. It was right before they turned stone cold again.

“Leave,” he hissed. She was at a loss for words. When he got no response, he audibly made his request clearer. “Leave. You’ll pack your things. And you’ll be leaving, tonight.”

“She’s not going anywhere,” a voice proclaimed from behind him. She turned to look at Matthew, who was joined by Jamie and a distressed-looking Nick. Miles stepped out from the hall as well, closing the doors behind him to give them some form of privacy.

“Our guest has decided to shorten her stay with us,” Alex stated, his eyes not leaving hers, “If you could take her to the train station in a bit, Matthew.”

“The hour is late, Alex. There won’t be a train till morning,” Matt simply replied. “Then you can drive her all the way back home, if you must,” Alex snarled, while running a hand through his dark hair.

“I’m sorry, Alex. But she’s staying.”

Matt didn’t hold his usual backtalk. It seemed he was more tired and disappointed than angry. When Alex realized none of his friends were going to take his side, - not even Miles made a comment - he stormed back into the dining hall and slammed the door. She could distantly hear him yelling, telling everyone the party’s over. When he was done and people started shuffling out, he disappeared around a corner.

She noticed Matt’s jaw clench as Miles let out a deep sigh. “I think it’s best if I stay around for a while,” he simply said. As Nick led him to the front desk to hand him a key, Matt placed an arm around her shoulder while his eyes remained directed towards the same hallway Alex had drunkenly stumbled off through. “Come on, miss. Let’s get you back to your room. It’s been a long night.”

[rulesofthebeneath]

@lookslikezombiesatbest @lilmissperfectlyimperfect :3

tw blood mention, child abuse mention

Chapter 5

Grace was lost.

Ever since Rory had left that morning, after an hour of running lines and another hour of trying to tease information about Grace’s crush out of her, Grace was alone. James and Erin were out on their date, Skye was completely unreachable, and Grace was too unreasonably irritated by Rory’s good-natured attempts at reconciling their friendship to talk to them about it.

That left one confidant for her, but he was the very one that Grace didn’t want to know about this. Everything around Ajay was so complex: her feelings for him, his supposed feelings for her, the juxtaposition of someone who’d recovered from cancer and someone who probably never would. Ajay was too good for her, too good to be hurt by her. Every time her thoughts wandered towards him, she shut herself up by imagining him at her funeral.

Deeper inside, her mind was like a tempest. Thoughts of wanting and needing the love and validation and just plain closeness that came with having close friends rose up and circled around before raining down as heavy guilt-hail, knowing that she was condemning each of them just by getting close.

Against her will, her fingers typed out a text to Ajay.

Grace: hey do u have a sec

Ajay: Are you okay?

Of course he’d ask if she was okay. It was just going to make her eventual death worse if he cared about her.

Grace: it’s weird but i kinda feel like i shouldn’t have friends, i’ll just end up making a lot of people sad when i die.

The words came out of her before she could stop them. She’d kept these thoughts to herself for far too long, and they spilled out of her.

Ajay: That’s how I felt when I was in treatment. Like I would only ever hurt people that I got close to.

Grace: but you were never actually going to die tho. it’s different

Ajay: 60%

Grace: ?

Ajay: You keep saying that I wasn’t actually going to die. The doctors said the survival rate for my cancer was 60%. That’s not exactly great odds, Grace. I was scared, too.

Grace immediately felt guilty. She’d always thought of osteosarcoma as a relatively easy cancer, just costing an arm or a leg before you were ready to go home and live a life in remission. Ajay seemed fine; it was hard to think about that just three years ago he could’ve died.

Grace: shit, im sorry

Ajay: No, it’s fine. But you should keep that in mind. I might have had less time to deal with what you’re dealing with, but I do understand it.

Grace: maybe. thanks for talking. i think i just held this inside for too long

Ajay: No problem.

Ajay: Actually, if you’re just sitting around, would you like some cookies? I made some extra.

Despite herself, Grace smiled. It would be a lot easier to face these feelings with another person, especially someone like him who drove all the thoughts out of her head and made her heart lighter than she’d thought it could ever be. Like it or not, she’d become addicted to him. Maybe if she could just keep him as a friend, she could find a way to suppress her feelings for him.

That thought flew out of her mind once her mother pulled up to Ajay’s house and saw her off with a knowing smile. She pushed her cart up to the Bhandari’s front door and rang the doorbell. She heard a lot of loud footsteps heading up to the door quickly, and backed up just before a small boy that looked almost exactly like Ajay threw the door open.

“Who are you?” he asked loudly. Not knowing what to say, Grace stuttered for a moment before Ajay came to the door wearing just a t-shirt and shorts, balancing on crutches. He didn’t have his prosthetic leg on, and once he saw Grace, he quickly turned red.

“Grace!” he said, gently pushing the kid out of the way and towards the kitchen. “Mo, go help amma finish packing, okay?”

“Okay bhai!” Mohit said happily and trotted off. Ajay nudged the door open with the leg of one of his crutches, and gestured Grace inside with a nod. She closed the door behind her. A woman called out to Ajay in a language Grace didn’t understand, and he responded with some equally incomprehensible words. A door slammed, and they were alone.

“My mom and Mohit are going camping,” Ajay explained. 

“Clearly I surprised you,” Grace said, not sure where to start. She took him in: his stained yellow Cedar Cove Fair t-shirt, his ratty black gym shorts, the sliver of brown skin that peeked out from under the hem of his gym shorts. His face was flushed and his hair was mussed, and maybe it was just because she was surprised because of how dressed down he was, but she thought he looked beautiful.

“You didn’t respond to my text, otherwise I would’ve changed…” he said. “Actually, wait, let me go change right now.”

“No, wait,” Grace said, settling down on the couch that Ajay had clearly just vacated, because it was playing some show from the History Channel on mute. He stopped and pivoted.

“Remember what I said about not wanting to put on appearances for people I want to get close to? And anyways… I think you look nice like that.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I want to look homeless in front of the girl I have a crush on,” he said, a small smile on his face. Then, he turned and hopped down the hall, leaving Grace staring at him as he left.

Crush? Grace thought. So he DOES like me! She couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face, and how, regardless of any anxieties she might have had before, her mind just filled up with him. She knew it was a bad idea, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care right then.  Crush!

He reappeared in the hallway, still legless but wearing a clean t-shirt and a pair of jeans pinned up on the left side. “Compromise,” he said.

I have a crush on you, too, she wanted to say. You look really hot in those jeans. Do you want to go get lunch? My treat, wherever you want to go.

Instead, she gestured to the TV and said, “What are you watching?”

He settled down next to her, closer than he would’ve usually been. Grace couldn’t tell if it was because of lack of balance on crutches, or because he’d wanted to be close to her. She figured it was both.

“Nothing special, just some documentary about swords,” he said, just as the screen did a cut-scene with flames as the transition.

“Dork,” Grace said, nudging him slightly. He shot her a grin. Even more beautiful, she thought.

“So where are those cookies?” she asked instead, and Ajay started to stand up to go find them but his left crutch got tangled in her cannula. His crutches crashed to the ground and he barely managed to catch himself on the coffee table, and Grace’s cannula was painfully yanked out of her nose.

She inhaled sharply at the pain and sudden motion, but she didn’t get enough air and the breath sent her into a coughing fit. Ajay struggled to prop himself up on the coffee table, and only when he was seated did he notice that Grace was struggling to breathe and coughing violently.

Grace had started to become dizzy from the lack of air, but she had enough presence of mind to ease the nubbins of the cannula back into her nose after she felt Ajay tuck the split lines of the cannula back behind her ears. She calmed down as the fresh oxygen tricked into her lungs and focused on breathing deeply and slowly, painfully swallowing the coughs. Throughout the process, Ajay's hands rested on the sides of her face, his worried expression coming back into view as her vision faded back in.

She closed her eyes and rested her cheek in his hand, trying to avoid the heat of shame spreading over her face like a blush, and trying to keep the tears that had formed in her eyes while she was coughing from rolling down her cheeks, but to her horror, they did anyways. Ajay made a concerned sound when he saw it, and then Grace felt the pad of his thumb pressed against her cheek, wiping the tears away. 

Not wanting to seem any more pitiful than she already did, Grace reluctantly pulled away from Ajay’s hands, causing him to pull back as well, but he left one protective hand on her knee. She wiped the rest of the tears away and let out a forced laugh, which did a little bit to clear Ajay’s concerned expression.

“You okay?” Grace managed, her voice still a little weak from the debacle. She cleared her throat.

“I’m fine,” Ajay replied, his fingers rubbing the fabric of her jeans over her knee. “I hit my hip a little on the way down, but it’s nothing more than a bruise. I should be the one asking if you’re okay.”

“I’m okay now. Um, thanks,” she said, hesitating. “Thanks for helping with the cannula. And I’m sorry I tripped you.”

Ajay just shook his head, though a smile was the predominant expression on his face. “No need to be sorry. Let’s just chalk that up to an unfortunate accident, alright?”

Grace nodded, and Ajay’s hand on her knee came up to her shoulder and squeezed, a gesture that was purely friendly by all means but somehow felt more intimate with the way he looked into her eyes. She had to be careful not to stare into them for too long, or she’d get lost in them.

Luckily, before she had to make the choice to tear her eyes away from him or not, he broke the spell by leaning over to pick his crutches up off the ground and standing up, hopping into the kitchen and returning with a pan of cookies in a bag slung over his shoulder. He deposited the pan on the coffee table, then took his place back on the couch next to Grace and handed her a cookie.

“Here. To apologize for tripping over your cannula.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Thanks. You’re forgiven.” She bit into the cookie.

Half an hour of conversation passed easily between the two, although it was increasingly filled with tempting glances and casual touches-- a shoulder shove, a playful poke-- that seemed too intense to be just friendly. The short time ended when Grace’s phone buzzed insistently from the table. Ajay handed it to her, and she answered the call. It was from Rory.

“Where are you?” they demanded, then paused. “Wait, never mind. I need you to come over.”

“What’s wrong?” Grace asked, put off by the anxiety she could hear in their voice. Ajay shot her a concerned look.

“It’s Skye. Look, can you just come over?”

“Sure. Uh, I’m with Ajay, so I’ll ask him to drive me over, we can be there in 20 minutes.”

“Oh, great, you’re with Ajay? We actually need him, too.”

“You need-- Rory, what’s going on?”

Over the line, Rory sighed. “Please just come over. I’ll explain it all to you then.” With that, the line went dead.

“What was that?” Ajay asked.

“Rory needs both of us over at their house. They said it’s something about Skye?”

Ajay’s eyes hardened, and Grace saw a terrifying darkness in his expression.

“Alright, come on.”

Without any further ado, Ajay propped himself back up into a standing position on his crutches and grabbed his car keys that were in a dish on the coffee table.

“Open the door for me, would you?”

Grace did so, and soon they were both in the car on the way to Rory’s house. Ajay bit his bottom lip, and then started talking.

“Listen, Grace, I’m not sure how much Skye has told you about her home life, and it’s not really my business to say, but it’s pretty well-known in the theatre program at Berry that her parents are assholes.”

Grace nodded. “She said something strange a few weeks ago, about them using her and her cancer to make money? But then she just dropped it and I didn’t want to bring it up again.”

“Probably best. Last year in our spring musical, her parents decided to sponsor a trip to compete in this theatre festival. But they also decided that that meant they got executive control over the show, and over her. They’re manipulative and horrible people, and if this is about something else they’ve done, I won’t be surprised.”

Grace chewed on the inside of her cheek. She’d heard Skye’s offhand comment in the light booth, and she’d noticed the darkness behind the girl’s blue eyes and goth makeup, but she hadn’t thought it could be that serious. 

“It’s out of my depth,” she explained to Ajay. “I don’t know how to help with this.”

“You can’t,” he replied. “I don’t think there really is a way to get rid of the Crandalls. But what we can do is just be there for her, let her talk to us and comfort her if that’s what she wants, okay?”

Grace nodded again, and then the two were silent for the remainder of the drive over.

Rory greeted them at their front door, stress clearly shown on their face. Wordlessly, they gestured down the hallway.

“She’s in my room,” they said quietly, obviously not wanting their voice to carry upstairs. “I don’t know much but if I had to bet anything, I’d say someone hit her.”

Ajay cursed under his breath and clenched a fist. 

“How bad?” Grace asked.

“I don’t think anything’s broken, but she’s got a black eye and a busted lip, and her nose is bleeding like all hell.”

Grace’s eyebrows raised, and Ajay’s eyebrows pinched together. “Can we see her?” he asked.

“Yes. Yeah, I think that would help. Come on,” Rory said, leading Grace and Ajay up the stairs.

Skye was sitting on their bed, an ice pack held up to her cheek and a cross expression on her face.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped, and Grace immediately looked away and stopped walking at the entrance to the room. Ajay continued in, and leaned in close to Skye.

“Let me see,” he said, leaning precariously on his crutches. Rory quickly fetched a seat for him before he could fall over.

Hesitantly, Skye removed the ice pack from her face. Her nose had stopped bleeding, leaving behind a red crust down her lips and chin. The side of her lip had also swelled somewhat, and a purple bruise was forming around her eye.

After inspecting her for a few seconds, using his fingers to tip her chin so he could get a better look from different angles, Ajay sighed and sat back. 

“Nothing’s broken,” he said, “Not as far as I can tell. You’ll live.”

Skye rolled her eyes and pressed the ice pack back against her eye.

Grace was starting to get weak from standing for so long, and Rory offered her the chair from their desk. She sat in it gratefully, and wheeled it over so she could get closer to Skye. She took the redhead’s ice-cold hand.

“What happened?” Grace asked. Unwilling or unable to sustain eye contact, Skye cast her eyes downward.

“My parents. They wanted me to come see a client with them, so they could exploit me to get more money. I said no. My father, I guess he was just stressed about the meeting going well, and he started throwing stuff. A book hit me. I don’t think he meant to.”

“And then you came here?” Ajay asked.

Skye nodded. “Nobody hit me, I was just in the way.”

Grace reached out to tuck a strand of Skye’s red hair behind her ear, and when Skye looked up, there were tears brimming in her eyes. Skye brushed them away angrily.

“I guess my life isn’t my own,” she said sharply. “If I just did what they told me, everything would be fine.”

“No, Skye. They shouldn’t use their own daughter,” Grace said, squeezing Skye’s hand. “I don’t really know what you’re going through, but I know it’s not right for them to manipulate you like that. And even if your dad didn’t mean to hit you with the book, he still did.”

The tears started spilling over onto Skye’s cheeks, but they weren’t sad tears. By the way the girl’s small body shook and her hands curled into fists, Grace knew that she was angry.

“No,” she said, “it’s not right! They don’t get to treat me like this. They’ve been shitty parents my entire life.”

“Do you wanna hit something?” Ajay asked, and Skye, Rory and Grace all turned to him in surprise. “When my parents were getting divorced, all I wanted to do was just explode. Keeping it contained isn’t healthy.”

Skye considered this, and then turned to Rory. “Do you have anything punchable?”

They gestured to the plushies at the end of their bed. “Go wild.”

