#colin your brothers can only dream of being half the man you are

[lord-m]

pathetic isn’t really a word I‘d use for colin bridgerton. simon rather dying than marrying daphne was pathetic. anthony going through with marrying edwina until SHE mustered the courage to call everything off was pathetic.

colin contemplating his feelings, calling out his male acquaintances for their chauvinism, seeking advice from his mother and then immediately taking action and putting himself out there without even knowing if his feelings are reciprocated is the complete opposite of pathetic. that requires a whole lot of bravery.

[irishseeeker]

Prompt: Day 1, Jealousy and all its cousins @katexanthonyweek​

Kate Bridgerton  was definitely not jealous.

(She was.)

rating: mature!

---

Kate tried really not to dislike people.

That did not mean she was always successful but she truly did try to give people the benefit of the doubt.

It became an exceedingly hard task when certain people made it incredibly difficult for Kate to like them. Especially before she knew them.

For example, the woman across the room who was standing far too close to her husband, openly flirting with him.

That was hard to like.

Kate was not a fool, she noticed how women behaved around Anthony. She could accept women would always be attracted to Anthony. He had been a notorious rake for a reason, after all. It made no difference to their marriage, Anthony was hers. Whenever he was in a room, the female gaze naturally drew to him.

She could not blame them. Her charming husband, who would kill her if he ever heard her say this, was beautiful.

He was incredibly handsome but there was so much more. There was no better feeling than being wrapped up in his broad shoulders and muscular arms. He had long, dark eyelashes every woman dreamed of. He had a strong jawline that she loved to kiss and trace with her fingertips when they lay in bed. He had a head full of dark hair that she loved to run her fingers through, unlike some men his age who were already bald.

Kate herself could barely keep her eyes off of him and she got to see him everyday, especially when no one else did. She got to see him when he first woke up in the morning, completely content with his tousled hair and half awake eyes. She had the privilege of seeing him with his shirt slightly unbuttoned, his cravat loose and best of all-with nothing on at all.

It was a challenge sometimes in public not to touch him, especially at balls and parties when he was dressed so well. She usually kept her hands occupied with a drink or an appetizer.

Anthony usually subtly touched her anyway, always improperly, to tease her or just because he wanted to.

(Even when she blushes and scolds him for it, they both know she loves it.)

However, she could not accept women who stepped a bit too far. From across the room, a woman was talking to Anthony. She was leaning towards him, taking subtle steps towards him and creating an improper distance between them. The woman was petite, blonde and her skin glowed in the dimmed lighting of the ballroom. She was beautiful.

She also had her hand on Anthony’s forearm.

Kate did not like this feeling. This bitter, bubbling anger in the pit of her chest as she watched Anthony across the room.

She was not jealous.

(She was.)

Technically, that was also Kate’s forearm. She had married that forearm just under a year ago.

They would be celebrating their one year anniversary, hosting their first ball as Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton in Aubrey Hall next week. The ball would mark the end of the season, and Anthony and Kate were staying in Aubrey Hall for the rest of the summer before returning to London.

Kate was incredibly nervous.

She still felt at odds with her role as Viscountess. Her broken leg had put a stop to her social calendar after only a month of marriage, and she had not been able to carry out many of her roles as Viscountess.

It had taken a few months for her leg to heal. Kate could finally walk again, without the need for her stick or Anthony’s arm. Anthony had objected to their vigorous social calendar since the season had started but Kate was determined to attend as many balls as they could. Anthony, of course, was always by her side.

She was trying to do exactly as Violet Bridgerton would. Her days were now filled with parties, balls and social calls. Her first ball as Viscountess would be perfect.

It had to be.

She could not bear to think of the possibility of disappointing Violet and Anthony. There was a nagging feeling deep inside her, that society had been right to question why Anthony Bridgerton had chosen Kate Sharma to be his viscountess. The whispers that she was not fit for the role.

She was determined for those whispers not to be right.

Kate knew how lucky she was to have Anthony. Her marriage was wonderful, something she never would have dreamed of for herself. They loved each other to the point it was almost nauseating, as Eloise and Colin enjoyed to remind them, but they were also friends.

Anthony was her best friend.

Oh, she truly was nauseating.

The woman currently talking to her husband was making it exceedingly hard for Kate to concentrate on anything but them. Anthony had been talking to this mystery woman for just over three dances, when Kate had left him to dance with Benedict. This woman was now laughing at something Anthony said, her blonde curls bouncing in the air as her head tilted back.

What was so funny?

Kate loved her husband to death but he was not that funny.

“You cannot keep dancing with me to avoid dancing with other eligible ladies,” Kate teased Benedict, deciding to focus on her brother in law who was waltzing with her for the third time that evening.

“Can I not enjoy the company of my sister and not have any ulterior motives?” Benedict’s grin was wide across his face as he spun Kate around, narrowly avoiding her clumsy feet. She was a challenged dancer on her best days but when she was distracted by her husband across the room, it was every dancer for themself.

She glanced across the room again and now Anthony was laughing. Why was he laughing? She hoped it was a pitiful laugh.

“I thought I was doing you a favor by asking you to dance for a second and third time,” Benedict said, “I was distracting you from glancing over at my dear brother every few seconds.”

“I was not glancing. I was simply observing the room,” Kate said, but even Kate did not believe herself. She was blatantly staring at her husband. “Besides, we both know you are dancing with me to avoid dancing with one of the eligible ladies your mother is trying to marry you off to.”

“I believe three dances is all we have, so in a few moments I will have to venture back into the wild and attempt to avoid my mother for the rest of the evening,” He said, “However, I have been waiting for you to ask me who he is conversing with since the last dance. I thought you would give in five minutes ago”

“The thought had not crossed my mind.” Anthony had told her previously what a terrible liar she was. She previously thought it was because he knew her so well that she was incapable of lying to him, but she really was quite dreadful at it.

“Your face says otherwise.” Benedict glanced down at their feet before his teasing gaze returned to Kate’s face. “You have stepped on my feet at least four times while staring over there.”

A pang of guilt hit her. She was being rather rude. It was Benedict, so she knew he was not actually offended. Kate had gotten to know him quite well since her marriage. He joined them for dinner quite often, and spent a lot of time with Anthony at Whites or at their home. “You know, this is precisely why Gregory and Colin are my favourite brothers. They would never point out my flaws.”

Benedict chuckled. “Oh, how you wound me.”

Kate could not help herself. She had to know. “Who is that woman?”

Thankfully, Benedict chose not to tease and indulged her curiosity. “Her name is Eleanor Trent, previously Falmouth. My father and her, the Earl of Falmouth, attended Oxford together. They were friends until his death.”

Kate’s face fell. “She was a family friend?”

“Yes. She has brothers around the same age as Colin, Anthony and I. I know there were discussions of a betrothal, between Anthony and Eleanor. Nothing came of it, father died and Anthony would not discuss it further. He focused on the family and Oxford.” Benedict was not shy with the details, which Kate was equally grateful and upset about.

Kate’s stomach suddenly felt nauseous. Had something happened between them when they were young? Had Anthony courted her before his father’s death? Eleanor was the perfect candidate for a Viscountess. The daughter of an Earl, a family friend, a regular part of London society. “I imagine your mother was displeased.”

Kate loved her mother in law. Violet Bridgerton had been nothing but kind to Kate from the moment they met. She had been even kinder before their wedding, despite the circumstances that caused their nuptials.

They shared a lot in common, their love for gardening for one and met for tea multiple times a week, but Kate had always feared she was not the wife she had envisioned for her son. The same fear that had made itself known to Kate before her wedding remained inside of her: she feared Violet believed Kate had trapped her son.

The woman had witnessed her son’s face in Kate’s bosom, for heaven’s sake.

Benedict did not deny it. “Mother was furious when Anthony still refused three years later after he finished his studies. Eleanor later got married that season to a Baron and that was that. It took our mother a long time to learn that Anthony only does what Anthony wants to do.”

The music ceased and the dance ended, all the participants clapping before departing the dance floor. Benedict and Kate moved to the edge of the dancefloor, weaving through the crowds towards the refreshments table. Kate had been dancing for quite some time and she was quite thirsty. She wanted to find Anthony, but when she turned to look for him he had disappeared.