Skye turned to face the plushies. She was silent for a second, then yanked her elbow back and walloped a stuffed bear as hard as she could.

“Hell yeah,” Grace said, cheering Skye on. “Give him what he deserves.”

Skye punched again, this time a precise hit on the nose of a stuffed lizard. A smile grew on her face, making her look slightly deranged. She hit another plushie, and another, and another. Her hits became less and less precise until she was wildly swinging, knocking the plushies off the bed and around the room.

“Fuck you, dad,” she said emphatically, launching a stuffed pig into Rory’s window, causing a crash as it hit the plastic blinds. “And fuck you too, mom,” she shouted, accompanied by a stuffed sheep being drop-kicked across the room. “I never asked for anything from you! I never wanted anything except… except... “ her voice got softer and softer until the last word was a whisper. 

“Except love.”

Then, to everyone’s horror, she sank down onto the mattress and started sobbing.

Rory looked to Grace and Ajay, who both looked alarmed. “Think we should give her some space?”

Ajay nodded. “Probably best.”

Grace closed the door behind them, muffling Skye’s sobs. The girl’s cries tore at her heart, and she longed to fix everything, but she knew she couldn’t. This was Skye’s healing process, and Grace knew that they had done well by leaving her alone. That didn’t make it any easier for Grace to walk away from the room, though, wanting nothing but to hold the redhead and make her believe that everything would be okay eventually.

Once they got back downstairs and out the front door, the three collapsed on the swing on Rory’s front porch.

“If I could hurt him, I would,” Ajay said, glaring at nothing in particular. “Make him see what he’s done to her.”

“I’m with you. But he’d just hurt us too, try and blackmail our families or something.” Rory chimed in.

“I know. But if I could just…” Ajay’s hand curled into a fist again, and Grace put her hand on top of his, gently unrolling it.

A car pulled into the driveway, and Rory stood up. Grace waved at Mrs. Silva as the woman stepped out of her car. Rory pulled her quickly inside, explaining the situation and leaving Grace and Ajay outside.

Once the door closed behind them, Grace leaned her head onto Ajay’s shoulder.

“Shit,” she said. He just nodded. Their hands were still linked, and Grace was holding onto him for support. She’d never seen anybody like that before, and she couldn’t even conceptualize how much Skye had been affected by the years of abuse that her parents had been enacting on her.

“You’d think,” Grace said, “that surviving cancer would entitle you to a little gentleness.”

Ajay turned to lean his head back on Grace’s, thinking about what she’d said.

“I think that if there’s one thing I’ve learned about life, it’s that nothing really entitles anyone to anything.

[quasieli]

A Second Chance - Chapter Five

[Chapter Four] [AO3 Link]

“I do not know what you are expecting of this tour, Miss, but, if I may be frank, I do not have much time for comradery.” 

The young boy and woman stood outside of the dormitory door, a silent standoff bubbling beneath the surface. Both knew there was more going on here than what was being let on, but neither knew the other’s side of this story. Vex wasn’t going to back down and let this boy, Bren, she now knew, get rid of her so easily. 

“We do not wish to waste your time here,” she began, folding her arms and standing her ground, “I understand you have a big exam to study for, but what’s the harm in me wanting to get to know a bright, young scholar like yourself?”

“There is no harm, I suppose,” Bren spoke with an undertone of suspicion, “but I am just curious as to why.”

As Vex opened her mouth to speak, the rest of her party joined the two, both looking curious, and a touch annoyed from having to chase the other two down. 

“Are we interrupting something here?” Percy cocked an eyebrow as he took in his wife’s body language, “We can step away if you two need a moment.” 

“Don’t be silly, darling,” Vex relaxed as she hopped over to Percy, laying a quick kiss on his cheek, hanging onto him as she looked towards the boy, “Young Bren and I were just having a nice conversation.”  

Bren squirmed at the intonation of his name, as if it was now somehow dirty. He could not understand why this woman was making him feel so uncomfortable, something about her was getting under his skin. He felt insecure. He had not felt that way in a long time. 

She had been kind to him yesterday, and he did not want to take the kindness for granted, but he felt there might be some sort of ulterior motive behind the seemingly altruistic action. He knew he had to keep his guard up. He knew he had to be an impenetrable wall. He could do that. But then why was it so hard for him to look up at her? 

There was the obvious reason, the reason that made the Archmage call him “weak” and say that he was just coming up with excuses. The same excuse which gave him an unquenchable thirst for arcane knowledge and the nearly airtight memory to recite it back with ease. It was not a weakness then, no, it was just how his brain worked. But no, it was not that, this was something more. 

Taking a deep breath, Bren looked up at the three guests, fighting against his internal urge to look away. He kept his gaze steely, but still, something else was there to give away his nerves. Just as the de Rolos had seen him do the day before, he began to nervously tug at his shirt sleeve. However, this time, Vex got a glance at something more.

“Bren,” Vex said as her face fell into a look of worry, reaching down towards the boy, “what’s that under your sleeve?” 

Vex crept toward the boy slowly, as if not to spook him like an injured deer. Peeking out from the long, crimson sleeve was the beginning of a white wrap, a bandage, Vex supposed. However, she could not get a good enough look before Bren pulled the arm away, tucking it behind himself a little to defensively for Vex’s liking. And then there was that look again, there and then gone in an instant. Vex hated seeing that look. 

“Did someone hurt you?” she asked, her tone soft and face riddled with concern.

“Nein, ach, no no,” Bren stuttered, unsure of why he faltered when he had his answer to this question locked in his head, “Just... a mishap during some training. It is still tender, is all.”   

Vex wanted nothing more than to push forward, to get the truth behind the obvious lie, but she understood that perhaps he was not ready to talk about that yet. She didn’t want to push too hard and risk losing him completely. 

Feeling trepidatious, Vex turned to Percy and Allura, each wearing their own look of uncertainty and worry. Percy’s look then shifted to pensive, Vex could see the bubbling of an idea behind his eyes. The pondering look still on his face, Percy took a bold step forward, approaching the boy.

“You are Zemnian, yes?”

A foreign tongue spilled out from between Percy’s lips, a language Vex had never heard him speak before. It was almost comical how both Vex and Bren cocked a quizzical eyebrow at the man at nearly the exact same time, both curious as to Percy’s sudden dialectical skill. 

“Yes, I am,” Bren responded slowly in the same language, “Is there some sort of issue with that?”

Percy relaxed into a self-satisfied grin, his idea, perhaps, proving worthwhile, “Not at all. I was just curious. My family, a few generations back, is, as well, and came from a place not too far from here. I learned the language as a child, but it has been years since I have practiced.”

“Interesting... Well, your accent could use a little work, but your grammar is spot on,” Bren’s face began to brighten, his cheeks filling with the warmth of his familiar native tongue. 

“That is good to know,” Percy respond, shooting a quick glance over at a still perplexed Vex. “By the state of your accent, I am partial to guess this comes to you a little more naturally than Common. Would you prefer this? I can translate for our friends.”

Bren shook his head, “No, that is not necessary, but it is kind of you to offer. I do miss speaking this beautiful language, but Common is the language of this school,” he paused briefly, “So Common it shall be.”

Percy nodded, flashing a friendly smile at the boy, “Very well, but the offer still stands.”

Bren’s own smile widened slightly at the other man, a hint of nervousness around the edges of it. “Now, if you all do not mind, I am going to retrieve something from my room and then we can continue on,” Bren disappeared behind his door in a flash, but not before sneaking another curious glance Percy’s way.

“What was all that?” Vex asked as she approached her husband.

“Finding common ground,” Percy boasted, “I figured it was worth a shot.” 

“You got him to smile, that’s definitely worth something,” Vex herself smiled, glad to have gotten even just a glimpse of Bren in a more relaxed and authentic state, “That was a really good move, he seemed really happy to be speaking… what language was that?”

“Zemnian,” Percy supplied, “it’s a predominant language spoken in Blumenthal, I thought it was worth a shot to see if he spoke it. Although, he does seem hesitant about speaking it here.”

“Why do you think that would be?” This time it was Allura who spoke up, seemingly having to remind the pair that she was also there.

“As far as I know, Zemnian is not considered a ‘proper’ language, for lack of a better term,” Percy replied with a grumble, “it’s considered a peasant’s language, not something that would be spoken in a place like this.”

“Well, now that we know he is at the top of his class, I think it is safe to assume that he is here on a scholarship,” Vex added, “So, we are dealing with a very smart young man who probably did not grow up with great means and is probably in a great deal of trouble. How shall we proceed?” 

///

He could breathe now, behind closed doors and away from those people. It was strange how the solitude that had brought him anxiety as of late was now providing him with solace. Many restless nights had been spent in this room, pondering the coming days. Bren had reassured himself time and time again that he was doing the right thing; this was for the good of the Empire.

The Archmage had drilled tomorrow night’s plans into his mind over and over again, it was really all very simple, and yet… No, he could not have these doubts. 

Bren did not consider himself a patriot, he loved the Empire and what it stood for, but he believed patriotism was reserved for blind zealots. He knew better. He had been lucky to have the privilege of getting to know some of the inner machinations of his wonderful homeland, and the more he knew, the more he yearned to protect it. All of his training was going towards protecting it. Years of work, finally beginning to pay off in these last few months. He was starting to become the man he always wished to be.

Then why was the sight of a simple necklace breaking him so?

The piece of jewelry had caught his eye the day before, he had not thought much of it, or so he thought. It was not until the half-elven woman interrupted him that he realized just how transfixed he was on the pendant, the bright stone at its center particularly catching his eye. It was a beautiful piece, he had seen others like it at the many harvest festivals of his youth, but this was the first time he may have been able to actually afford it. 

But why would he buy it knowing the plans for the coming days? 

Perhaps it was as an apology, to both himself and his mother, for what he was about to do. But it had to be done. He could not let the safety of the Empire be compromised, no one was exempt from punishment for this crime. Not even his parents. 

He looked once more at the necklace, laying in a small, open box on his desk, a handwritten note beside it. His thumb brushed across the square of paper, written in his fine handwriting were the words “Abba und Eema, ich liebe dich. Liebe, dein schatzi.” 

He sighed heavily, he had to do what was right. Taking the necklace out of its box, Bren placed the pendant in his tunic pocket, having it in his hand made him feel strangely safe. Perhaps that would get him through this day with these peculiar visitors before he would return to his childhood home the following morning for his final test. 

It would have to work. He had to be strong.

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 15: ...For Loving You and Hating Myself

“Shut up.”

“What?”

“I said shut up, Taylor.”

“But that’s a yes… Right?”

“Yes, you idiot. It's a yes. What else would it be?”

“YES!”

The familiar sounds of Zack’s whoops of excitement echo throughout the confines of Trini’s mind as she drifts in and out of consciousness.

Finally…

He finally popped the question.

Thank fuckin’ god.

Out of everyone, Zack and Tommi deserve some happiness.

“You cool if I go tell the guys?”

“You haven’t told them already?”

“Sorta.”

“Sorta?”

Trini picks up on Tommi’s trademark annoyed but secretly amused sigh and then--

“Go tell everyone.”

“Sweet… I love you. Like a lot… A whole lot… More than a lot… Like--”

“I get it. I love you too.”

Trini can feel her lips curl into a smile as she moves closer and closer to being fully awake.

Good for them.

Wonder if Tommi’s gonna want a big…

Wait.

Fuck.

Tommi.

If she can hear Tommi’s voice then that means…

Trini’s eyes pop wide open. “Tommi??”

“Hey, Small Fry,” Tommi replies without missing a beat. There’s an audible rustle of bed sheets followed by a clear thud of bare feet on metal. Trini attempts to push herself up in the small medical bay bed but is hit with a harsh tsunami of pain. It radiates across her body, lighting every last nerve she has on fire.

“Ugh… Fuck,” Trini groans as she falls back into the pillow.

“Hurting?” Tommi emerges into Trini’s line of sight and immediately goes about re-adjusting the pillows underneath Trini’s head.

“Yeah.” Trini lets out a heavy sigh and relinquishes all control to Tommi as she helps prop Trini up in the bed. “Just a little sore. That’s all. How about you? Are you okay?”

“Still alive and kicking,” Tommi replies with a bit of a smirk. She takes a seat on the edge of Trini’s bed and then reaches out and lovingly ruffles Trini’s hair. “You on the other hand… Think you can quit it with this almost dying shit? Cause it’s really getting old…”

“Hey! You were the one that stopped breathing, not me.” Trini playfully swats Tommi’s hand away and re-fixes her hair.

“Hart’s handiwork?”

“Yeah… But stop changing the subject. You sure you’re okay? You… You were--”

“T,” Tommi stops Trini. She places her hand down upon Trini’s and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m okay. Maybe not as okay as I would be if that bastard hadn’t stolen my coin, but nonetheless I’m here. And in one piece… Which is better off than the rest of us. Have you seen Zack? He looks like freakin’ Quasimodo. I’m praying none of that is permanent cause otherwise our wedding photos are going to need some major re-touching.”

Tommi catches herself just as the words leave her mouth and suddenly looks up at Trini in sudden shock. “I’m getting married.”

“Yeah you are,” Trini laughs in response.

“You heard him?”

“No… Not really… Only caught the tail end of it.”

“I can’t believe it,” Tommi says. She runs her hands through her wild mane of curls and then glances down at the simple yet elegant diamond ring on her finger. “I always just figured I would have to man up for him one of these days and just do it, but… But he really did it.”

“Of course he did. He loves you.”

“I love him too.” Tommi responds with a rare sense of vulnerability to her voice. “Just like Kim loves you.”

A momentary silence falls between Trini and Tommi as Trini starts to absentmindedly fidget with the tattered edges of the medical bay blanket. She can feel Tommi’s eyes upon her. Just looking on and patiently waiting for a response. As she always does whenever she drops an emotionally charged statement into their conversations.

Trini lets out a sigh and then--

“She told me everything…”

“And?”

“And… I… I just caved.”

Tommi lets a chuckle slip out at this statement. “Well, that part’s obvious.”

“It is?”

“Seriously? T, you guys up and disappear for a few hours and then when you pop back up you’re rocking a Kimberly Hart special and wreak of sex.”

“Do not,” Trini fires back causing Tommi to shoot her one of her notorious deadpan stares. “Fine… Okay… We had sex.”

“Thank you. So… How was it? Spare me the details. Just on a scale from one to ten. What was it?”

“Which time?” Trini sighs. She buries her head a bit more into the pillow, avoiding eye contact with Tommi.

“Touche.”

“It was a solid 20. Every time. Except for that last one. But only cause we were interrupted by Jason. He teleported into the bar right as Kim was about to--”

“Wait… Hold up… Did you say bar? As in my bar?!”

Trini lifts her head out of the pillow and sinks her teeth down into her bottom lip. She gives Tommi a tiny nod in response. “Sorry?”

“Jesus, T!” Tommi grabs hold of the pillow from behind Trini’s head and playfully smacks her with it.

“Ow… Hey! It’s not like I planned it. It just sorta happened.”

“You sorta had sex on my bar?!”

“Five times,” Trini sheepishly responds and instantly braces as Tommi swats her once again with the pillow.