So had the woman.

Her heart sank in her chest.

“Brother, I believe that is enough dancing with my wife for one evening.”

Kate turned around to see her husband standing in front of her. She had regained her ability to breathe and realized how silly she was being. He smiled at her and she felt her insides melt.

It was ridiculous really, how this man’s smile always made her giddy.

She wanted to fall against his chest and bury her face in his neck, but instead she moved to his side and wrapped her arm around his. That was as affectionate as society would allow. Anthony covered his hand with hers, squeezing it briefly. It was a promise for later.

“Thank you,” She said, smiling as she took the glass in his hand and took a long sip, the dryness of her mouth disappearing. Her husband had developed a sense of always knowing what Kate needed. He had rarely left her side during her bed ridden months with her broken leg and they had spent a lot of time together.

Kate wondered if they could leave soon. She wanted the privacy to ask Anthony about that woman earlier, she could not remember him ever mentioning an Eleanor when recounting his childhood tales.

“Jealous, brother?” Benedict teased, grinning at Anthony as he took a sip of his wine. “I was always the better dancer. Kate simply wanted a better partner.”

Kate let out a long sigh, her eyes flicking between the two brothers. “Now, boys-”

“Kate took pity on you and indulged your attempts at hiding from our mother’s matchmaking endeavours.” Anthony narrowed his eyes at his brother, his competitive edge seeping out. Her dear husband did enjoy being the best at everything and disputed anyone who thought otherwise. “My waltz trounces your waltz any day.”

At the mention of his mother, Benedict scanned the room around them before visibly relaxing, his shoulders dropping. “It is a nuisance. Mother had cornered me at every ball so far this season, introducing me to potential marriage candidates. Colin had his wits about him to travel as far as Greece to get away from her.”

“You should consider looking for a wife,” Anthony said, scanning the crowded room for their mother. “I presume mother is hassling Eloise.”

“Not you too,” Benedict replied, glaring at his brother. “I am perfectly capable of finding my own wife, thank you. She simply is not here.”

Anthony, now bored of his brother, turned to his wife with a teasing smile. “How many times did you step on his toes?”

It was Kate’s turn to glare at her husband. “None, thank you very much.”

Benedict decided to join in on his brother’s teasing, glad for the change in topic. “Lying is a sin, Kate.”

“Oh, Violet!” Kate said, looking over Benedict’s shoulder.

Benedict jumped and darted to the side, causing Anthony and Kate to burst out laughing, muffling their laughter into their sleeves once other party goers began to stare.

Benedict glared at the pair of them once he realized his mother was nowhere to be seen. “Very funny. Your ball at Aubrey Hall is only next week. Maybe I shall take a page out of your book and compromise some young lady in the garden?”

That wiped the smug smirk right off Anthony’s face.

Kate had to disguise her snort with a cough into her glove.

Before he could retort, Anthony’s eyes froze at something across the room. “Who is that man Eloise is speaking to? Alone?”

Kate and Benedict’s heads turned in the direction Anthony was glaring in. The man’s head was all they could see, Eloise hands waving in the air as she spoke passionately about something.

“I will be right back,” Anthony squeezed her hand before he charged in the direction of his young sister.

“Benedict!” The distinct voice of Violet Bridgerton came from an unknown direction, but it was enough for Benedict to say a quick apology to Kate before disappearing into the crowd.

Kate found herself alone at the refreshment’s table.

“Lady Bridgerton?”

Kate finished swallowing the biscuit she had put in her mouth, trying not to choke before she turned around to see who had addressed her. Kate held in her gasp, eyes widening as she looked at the woman in front of her.

It was her.

She bowed, and Kate did the same. “It is such a pleasure to meet you, I hoped we would be introduced sooner. I have heard so much about you.”

Kate felt herself blush. This woman was assuming she knew who she was. “Apologies, I do not believe we have met.”

“Oh! Forgive me,” She said, shaking her head and laughing to herself. “I would have thought Anthony would have mentioned me. I have known Anthony and the Bridgertons my entire life. I am Lady Eleanor Trent. It is such a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Apparently, she was on a first name basis with her husband.

Kate smiled pleasantly, feeling slightly uncomfortable. “How lovely to meet you, Lady Trent.”

“I am very much looking forward to your ball in Aubrey Hall.”

Kate did not know she was invited. Violet had handled the guest list. “I am very happy to hear that.”

“I have not been there in quite some time. We used to visit Aubrey Hall a few times a year throughout my childhood. It was like a second home. I adore it. Have you been yet?”

Kate blinked slowly at her odd question. “Have I been to my home? Yes.

For some reason, Lady Trent was not phased by Kate’s blunt response whatsoever. “I have been more times than I could count. I have known the Bridgertons my entire life, as I am sure you know. That is quite funny, I have known your husband longer than you.”

Kate tried to unclench her jaw, breathing steadily through her nose. “I did not, actually.”

“Oh, how odd.” Her laugh was almost a shriek. “I was practically a Bridgerton until my marriage.”

Kate was not being dramatic, that was a peculiar thing to say. Benedict had not conveyed it that way at all.

Lady Trent continued to speak. Kate wished she wouldn't. “Was your father an Earl? A Duke? A Viscount?”

What did that have to do with anything? Kate's heart sped up at the mention of her father. “No. My father was a gentlemen. What does that have to do with anything?"

“Oh.” Lady Trent was not subtle with her disdain. “How interesting. Forgive my curiosity. One would think that must have made the transition quite difficult.”

Kate blinked. “Pardon?”

Lady Eleanor took a small sip of her wine, nodding sympathetically. “It must be difficult coming into such an important role as a Viscountess at such a young age. Especially when one is marrying a man like Anthony.”

This woman had no clue what type of man her husband was.

“I know this from experience, of course. I would be terrified if I came into the role of Viscountess with no experience,” Eleanor smiled sweetly at Kate, her voice dripping with everything but kindness. Her not so subtle dig made Kate’s blood boil.

“Oh!” She let out a cheerful laugh. “I am sure you are doing a fine job, Lady Bridgerton.”

Kate was nearly positive she had been insulted at least twice in this bizarre conversation.

If one thing was certain, it was that Kate did not like this woman at all.

She particularly did not like how she had been looking at her husband but her personality was just as unpleasant.

Kate was debating how significant the consequences would be if she launched her wine at Eleanor’s pink evening dress. She could stumble, blame it on her healed leg. It would be worth the earful she would get from Anthony, who still believed her leg had not fully healed and Kate should still be bedridden.

Kate didn’t cause scenes intentionally, she had been in the background for most of her life.

It definitely was not something a Viscountess would do, to cause such a scene, so she resisted.

Instead, she finished her glass in a few gulps. Kate replaced it with a glass from one of the server’s trays quite quickly as she composed herself.

“Thank you so much for your concern.” Kate matched the falseness of her tone, her smile stretched far too wide across her face to be genuine. “It has been a splendid year. I suppose, experience or not, some people are just born for certain roles.”

Eleanor appeared as if she was at a loss for words. She simply nodded, her smile wrinkling the skin on her forehead. “I could not agree more, Lady Bridgerton.”

“I must go find my husband. It was such a pleasure to meet you, Lady Trent. I look forward to seeing you at our ball next week.” Kate certainly was not. “Good evening, Lady Trent.”

Kate found Anthony in the crowd, he had also been searching for her. He took her arm in his, squeezing it softly. That was their signal it was time to go home. They kissed and bid their family goodnight, making their way towards the front of the house to get their carriage.

Anthony nodded at the valet and opened their carriage door, making way for Kate to step in before closing it behind them.

“I am exhausted,” She said, pulling a few pins out of her hair that had been digging into her scalp all evening. Relief flooded her head as she gently massaged her sensitive scalp. She couldn’t wait to take off her corset and go to bed.

Kate knew she would not be able to sleep until she spoke to Anthony about both of their conversations with Lady Trent. Her interaction with Lady Trent had left Kate feeling uneasy.

“Come here.” Anthony pulled her on top of him, her back resting on the carriage wall and her feet resting on the cushioned seat.

“There is a seat right beside you.” Kate laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck and lightly running her fingers through his hair.