“Shit. I’m gonna have to burn that bar now, aren’t I?” Tommi asks shoving the pillow back at Trini.

“No. But maybe just give it an extra scrub down or two… with tons of bleach?”

“Oh hells no,” Tommi responds with an indignant snort. “That’s all on Zack. He can have the honor of sanitizing yours and Hart’s makeshift sex den.

Trini laughs at these words and Tommi can’t help but join in.

“I’m happy for you, T. I really am. You and Hart deserve each other. Always have. Now we just need to figure out a way outta this nightmare and convince her to ditch that douche of a boyfriend and--”

“What did you say?”

“Huh?” Tommi stops laughing. “Douche of a boyfriend?”

“No. Before that?” Trini asks as the look of confusion deeps upon her face. She pushes a few loose strays of her hair out of her eyes and hones in on Tommi. “What did you say?”

“Nightmare?”

Nightmare…

Is that is? No. Scratch that. There’s no such thing as a joint nightmare.

Right?

Not between six people.

Six plus Max.

Oh god…

Max.

“T?” Tommi questions with more than a hint of concern. “What’s going on?”

“You know about the Epithymía stone, right?”

Tommi nods. “The rock that’s causing this shithow. Yeah. Billy gave us the heads up about it right before the attack. What about it?”

“It was in the house.”

“What?” Tommi blurts out unable to hide her reaction. “How did you know where--”

“Cause I found it. On Thanksgiving night. Before I came to the bar. I was in the woods by the quarry that night and spotted it buried within a tree trunk. I thought it looked odd so I pocketed it and was planning on shows you guys but… But I got sidetracked and…” Trini trails off as the dots suddenly connect all at once.

It’s not a nightmare.

No. It’s a wish.

The night at the bar. When the girl who looked like Kimberly was going down on her in the back alley.

She made a wish.

And the stone…

The stone was in her pocket.

She made a wish and activated the stone.

“Fuck.” Trini stares at Tommi as her stomach begins to violently churn with a sickening guilt. “I’m the one to blame for all of this. I made a wish.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

C’mon, Gomez.

Must run faster.

Screw the pain.

Only 50 yards left.

“Hold up!”

But Trini doesn’t even attempt to slow down let alone respond to Tommi’s shouts. There’s just no time. She needs to get to the morphing grid and inform the others.

Trini flies down the ship’s corridor, bare feet pounding hard against the cool metallic floor as her anxiety spirals out of control.

“Fuck, T. Slow down!”

“No,” Trini yells back with labored breath.

Fuck.

She’s really freakin’ fucked things up.

This is all her fault.

The storm.

The disappearances of Mamaji… And Bapu… Even Richard.

And Max…

Fuck.

She skids around the corner and bursts forth into the morphing grid, causing everyone’s heads to whip around in unison at the sudden interruption.

“T?” Kim is the first to speak up, eyes locking straight away in on Trini. A look of relief mixed with confusion sweeps across her face.

“Crazy girl!” Zack says with a warm smile. “You’re up!”

“Fucking hell, Small Fry. Didn’t you hear me shouting at you?” Tommi exclaims as she enters the morphing grid, clutching her side in slight pain.

“Trini, what’s--”

“I know what triggered it. The stone.” Trini blurts out, cutting Jason off mid-sentence. “It’s a wish. I made a wish the night I found it and the very next morning is when the storm started.”

“A what?” Kim asks.

“Like a legit wish?” Zack stares at Trini with knit brows. “Cause I wish for stuff all the time and it never comes true.”

“You’re missing the point,” Tommi responds with a sigh. “It’s the combo of the wish and that stone.”

“A wish. Why didn’t I think of that before. It all makes so much more sense now.” Billy heads over to one of the consoles and starts rapidly typing away on the main touch screen. “Alpha 5, can you go get me volume 14 of the Ranger Chronicles? It’s on my workbench.”

“Sure, Master Billy,” Alpha 5 says and then scurries out of the morphing grid.

“What makes sense?” Jason follow up, trying to grab hold of Billy’s attention.

“The entity associated with the Epithymía stone. It’s a Jinn. That’s why it was activated with a wish,” Billy rambles on as he continues to tap away at the screen.

“Gin? As in Gin and Tonic?” Zack questions.

“No. It’s not an alcoholic beverage. It’s a spirit. A Jinn is one of the three predominate spirits that can be found within ancient Islam. You have angels which are innately good and adversely demons that are innately evil and then Jinns. They are agnostic and could go either way depending on what they are called to do. Their actions are driven by the desires of mortals.”

“Like a wish…” Trini says under her breath.

“Yes. Exactly. A wish. It’s--”

“Wait a minute… Are you talking about a Genie?” Tommi interrupts with a tone of sheer disbelief to her voice.

“Technically the term Genie is an anglicized version of Jinn, but yes, you could roughly consider it to be within the same realms more or less.”

“We should just call you Aladdin, Crazy Girl,” Zack chimes in.

“No,” Trini deadpans.  

“And that would make Kimmie here Princess Jasmine!”

“Babe…” Tommi warns sensing the ever growing tension in the room.

“Not funny,” Trini responds through gritted teeth.

“Okay, so if this thing were dealing with is indeed a Jinn, then why all the attacks?” Jason unconsciously rubs the back of his neck. “And why would it go after our power coins?”

“Well, I think it might be…” Billy comes to an abrupt stop in a sudden epiphany. “Zordon?”

“Yes?” Zordon’s head materializes on the wall before them and surveys the room with an unsettling stare. There’s a underlying tiredness to his features that Trini has yet to notice until this very moment. As if the never ending cycle of unknown threats and danger is finally catching up to him.

“You mentioned that the last time the Epithymía stone was activated, the entity targeted the Green Ranger.”

“If my recollection serves me correct, yes it did,” Zordon responds.

“And it’s safe to say that out of all of our power coins, the green one is the most corruptible?”

“Hey!” Tommi pipes up. “We’ve been over this before. I’m not--”

“No. No. That’s not what… It’s not about you… It’s the nature of the coin itself. The Jinn specifically went after the green coin because of the accessibility factor. The makeup of the green coin is different than the rest of ours and for some unbeknownst reason that makes it hackable by other entities. Entities that aren’t us. And by tapping into it, it has indirect access to--”

“The rest of us. The Ranger bond. That’s why we’re so weak, isn’t it? It’s tapping into the rest of us through the bond and draining us,” Jason finishes Billy’s thought, piecing the puzzle together.

Billy’s face lights up in a smile and can’t help but clap his hands in utter excitement at the fact that someone else is finally seeing what he does. “Exactly! It’s feeding off of our power. The more it drains, the stronger it gets.”

“And then…”

“Destroy the world,” Zack says in a mock announcers voices that causes Tommi to instantly slap him upside the head and shake her head in sheer disbelief.

“What?” Zack shrugs his shoulders. ”It’s the truth.”

“Great. So what you’re saying is that we’re just a bunch of human batteries for a deranged genie who wants to strip us of our power?” Tommi asks as she runs her hands through her hair and lets out a frustrated sigh. “How the hell are we supposed to fight that?”

A sobering silence settles upon the group as they each let the reality of those words sink in.

They can’t fight it.

That’s the answer.

If it were anything else Zordon would’ve said it be now.

That’s why he’s so silent.

They’re screwed and it’s all her fault.

If only she hadn’t taken that stone…

If only she…

“Trini?” Kim asks finally breaking the silence. “What did you wish for?”

And Trini can’t bring herself to look Kim in the eyes. Instead she lets out a shaky breath of air, trying her best to hold back the fresh set of tears forming in her eyes. “I wished for you to suffer like I have.”

The silence is all but suffocating as no one dares to even breathe let alone utter a word in response.

Please say something…

Please…

For the love of god…

Anything…

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I’m…

I’m…

“I’m sorry,” Trini says in nothing more than a whisper and then without even once glancing up at the rest of the group, proceeds to walk herself out of the morphing grid.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Trini sits on the bottom bunk bed in her and Kim’s old crash room in the ship, head buried deep within her hands. She’s not quite sure of just how long she's been sitting there. Ten minutes. Maybe twenty.

It doesn't matter anymore.

None of it does.

All that really matter is that she's fucked up… Yet again.

At least this time though she wasn't fully aware of it.

Silver lining, right?

But how the hell is she going to fix this?

Think, Gomez, think.

There has to be a way.

No. Scratch that. There must be.

It's not like she can undo her wish… Can she?

Even if she did though Kimberly would still probably never forgive her.

Not after all of this…

Not if they can’t get Mamaji… and Bapu… and Richard… and most of all Max back.

“There you are,” Kim quietly says making her presence known within the room. Trini lifts her head and is instantly greeted to the hint of a warm and sympathetic smile.

“Kim, I--”

“Stop.” Kim slowly makes her way over towards the bunk beds and takes a seat next to Trini. “No more apologizing.”

“But--”

“I mean it. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“Kimberly…”

“Trinity…” Kim mirrors Trini’s tone. She scoots a bit closer and then ever so gently reaches over and runs her fingers through Trini’s hair.

“This is all my fault,” Trini sighs.

“No, it's not.”

“Kim, I--”

“This could've happened to any of us,” Kim responds.

“But it didn't. It happened to me. And I made a spur of the moment wish--”

“After I pretty much blindsided you by showing up unannounced with my son and boyfriend,” Kim finishes Trini’s sentence.

“Don’t you mean fiancee?”

“Not my point.” Kim shakes her head in amused disbelief. “My point is, this is technically more my fault than anyone else’s here. So if we’re going to blame anyone it should be me.”

“That’s insane. You didn’t make the wish.”

“And you weren’t the one whose actions triggered it in the first place.”

“Jesus, Kim. Can’t you just let me take the blame for this?” Trini says. She pushes herself up off of the bunk bed and starts to pace the cramped quarters. “I’m the one who found the stone… and caused everyone to disappear… and get hurt… and Max…”

“No.”

Trini stops dead in her tracks at the sound of the simple yet powerful word. “What?”

“I’m not letting you.”

“And just how are you gonna stop me, huh?”

But Kim doesn’t respond. She instead rises from the bunk bed and moves to close the distance between the two of them until there is barely an inch left of space. And Trini feels herself melt under the loving gaze of those chocolate brown eyes.

How can Kimberly be so forgiving?

So understanding?

She’s supposed to hate her?

To blame her for everything that’s happened?

But instead…

Instead…

Trini’s thoughts are cut short by the familiar sensation of Kim’s soft lips upon her own. The kiss is gentle and yet somehow speaks volumes as Kim cups Trini’s cheeks with her hands. And Trini gives in, fully letting Kim take the lead in every sense of the word.

Before Trini can register what’s transpiring, they are back on the bed again with Kim dominating each and every move. The crippling guilt that Trini has been slowly drowning in seems to sudden dissipate as Kim maps a path of tender kisses across the expanse of her body. Each one leaving an everlasting mark on Trini’s soul. Once again, it’s love. In its purest form. And it’s nothing short of overwhelming.

Tears begin to fall from Trini’s eyes causing Kim to momentarily pause. She carefully brushes them away with the pads of her thumbs and then places another light kiss on Trini’s lips. “Shh. It’s going to be okay, Mi Vida. I’ve got you.”

And that’s all Trini needs to hear to finally let go of the last ounces of guilt. She gives a small nod in response and then relaxes into the touch of the one person in the entire world that she loves the most…

Kimberly Ann Hart.  

[thetribalmoth]

the Victoria in my head by Janelle Milanes

This book would be pretty good for someone who likes close to real-world teen stories. If you feel any connection or relatability to the main character it's worth the read. Now this review is coming from someone who experiences maladaptive daydreaming. The back of the book frames the main character as if she has maladaptive daydreaming herself and that's why I was drawn to reading the book. Further this book has characters that are LGBTQ+ and alternative, I myself am both these things.

Now this particular genre is one I don't read and I wouldn't have read the book if it hadn't been free. I strongly stick to fantasy, horror, supernatural and sci-fi. I did enjoy this book but I wouldn't buy it. This was me giving this genre a chance and I'm satisfied but not impressed and I've got little desire to read more. I'd recommend this book as a preteen/tween novel, around 11-14. I'd class it as being better suited to the children's (9-12) section than YA section if it wasn't for the alcohol consumption and point blank sex mentions. 

A book summary is pretty straightforward as not a whole lot happens. Basically the main character (Victoria) lives a boring life where every day is the same but this makes her parents happy. She dreams of being a singer and loves to make oddly specific playlist. Eventually these dreams get a chance to be reality and on top of that she falls for the sight of two boys. She also has a best friend named Annie who is far too tight laced of a person. The book also delves into dealing with parents wants and child's wants clashing. That's pretty much all there is to the book. Frankly the book is at least 20 chapters too long for the material and there's tons of filler. 

World building is bare minimum which is unsurprising since the world it's in is just the real world basically. 

Characters: All the characters are simple straightforward and cookie cutter Victoria is your shy "please the parents" girl who learns to break the rules for her own happiness. Annie is your school obsessed neat freak that learns to loosen up Levi is your work before everything unattached boy who really learns nothing. Strand is your bad boy womaniser who learns to be a little less of a creep. Krina is your edgy alternative badass lesbian who gets some genuine love (honestly this is the highlight of the book). A note in Annie's character: she's framed as this supposed happy positive good influence character. But she's actually painfully depressing. Whenever she thinks she's rights she just forces people into stuff, by whatever means, it's to the point of being cruel. A note about Victoria's character: She is for a lack of better words (plus this suits the book which attempts to be "edgy" and "vulgar") a whiny bitch. 

Stereotypes: (yes I had to make a section just for this because the amount of stereotypes in this book is physically painful) The Book can't even go two pages without throwing puppy dog love at you. Plus the boy is "unobtainable" and a "bad boy jackass" talk about a stereotype. On top of this there's instalove with a totally different boy. Not even two chapters after the onset of puppy dog love for Mr.bad boy. Queue stereotypical good guy geek vs womanising bad boy love triangle. And of course, it turns into quite nervous shy sheltered girl makes a loyal decent man out of the bad boy. Plus good guy geek being Nice Guytm. Heavy emotions are mentioned to be always premenstrual which is a massive incorrect stereotype that women are bloody sick and tired of hearing. The book is wholeheartedly unable to sperate romance from sexuality. Apparently not kissing somehow equals "sexually stunted" (what? O_o). Feeding into the stereotype that relationships need the sexy stuff. The Mohawked alternative girl Krina is a walking stereotype. Fake id to get into bars, drinking pigs blood, being a "sexual deviant", scary, rebelling against society, hates beauty standards etc if you're going to do an alt girl do it right instead of low key insulting any alt folks that might read the book. But at least the author had the sense to make her a left-leaning feminist. As most alt folks actually are left-leaning feminists. Making the alternative feminist a lesbian was pretty stereotypical even if alt folks have higher rates of being LGBTQ+. Thankfully this stereotype is offset by the two other LGBTQ+ girls. However queue Stereotypical cute girl prep dates stereotypical edgy alt girl. (Not sure how much I can trash this stereotype tho as cutesy pretty girl is exactly my type). However Krina being a lesbian doesn't feel like an attempt at brownie points and neither do the other LGBTQ+ character. Victoria's father was a ladies man who "knows what boys are like", hello stereotypical overprotective dad. Her parents overall are stereotypical "we know what's best for you" "your friends need to be good kids" "rock music is a bad influence". But they truly appear to care and have heart felt-ish conversations with her. As soon as the Victoria is introduced to alcohol she practically becomes a drunkard and regrets everything she does whenever drunk. Hello stereotypical demonisation of alcohol and being drunk. Lastly, There's the "cats are cold distant pricks" stereotype thrown in for good measure. 