“I prefer you on top of me.” Anthony moved his hands down to lightly squeeze her buttocks.

“I thought you liked being on top?” If he wanted to tease, Kate could tease him right back.

Anthony laughed, nuzzling her neck and leaving a trail of kisses from her collarbone all the way to her lips. “Right as always, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Did you have a good evening? I did not see you much,” She murmured against his lips. She could tell, with his fingers already creeping up her thigh, that talking was the last thing on her husband’s mind.

She would have to be quick if she wished to find out anything. The carriage ride home to Bridgeton House was less than fifteen minutes and he would not waste one of them before they had to stop.

They would not get caught in a carriage.

Again.

Once they arrived home, they wouldn’t do any talking once they got to their bed chamber.

She had enough willpower to focus on the task at hand and not let her husband completely distract her.

Right?

She needed to find out about his conversation with Eleanor.

His lips brushed hers before he spoke. “It was fine. A ball is a ball. I would have much preferred to stay home with you or at least sneak off to the gardens. Why did we not do that?”

Kate let out a laugh, her fingers tightening around his strands of hair as his lips moved down across her jaw. “How many gardens do you wish to compromise me in?”

“All of them,” Anthony said, his lips tickling the skin of her jaw as his laughter vibrated against her.

“Did you speak to anyone interesting?”

“Mm?” His teeth tugged at the top of her bodice, his tongue dipping behind the satin fabric.

“Anthony.” Her voice shook slightly as she spoke, his tongue was eliciting tingles throughout her chest and between her legs. “I said, did you speak to anyone interesting? Anyone you have not seen in a while?”

She would power through. “I met someone new, actually. Lady Eleanor.”

Anthony hummed in agreement against her skin, “Oh. Yes.”

“Benedict mentioned you have known her since you were children.”

“Indeed.” His face remained expressionless. He wasn’t listening to her. He was far too interested in pulling her dress down, which he did promptly.

Kate had lost the battle, and Anthony had won the war. He palmed her breasts in his hands, squeezing them softly as he pulled her in for a deep kiss. She could feel him hard against her thigh, and she reached down to palm him through the fabric of his breeches. His groan filled her ears and made her limbs weak.

“Oh,” She whispered, her lips parting as Anthony began to kiss his way down her neck, down her chest until his tongue grazed her nipple. He teased her momentarily before taking her fully in his mouth.

The carriage came to a halt and Kate hastily pulled up her dress, smoothening her dress and hair to fix her disheveled appearance. This was not their first indecent carriage ride. Anthony helped Kate out of the carriage, not letting go of her hand as they raced up the steps and entered the foyer, wasting no time running up the stairs.

If she did not keep up with Anthony, he would carry her up the flights of stairs to their bedroom.

Anthony dismissed her maid, fully intending on undressing his wife himself.

There wasn’t any talking for the rest of the night.

Kate’s morning had started off pleasant.

The following morning, Kate and Newton had joined Eloise and Penelope for a walk in the park. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and the cool breeze was refreshing. They joined Kate at Bridgerton House afterwards for some lemonade, before leaving to return home.

She had called on Daphne for the remainder of the afternoon and on her way home, her carriage had stopped at Madame Delacroix’s modiste for one last fitting before the ball.

“Lady Bridgerton!”

Kate had finished her fittings and was waiting on one of her gown’s to be packaged. The last person she had wanted to see had walked into the modiste. “Lady Trent. How lovely to see you.”

She smiled widely at Kate, it was unnerving. “How are the ball preparations going?”

“Very well, thank you.” Kate had always found small talk with strangers quite uncomfortable. Kate could not find the words to describe how she was feeling in this current situation. She had not found the opportunity to discuss the evening with Anthony last night and he had left early this morning for Parliament. She would not see him until she arrived home.

“How nice,” She replied, nodding her head slowly. It reminded Kate of one of Hyacinth’s frightening dolls. “I always found the menu planning quite tedious.”

Kate nodded. “Indeed. A pleasant task, nonetheless.”

“Have you finalized your menu?” Lady Trent asked, examining the different materials in the display case.

Kate nodded. “For the ballroom, yes. We will have traditional English pastries, desserts. I would not want anyone to go hungry.”

Lady Trent continued to nod slowly, her lips in a flat line. “It is always a good idea to keep things simple. However, I do remember Anthony having a more adventurous palate.”

Kate would hardly call pastries, sandwiches, desserts and food displays she had planned simple. Kate had known this woman for a day and she had already had enough. “Why would my husband’s palate be any concern of yours, Lady Trent?”

That shut her up.

Kate squeezed the ribbons between her fingers, trying to stop her shaking hand. This woman was a beast.

“Have you ever been outside of England, Lady Bridgerton?” She asked, circling the ribbon’s display with disinterest.

“I have not,” Kate said through gritted teeth.

“What a pity.” She tutted, her curls bouncing in the air as she shook her head. “I suppose my traveling has given me a new outlook on life. It has opened me to a whole new world of cuisine and flavour. Traveling really exemplifies how dull the English customs and cuisine we are all accustomed to are.”

“I am sure it will be lovely. I must be on my way. Good day, Lady Bridgerton.” She bowed her head before turning around, swiftly exiting the modiste.

Kate was furious.

She sat incredibly still, not uttering a word during the carriage ride home until she reached Bridgerton House. She made her way towards the drawing room, not checking to see if Anthony was home in his office.

She stood in the middle of their drawing room, pacing in the same spot before she screamed.

There’s the slamming of a door and Anthony appears, Newton barking at his feet, looking incredibly alarmed. “Kate! Kate. Are you alright?”

Anthony charges towards her, holds her shoulders, scanning her entire body to assess any damage. “

“No. Yes, but no. It...it is that….that woman,” Kate spat out her words.

“What woman?” Anthony asked, frantically looking around the room.

“That woman. That, that-what was that word you taught me the other night?” Kate’s

“Bitch?” Anthony supplied, looking incredibly concerned for his wife.

“Yes!” Kate waved her arm in victory. “That bitch.”

Kate had sobbed in front of her husband before, from their declarations of love to the agony of her broken leg, but she had never expressed such fury before.

Anthony had not the slightest clue what was going on. “Kate, what the bloody hell are you talking about?”

Kate was pacing the room again. “Lady Eleanor Trent, of course. Firstly, she was standing far too close to you. Then she touched your forearm. That is highly improper-

“At the ball?” Anthony furrowed his eyebrows as he thought about it. “Wait.”

Anthony stared at her as if she had grown another head. “Kate Bridgerton. Is this all because you are jealous?”

Her husband looked positively gleeful.

“Anthony!” Kate nearly threw a pillow at him.

“I am sorry, I am sorry,” He pleaded, biting his lower lip to restrain his smile as he walked towards her with open arms. “Tell me what else happened.”

“She introduced herself and the conversation was strange. She was incredibly rude last night and this morning. She insulted me, my father, my

Anthony’s face darkened. “She insulted you? She insulted your father? That is unacceptable. I will make sure she is not welcome in London again. I will call on her and tell her exactly what I think of her-

Kate shook her head rapidly. “The last thing I want is you going near her. She has some strange infatuation with you. She referred to herself as practically a Bridgerton until she was married. Did you court her?”

“I barely knew her, Kate,” He said, looking bewildered at Kate’s words. “I had not seen her for nine years until last night. Our parents were mainly friends. Her family usually visited when I was at Eton. I most certainly did not court her, no.”

Kate did not reply, although she was relieved to hear Lady Trent’s words had been based on delusion. Kate felt incredibly overwhelmed, as if every emotion and fear she had been bottling up was crashing into her at once.

“Kate,” He stepped towards her cautiously, wary of the readily available pillows within her grasp. He sat on the couch, extending his hand towards her. “Come here, darling.”

She broke, practically falling into her husband’s arms who wrapped himself around her, pulling her onto his lap. Their foreheads and noses were touching as he spoke to her.

His lips brushed her cheek as he spoke softly. “Can you tell me what else is wrong? Is there something else going on?”

She can’t meet his eyes, instead she stares down at her hands in her lap. “I am terrified I am letting you down.”

“Kate, you could never let me down,” He says, affection flooding his voice as he tilts her chin up softly with his index finger to look at her face.