Some stuff that's simply wrong or ridiculous to reality or to me: Again with the Author chalking up emotional behaviour as "premenstrual", that's not how that works at all. Someone being emotional doesn't equal them being on or near the period. The Book can't wait even 4 chapters before shoving it that the main character is vegetarian. Which I just have a personal issue with as no minor should be intentionally having an unbalanced and less healthy diet. The author throws in a "veal is baby animal and makes you vomit" scene just to guilt trip the reader/meat eaters, it's very rude and is shitty vegan/vegetarian agenda/propaganda. Thankfully Victoria drops the whole vegetarian thing and the entire book would have been far better off without the vegetarian thing thrown in. Plus removing the vegetarian thing would have removed an awful lot of the filler. Victoria is a total mess yet is also day in day out the same. It's illogical. The character can go from freaking out to the point of near vomiting to being good to go in two sentences. Real people aren't like this. The book summary makes it sound like the main character has maladaptive daydreaming, she very obviously doesn't. Daydreaming is rarely mentioned and even then it's nothing more than a mental scene to go along to music. I'll give the author slack for this tho seeing as the author and book never directly says Victoria has maladaptive daydreaming. However when you literally describe the main character as "living inside her fantasies", further to book title is a very unapologetic nod to living side your own head; the author might as well have said maladaptive daydreaming. As mentioned earlier the book can't sperate sexual from romantic. In real life no ones relationship (especially a minors relationship) has romance and sexual behaviour so heavily tied. This will be extremely off-putting to any asexual readers or really anyone who understands romance without sex. 

Some other things: The quotes at the beginning of chapters are unfitting and just don't belong. Tossing cheerios into Krina spiked Mohawk was freaking adorable. "Cutlet-related violence" is actually pretty hilarious. And I like that it becomes a running joke. The book does a decent-ish job at points for making you feel bad or relate to the main character even if every attempt is covered in tons of stereotypical stuff. The 40's chapters do a great job of making the main character totally soul crushed almost to the point of being full blown depressed. Annie and Krina are adorable together and the book sets them up for perfect chemistry. The last 10-ish chapters are actually fantastic and do a great job at surprising and satisfying the reader. The cover is somewhat creative, has an old-timey feel (which I know is popular with hipsters *sigh*) and is a nod to the book being predominately about music. 

Overall the book was passable but would qualify as good if you like the specific genre. However, it is filled to the brim with stereotypes and unnecessary attempts to be "edgy". It feels like an adult trying to pass as a hip teen. The representation of LGBTQ+ teens is nice and done decently. The representation of subcultural/alternative teen is nice to see but done quite poorly. I'd say give to book a go for cheap.

[wwoofcsa]

My weekend with pet

During my week with karla, i noticed (because it was pretty obvious) that i couldnt stop talking to petrina. We were like teenagers, messaging back and forth all day, day dreaming of one another and sharing everything under the sun. I was madly in love, like fall on your face in love with this girl and a plethora of bizzare things were circling our relationship (all of them super cosmic and hard to explain) that just gave me more reasons highting the importance of this relationship at this time. After intense and hilarious conversations, a thought popped in my head, maybe id buy a flight down to KL to see her for a few days? We chatted about it, but i was still feeling hesitations, i was afraid to let go and indulge in this realtionship. My entire life, im trying to find balance, and i was afraid that i was falling too deep into desire. BUT, after some conversations, i surrendered and jumped into the pool of love and bought my flight. A few days later, after pai, i was driving to the airport in chiang mai, hopping on the plane, and arriving in KL. I couldnt fucking wait! So i arrived, and we eased gently into one another, this was the first time we’d really spent time alone together, without any other stimulation to entertain us. But we eased smoothly the first night, as we laughed and talked and eventually fell asleep. The next morning we had planned to trip together. We had spoken about stepping a bit further out into the universe and taking a tab and a half each, and then adding some mushrooms on top. So we went and got some breakfast, made some food, set some intentions, and took the dive together. I lead the death meditation for her, and it felt like a  really lovely start to our trip. And there we went, our rocket ship left the atmosphere and the next ten hours were an intense explosion of connectedness, realizations and honoring the intriguing relationship that fell upon us. There were times that we held eachother so tight, that it was like we were a meteor flying through space, inpenatrable on the outside, but safe and gentle on the inside. It was as if i had lived multiple complete lives with petrina. Each life, a completely seperate reality, similar to mr. nobody. In one life, we were two kids that met each other and were full of lust. In another, we were partners with a child, all of us covered in with shalls and warming up by a fire in the winter of northern thailand. Another life, petrina was my daughter and i was letting her know how much her mother (petrina) and i loved her. 

The trip was incredibly powerful and intense, and near the end, we became slightly more sexual. Neither of us spoke, and i noticed that i wasnt sure what she was wanting from me. There were definitly signs that she desired pleasure, but at the same time it felt like a very surface feeling. I noticed that she wasnt recipricating touch, and that although we were being sexual, there seemed to be a slight distance making its way between us. Near the end of the trip, i started thinking about some of the things i had said earlier on, and that perhaps some of the things i had said earlier, may have caused a feeling of her needing to distance herself. I tried to open up and share and process the trip, but i could see that she was holding back a bit. I told her whenever she was ready to share, id love to hear. We fell asleep and the next morning she went to shower, closing the door and i could feel a continuance of the distance. It dawned on me that only a few days before, i was wearing the mask she was wearing of distance, and now it was my turn to feel the other side. I realized then, that neither of these roles were mine to play, and that mine was a secure one, and that i wanted to continue handling the situation from a place of truth and compassion, and not from anxiety and insecurity. So i meditated a few minutes as she showered, and when she came out, i asked if could share with her. She agreed and listened intently as i explained that i had noticed my mind finding insecurities, and only weeks ago i was on the other side of the coin. I realized that while i wanted to give her love, i never want to hold her back from anything, and that i really just wanted to make the most of our short time together. I wanted to end our beautiful weekend on a note that would send us into the world feeling good, and not one of regret and feeling foolish. I wanted to face my feelings, and confront them. I told her i was sorry, cause she expressed that she wasnt great with confrontation, but if we were gonna have a relationship of any kind, this is how we gotta do it. 

Pet was incredibly receptive and opened up a great deal about how she was feeling the night before. She opened up and we talked about the lust we were feeling the night before, and how it didnt feel great, that i wanted to give her love, but it felt cheapened by lust. I pointed out that i noticed she hadnt even touched me, and while that was ok, it just felt as if i was giving and she was receiving, instead of us mutually sharing love. The day continued on and our relationship truly blossomed. I learned the importance of communicating from a secure place, of not attacking, and not trying to pin my feelings on external events occuring, rather just to express my feelings and intentions. It was truly a game changer. We had a fucking blast the rest of the day, laying together in bed, getting coldstone ice cream, and going to see the new spiderman movie. 

Spiderman was hilarious, as we didnt realize that it was a cartoon. We arrived at the theater a few minutes late, and couldnt figure out what was going on. We left the theater and asked someone if we had made a mistake but the employee assured us that we had entered the correct theater. After reentering, we did some quick google searching and concluded, that we had in fact chosen to go see an animated spiderman, but since we were already there, we might as well enjoy it. And we did. It was a fucking awesome movie. I realized that night, that it didnt really matter what we were doing, as long as we were hanging out together, i was happy. 

A beautiful weekend of celebrating ourselves, with the lovely petrina

Things i learned from my acid trip with petrina.

There was this feeling in the depth of my being, that a large chapter of my life was coming to a close, and that this next chapter was about to commence. I could feel this third of my life, the third where i was making decisions for me and only me, was ending, and i was entering a realm where i would truly feel comfortable to make desicions that considered not only myself, but also others around me. Thats not to say that that hasnt happened in the past stage, but this would be the predominant work of this stage. A stage of giving back. As if the early ears of my life were focused on taking and utilizing resources from my parents and the world around me, and then i left for israel and i started thinking about caring for myself and taking less from those around me. I focused on learning and diving into the things that were interesting to me, and filtering a many great things that were interesing and letting those core healing practices emerge organically. I now feel like im arriving a stage, where i can truly allow for opportunites to come, that will help me dive to the depths of some of these realms that ive started digging in. Whether its a 21 day meditation course, or a month long ayuhasca retreat, im reading to get deeper. In addition, my relationshpi with petrina highlighted a desire that i had for a family, one of these days, a most unconventional family, and i believe that in this chapter of life, i will start to arrive to a place of emotional stability and groundedness.

In addition, i had an interesting experience, as i was showering during the trip. I could feel, very clearly, how much energy i had been storing in my dreads. This was stale energy that id been carrying around with me, weighing down on me for weeks, through pai and chiang mai. It was a profound experience, washing away all of this old, stale energy that was no longer serving me. I cant even explain how much lighter i felt after the shower, after coming to the understanding of just how much we carry with us and within us from the past and if we dont take time to cleans and wash, it really does build up.  it was awesome (like actually awe-some)

Another huge take away, was was omni present during the entire trip, was the idea of depth. I think for my entire life, ive been searching for depth, in almost everything that i do. Ive been trying to find tools to allow myself to experience the world in a more subtle and deeper way. During the trip, i feel like a door was opened that allowed me to see just how deep things can be in relation to how deep i have been living. It was truly humbling to see just how much of the mountain i had left to climb, but to see that there was a direction and deeper conciuosness (ironically, weeks later i would start my ayurvedic yoga/bodywork therapist trainging, where i would be consistantly practicing going to the depth of myself and of the world around me.)

Indulgance vs. discipline vs. balance

Lastly, something that petrina brought to my life, was this question between when its right to let go and indulge, when its right to hold back and be disciplined and how to find the balance between them. Obviously if you are always disciplined, you lose out on letting go, and living in the moment to some degree. On the other hand, if you are always indulging, it may be harder to reach a more sublte reality, or a deeper path.

An example of this would be, if i ate the entire cake by myself, i would miss out on a much deeper experience of sharing with others (a more eudonomic happiness vs. just sensual pleasure), or i would be trading sensual pleasure for pain and discomfort in my body later on. Or very simply, giving into sensual pleasures constantly, will be atempting to fill a void, that will just grow and grow (as both max and zen buddhism teach)

Having said that, if im constantly holding myself back, i may deprive myself of the simple and beautiful pleasures of life. In my attempt to get deeper, i will miss a very important lesson, in letting go and being present with what is, in flowing with the environment vs. trying to control everything. 

It’s been a very interesting idea to play with and observe in myself

[sarissophori]

The Records Of Aidon, Chapter 9

       IX—

         The day after my meeting with Anhíl, I was notified that he had gone missing. The magistrate didn’t seem overly concerned by this and carried on with his usual business, almost avoiding every opportunity to discuss it with me. I went to his aides with the same questions, and they wanted less to do with me. I even asked the humans in the colony if they were aware of anything, but they said they knew nothing –they did say, however, that I was starting to make the magistrate uncomfortable; his aides were coming to them and giving orders not to talk to me.

       I felt some of Anhíl’s mistrust begin to inhabit me. I looked up the remaining members of my team still in the colony and called them to a meeting in the science chamber of Explorer Six, just to be sure. If the magistrate was getting suspicious enough to monitor my movements and words, I wanted to be in a place I was sure he couldn’t see or hear me.

       Only Sato, Tíun and Zalín came. Disappointment in numbers aside, I wasted no time telling them about my conversation with Anhíl and what he said, even showing them the data he gave me before his disappearance. Their reactions were what I expected: initial skepticism and disbelief, supported by questions I couldn’t answer without risking speculation.

       “This doesn’t make sense” Zalín said. “Postponing, even reversing human gene studies is hardly a crime. Why hide it?”

       “Because we’ve spent the last ten generations trying to refine them” Tíun said. “Half the colonies on Aidon are invested in this in some form. Maybe the magistrate was afraid we wouldn’t willingly help him if he was open with his intentions.”

       “I wouldn’t” I said. “And neither would Anhíl.”

       “Maybe there are other consequences tied to this we haven’t found out yet” Sato said. “Consequences worth keeping in the dark.”

       “Are you listening to yourselves?” Zalín asked. “We have no definitive proof of a conspiracy, and what we do have is barely dire intent, more like a drastic policy change.”

       “That somehow exempts the Atlanteans?” I asked. “Who are the only humans being armed and trained with our technology? No, there is more to this, and whatever it is, Anhíl was close to figuring it out.”

       In the end, I never fully convinced Zalín. Sato and Tíun were silent for a while, possibly debating this cognitively between themselves, until Sato spoke.

       “Most of this information was selected from larger sources, and since we can’t read it in full context, my brother and I don’t fully trust it. What is clear, though, is that we are arming once primitive peoples with our weaponry, and that alone is disconcerting.”

       Tíun nodded in agreement. “It demonstrates an abysmal lack of foresight, which may be a forewarning of other shortcomings from the magistrate. If we go forward with this, we may discover what really happened to our Overseer.”

         We looked through the files of the colony’s main data channel –quietly, secretly, always careful to hide our tracks, never making too many forays into the system. We found nothing incriminating, but nothing to suggest that Anhíl was being searched for, or that he was mistakenly relocated without an official report (if my species is capable of such an err).

       The longer we did this, the more it ate at me. Paranoia is a terrible thing; I saw eyes watching me that weren’t really there, or vanished when I felt them and turned around. I wondered if the next corner I came to would reveal someone waiting for me because they somehow knew what I was doing. I used to love walking the indoor promenade, but it was now too exposed, too open. In my mind, the magistrate was always right behind me; if not physically, then with his chosen method of surveillance. Oh, I knew I was being watched at that point. It wasn’t until later that my fears would be confirmed.

       Several months into my private investigations, I was called to meet with the magistrate in the colony’s security chamber. They said it had to do with my Overseer. I didn’t doubt that, though I did doubt its implied sincerity. They finally caught on to what I and the others were doing, though they acted otherwise. It was a poor attempt to feign obliviousness on their part.

       If there seems to be an air of defiance in that last statement, then it comes with hindsight. I was alarmed to see a colony security team outside my room, my instinct foreboding me that they knew, and that I may yet discover the truth of Anhíl’s disappearance, at the cost of my own. I felt pure dread for the first time in my life, hating and marveling its ability to disarm one in moments like this, when clear thinking was most needed. I agreed to come with them, in my own vain attempt to feign unawareness.

       The headquarters for the security detachment was in the colony’s north wing, by the shipping port where Explorer Six was docked. It had a center gathering space where all the levels and corridors of that section intersected into a large circular chamber, with a dome for illumination. It was currently dimmed, making the upper tiers cast dark shadows on the floor –a tactic designed to intimidate. It worked, I am ashamed to say.