Kate took a deep breath. “You have had so much on your shoulders for so long. Since your father died. Between your family and your duties, you have always worked so hard. I want to do whatever I can to help you. I want to do this right. I want to make your life easier however I can and I want to be a good Viscountess. I am really trying. I just feel like I am failing. What if she was right? What if my lack of experience means I am not right for this role? I-I want you to be proud of me.”

He leans down to kiss her firmly and it’s the type of kiss that makes her toes curl. “Kate,” He murmured, drawing back but staying as close as possible. “You are the perfect Viscountess because you are my Viscountess. Everyone adores you. I was merely existing before I met you. After you, I began to live. You brought this light into my life that I didn’t think was possible. Everything I do is for you and everything I am is because of you. I am so proud of you. I am in awe of you. You are everything, Kate. Everything.”

“I love you,” She says, because that is all there is to say. She loved him, and he loved her, even when she acted slightly insane in their drawing room. That was all she needed. Anthony was all she needed.

She could do anything with Anthony by her side.

“I love you,” She whispered,

“Anthony,” She whispered a few minutes later, feeling a lot calmer. “I was jealous, you know.”

Anthony tried his best to not look too pleased, but he was slightly smug. “Jealousy is a difficult emotion to deal with.”

“Not all of us can shove people out of the way, you know.” If Anthony saw a man try to speak to Kate, he simply shoved them out of his way to his wife.

Anthony shrugged. “It is quite an effective method.”

“I did not like how she behaves around you,” Kate said, nibbling on her bottom lip. “When I saw her touching you and standing so close to you-I did not like how it made me feel.”

A panic stricken look flashes across his face.“Kate, I would never encourage it-”

“Sweetheart, I know,” She murmurs, cupping his cheeks in her hands as she kissed him softly. The thought had never crossed her mind and she immediately went to comfort him. “I know. I know you would never stray.”

She felt his sigh of relief. “You would kill me.”

“No I would not,” She lightly teased, pecking his lips. “That would be merciful. I would physically and mentally destroy you.”

“That will never happen,” Anthony murmured, brushing some loose strands of hair out of her eyes. “There will be no more joking about infidelity.”

Kate took a deep breath before she spoke again. “So you have noticed Eleanor flirting with you?”

Anthony cleared his throat, frowning slightly as his uncomfortableness set in. “I have noticed. She is not exactly subtle.”

“I would never have married her. She was a young girl with a crush, which I cannot fault her for. I am incredibly handsome.” Kate rolled her eyes at her husband’s cheeky smile. “However, she was never kind. These recent events have only re-confirmed that. I remember when I was seventeen, I had come home for Christmas. Her family had come to stay for a week. She was incredibly rude to our servants. She cared more about parties and appearances than family. She was so disinterested in my younger siblings to the point of being cruel. She was not the type of person I could marry.”

“Why would your mother want you to marry her?” Kate asked, resting her forehead against his.

“My mother was grieving.” Anthony shrugged his shoulders, running one of his hands soothingly down her back. “She thought she knew what was best for me. She has always chosen to see the parts of people she wanted to see. Not all the parts that were in front of her.”

“Well, I for one am very glad you did not marry her.” Teasing was always an effective way to snap Anthony out of one of his serious thoughts, and she was successful when he snorted.

“As am I.” His thumb was making small circles on her cheek.

“She insulted my choice of food for the ball.”

Anthony raised an eyebrow at his wife and stared at her. “What?”

“She called it simple English cuisine,” Kate said, still incredibly bitter. “Who in their right mind does not like scones and cucumber and chicken sandwiches?”

“Colin will be there and he will wolf them down, so there is no fear they will not be eaten.” Her brother in law was returning to England the day before their ball, conveniently missing most of the season much to his mother’s dismay.

“As someone who lives in your household, your menu choices have always been exceptional. I have also eaten many of those food choices, including off of you, and they were delicious.”

“Anthony!” She smacked his chest, laughing against his lips as he stole a kiss. He always knew how to make her feel better.

Anthony had always made her feel safe, she had trusted him even when she did not particularly like him. That stormy night in his library had changed everything. It was his nature that made people admire him and trust him. He took care of people. He had been misjudged by society, made out to be a cold hearted rake incapable of true affection.

It angered Kate beyond belief. Anthony had suffered more than most, losing his father and becoming the head of the family at such a young age. He had become a father to his siblings and a Viscount to his tenants and society. In a way, his life had begun and ended when his father died.

He was the first person she opened up to about her fear of storms and the reason she had been brave enough to face her fear.

He had become her anchor, and her his.

“Our ball is going to be wonderful, do you know why?” Anthony asked, grinning at his wife.

“Why?” She responded, smiling right back at him.

“Because it is ours,” He said simply. “It is celebrating one incredible year of marriage and many more to go.”

“Until forever.” Kate rested her forehead against his, feeling completely content.

Anthony nodded in agreement. “Forever it is.”

A week later, the Viscount and Viscountess' ball was a complete success.

The food was devoured.

Laugher could be heard all around the ballroom.

The Viscountess was praised for her efforts throughout the evening.

Lady Trent's absence was not missed.

Anthony had surprised Kate at the end of the evening with a show of fireworks.

It was perfect.

Kate and Anthony had their own private celebration that very night.

Edmund Bridgerton was born nine months later.

[ilalos]

Lavender dreams (Anthony Bridgerton x OC)-Part 2/3

Word count: 1.8k

Dances came and went and Grace had saved a dance for Anthony in each and every one of them, but he had yet to ask her for an outing. Gigi supposed he was busy enough trying to get Eloise to go on at least one outing with one of the few men that passed his rigorous check but was it so hard to take her out for a walk in the park or perhaps to have some tea? It didn’t help that she had heard rumors of him meeting actresses every night with unholy purposes, but she held hope for the eldest Bridgerton because every time they danced she felt as if there was no one else on the dance floor with them, and every time they talked he pulled a smile from her even if seconds before she had been upset.

She had had some outings with a couple of gentlemen who were approved by Simon and Daphne, and even if they were fine, educated young men she felt nothing for them. She knew her time was cutting short as it was already the middle of the season and her father didn’t have much time left, but she hadn’t felt anything resembling love for any of her callers. She had, however, started a friendship with non-other than Colin Bridgerton, and this lead Lady Whistledown to speculate about a possible engagement between the pair. The truth was, Colin saw Gigi as a sister at most and she saw him as the brother she never had.

The possibility of Colin proposing was truly daunting to Lady Bridgerton as she knew this union would break Anthony’s heart and could potentially cause a rift between the brothers. She had taken notice of the way her eldest tensed whenever one of the girls read the latest Lady Whistledown and the young couple was mentioned, Colin would always scoff and remind everyone he had no intentions of getting engaged anytime soon but that did nothing to lessen the deep frown in Anthony’s face or his mother’s worry.

Anthony had been visiting the brothel more often in a poor attempt to forget about Gigi and also convincing himself that he would never be deserving of the girl’s love. He knew he needed a wife and he intended on marrying that very season, but the thought of Gigi suffering half as much with his death as his mother did when his father passed, refrained him from accepting his feelings and proposing. Despite his resolve to forget his feelings for her, he continued to dance with her at every ball and party. When they danced he felt as if he could stay there forever, twirling her in his arms and holding her as close as possible; they talked sometimes at these events and felt as if they had known each other their whole lives.

It was the day of the picnic and the Bridgerton family was excited after hearing from the eldest daughter that Lord Watts had informed her and her husband of his intentions to propose to Grace. He was an earl and he and Grace had had some successful outings.

Grace had no objections toward the young man apart from the fact that she bore no feelings for him whatsoever, but given her lack of time to worry on such silly matters, she chose to ignore that in favor of having the wedding her father wished for, and who knows? Maybe their love would sprout once they were married.

When Anthony heard the news he could almost hear his heartbreaking in half, a pain ten times bigger than the one he felt when Siena rejected him. He almost wanted to beg Colin to propose before Lord Watts had the chance, at least that way he would be able to still see her when the couple visited. He decided to skip the picnic and instead stayed at home reviewing the business to avoid having to watch the happy couple celebrating their future union.