       The magistrate was there, as were teams of humans in armor standing in line behind him. Sato and Tíun were brought in from different corridors under guard, but not Zalín. I took note of that, as did they.

       “I am glad you and the twins could join me on such short notice, Kalína vu’Ondorum” the magistrate said. “There is a matter I want to discuss with you.”

       “Where is Zalín?” I asked, trying to sound resistive. It didn’t work. Even I could hear the fear in my voice.

       “Ah, so you do acknowledge her involvement in this” he said. “Good, I’m not keen on drawing out this little game for long. I want answers, and I want them now.”

       “Where is Zalín?” I repeated. Sato and Tíun moved closer to me in support.

       “With your Overseer” he said. “I will ask the questions from here on, lady of Ondorum. You and your fellow conspirators will answer them to my satisfaction.”

       “We won’t give any answers through interrogation” I said.

       “This is no interrogation” he said. “That will come after, if you refuse to cooperate. Take my word on that.”

       The humans grinned, apparently liking the idea. There was a coldness in their eyes.

       “These humans are Atlantean, aren’t they?”

       The magistrate waved a hand, and one of the guards shot me; a mild phaser bolt hit me in the stomach, and I doubled over in pain. Tíun knelt to pick me up, but the whine of charging weaponry stooped him. Sato glared at them, forced to suffer the indignity of having security rifles trained on his brother. I whispered to Tíun that I was fine, and not to worry.

       “You always inquired too much” the magistrate said. “Their origin is no concern of yours.”

       “If what I’ve suspected is true” I said, standing up on shaking knees. “Then, as chief researcher of human studies, it does.”

       “Did Anhíl vu’Nothras contact anyone else besides you who were formerly in his team? Anyone outside the colony?”

       “I don’t know” I said.

      The magistrate walked up to me. “The data-streams duplicated from my personal files were purged from his core memories when I found him out. I suspect he transferred a copy to someone for safekeeping in case of his capture. Where are they, Kalína?”

       “I don’t know” I lied.

       “You do” he said. “They’re locked away in your neural repository, aren’t they? If you will not tell me, I won’t hesitate to use a more violent method to provoke you.”

       “Then use it.”

       The magistrate stared into my eyes for a while, gaging my seriousness. He sighed.

       “If you insist, lady of Ondorum.”

       He signaled for the Atlanteans to take me away. One of them grabbed my shoulder—

       Tíun knocked him back, forcing him to the floor. Another charged his phaser to its highest output and fired. Sato jumped in front of him and took the shot. In an instant, his lower right arm was burned away.

       It happened so fast. Everything degenerated so quickly.

       Sato fought them off, unaffected by his missing limb. Tíun managed to disarm one, and fired back. The magistrate ducked and slipped out of the way, as did I.

       “Run, Kalína!” Sato said. “We’ll hold them here, go!”

       I gave it no thought. I obeyed and ran for the corridor, from the sound of energy bolts singing metal and the smell of hot ozone.

       With racing heart and fogging mind, I ran.

       I never found out what became of them. A part of me regrets not staying with them, and fighting to the bitter end. That might have been preferable, but that may also be the eons of loneliness talking. I try not to think of it as an act of cowardice, especially since I was following the last command of a friend dying for my protection…yet as the ages have lengthened, I find this to be my predominant interpretation.

       I must ask, dear discoverer, which is braver: to die in sudden violence, never knowing the end of the story, or to live past it and slowly whither, outlasting any desire to care for an end and enduring the pain of it?

Error: [REGRET/SORROW: So much I wish didn’t happen…so much…]

Anomaly registered. Anomaly corrected.

I feel my core memories [BREAKING] d-down. No, not yet…I must continue. I will.

[tothelasthoursofmylife]

Modern Day 4

And here’s the end of it! Hope you had fun with it.

Chapter Four: The Countess, Fearsome

“To make the deal complete, it was necessary to become someone else.”

London, England, United Kingdom ‒ January 2016

Originally, my plan had been to return to my lovely manor in the countryside after wrapping up the case with Ronan Parrish. But while I was having breakfast in my bed ‒ and watching The Descent Into Hell is Easy, it had gotten a bit too late yesterday –, my butler, Alfred Newman, came to me with a silver tray, carrying one single letter. Right after taking a glimpse at it, I knew that my stay in London would have to be expanded for an unknown amount of time.

I took the letter from Newman and read it, sighing that I had been right like always, and Her Majesty hadn’t just sent me an amicable letter. Was asking for a day off too much? But, of course, I couldn’t decline a request by the Queen. However, she had written that the completion of this case wasn’t very urgent, so I decided, after finishing breakfast that I would let it be for today at least and spend my time with something else.

“You are late,” Cloudia told him when he entered her private chambers through the balcony doors.

Last night, I had made a deal with an actual Grim Reaper. After we both had agreed to work together, the following conversation happened:

“We need a way to communicate,” I had said.

“I have two skull pendant necklaces which allow the wearers to communicate telepathically as long as they touch the pendant,” the Grim Reaper, Cedric Rossdale, had suggested with shining eyes. “I never got around to try them out ‒ this would be the perfect opportunity to finally get to use them.”

“Don’t Grim Reapers have mobile phones? I mean, you talked about googling people, so you have at least a computer.”

“We do have mobile phones ‒ we always get the latest smart phone models.”

“So why don’t we just exchange phone numbers? Or is the Grim Reaper telephone network wiretapped?”

“No, it’s not ‒ we live way too long to want to listen to boring and silly conversations 24/7. Would you like to be assigned to some kind of ‘Wiretap Division’ where you have to listen to Betty and Veronica’s ‘Did you see the latest Lagerfeld collection?’-or-‘Twilight is waaaay better than Hemingway’ -conversations for all eternity?”

“Hell, no.”

“See?”

“So we can just exchange phone numbers. Why don’t we do it then?”

“First of all, magical skull pendant necklaces are awesome.”

“You sound like a eight-year-old kid ‘Walkie-talkies are life,’” I interrupted him.

He ignored me. “Second,” he continued. “my mobile phone bill would get too high. Interdimensional calls cannot be cheap.”

In the end, he had given me a necklace with a skull pendant before Newman had finally arrived and we could dispose of Parrish’s corpse.

After carelessly throwing the Queen’s letter on my bedside table, I continued to watch the second episode of Shadowhunters.

In 2013, a movie adaption to the first book of Cassandra Clare’s The Mortal Instruments series had come out. It had been okay, but the critics had hated it, and the producers had made the terrible mistake to change important plot elements. For example, the whole brother-sister-drama had been spoiled and demons could enter the Institute. Therefore, the fans had not been very fond of the movie too. The already announced City of Ashes movie had been eventually dropped and a TV series covering City of Bones again had been created instead, in hope to be more successful with it.

The TV series turned out to be terrible though. There were a few good points ‒ Matthew Daddario and Harry Shum Jr. were adorable, Luke being a detective was awesome, some scenes were quite cool, for example the first few minutes of the first episode –, but the bad points, unfortunately, predominated: The drastic change in Maureen’s character, Katherine McNamara’s and Dominic Sherwood’s hair ‒ they needed an appointment at a hairdresser’s as soon as possible –, horrible special effects, whatever Isabelle did in the first episode and her white dress, Raphael, Valentine’s lair in Chernobyl, some actors’ performances...

At least, the show provided a few good laughs. I should show it to Cedric Rossdale someday.

I preferred reading classic literature ‒ nobody could ever dethrone Charles Dickens in my heart –, but two years ago, I had started to read more actual literature. Some Middle Grade books, some Young Adults books. Cassandra Clare’s Shadowhunters Chronicles were one of my favourite YA books – I liked The Infernal Devices the most and could not await reading Lady Midnight which would come out in two months, or The Last Hours which would come out someday. 2018 or something.

After I had finished breakfast, watching Shadowhunters and reading the newest comments on my review, many book review, blog, I clutched my hand around the petite skull pendant and pressed, signalising the Reaper to come. Right afterwards, I got up, dressed myself in jeans and a flower blouse and went to the little library in my private chamber to wait for him there.

“I had work to do, Countess,” Cedric Rossdale, the Grim Reaper with the long grey hair, explained and closed the balcony doors which she had left open for him, even though it was cold and icy outside.

“Still, this is no excuse for being hours late,” she replied and blinked towards the big, heavy long case clock.

He covered his mouth with one of his overly-long sleeves and chuckled. “My, my, what a funny face you make, Countess. Even though I want to see this face more often, I promise to reap the souls of the dead faster.”

Cedric sat down on one of the large, heavy armchairs, covered in dark green velvet, in front of the chimney. Cloudia had assigned Newman to lit up a fire ‒ there were heaters in the room, but open fires had some charm during winter –, before she had opened the balcony doors, so she wouldn’t freeze to death while waiting for Cedric. She laid down the book in her hands ‒ The Battle of Life: A Love Story – and looked at him.

“I hope you are aware of the reason why I summoned you here?”

“I bet that it has something to do with our deal.”

“Exactly. A brain actually seems to be hiding inside that head of yours.” She leaned forward and smiled her mischievous smile. “If you want to take part in my investigations, in my life, you have to accompany me anywhere. However, because of my social status and the fact that I am of nobility, I can’t let you to be seen with me in public. Not like you are right now. So... ” Cloudia’s smile widened and she closed her eyes and tilted her head. “... today’s topic is to make you undergo a makeover and turn you into a fine British gentleman.”

“So I hope that Grim Reapers get at least basic education?”

After Cedric had agreed to do whatever she wished, Cloudia had started to gather some books from her various shelves. Most of her useful books were in the Phantomhive Manor and not in the townhouse, but the ones she had on site would do the work just fine.

“Before I became a Grim Reaper, I only went to school until I turned twelve,” Cedric told her after a while, and his words caused her to stop and turn around to face him.

“You were something else before becoming a Grim Reaper?”

He nodded and Cloudia frowned. He avoided looking directly at her. “Grim Reapers aren’t born. We all were humans like you before we became Reapers.”

“That’s interesting,” Cloudia said. “And how do humans become Grim Reapers?”

Cedric hesitated for only a blink of an eye, but she still noticed it. “They have to die first,” he answered her.

“Does that mean that every human becomes a Reaper after dying?”

He was strangely silent for a moment. “Only humans who died in a certain way.”

Even though, Cloudia wanted to know how exactly you had to die to become a Grim Reaper like Cedric, she knew that he didn’t like talking about this kind of subject. And because she didn’t want to displease him just now at this early stage of their cooperation, she let it be for the time being.

I would find out how Grim Reapers came into existence. I just needed to wait for the perfect moment to get this piece of information out of Cedric.

I couldn’t await it.

“After being reborn, I had to attend the ‘school’ in the Grim Reaper Dispatch for a while,” Cedric continued while looking directly into the fire in the chimney. “A lot of people who are reborn as Reapers cannot read because of their past, because they, for example, lived in great poverty as humans, so they have a special system to educate new Reapers. A Grim Reaper, who isn’t even able to read a Death Book, would be useless after all.”

“So you can read and write. What else have they taught you?” Cloudia questioned him further. It was fairly interesting to get to know more about the society of Grim Reapers.

“Maths. History. Geography. Foreign languages. Dead, ancient languages. Science. Actually everything human children learn at school.” Cedric suddenly chuckled and stopped being so serious and started being Cedric again.

“Come to think of it ‒ in the last five years in which I’ve followed you, I never saw you sitting in a class and learning with other children your age. Don’t you go to school, Countess? You’re just a kid after all.” He giggled. “Kids should be in school and not murdering people.”

Cloudia scowled at him and he looked up at her, the fire being reflected in his glasses.

“Male Phantomhives attend Weston College,” she informed him. “It’s a prestigious boarding school in the area around London which is only for boys. Female Phantomhives are sent to Miss Peregrine’s School for Fine Ladies. Even if I am the current family head, I cannot attend Weston College like my predecessors as I am a girl and not willing to play being a boy for seven years while going for puberty and sharing a room with other boys. Therefore I should actually go and study at Miss Peregrine’s School for Fine Ladies, but because it’s also a boarding school and too far away from here to go there and come back home every day, I cannot attend this school either. After all, my mother isn’t able to lead the household in her current condition, thus I cannot leave her and the manor alone. Therefore I am home-schooled. I briefly went to a grammar school last year for my GCSE though, and now I attend some classes from time to time because of my A Level.”

Laughing like a lunatic, Cedric fell down the armchair and onto Cloudia’s lovely Chinese carpet.

“Miss Peregrine’s School for Fine Ladies! I can’t hold it! That’s too much! Hahaha!”

She sighed.

If he weren’t helpful in any way, I would have shot him by now and hung him over my chimney ‒ like Mr Crabs had threatened to SpongeBob and Patrick he would in this one episode of SpongeBob SquarePants, I would hang Cedric’s head and not his buttocks though –, before continuing to read The Battle of Life: A Love Story while drinking Fortnum & Mason tea. I had gotten it last week from this marvelous Fortnum & Mason shop close to Piccadilly Circus. Of course, on my way there from Piccadilly Circus I had stopped at Waterstones and Hatchards to get myself a couple of new books. These bookstores were just too wonderful not to stop for. Also, nothing was better than new books and new tea.

“Miss Peregrine’s School for Fine Ladies! What a horrible name! Bwahahaha!”

Cloudia kicked Cedric and sent him flying towards the armchair’s heavy legs.

“Stop this nonsense,” she ordered him while looking down at him. He was lying all messily in his black suit which was slightly too large for him in front of her feet and blinking up at her. His glasses were inclined on his nose.

“My, my, Countess, don’t you think that the name of this school is nothing but hilarious? Miss Peregrine’s School for Fine Ladies! What a joke!”

Cedric continued rolling over the expensive carpet, and Cloudia was reminded why she had thought of him as a maniac upon their first meeting.

Actually, the name was really hilarious as it was utterly ridiculous. I couldn’t believe that the girls who were born into the Phantomhive family line had to attend a school with such a name. But, of course, even though it was honestly funny, we, I, didn’t have any time for that kind of stuff.

“Snitchey and Craggs had each, in private life as in professional existence, a partner of his own. Snitchey and Craggs were the best friends in the world, and had a real confidence in one another; but Mrs. Snitchey, by a dispensation not uncommon in the affairs of life, was on principle suspicious of Mr. Craggs; and Mrs. Craggs was on principle suspicious of Mr. Snitchey.”

Because Cedric was still laughing on the floor and seemingly didn’t intend to stop in the foreseeable future, Cloudia had decided to spend the time until he would calm down in the best possible way: with continuing to read The Battle of Life: A Love Story.

“‘Your Snitcheys indeed,’ the latter lady would observe, sometimes, to Mr. Craggs; using that imaginative plural as if in disparagement of an objectionable pair of pantaloons, or other articles not possessed of a singular number; ‘I don't see what you want with your Snitcheys, for my part. You trust a great deal too much to your Snitcheys, I think, and I hope you may never find my words come true.’ While Mrs. Snitchey would observe to Mr. Snitchey, of Craggs, ‘that if ever he was led away by man he was led away by that man, and that if ever she read a double purpose in a mortal eye, she read that purpose in Craggs’s eye.’”