The proposal didn’t occur at the event, Lord Watts was there and he did take Grace on a walk but he had made the decision to make a formal proposal at his family’s home the following day so he limited himself to invite Grace, the duke, the duchess, and Lady Bridgerton to his house for tea. The invitation was accepted and the picnic continued without much excitement. The Duke's family left first because baby A was behaving quite fussy and her mother suspected it was due to the unforgiving sun beaming down on them; soon after the Bridgertons left due to a menacing black cloud that darkened the festivities.

Night and storm had fallen upon Lady Danbury’s home when a nervous messenger knocked urgently on the state’s door. Mr. Lock, the butler, had opened the door.

“How can I help-”

“Lord Bridgerton’s carriage was robbed and he is terribly hurt!” The young man had yelled the message hoping the duchess would hear him “Lady Bridgerton urges the presence of her eldest daughter in this uncertain times”

Grace had been the one to hear the messenger’s words and she felt panic take hold of her body. She ran to the door and demanded a horse be readied for her, the butler refused to let her go alone into the rain and advised her to wait until the carriage was ready. At his refusal, she chose to forget decorum and took the messenger's horse and rode it into the storm. The duke and duchess had heard the commotion and ordered the footman to ready the carriage at once.

Grace rode to the Bridgerton household in record time and when she got there she rode straight into the nearby stables, dropped the horse, and ran to the home’s door. Lady Bridgerton opened with teary eyes expecting to see Daphne and let a gasp when instead of her eldest daughter she saw the soaked figure of Grace Gillingham standing at her doorstep.

“Where is he?” That was all the girl said.

“Upstairs, the doctor is seeing him in his bedroom”

The woman barely finished her sentence before the younger girl pushed past her and ran up the stairs, politeness be dammed. She found Benedict passing by Anthony’s door and before she could ask about the man’s condition a pained scream tore through the wood. She gasped as if she felt his pain and fresh tears ran down her cheeks.

“The doctor said his injuries are extensive but not life-threatening” Benedict said it trying to calm the poor girl down but her sobs remained the same, “he said it would take a while, maybe you should go get changed into some dry clothes, surely Eloise can lend you some”

“I’m not leaving this door until I see with my own eyes that he is well”

Benedict only nodded and watched her seat on the floor with her back against the wall, right across the door. Daphne arrived not long after and she too tried to convince Grace to change out of her soaked clothing or to at least drink some hot tea while they waited but the girl refused

“I will be fine” was all she had said through gritted teeth and blue lips.

Hours passed and every once in a while a pained clamor would leave the room, Benedict watched how each sound made a fresh wave of tears fall from Gigi’s eyes. The wait was long and soon Benedict found himself nodding off against the wall, only to be suddenly awakened by the door opening, Grace barely waited for the doctor to exit the room before running inside and kneeling at Anthony’s bedside, taking his hand between hers and looking at his face with relief when hearing taking notice of his breathing and the pulsing of his heart.

“He’ll need lots of rest to properly heal his wounds but he will make a full recovery” the doctor took one look at Grace and shook his head with a smile “Give this to her as soon as you can” he said as he handed Benedict a vial with a yellowish liquid.

“What is this concoction?”

“It will help her fever and lessen her cold symptoms” he explained “If she looks abnormally flushed or agitated, call me immediately”

Anthony thought he had never felt pain as bad as when the doctor had healed his wounds but seeing Grace’s feverish form sleeping uncomfortably in a chair at his bedside hurt more than whatever he felt the night prior. He saw her pale skin and red cheeks that hinted towards a fever, and her labored breathing pointed to a terrible cold, his hand was resting between hers and he marveled at how small they looked around his. He saw Benedict enter the room and questioned him about her presence.

“She rode on a stolen horse in the middle of a storm to be by your side, brother” Benedict chuckled at his brother’s astonished expression, knowing his surprise would only grow “She pushed past mother, entered the house uninvited, sat on the floor in the hallway and refused to move until she knew you were alright” he pointed to her reddened cheeks and continued “She didn’t even change out of her soaked dress until she saw you with her own eyes, the poor thing caught a terrible cold and only accepted to take the medicine and the change of clothes if we allowed her to stay here by your side”

Anthony felt his heart explode with love for the girl, the feelings so strong his eyes glossed with unshed tears. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have such an angel loving him so much, and he only hoped he could make her feel half as loved as he felt at that very moment. He had to admit he was angered by her reckless behavior but the love overshadowed his protective feelings...until he saw her being woken up by a sudden fit of horribly sounding cough. He watched as she fought to regain her breath and was ready to chastise her until he noticed the way she looked at him, with so much love and so much relief he forgot what he was going to say.

“You’re awake,” she said simply, processing “You are awake!” Once processed the information had caused her tremendous joy and she jumped to embrace him, only to jump back when she heard his quiet complaint from the pressure put on his recent wounds “I apologize Lord Bridgerton, in my excitement, I seem to have forgotten about your injuries”

“No need to apologize, love” the pet name just flew past his lips, catching them both by surprise “You must go to get some proper rest now, you are sick and tired, we’ll talk later about the poor decisions you took yesterday”

Grace only nodded and without thinking took his hand and kissed his palm before leaving to finally get some rest on an actual bed.

“Fetch the Duke of Hastings for me, Benedict, I have a proposal to make”

PART 3

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Hi! If you’re still following along this story know that I appreciate it :))))) Thank you so so much for reading! I hope you enjoy it

[nastasyafilippovnas]

2 prompts. he / she will never be you, and I would rather do difficult with you than easy with someone else. For santhony

Thanks for the prompts! I chose to do the second, hope you like it! <3

santhony + “I would rather do difficult with you than easy with someone else”, set during 1.08, after Siena agrees to go with the ball with Anthony, wc. 1.9k (ao3)

She checked the time on Anthony’s pocket watch on the bedside table and groaned. Siena swore the damned thing moved faster than any normal watch. By this rate, she was going to be terribly late and wouldn't have any time for a quick warm-up before her performance tonight. 

The man to blame for her lateness stirred behind her and proceeded to place light kisses on her shoulder, his hands around her waist pulling their bodies closer, his front against her back. 

“I am not done with you yet.” He said, his mouth moving up, trailing kisses from her shoulder up to her neck and sucking on the spot just below her ear that he knew drove her crazy.

Siena couldn’t help the moan that escaped her lips. 

“We can’t.” Her protest came out weaker than she would’ve liked. They had spent most of the afternoon in bed, and she still felt hunger for his touch, his warmth next to her. She had tried giving him up, but the time apart hadn’t helped at all. She wondered if there would ever be a time where she would be immune to him. It seemed unlikely. “I must get ready for my performance.”

His kisses stopped immediately, though his mouth still hovered on her neck and she could feel his breath caressing her skin as he spoke. “I thought you would get someone to cover for you. How will you be performing if we’re going to the ball?”

Siena bit her lip. He got her there. 

“Well, I thought I would do my show and meet you at the ball later.” 

Anthony frowned, though she couldn’t see it. What she proposed wasn’t unheard of. The ton’s parties were known for extending well into the evening and many people in fact attended the opera or the theater first before arriving fashionably late at whatever ball they had also be invited to. But it wasn’t what Anthony had in mind when he invited her to go with him. He was planning to meet her at her door, with the prettiest bouquet of flowers he could find - he had never given her flowers before, not even to congratulate her on her performances, and he knew she would understand the importance of the gesture. They would ride on his carriage (during which he would have to contain himself to not kiss her and ruin her dress) and enter the ball together, arm in arm, so there wouldn’t be any mistakes about the current status of relationship. Then proceed to dance the night away. Just the two of them. In no part of his scenario, he expected to spend spend half of his evening sulking in a corner and waiting for her to finish her performance. And there was the way she had said it…

“But you’re still coming, right?”

“Of course!” Her voice was too high and her answer came too quickly. She realized it at the same time Anthony turned her around so he could see her face.

“Siena…” 

She tried turning back and getting out of the bed, but Anthony was faster, his hand on her chin, keeping her in place and their eyes locked. “No, don’t do that. Don’t turn away from me, Siena. Tell me…what’s going on?”

She hated when Anthony went soft on her. It made it so much harder to be logical and practical. But she knew she had to.