She had just finished page 19 and started page 20. While waiting for Cedric to arrive, Cloudia had read and finished The Chimes, another novella by Charles Dickens, but this time from the year 1844; and because he had arrived when she had just read the very first sentence of The Battle of Life: A Love Story (“Once upon a time, it matters little when, and in stalwart England, it matters little where, a fierce battle was fought.”), she hadn’t arrived that far in the story. Also, even if she had resumed reading after Cedric just wouldn’t stop laughing, Cloudia didn’t get too far either as it was quite hard to read while someone was rolling on the floor and laughing like a psychologically unstable person ‒ and this directly in front of your own feet. Then, finally, Cedric calmed down.

“By the way, what are you reading, Countess?” he wanted to know and sat himself up.

“A Dickens novella,” Cloudia told him, put a bookmark, which her cousin Cathleen had made her when they were just little children, in-between the pages and laid the book down a side table made of dark wood.

“I hope we can finally resume our lesson? We lost plenty of time and have a lot of work to do.”

Of all the Grim Reapers I could have encountered, it had to be the one who would burst into laughter because of every tiny thing.

Of course this could have only happened to me. But because I had proposed the deal, I had to endure it.

Also, I was the Countess of Phantomhive – a laughing Grim Reaper should not drive me crazy even though he was annoying as hell.

“Letting you take a test would swallow up a lot of time, which we simply do not have, so we skip it and go directly to manners and etiquette.”

Cloudia signalised Cedric with a hand wave to sit down at her work table, while she put out some crockery and cutlery, which she had borrowed from the kitchen before Cedric’s arrival, and lined them up neatly on the table in front of him.

“It is quite impossible to avoid dinner or tea parties when you are my associate. Even if we are living in the 21st century and there is no such thing as a ‘Season’ anymore, some high society people and nobles still like to think there is,” Cloudia said. “Which means that you have to be aware and able to implement the rules and manners for meals. Or don’t Grim Reaper have to eat?”

“We have to,” Cedric informed her, eying the strange set-up suspiciously. “Grim Reapers have to eat, sleep, use bath rooms... We are basically like normal humans, only immortal and with enhanced speed, power and endurance. Which means that not even we can watch Netflix 24/7 without dying of starvation, dehydration or due to an explosion of our urinary bladder.”

Cloudia sighed. “Whatever. At least, you don’t have to learn how to pretend that you’re eating.” She picked up the spoon on the far right side and smiled brightly. “Let’s get started. Silverware is to be used from the outside in, but first of all, I want you to become familiar with the individual parts of the basic table set. This, for example, is a soup spoon...”

After teaching him the names of all different parts of the table set, how to use them properly and how to actually eat effectively with this knowledge, I continued to teach him the rules of picking up food and everything else Cedric needed to know about formal dining.

Then, I worked on his way of walking. He walked without any grace, and then his back wasn’t even straight. I piled the books I had taken from my shelves earlier on Cedric���s head, amused myself with his failure to keep them at place and subtly took a video of him when he wasn’t looking. It would definitely get a lot of clicks on YouTube, and thus it was brilliant blackmail material.

After he finally managed to walk properly ‒ unbelievable that he couldn’t even do that! – I let him sit down the armchair again as we now had to discuss other important aspects.

“Your clothes,” Cloudia started without making a friendly, appeasing introduction.

“What’s with my clothes?”

“Have you never realised that they are just too big for you? You’re basically a blade of grass where a towel was thrown onto. I hope you never thought, that you could accompany me to high society social events and gatherings with such monstrosities you call clothing.”

Cedric grinned cockily. “Then I will have to lie.”

“You are a rather painful creature, aren’t you, Cedric Rossdale?”

“You are a rather stern and serious being, aren’t you, Cloudia Phantomhive?” His grin widened. “I hope you know that I don’t have any other clothing which doesn’t look like the outfit I wear today.”

“Didn’t you wear that yesterday already?”

Cedric held his belly in laughter. “You’re so hilarious, Countess! Even though you seem to be a sadist with making me remember all these spoon names and letting me balance all these heavy books, I think I made the right choice in agreeing on your deal. You frequently give me a reason to laugh! Of course, I didn’t wear this robe yesterday! It possesses a totally different shade of black ‒ ‘A Totally Different Shade of Black’ would be a great book title if this James bimbo ever decides to get herself a swimming pool out of gold through publishing another ‘50-whatever terribly unsatisfied woman with a terrifyingly low IQ writes like a twelve year old kid who just got into puberty’-bullshit load – than the one I wore yesterday! That you don’t even know that, Countess! I’m disappointed! Guehehe.”

Cloudia sighed.

I was Cloudia Phantomhive, the Countess of Phantomhive. I. Would. Not. Turn. Mad. Because. Of. This. Laughing. Maniac.

What he had said about E.L. bimbo James was hilarious though.

“Very well. So you don’t have anything better to wear,” Cloudia said while Cedric whipped away some tears of laughter.

“I hope you don’t suggest to take me shopping. I’m not very fond of shopping.”

“Never heard of online shopping? We go through a few websites ‒ Amazon, Zalando and stuff – and get you ‒ and me – some clothes in a couple of minutes without having to leave the townhouse. It will take a while to arrive though, so we have to find you something else in the meantime.”

Cedric sighed. “Why do I even have to get new clothes? Humans are also running around in suits.”

“But not in suits who are too large for them and not all the time. You simply cannot wear a suit for every occasion. Especially not just black ones. Or do you want to tell everyone you’re a witch from Hooky, a member of the Men in Black or MI5?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I hope you’re aware that I can break our deal every time, Countess.”

Cloudia leaned forward to him, a wicked smile all over her face. “You agreed on the deal, knowing very clearly who I am. You followed me in the past five years, therefore you’re aware of my social position. I am not an ordinary citizen. I am the Watchdog of the Queen. I am a Countess. I am of nobility, and I am rich ‒ I own a very large porcelain company, goddammit. And nobles and rich people are very, very fond of social gatherings. Because I am also part of the high society, I am obligated to attend some of these gatherings, although I’m not very pleased about it.

“Our deal contained you accompanying me during my investigations. And if my investigation leads me to such a gathering, you have to bring a certain degree of decency, manners and grace along. Also, I cannot walk around the streets with a man who wears sack-like clothes and doesn’t even know the basics of the fine etiquette, and therefore, I cannot investigate with someone like that by my side. It would damage my reputation. It would ruin the facade I worked so hard to build up over the past years. It would hinder my investigations.

“This deal is a deal to help the other ‏‒ not to ruin them! You knew absolutely well what would await you if you took the deal ‒ and you still did it. So just stick to the conditions of our bargain.”

Her smile grew wider.

“Also ‒ I don’t know why you agreed on my deal as you’re a supernatural creature after all. But I know that you certainly have a reason. And whatever this reason was and still is, it has to be something so big, so important to you that you simply will not end our bargain right now. After all, this reason let you make a deal with me ‒ a mere human, the head of the Phantomhives.

“So, if you want, if you dare, to threat me again, please do so in a way which builds up on a less obvious lie. If you truly want to work with me, you have to become more sneaky.

“And now ‒ let’s continue, Grim Reaper.”

“I know that you dress up like a man on occasions ‒ but why exactly do you possess clothes for males, which are too big for you?”

I had given Cedric an outfit of mine I thought he could fit into. It wasn’t the newest piece of cloth, but I had only worn it once, so it was still in a formidable state, and due to its fine fabrication and colour scheme absolutely acceptable to wear at all times.

And, naturally, I had been right: Cedric fit perfectly into the clothes as if they had been tailored just for him.

“It’s an old story,” Cloudia answered and watched Cedric how he looked at himself in the mirror as he was looking at someone entirely different.

“One year ago, I received a request from the Queen to investigate a certain person. After I found out that he was illegally creating crystal meth in his basement, I had to eliminate him and his supporters. It wasn’t a difficult thing to do. Just before I eliminated the last of them, he managed to grab my phone and destroy it ‒ only to be shot in the face the moment afterwards. Newman was waiting for my call but without a mobile and money for a telephone cell, I could not call him. And these stupid junkies didn’t even have a phone and I really did not feel like searching for their mobiles on them, so I decided to go to Newman’s waiting point. My clothes were dirty and partially covered in blood though, so it was quite hard for me to walk around without anyone noticing it. At least it had already been dark outside and I wasn’t in the center of London. However, it was November and without a proper coat ‒ I left mine in the junkies’ basement as it was too soaked in blood –, I could have frozen to death.

“Fortunately, I came across a little tailoring. I broke into the shop, and changed into some dry clothes. But because I was in a hurry ‒ nobody should catch me after all; also I had to go to Newman as fast as I could or someone could have gone into the basement and found the corpses and the meth and run away with it or something like that –, I just took clothes which fit together and didn’t check their sizes. I disposed my own attire and went to see Newman, so he could drive me to Scotland Yard.”

Cedric chuckled. “My, my, you gave me a stolen outfit!”

“But it fits you, and you do not look particularly horrible in it, so you can use it until we have time to get you some more clothes. You need a lot of attire, if you’re with me. Also, I left money in the tailor’s shop for the clothes.”

Cloudia rose from her emerald-green armchair and walked towards Cedric. She touched his hair. “We need to comb it. Have you ever thought about cutting it shorter?” She chuckled. “You could be mistaken for a hippie after all.”

If she let her black hair, which was usually in a braid or a high ponytail, fall loose, it would be around as long as his.

He firmly shook his head. “No,” he answered. “I like it as it is right now.”

She nodded. “Then you have to comb it neatly, and arrange it into a ponytail with a ribbon which you tie into a bow. You will look more classy like that. It’s also good that you have black glasses with a thin frame. They will harmonise nicely with all colours, so we don’t have to worry about that.

“Now, please sit down again. Before Newman comes and tells me that dinner is ready, we have to discuss a few other things.”

They sat down in front of the chimney again. The fire inside was still dancing and trying to escape from its prison made of stone. It had shrunken a while ago, but Cedric had lit it up again, so the fire could continue its struggle.

“We need a new name for you,” Cloudia said straightforward. “A new identity. If you have already lived once under the name of Cedric Rossdale, you could be tracked by my enemies and some nasty people who become suspicious of you. It would cause too much trouble if anybody found out that you actually died once. Also, if you take upon a new identity, it’s easier for you to get accepted into the high society. We could come up with a fake title, a fake background and lineage for you, and say that you come from far away and didn’t inherit the title or wealth until a while ago. They will believe that, and if they try to track you down under this false name, they will only find the lies we have positioned in front of their feet. Like that we wouldn’t have to rewrite the history of Cedric Rossdale, but to create someone entirely new. And this would certainly be easier.

“Don’t you agree, my dear Undertaker?”

Cedric frowned. “‘Undertaker’?”

She shrugged. “Aren’t you one?”

“I’m a Grim Reaper, Countess. I’m not an Undertaker at all.”

“But don’t you think that Grim Reapers and undertakers are quite similar? The work of both starts when someone dies after all. And both hold the responsibility to bring a living being to a rightful and peaceful rest. Another similarity is the fact that both get to work because of me. Also, I think the nickname ‘Undertaker’ suits you quite well, doesn’t it?”

Cedric leaned back. In his new attire ‒ the dark trousers, the polished black shoes, the starched white shirt and the dark blue waistcoat – he actually looked good. Like a grey- and long-haired version of Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Finally, Cloudia was able to see his figure which was so, so thin and fragile-looking. But because he had been able to lift a huge scythe and she hadn’t been able to free herself from his grip yesterday, and because he had told her that Reapers were physically stronger than humans, his outer appearance was nothing more than deceptive. And you had to be deceptive to survive the life of a Phantomhive.

“So – how should we name you? What title should we grant you, Undertaker?”

I didn’t like calling him “Grim Reaper” at all. But if he just called me “Countess,” I guess “Undertaker” should work just fine for him. Also, I liked the sound of it. Undertaker. It was a much nicer word than “mortician,” even though “Mort” ‒ like the mortician from UndeadEd! – would have made a good nickname too.

Cloudia tilted her head, an idea appearing in her mind. “What’s your middle name, by the way? I know it starts with a ‘K,’ but I don’t know the full name.”

“It’s ‘Kristopher,’” Cedric told her and she smiled.

“Then we have a first name for you, Kristopher...” She thought for a moment. “... Underwood.”

He frowned. “‘Underwood’?”

“It’s the most similar name I could think of to ‘Undertaker,’ and I think that both names fit perfectly together. Kristopher Underwood. It’s sounding like the name of someone important, but it’s not too extravagant simultaneously. It’s perfect, don’t you think, Undertaker?”

Cedric gazed at Cloudia and folded his arms in front of his chest. “I guess it works,” he said after a while. Then, he started to giggle.

“You’re someone who has to plan everything frantically in detail, aren’t you, Countess? Manners, clothes, name. You’re just hilarious.” More giggling.

Cloudia ignored his remark. “Fantastic. And now, a title! What title of nobility do you want to have? You don’t necessarily need a title as we could make your alter ego just ridiculously rich, but it’s much nicer that way.”

“Viscount Kristopher Underwood,” Cedric tried. “Marquess Kristopher Underwood. Baron Kristopher Underwood. Hm...” He giggled and covered his mouth while doing so. However, this time, he couldn’t do it with his sleeve and had to use his hand.

“Duke Kristopher Underwood sounds quite good.”

Probably, he just wanted to suit a noble rank above mine.

“Very well,” Cloudia said. “This is settled then too. I will work on the rest.” She stood up and went to her desk. She opened one of the drawers and took out the letter from this morning. The red wax signet was already broken. Cloudia handed the letter over to Cedric who took it with a raised eyebrow.

“The last topic for today: Queen Elizabeth gave us our first assignment as a team today. We will start investigating tomorrow, so please, do not be late.”

[coloursflyaway]

A Pattern Of Errors [2/ ?]

Pairing: Dirk Gently/ Todd Brotzman

Rating: T

Words: 2.423

Dirk picks Todd up for a road trip he never planned to go on, with a red cabriolet and a bright smile and a thousand places to go. And although Todd doesn't know what he expected, he definitely gets more than he bargained for.

Also shout-out to @nekosmuse, who I absolutely forgot to mention last time (because I am bad at that too), but who helped me SO MUCH when coming up with the excuse for a plot that I am using for this. (lbr, there is no plot, there are just excuses for me to have them touch and be cute together.)

List of chapters

 Four days pass and it feels like no time at all. They are making their way south, but not even closely in a sensible or even a comprehensible fashion. Dirk either changes directions at random or tells Todd too, usually ignoring highways or anything else that would get them where they are going a little faster. Not that Todd minds, he enjoys the small roads they take, the little towns they pass through, the people they meet and the seemingly endless trail of business cards Dirk leaves at each and every stop they make.

Before this, he considered them rather close, but this is different. This isn’t just Dirk chattering endlessly and Todd listening, occasionally throwing in a comment that makes the other smile or laugh or think, this is silence and it’s conversation, it’s eating together and it’s dragging Dirk through a Walmart to buy the cheapest clothes and toothbrushes and deodorants they can find. It’s not just spending a few hours but whole days together and finding out where they fit and where they clash, and surprisingly enough, finding out that the first option is the predominating one by far. It’s waking up and knowing someone is somewhere close to him, it’s the occasional, rare memory they share with each other, some good, some bad, most something in between. And it’s creating new ones, and it’s Dirk beside him, always there, and it’s Todd not minding it the slightest.

 Breakfast consists of blueberry muffins and coffee out of more paper cups; they could stay, but Dirk seems even more enthusiastic than usual, basically bouncing up and down while they wait, like he cannot figure out what to do with his limbs. So Todd decides for both of them and drags Dirk outside before he can do more than hand the bemused owner of the diner two of his business cards and offer to find any and all run-away pets. He grasps the other man’s wrist; blue leather prevents their skin to touch, and yet his palm feels warmer than it should when he lets go again.

“-but Todd”, Dirk all but whines, and it sounds like it’s part of a sentence that started a minute ago; Todd doesn’t know if he did not hear it or if it’s just Dirk. “What if their pony runs away today and I can’t be reached under the first two numbers? Who will find it?” “Didn’t you say that the cases find you?”, Todd replies, slightly distracted as he unlocks the car door. “So if we are meant to find this pony, then they will reach you somehow. And anyway, I thought this was a road trip?” “Well yes”, Dirk admits, gets into the car and looks at Todd expectantly. “It is, but, you know. For later. Maybe. Or to… well, you see, in case that this – that spending time with me, without a case, that is, will start to bore you, then wouldn’t it be good to know that there is most likely a lost little pony somewhere in Wyoming, waiting to be found by us?”

It’s too many words in too little time for Todd to quite understand what Dirk is saying immediately, so a few seconds pass with Todd’s empty gaze and Dirk fidgeting, until all those sounds finally fit together to make up a message. “You mean – or rather, you think that I’ll grow sick of you?”, Todd asks to clarify, and Dirk nods, obviously anxious, and Todd can’t help but chuckle, which doesn’t seem to be the expected response, judging by Dirk’s confused expression. “Honestly, Dirk, I occasionally want to punch you, but after I have managed to deal with you for this long, I doubt that’s gonna change any time soon. Don’t worry. If you want to find a pony, that is fine, but for my sake? That’s not necessary. In fact, some more time without being hurt by, or with anything might do both of some good.”

 Slowly, the car comes to a halt and Todd doesn’t get hunches like Dirk does, but thinks that this might be how the other feels like when he has them; an inexplicable urge to stop right here and get out, just see what is out there waiting for him. For them. “Is something wrong?”, Dirk asks, his voice rough with sleep and soft with left-behind dreams. He looks just like he sounds too when Todd turns his head, wide blue eyes blinking slowly, a pink tongue darting out to wet even pinker lips. “No, no, don’t worry”, Todd answers and keeps his voice low. “I just wanted to get out of the car a bit, walk around. Do you want to tag along?”

Dirk seems torn, seems to want everything at once, but finally shakes his head, leans back into his seat, eyes staying on Todd for a little bit longer. “Next time. But have fun.” With that, he buries his face in his jacket and it’s good that Dirk’s eyes are closed, because Todd cannot possibly put a name to the expression that creeps onto his face, only knows that the feeling accompanying it is warm and soft and wonderful.

He lingers for a few moments, just because he can, then gets out of the car at last and leaves Dirk behind. The air is cool against his skin when he closes the door behind him, crisp and clear, smells of damp earth and rotting plants, tart and fresh and clean. Over the treetops, the sun is setting and it’s just him out here, the world around Todd quiet apart from the wind making the leaves whisper above him, the ground beneath him crunching as he takes a step, another, another. Although they haven’t been away for that long, it almost feels a bit strange to be on his own, no Dirk next to him. Maybe it should scare him, Todd thinks as he steps over some shrubbery, feels the twigs tug at the too-wide shirt they bought, how quickly Dirk has carved a spot of his shape into Todd’s life. He never made it easy, Todd knows that, and yet, Dirk has somehow stuck with him, poked and pushed and prodded until Todd had given up and allowed him in, something that has never been easy for him and yet easier when it came to Dirk. Surprisingly easy, he thinks as he pushes aside a sapling, feels that strange warmth still tingling through his limbs when he remembers digging up parts of a time machine with the other man, spending nights in a borrowed truck, patching Dirk up with too-pink band-aids.

It’s a strange sensation, softer and more comfortable than he is used to, not quite but kind of drowning out the eternal undercurrent of guilt and the knowledge that he is not the person his sister, his parents, his friends would deserve. Of course it doesn’t change that all that is still true, that he should feel guilty and should know that he isn’t good enough, but it soothes the sting a little bit, makes it easier to bear.

The last few rays of sunlight trickle through the leaves, giving the forest around him another, almost otherworldly glow; a golden tint that would set Dirk’s hair aflame and cause his eyes to gleam blue and bright. Why it’s Dirk he thinks of, Todd doesn’t know and doesn’t want to think about; he bends down to pick up a pine cone from the mossy ground and stuffs it in his jacket. There is no reason to make this more complicated than it has to be.

 When he comes back to the car, scratches red across his knuckles, the pine cone safe in his pocket, Dirk is still asleep. His hair is sticking up in every possible direction, his lips parted and his nose scrunched up slightly; Todd closes the door as softly and quietly as he possibly can. The warmth is still lingering just below his skin and Todd doesn’t smile, but it’s a close thing. And he could drive on, find them a motel somewhere, but the sun has set already and Dirk looks peaceful, the driver’s seat comfortable enough, so he doesn’t, just turns on the heating and settles back, closes his eyes, and falls asleep.

 Waking up is a slow process, gradually drifting closer and closer to the surface of consciousness until his eyes finally blink open. It feels like he hasn’t moved the entire night, his neck stiff and his back aching, but Todd feels well rested and relaxed nonetheless. He stretches, turns and finds the passenger seat empty, no blue leather and no auburn hair and bright smile waiting for him. It’s a little disorienting to be alone, but the sensation doesn’t last for long. Dirk is sitting outside on the hood of the car, cross-legged, and Todd considers just trying to go to sleep again, but then decides against it. His muscles are protesting, but Todd unfurls them, makes them submit.

Something in his pocket is prodding his side, hard and unforgiving, the pine cone he picked up the night ago. It’s an ugly little thing, misshapen and dirty, but Todd places it behind the windshield anyway before he gets out of the car.

The door snaps shut, and yet Dirk doesn’t turn around, which is unusual; still Todd understands why within seconds. The sun must be rising somewhere, hidden behind the trees around them, and is painting the sky pink and lavender and cornflower-blue. It’s beautiful, and Todd ignores that the metal of the car is cold and wet with dew and hops onto the hood as well. When Dirk looks over at him, his eyes are ablaze; there is no smile on his full lips, but there doesn’t have to be, it’s shining out of his eyes instead.

Todd leans back on his hands and their fingertips touch. Neither of them pulls away.

 They don’t speak until the sun has long since risen, birds chirping around them, and Todd’s stomach growls. “Hungry?”, Dirk asks, and Todd is thankful for it, because he isn’t certain if he ever would have managed to break the silence. There is something peaceful in it, even now, an easy camaraderie, or perhaps even more than that. “Oh God, yes”, he replies, though, and finds that it is so much easier.

Dirk watching him when he looks over, and there is a moment that passes and seems to stretch out forever, their eyes interlocked and their fingertips still touching. It’s not electricity sparking between them, the feeling less explosive and less fierce; it’s an understanding, things falling into place around them, between them, the universe changing to accommodate them. Something changes, and Todd can’t pinpoint it, just knows that when time goes on and sweeps that little bit of silence away with it, he feels light, calm, complete. And when he looks away, he thinks he can see the same sensation mirrored in Dirk’s face.

 “You know where I always wanted to go?”, Todd says all of a sudden, surprising himself with the words.  He’s nibbling on a cookie, keeping his eyes on the street in front of them instead of looking over at Dirk. It’s the strangest thing, but it doesn’t seem important; ever since that half-second on the hood of their car, he can sense Dirk’s presence next to him, making it almost unnecessary to keep his eyes on the other. “Where?” “Death Valley”, Todd answers, leaning back into the seat. “I don’t know why I never did, I should have. I’m thirty-three years old and I wanted to go there since I was seven and yet never did.”

It’s something he hasn’t thought about in a long time, another regret he pushed away, and the feeling isn’t new but still anything but pleasant. There are too many opportunities he missed and too many things he might have done to make himself or someone around him happy, or at least happier, and yet didn’t.

“Since you were seven?”, Dirk asks, sounding curious and happy, just like he does so often. “Why’s that?” “My grandma, she had this friend when they were younger, a Greek girl, called Desdemona. Well, my grandma called her Dessy, but that’s beside the point. She married a rich guy, a few years older than her, who adored her and wanted to fulfil every wish she possibly could have. But Dessy didn’t want jewellery or a new house or a car, she just wanted to travel. So her husband bought them a caravan and they spent almost two years driving through the country, stopping whenever they wanted to and seeing, well. Everything, really. And ever so often, my grandma would find a postcard in her mailbox.” Todd can still remember the one photo his grandmother had kept of her friend, a plain woman with a long, dark braid hanging over her shoulder, wearing shorts and a blouse with polka dots on it. A man beside her, taller and older, one hand lightly resting on her arm, both of them standing in front of an old-fashioned caravan, mountains behind them and beaming smiles on their faces.

“She kept them all”, he continues eventually. “Put them on the kitchen door. And when Amanda and I visited, I would look at them for hours, imagining how it would be to see that much of the world. The one from Death Valley was always my favourite.” He expects some kind of response, a usual platitude about how nice a story this was, but there is nothing, at least no answer, until the car suddenly swerves so abruptly that Todd can’t quite keep himself from screaming.

“What the fuck?”, he asks, still half shouting, clutching at the soft leather seat, once his heart has calmed down enough Todd can be sure it won’t stop within the next few seconds. Dirk, on the other hand, seems perfectly calm, like he didn’t just turn the car around on the middle of the street at what felt like sixty miles an hour. He turns to look at Todd like he has absolutely no idea what caused his outburst, a slightly manic grin on his lips, and if his body wasn’t still half convinced he was going to die, Todd would most likely have to wonder why he thinks of the expression on Dirk’s face as charming. “We’re going to Death Valley, Todd”, Dirk tells him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and maybe to him, it is.

[theflutterbyliterature-blog]

Sowing: The Purification Era #1, by Angie Grigaliunas - A Review

          Sowing, by Angie Grigaliunas, is a dystopian novel narrated by two sisters, Ariliah and Rabreah. Within this dystopian world, they hold drastically different opinions about what’s right and what’s wrong. While one believes that the authoritarian government is there to help and protect her, the other believes that the government is run by a bunch of crooks with the sole agenda of oppressing her freedom. Despite these opposing views, the two sisters love one another and it is that love that drives them toward most of their major decisions.

           What I really liked about this story is that despite it being a dystopian novel, it focuses more on the human side of dystopia versus the societal. A lot of dystopian novels will harp on how society has crumbled into its current state of affairs and you get more of a bird’s-eye’s view of the situation. Grigaliunas, on the other hand, allows us to see through the eyes of her characters and since they are just common folk, they aren’t experts on what’s going on and I like that. It makes the story much more relatable. After all, who really knows what their government is up to? Do they work with our best intentions at heart or are they only out for themselves?

           This kind of ambiguity is abundant throughout the story. It’s extremely difficult to differentiate between right and wrong, good and evil. While one character might seem like a total bad guy – one conversation – one single event – might change your mind. This writing technique works is Grigaliunas’ favor because it drives suspense for the reader, urging them to continue onto book two of the series. She has lured me into supporting certain characters and now I’m invested in their outcome. I’m certainly looking forward to her future works and if she continues with this level of sophisticated writing, I have no doubt that they will be a pleasure to read.

***

           Sowing is a classic example of a YA fantasy novel. Both protagonists are young women who are just getting their feet wet with the real world. As the story progresses, they come to mature and grow alongside the events that challenge them. Personally, I adored Ariliah’s progression and I feel that by the end of the book, we glimpse her true potential. Rabreah, on the other hand, did not develop nearly as much as I would have liked her to. Don’t get me wrong, she is by no means a flat character.  She certainly grows and learns to adjust her flaws to a degree but I just feel that more could have been done with her. However, I will concede that her lack of significant growth might be due to her stubborn nature. It’s hard to change someone with a thick skull.

           In terms of world-building, I think it was solidly built. The world operated within its fantastical parameters and at no time did I feel like something didn’t make sense within the story’s context. Grigaliunas remained consistent throughout and certain scenes that described official ceremonies really demonstrated her grasp on the made-up world. There’s nothing better than a fictional setting that seems real. For this specific book, that realism might arise from its striking similarity to Nazi Germany. After speaking with Grigaliunas, she actually told me that the idea for her story originally garnered inspiration from the Ku Klux Klan and their acts of atrocity in Southern United States. Personally, I love when a fantasy novel comments on history. It just adds a unique flavor and perspective to events we are so used to learning about in a textbook fashion.

***

           This book is Grigaliunas’ first published work. She has written a few other novels through to entirely but hasn’t chosen to share them with the world. This prior experience certainly shows in her work. Sowing is a well-polished novel that is supremely written. As I read, I always take note of any mistakes I might find and try as I might, I could not find any. In the e-book version I read, there were a few formatting hiccups but I suspect that’s a PDF/MOBI issue and not a mistake made on the author’s part.

            It is my hope that Grigaliunas continues her success into the second book, Quelling. While I have yet to read it, people on Goodreads seem to like it as it has over a four-star rating (out of five). If she maintains her diverse cast of characters, retains the emotionality of the first book, and continues to craft a compelling plot, I have no doubt that it will be a hit.

***

           I have already briefly touched upon the main protagonists, Ariliah and Rabreah. Here, I would like to discuss the minor characters. While some of them fully fleshed out, others are not. Specifically, I was a bit disappointed with Grigaliunas’ portrayal of the mother. For all intents and purposes, she is Ariliah’s antagonist. She is abusive, cruel, and downright heartless. This is fine but I wish I knew why. There’s so much I don’t know about her. Where’s her husband? Is Ariliah actually a half-breed or is that just an insult she flings around? And why is she so hell-bent on making her daughter’s life a living hell? Was it something Ariliah did? Or does Ariliah remind her of something she rather forget?

           While I do not advocate for an author to spell out everything for the reader, I do appreciate it when I get inside the head of an antagonist. It humanizes them and at times, it makes the reader sympathize with the ‘wrong side’ which adds to the emotional rollercoaster we call reading. Now, I do realize that Grigaliunas was limited in terms of what she could do regarding minor characters since the story is told predominately from a first-person perspective. While an omniscient narrator can know everything that goes through everyone’s head, Ariliah and Rabreah cannot and I acknowledge that.  

***

           As I have said, this book is rather well-written. My only real qualm was with the beginning of it. The prologue, instead of grounding me within the story, only made me feel disoriented. Suddenly, I was plopped in the midst of a rebellion attempt and I didn’t quite know what to do. Then, once I reached the first couple of chapters, I had a hard time keeping up with the names. This could be a personal problem but I do find a certain comfort in a story that starts off slow and builds up momentum. This is not to say that there was anything wrong with Grigaliunas’ approach.