“Maybe going to the ball wouldn’t be the best idea.” 

“I told you, no one will say a thing.” He answered confidently, smiling at her.

Siena sat properly in the bed, his hands falling from her face to her thigh as she started speaking. 

“And I said, not to you. Not directly. But are you ready for all the gossip and the whispers? For the men commenting about how they had me, with my legs open in my dressing room?” Before Anthony could even think of defending her honor, she added, “And it will be true! In some cases at least. Are you ready for that? And the women, your mother and your sisters…maybe they won’t say anything to you. But they will say it to me.” 

Anthony sighed. Siena had always been the most pragmatical out of the two of them, his brave soprano who still didn’t call him by his first name despite sharing his bed for the last two years. And, as always, she wasn’t wrong to have concerns. He wanted them to have their happy ending. It wouldn’t be as easy, or as painless, as he had initially told her, but it would be worth it. Of that, he was certain.

“Is that what you’re worried about? The gossip?"

She bit her lip. It wasn’t. Not exactly. Being the talk of the ton would be nothing new - she was the most notorious opera singer in London, after all -, and it would have been worth it. If she had been certain of the outcome, that is. 

She wasn’t.  

“You can change your mind, my lord. At anytime.” Before Anthony could contest, she continued, “You did it already! You promised you would always take care of me! And you changed your mind.” Regret quickly crossed his face and Siena could feel the tears forming in her eyes at the reminder of that morning, when he had tossed her aside as if she had been nothing more than an inconvenience. It wouldn’t do to start crying now. She was stronger than that.

“Right now, you’re happy we’re back together and you think we can overcome anything. What’s going to happen when everyone you know and respects turns against us?” 

“You're right.” Anthony answered quickly and Siena couldn’t hide her surprise. She had wanted him to come to his senses and agree with her, of course she did. His idea had been utter foolishness after all, born out of the high of being in each other’s arms once more. But she had expected him to at least put up a fight. It was okay, though. It only confirmed she had been right all along. She wasn’t disappointed. She wasn’t.

“Of course I am. So we can forget ever going public…”

“You're right that it won’t be as easy as I said.” He interrupted her. “Me being a viscount…my sister being a duchess…none of that will stop the talk of the ton. In fact, my mother might be the one to most strongly oppose us being together.” Anthony couldn’t hide his grimace. His mother’s reaction to his choice was the one thing he had tried to avoid thinking about at all costs. Violet Bridgerton wouldn’t give up just because he and Siena went to the Hastings’ ball together. As a matter of fact, it might only serve as further motivation on her relentless pursuit of a suitable bride for her first-born. He could count on Benedict to be on his side (his brother was pursuing Siena’s closest friend, after all) and Eloise’s curious nature would endear Siena to her, he hoped. But what about Colin? Would his brother be accepting of their relationship, when Anthony had so adamantly opposed his engagement to Miss Thompson? And Daphne and Simon, would they come to his aid as he expected, or would they worry about their own status first? Simon only referred to Siena as his mistress and Daphne wanted nothing more than to be a proper lady of the ton. Maybe neither of them wouldn’t be willing drag the Hastings' name into another scandal just for Anthony’s sake. His own family might not offer the support he craved, though he hoped they would come to understand his decision. He couldn’t keep hurting his own heart in the name of duty and honor. “It won’t be easy. But, Siena, I would rather do difficult with you than easy with someone else.” 

She shook her head. “You don’t mean that, my lord. You can’t mean that.”

Anthony let out a small laugh of incredulity, “Can’t I? And may I ask, why not?”

Siena opened and closed her mouth, at loss for words. Before she could come up with an answer, though, Anthony's hands enveloped her waist and he pulled her back to the bed and on top of him, kissing her quickly in the mouth. Surprised, it took her a moment to respond, but he was already pulling away, though his arms remained around her, his hands positioned low on her back.

“I know what this is.” He said, smiling at her. “You're scared. Scared I’m going to leave again, break things off once more and let you deal with these people’s snide comments on your own. That I’m going to see you the same way they do and I’ll turn away.” Her brown eyes looked at him with surprise and she wondered if she was indeed so transparent or if he just knew her that well. Sometimes she dreamed of the life she and Anthony could have together. More often than not, these dreams turned sour as the Anthony in them realized she would never be more than a lowly opera singer, only good for entertaining him at night between the sheets. 

“One day you will.” She murmured softly against his chest.

“No, no, never.” He protested, holding her face up, and hoping she could see the truth in his eyes and in his voice. “Siena, I wish you could see yourself as I do. The most talent, incredible, funny, smart woman I’ve ever met. There’s no one but you. Not for me. I’m sorry that I hurt you and made you ever doubt that.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and Anthony saw a single tear escape as she sighed, her hands on his chest shaking for a moment. “You make it so hard for me to do the right thing.” 

He kissed her cheek where the tear had dried before turning towards her mouth and kissing her again, hard and desperate. 

“I want you to do the right thing for us. For us and no one else.” His hand was in her hair, their heads as close together as they could without touching. “Choose us, Siena.” 

It sounded so simple when he said it. He made her believe anything was possible. But she knew this thing between them was fragile, powerful and uncontainable, yes, but fragile. It had been broken and mended together by sheer force of will, and any strong push could shatter it for good. If they wanted it survive and flourish, then they first had to protect it. 

“I can’t go to the ball with you. Not tonight.” She saw the disappointment flash through his eyes and be replaced by a mask of cold indifference as he nodded in understanding, already starting to pull away from her. 

“But I am not going to the opera either”, she quickly added and Anthony looked at her in confusion.

“I thought…maybe we could stay in tonight? We can have dinner with your brother and Genevieve later.” 

Siena looked at him expectantly.

A compromise, that’s what she proposed. Maybe they weren’t ready for the harsh light of day and the deep cutting remarks of society, but it didn’t mean they would never be. In the mean time, they could allow a little light in as they grew stronger in the dark.

“I suppose…Benedict and Madame Delacroix shall make for a decent conversation.” He answered and the smile Siena gave him was so bright it was almost blinding. “As long as you’re by my side, my lady.” 

And, because he knew she would, Anthony kissed her before she could voice her protest over his choice of endearment.

[accioromione]

Harry Potter's point of view (canon compliant) about Ron and Hermione's relationship just after the war. Or Harry's point of view about their relationship during the books is also fine. [ we have read the books through his eyes and no one really has covered this or I haven't seen one like this so would love to read something written by you cuz I love your writing ] Thanksss! :))

The sun rose steadily over Hogwarts, and the Great Hall blazed with life and light. Harry was an indispensable part of the mingled outpourings of jubilation and mourning, of grief and celebration. They wanted him there with them, their leader and symbol, their savior and their guide, and that he had not slept, that he craved the company of only a few of them, seemed to occur to no one. He must speak to the bereaved, clasp their hands, witness their tears, receive their thanks, hear the news now creeping in from every quarter as the morning drew on; that the Imperiused up and down the country had come back to themselves, that Death Eaters were fleeing or else being captured, that the innocent of Azkaban were being released at that very moment, and that Kingsley Shacklebolt had been named temporary Minister of Magic. 

They moved Voldemort’s body and laid it in a chamber off the Hall, away from the bodies of Fred, Tonks, Lupin, Colin Creevey, and fifty others who had died fighting him. McGonagall had re­placed the House tables, but nobody was sitting “according to House anymore: All were jumbled together, teachers and pupils, ghosts and parents, centaurs and house-elves, and Firenze lay recovering in a corner, and Grawp peered in through a smashed window, and people were throwing food into his laughing mouth. After a while, exhausted and drained, Harry found himself sitting on a bench beside Luna. “I’d want some peace and quiet, if it were me,” she said. “I’d love some,” he replied. “I’ll distract them all,” she said. “Use your Cloak.” And before he could say a word she had cried, “Oooh, look, a Blibbering Humdinger!” and pointed out of the window. Everyone who heard looked around, and Harry slid the Cloak up over him­self, and got to his feet. Now he could move through the Hall without interference. He spotted Ginny two tables away; she was sitting with her head on her mother’s shoulder: There would be time to talk later, hours and days and maybe years in which to talk. He saw Neville, the sword of Gryffindor lying beside his plate as he ate, surrounded by a knot of fervent admirers. Along the aisle between the tables he walked, and he spotted the three Malfoys, huddled together as though unsure whether or not they were supposed to be there, but nobody was paying them any attention. Everywhere he looked he saw families reunited, and finally, he saw the two whose company he craved most. “It’s me,” he muttered, crouching down between them. “Will you come with me?” They stood up at once, and together he, Ron, and Hermione left the Great Hall. Great chunks were missing from the marble staircase, part of the balustrade gone, and rubble and bloodstains occurred every few steps as they climbed. Somewhere in the distance they could hear Peeves zooming through the corridors singing a victory song of his own composition: 

We did it, we bashed them, wee Potter’s the one, And Voldy’s gone moldy, so now let’s have fun!