           And, sure enough, as I continued to read, I was further and further absorbed by the story. As soon as I developed a connection with Ariliah and Rabreah, I was hooked and that’s exactly what a good book should do. Good writing isn’t just about stringing words together in a beautiful fashion, it’s also about what those words mean and create.  

***

           To be frank, this book wasn’t what I expected it to be. With a title like Sowing, I expected something of a murderous culling, you know, where some criminal ticks off his targets one by one. Of course, that is not what I got with his novel but I’m not disappointed by any means. Although, after finishing the novel, I do wonder what sparked the title because I still don’t get it.  And I also do not understand why the series is called the Purification Era. Maybe I missed something along the way but I totally noticed the totalitarian government part of Nazi Germany but not the Holocaust part. If purification is a statement on race then I guess I expected something a bit more dramatic.

***

           I would certainly recommend this book to anyone who is a fan of dystopian novels. It is similar enough to Nazi Germany to make you reflect on that part of human history while still being unique enough that you can enjoy the story for story’s sake. The language is fluid and easy to understand. The alternating perspective between sisters makes it easy to pick a side and engage with the plot. Are you team Ariliah? Or are you team Rabreah? So, if you love a story that blurs the lines between good and evil and keeps you guessing until the very last page, then this is the book for you.

***

Score: 4.5/5

Plot: 5

Characters: 4

Language: 5

Enjoyability: 4

[murwaridpaiwand-blog]

How Will You Cope With The Global Economic Collapse?

http://boughnation.com/how-will-you-cope-with-the-global-economic-collapse/

In every continent, within every country, state, and town, conversations such as the following take place on a daily basis… John asks, “Are you prepared for when the SHTF (Shit Hits the Fan)?” Scott replies, “No, and I don’t think anything will happen. Life will continue as normal, and your just wasting your time and money!”

I am sure you have heard or read this dialogue several times a week, either from family, friends, or online blogs. In fact, you may even have the same ideologies as John, or perhaps even Scott. Regardless of which group you belong to, even if you are apathetic, we can ALL agree that no one seems to have the answer! Who do you believe? That is the big question.

In this article, I will try to present examples from past economic events, compare and contrast those with today’s crisis, and explore that ever lingering question in the back of everyone’s mind, “Should I prepare for the future, or live life as usual?”

Many individuals ask this question on a daily basis. In fact, many are so bold as to predict when this collapse may happen, and to prepare accordingly. However, have you really thought about what a global economic collapse involves?

The most predominate economic collapse that everyone thinks of, when the subject is brought up, is the Great Collapse of Wall Street during the 1920’s and 1930’s and the subsequent “Great Depression”. Yet, little does anyone take into account that more damaging, previous collapses took place.

Previous collapses within western societies trace their roots all the way back to the age of antiquities within the Mediterranean. Many historians regard the collapse of the ancient Roman Empire, within the fourth and fifth centuries, a result of poor leadership. Although it is difficult to reach a conclusive verdict on why the Western Roman Empire fell, suffice is it to say that it was a long and complex process, made more difficult to understand by the patchy nature of proceeding decades of turmoil (War with Goths, Franks and Alamanni).

If there was a simple answer, the Romans would surely have found it. The institution itself was not at fault, but the support it received from its commanders-in-chief, the Emperors, was often lacking.

It is interesting to note that our “commander-in-chief”, President Barrack Hussein Obama, along with our nation’s most important institution – Congress, have often been lacking and have failed to support their constituents (as of March 15th, 2010, Rasmussen reports that 71% of Americans believe that Congress is doing a good job, while only 26% of Americans strongly approve of President Obama’s decisions).

Our “modern-age” is no different when juxtaposed with the nadir of the Roman Empire. The French Revolution of 1789, the economic collapse following the War of 1812, the Panic of 1873, etc. can all be attributed to one commonality – debt exceeded revenue. The only factor that was missing from those eras, which our modern society is at the mercy of, is globalization. Thus, if one country falters a ripple effect can and will affect all others, including the so-called “prosperous” nations.

If we take a look at global debt it is truly shocking. Spending our way into prosperity first and foremost will not work, and will, in fact, lead to decades of pain. In fact, for year’s world renowned economists such as Peter Schiff, Gerald Celente, Nouriel Roubini, and others, have been warning us of fiscal implosion due to Federal debt monetization with subsequent government controls in the form of Treasury bond interest, manipulated COMEX markets (recent former Goldman Sachs employee, turned whistleblower, has indicated for every ounce of tangible Silver, 100 ounces of paper has been issued – they simply cannot meet the demand if a large scale “call” was made), and other forms of capital control. Many may question the validity of this argument and the accuracy of the aforementioned economists. Yet, a simple browsing of Main Stream Media will show that they have been correct.

Foreclosures on the rise, insolvent banks, third-party bond and market “pumping” through the Fed, and unemployment are just a few aspects that they have correctly forecasted. This is especially true with unemployment. A country cannot regain prosperity if no one is working to buy the commodities that are either produced locally or are imported in.  Job cuts accelerated in March of 2010, surging to 61% with employers announcing plans to cut 67,611 jobs in March, according to outplacement firm Challenger, Gray & Christmas Inc. Simply put, without tangible “jobs” America CANNOT rise out of the ashes and once again lead her people to prosperity.

What is even more disturbing is that the government has now taken control and ownership of auto manufacturers, national health care, and the student loan industry effectively removing banks and cutting revenue at around $68 Billion dollars. However, the governments take over and control has not ended there. No, recently enacted Treasury laws have now closed the loophole on the expatriated money. Newly altered Internal Revenue Code, Chapter 4, Sections 1471-1474, has effectively implemented Global Capital Control enforcement for United States citizens.

So severe is the current regimes law changes, that some pseudonym financial correspondents, such as “John Galt”, have indicated the following, “The precursor to most major shifts within western civilization has always been the restrictions placed on the flow of capital. Without going off into woo-woo land on you, all I can say is that this is a warning shot that something major is about to occur which further restricts the freedoms of the citizens of this once great nation. When I did my radio show, I warned that this one event, a key moment or marker in any nation’s history was something to be taken deadly seriously. In my opinion, it means that a currency realignment or change or outright revocation of rights taken for granted was certain with a 90 day, maybe if we’re lucky, 180-day window.”

As previously mentioned globalization is the “monkey wrench” in the economic machine. Historically, when a nation falters or defaults on its debt, the butterfly effect is tremendous, and defaults occur in waves.

Let’s return to the question posed at the outset of this article, “Who should you believe, and should you be concerned?” The answer to this question is, “Yes” – you should be concerned, and believe the data as presented by key financial institutions and watch groups. With this in mind, preparing for the future is not only a wise but sound decision.

How do you prepare? This question is tougher than one may think. An immeasurable amount of combinations are at play within an SHTF scenario. Should I invest in Gold or Silver? How about weapons, food, seeds, fiat money, and on and on this scenario plays out. A wise decision would be to have a small segment of each of the aforementioned items. Here is a small, but essential, list presented that you may find helpful from a Sarajevo war survivor, and though things may not deteriorate to this extreme, you must remember that anything is possible:

From a Sarajevo War Survivor:

Experiencing horrible things that can happen in a civil war, or economic deterioration – death of parents and friends, hunger and malnutrition, endless freezing cold, fear, sniper attacks.

1. Stockpiling helps, but you never know how long trouble will last, so locate

near renewable food sources.

2. Living near a well with a manual pump is like being in Eden.

3. After awhile, even gold can lose its lustre. But there is no luxury in war

quite like toilet paper. Its surplus value is greater than gold’s.

4. If you had to go without one utility, lose electricity – it’s the easiest to

do without (unless you’re in a very nice climate with no need for heat.)

5. Canned foods are awesome, especially if their contents are tasty without

heating. One of the best things to stockpile is canned gravy – it makes a lot of

the dry unappetizing things you find to eat in war somewhat edible. Only needs

enough heat to “warm”, not to cook. It’s cheap too, especially if you buy it in

bulk. Spam shelf life is 50 years.

6. Bring some books – escapist ones like romance or mysteries become more

valuable as the war continues. Sure, it’s great to have a lot of survival

guides, but you’ll figure most of that out on your own anyway – trust me, you’ll

have a lot of time on your hands.

7. The feeling that you’re human can fade pretty fast. I can’t tell you how many

people I knew who would have traded a much-needed meal for just a little bit of

toothpaste, rouge, soap or cologne. Not much point in fighting if you have to

lose your humanity. These things are morale-builders like nothing else.

8. Slow burning candles and matches, matches, matches.

As economic conditions continue to worsen, you can also expect an increase in desperation among your fellow humans. Protection in the form of weapons, money, food, and supplies, no matter if life continues as normal, is not a bad investment. Food and supplies continue to go up in price each day. So, in reality, buying a little extra today could actually save you money in the future. Plus, in the event that a catastrophic storm or even global economic meltdown occurs, you will have the necessary supplies to continue to live in the event of looting and mass chaos, as was seen in recent years – Katrina.

So, how will you cope with the global economic collapse? It is our hope that you hope for the best, but prepare for the worst!

Here are 100 items that Guns, Grub and Gold recommend that you have available to you, in the event that an “unforeseen” incident takes place. Regardless, preparation and reliance on yourself should remain key and within the forefront of your families survival within ANY event.

1. Generators (Good ones cost dearly. Gas storage, risky. Noisy…target of thieves; maintenance etc.)

2. Water Filters/Purifiers

3. Portable Toilets

4. Seasoned Firewood. Wood takes about 6 – 12 months to become dried, for home uses.

5. Lamp Oil, Wicks, Lamps (First Choice: Buy CLEAR oil. If scarce, stockpile ANY!)

6. Coleman Fuel. Impossible to stockpile too much.

7. Guns, Ammunition, Pepper Spray, Knives, Clubs, Bats & Slingshots.

8. Hand-can openers, & hand egg beaters, whisks.

9. Honey/Syrups/white, brown sugar

10. Rice – Beans – Wheat

11. Vegetable Oil (for cooking) Without it food burns/must be boiled etc.,)

12. Charcoal, Lighter Fluid (Will become scarce suddenly)

13. Water Containers (Urgent Item to obtain.) Any size. Small: HARD CLEAR PLASTIC ONLY – note – food grade if for drinking.

16. Propane Cylinders (Urgent: Definite shortages will occur.

17. Survival Guide Book.

18. Mantles: Aladdin, Coleman, etc. (Without this item, longer-term lighting is difficult.)

19. Baby Supplies: Diapers/formula. ointments/aspirin, etc.

20. Washboards, Mop Bucket w/wringer (for Laundry)

21. Cookstoves (Propane, Coleman & Kerosene)

22. Vitamins

23. Propane Cylinder Handle-Holder (Urgent: Small canister use is dangerous without this item)

24. Feminine Hygiene/Haircare/Skin products.

25. Thermal underwear (Tops & Bottoms)

26. Bow saws, axes, and hatchets, Wedges (also, honing oil)

27. Aluminium Foil Reg. & Heavy Duty (Great Cooking and Barter Item)

28. Gasoline Containers (Plastic & Metal)

29. Garbage Bags (Impossible To Have Too Many).

30. Toilet Paper, Kleenex, Paper Towels

31. Milk-Powdered & Condensed (Shake Liquid every 3 to 4 months)

32. Garden Seeds (Non-Hybrid) (A MUST)

33. Clothes pins/line/hangers (A MUST)

34. Coleman’s Pump Repair Kit

35. Tuna Fish (in oil)

36. Fire Extinguishers (or..large box of Baking Soda in every room)

37. First aid kits

38. Batteries (all sizes…buy furthest-out for Expiration Dates)

39. Garlic, spices & vinegar, baking supplies

40. Big Dogs (and plenty of dog food)

41. Flour, yeast & salt

42. Matches. {“Strike Anywhere” preferred.) Boxed, wooden matches will go first

43. Writing paper/pads/pencils, solar calculators

44. Insulated ice chests (good for keeping items from freezing in Wintertime.)

45. Work boots, belts, Levis & durable shirts

46. Flashlights/LIGHTSTICKS & torches, “No. 76 Dietz” Lanterns

47. Journals, Diaries & Scrapbooks (jot down ideas, feelings, experience; Historic Times)

48. Garbage cans Plastic (great for storage, water, transporting – if with wheels)

49. Men’s Hygiene: Shampoo, Toothbrush/paste, Mouthwash/floss, nail clippers, etc

50. Cast iron cookware (sturdy, efficient)

51. Fishing supplies/tools

52. Mosquito coils/repellent, sprays/creams

53. Duct Tape

54. Tarps/stakes/twine/nails/rope/spikes

55. Candles

56. Laundry Detergent (liquid)

57. Backpacks, Duffel Bags

58. Garden tools & supplies

59. Scissors, fabrics & sewing supplies

60. Canned Fruits, Veggies, Soups, stews, etc.

61. Bleach (plain, NOT scented: 4 to 6% sodium hypochlorite)

62. Canning supplies, (Jars/lids/wax)

63. Knives & Sharpening tools: files, stones, steel

64. Bicycles…Tires/tubes/pumps/chains, etc

65. Sleeping Bags & blankets/pillows/mats

66. Carbon Monoxide Alarm (battery powered)

67. Board Games, Cards, Dice

68. d-con Rat poison, MOUSE PRUFE II, Roach Killer

69. Mousetraps, Ant traps & cockroach magnets

70. Paper plates/cups/utensils (stock up, folks)

71. Baby wipes, oils, waterless & Antibacterial soap (saves a lot of water)

72. Rain gear, rubberized boots, etc.

73. Shaving supplies (razors & creams, talc, after shave)

74. Hand pumps & siphons (for water and for fuels)

75. Soy sauce, vinegar, bullions/gravy/soup base

76. Reading glasses

77. Chocolate/Cocoa/Tang/Punch (water enhancers)

78. “Survival-in-a-Can”

79. Woollen clothing, scarves/ear-muffs/mittens

80. Boy Scout Handbook, / also Leaders Catalog

81. Roll-on Window Insulation Kit (MANCO)

82. Graham crackers, saltines, pretzels, Trail mix/Jerky

83. Popcorn, Peanut Butter, Nuts

84. Socks, Underwear, T-shirts, etc. (extras)

85. Lumber (all types)

86. Wagons & carts (for transport to and from)

87. Cots & Inflatable mattress’s

88. Gloves: Work/warming/gardening, etc.

89. Lantern Hangers

90. Screen Patches, glue, nails, screws,, nuts & bolts

91. Teas

92. Coffee

93. Cigarettes

94. Wine/Liquors (for bribes, medicinal, etc,)

95. Paraffin wax

96. Glue, nails, nuts, bolts, screws, etc.

97. Chewing gum/candies

98. Atomizers (for cooling/bathing)

99. Hats & cotton neckerchiefs

100. Goats/chickens

Guns, Grub and Gold March 2010 News Letter

https://www.gunsgrubandgold.com