“Really gives a feeling for the scope and tragedy of the thing, doesn’t it?” said Ron, pushing open a door to let Harry and Hermi­one through. Happiness would come, Harry thought, but at the moment it was muffled by exhaustion, and the pain of losing Fred and Lupin and Tonks pierced him like a physical wound every few steps. Most of all he felt the most stupendous relief, and a longing to sleep. But first he owed an explanation to Ron and Hermione, who had stuck with him for so long, and who deserved the truth. Painstakingly he recounted what he had seen in the Pensieve and what had happened in the forest, and they had not even begun to express all their shock and amazement when at last they arrived at the place to which they had been walking, though none of them had mentioned their destination. Since he had last seen it, the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmaster’s study had been knocked aside; it stood lopsided, looking a little punch-drunk, and Harry wondered whether it would be able to distinguish passwords anymore. “Can we go up?” he asked the gargoyle. “Feel free,” groaned the statue.

They clambered over him and onto the spiral stone staircase that moved slowly upward like an escalator. Harry pushed open the door at the top. He had one, brief glimpse of the stone Pensieve on the desk where he had left it, and then an earsplitting noise made him cry out, thinking of curses and returning Death Eaters and the rebirth of Voldemort — But it was applause. All around the walls, the headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts were giving him a standing ovation; they waved their hats and in some cases their wigs, they reached through their frames to grip each other’s hands; they danced up and down on the chairs in which they had been painted; Dilys Derwent sobbed unashamedly; Dexter Fortescue was waving his ear-trumpet; and Phineas Nigellus called, in his high, reedy voice, “And let it be noted that Slytherin House played its part! Let our contribution not be forgotten!”

But Harry had eyes only for the man who stood in the largest portrait directly behind the headmaster’s chair. Tears were sliding down from behind the half-moon spectacles into the long silver beard, and the pride and the gratitude emanating from him filled Harry with the same balm as phoenix song. At last, Harry held up his hands, and the portraits fell respectfully silent, beaming and mopping their eyes and waiting eagerly for him to speak. He directed his words at Dumbledore, however, and chose them with enormous care. Exhausted and bleary-eyed though he was, he must make one last effort, seeking one last piece of advice. “The thing that was hidden in the Snitch,” he began, “I dropped it in the forest. I don’t know exactly where, but I’m not going to go looking for it again. “ Do you agree?” “My dear boy, I do,” said Dumbledore, while his fellow pictures looked confused and curious. “A wise and courageous decision, but no less than I would have expected of you. Does anyone else know where it fell?” “No one,” said Harry, and Dumbledore nodded his satisfaction. “I’m going to keep Ignotus’s present, though,” said Harry, and Dumbledore beamed. “But of course, Harry, it is yours forever, until you pass it on!” “And then there’s this.” Harry held up the Elder Wand, and Ron and Hermione looked at it with a reverence that, even in his befuddled and sleep-deprived state, Harry did not like to see. “I don’t want it,” said Harry. “What?” said Ron loudly. “Are you mental?” “I know it’s powerful,” said Harry wearily. “But I was happier with mine. So …” He rummaged in the pouch hung around his neck, and pulled out the two halves of holly still just connected by the finest thread of phoenix feather. Hermione had said that they could not be re­paired, that the damage was too severe. All he knew was that if this did not work, nothing would. He laid the broken wand upon the headmaster’s desk, touched it with the very tip of the Elder Wand, and said, “Reparo.”

As his wand resealed, red sparks flew out of its end. Harry knew that he had succeeded. He picked up the holly and phoenix wand and felt a sudden warmth in his fingers, as though wand and hand were rejoicing at their reunion. “I’m putting the Elder Wand,” he told Dumbledore, who was watching him with enormous affection and admiration, “back where it came from. It can stay there. If I die a natural death like Ignotus, its power will be broken, won’t it? The previous master will never have never been defeated. That’ll be the end of it.” Dumbledore nodded. They smiled at each other. “Are you sure?” said Ron. There was the faintest trace of longing in his voice as he looked at the Elder Wand. “I think Harry’s right,” said Hermione quietly. “That wand’s more trouble than it’s worth,” said Harry. “And quite honestly,” he turned away from the painted portraits, think­ing now only of the four-poster bed lying waiting for him in Gryf­findor Tower, and wondering whether Kreacher might bring him a sandwich there, “I’ve had enough trouble for a lifetime.” 

Ron and Hermione smiled at Harry tiredly. Harry looked at his best friends- scars and dirt covered them. “You two have as well I reckon,” added Harry. He noticed that they were holding hands, he smiled. 

“I-I couldn’t have done it without you two you know,” said Harry, and Ron and Hermione smiled at him shyly. “I’m happy about it you know,” Harry added, gesturing to the two of them holding hands. “I can’t think of anyone who deserves each-other more” he admitted. 

Hermione smiled tiredly, “you should get rest Harry-” Hermione said, “Merlin knows you’ve earned it.” Harry nodded, “I reckon we all do,” and with that they all tiredly walked to the Gryffindor dormitory, Harry closed his eyes the moment he felt a soft surface below him. He saw faces in his dreams, jets of light, dead bodies, laughing bodies, his parents, Dumbledore. He awoke after what seemed like ages- feeling the affect of rest on his body and how very much needed that sleep was. He opened his eyes, he had fallen asleep with his glasses on, thankfully he had managed not to crush them. He looked around to see two familiar bodies also asleep. A long lanky one and a shorter one with bushy hair. Ron and Hermione were embracing each-other- their eyes closed. Ron had his arms wrapped around Hermione, her head was buried into his chest. Their embrace was one of desperation, as if they were scared they would lose each-other. Harry saw tear stains down both of their faces, his heart sank as he thought of Fred. Ron, who had been there for him since the day one, had lost his brother, the way Harry’s heart sank for Fred pained him in such a way that he couldn’t begin to imagine what Ron was thinking in this moment. He looked at Hermione, she would be there for him, Ron had Hermione, and Hermione had Ron. He meant every word he said, they deserved each-other. They had been there through thick and thin- had supported Harry in the darkest hour, and now, now they could finally rest. Finally rest with each-other. 

Love. 

It had always been the most powerful magic. And that very magic was what Harry was seeing exhibited before his very eyes. There might have been a time where Harry was uncertain between them - in the fear of getting shot out, or the fear that they wouldn't last, but this was different now. 

They had gone through so much, had seen so much, and had aged years the last couple of months. They wouldn’t shoot him out, Harry saw, just how much he had meant to them. Their screams rung through his ears as he remembered how they had reacted when they had thought how he, Harry, had died. He was not uncertain about them, he knew they were made to last. He remembered Ron’s screams as Hermione had been tortured, and Hermione’s cries when Ron was not there with her. They were made for eachother, and they would help each-other deal with the tragedies they had faced. Harry smiled at his two best friends and got up slowly, he figured that for once he would let them finally be alone, just the two of them.

[invisibleinorange]

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: T Warnings: Presumed Character Death Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington,  Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties),  Bridgerton Family Dynamics, Simon Hastings/Daphne Bridgerton Characters: Colin Bridgerton,  Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Anthony Featherington,  Benedict Bridgerton,  Portia Featherington Additional Tags:  Bridgerton, Polin Summary:  Unexpected bad news arrives for the Bridgerton Family (and friends) regarding Colin's travels. This will be a series that is set after "The Duke and I" or season one of the show. It is a companion piece to "Goodbyes". (#I’mHereToKillYouAllWithFeels)

Getting Eloise to leave her alone again had been quite the task, especially after she went catatonic upon being handed the letter.  She’d had to promise that there would be no further rash actions.

Her brain simply ceased to function because Colin Bridgerton writing her any letter felt beyond the realm of possibility.  She wasn’t the kind of girl that any guy wrote those kinds of things to much less someone as perfect as Colin.

That was precisely the way she thought of him. He had been so perfect.

She couldn’t recall the first moment he transitioned from Eloise’s brother to the object of her every waking desire but that was because she’d felt that was as long as she could remember.

Not once in all those years did she allow herself the indulgence of believing that he could ever feel the same. His cordiality was the most she thought to hope for.

The only place that more could existence was in her very vivid imagination.

It was disorienting to go from extreme sadness to near ecstasy and then back to sadness once the reality set back in.  Had she had any inkling he was still alive, she would have run away from home and used her Whistledown earnings to find him.

It was those thoughts that comforted her once she was tucked in her bed and left to her own devices.  It played out so easily imagining arriving in Greece, tracking him down at some beautiful seaside inn.

She could almost imagine him scandalously shirtless on some beach, body glistening with the water from the sea and his trousers damp from having just taking an unplanned swim.  She could picture his handsome, charming smile and his eyes widening in surprise at the sight of her.

She would have started to run to him and finally said the words that she’d wanted to say before he left. The words that she knew now could have prevented his trip to begin with.

His response in her imagination was enough to leave her aching. She could almost feel the warmth of his hand pulling his closer, his mouth scandalously close to her own.  She could hear the chuckle from his lips and some teasing remark.

Her imagination dared not let it go further though.

The dream was what made her turn in her sleep, cry when she woke up in the morning and the reality sunk back in.  Whatever he felt for her, losing him had made her see the depth of her own feelings all the more.  She truly had loved him.

“I promise I’ll give him up forever if you just let him come home,” she uttered to an invisible God, knowing as soon as it was from her lips that had it ever come to fruition, it would be beyond her abilities to do.  She would never give him up, never stop loving him. She loved him so much that she’d sacrifice her own happiness a million times over just to know he was alive and well.  “I promise I’ll do whatever you want. You can’t possibly be this cruel.”

--

After a particularly intense debate, it was Benedict who ended up winning the battle of who would be the one to sacrifice on behalf of the family this time. He and Anthony agreed that it was vital that they ensure that his brother’s last known wishes were addressed.

Gregory was far too young to be considered a vital prospect so it had been between the two of them. Anthony had to sacrifice enough for their family.  As much as Benedict desired a different kind of life and he wasn’t quite certain marriage was a part of it. The only way to be assured that Penelope was cared for was for her to marry one of them.

He admittedly didn’t know the girl as well as some of his siblings. Eloise had always been his favorite though and as such, he knew that his sister wouldn’t have chosen an unworthy best friend. He also knew that Colin wouldn’t have been quite so worked up over a no one.

He’d shared a few dances with Penelope during the year mostly at his mother’s urging as a mercy. When he looked at her, he thought of her as the little girl she’d once been instead of the woman. There wasn’t attraction there but he found her congenial and kind.

While his parents had shared a great love story, his mother had never been shy to tell her children that not marriages were born of love. Sometimes, they were born of necessity. There was always room for companionship and friendship to grow into love.

He was uneasy about the whole ordeal but he was a man of his word. Once it was settled, it was simply a matter of approaching the discussion with Portia Featherington. If he were honest, such a conversation was far more frightening than the prospect of a marriage that wasn’t born of some unrelenting love.

He was almost grateful when Eloise brought news that she’d shared the letter because it had bought him more time.  He had to let the dust settle before he could even think to approach such a thing.  He nearly lost his nerve as he crossed the way to the Featheringtons and requested an audience with Lady Featherington.

--

It wasn’t the right season for callers, especially for her daughters.  The assumption when the staff announced Benedict Bridgerton had come to speak with her was that this was a mourning visit.  She couldn’t logically think of any other reason for such a visit.

She’d had her staff bring him to the drawing room, standing once she saw him in the doorway.

There was a quiet exchange of bows, her eyes appraising before gesturing where he might sit. He had flowers in hand.  

“Can I offer you some tea, Mister Bridgerton?”  she asked.

“It won’t be necessary.”

“Well then, I must admit I’m most curious for the reason for you visit,” she said, eyeing the flowers with curiosity. “As you know, the season has been over for some time now and our home is in mourning. As it yours from what I hear.  We’ve all been so truly sorry to hear about Colin. It’s such a tragedy.”

Benedict wasn’t quite sure she was actually sorry about the loss of his brother. He remembered himself and presented the flowers though.  The whole conversation so far reminded him why he tended to avoid any interaction with the women.  He hoped Penelope wasn’t horribly attached to her mother because while he was perfectly fine accepting her as part of his life forever, he wasn’t quite willing to accept her mother.

“Well it’s quite indelicate but it is of the utmost importance that I seek your … permission,” he tried to explain, coughing into his hand to try and find words that felt unnatural. He’d always desired a different kind of life than this.  “Both of our families have experienced loss lately and it is my … wish to ease some of the pain both our families are feeling.  I would like to ask your daughter … Penelope to wed – clearly an extended engagement – respectful to our losses but a proposal none the less.”

If he could have grown a second head, Portia Featherington wouldn’t have looked at him any less bewildered and startled by this turn of events.

“It would be inappropriate to allow any wedding for the foreseeable future,” she started. She then began to try and manipulate the situation to better her situation.  The money wasn’t there to pay for a dowry. She’d honestly not been prepared to have to pay a dowry for Penelope since she assumed she’d end up as a spinster. “I wouldn’t dream to deny you a dowry –“

“It won’t be necessary,” he said, trying to keep polite.  The point was to assure Penelope got the happy ending Colin desired for her and frankly, he wasn’t sure someone else was going to come along and offer it. If that meant not receiving a dowry, so be it.  “I really must have your blessing in the matter though.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have Prudence? – Or Felicity in a few years even?”

“No.”

“Well then,” she said with a hand gesture.   “Help yourself to it then.”

The woman then proceeded to yell for her daughter so loud that it was any wonder that half the Ton didn’t hear her yelling.

Benedict hadn’t quite expected the whole thing to happen quite so… quickly.  If he must do this, he’d hoped to at least given it a bit of finesse.

Penelope did enter the room as requested though.

The two exchanged looks.

Penelope looked particularly meek and perhaps a little sad from where he was sitting. He’d never quite spent more than a passing second looking at her. There was no time like the present to begin though.  Penelope bowed slightly in greeting. Had it been outside the formality of her mother’s drawing room, she might have greeting him by name. Formality always seemed to slip away with Eloise’s siblings.

“Penelope, Mister Bridgerton and I just have the most peculiar conversation,” she said gesturing to the space next to herself so that her daughter would come sit down. The confusion on Penelope’s face became all the more clear.

“I wanted to seek your permission to court with the intention of marriage,” he said awkwardly. “I know that it’s off season and our families are in-”

Penelope was to her feet at once. Her face twisting in fury and confusion all at once.

“Are you drunk?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“Penelope?!” her mother bellowed, clearly not charmed by the outburst before she lowered her voice and murmured under grit teeth. “That is not way to talk to your only prospect of marriage.”

“It’s quite okay,” Benedict offered, excusing away the behavior.  “I know that it’s sudden but I assure you that my proposal is sincere. It’ll be a strike upon my honor should you refuse.”

“I refuse,” she said sharply.

Benedict had never quite seen the normally meek girl quite so riled up.  The red of her hair seemed to spread across her skin.  He seemed to take that as a sign she was quite angry.

“I cannot accept that answer,” he told her, unsure whether to laugh or be afraid.

“And I cannot accept your proposal.  If this is about your brother, he would think you an idiot.”

Portia Featherington looked unsure whether to tell her daughter to stop being insolent or enjoy the front row seat to the drama.  While she preferred when the drama stayed away from her own family, she did very much love to see it.  Clearly her daughter had forgotten the fact she was even there.

“My brother wanted you to be happy and cared for,” the Bridgerton countered. “I simply wish to ensure that happens.”

Portia let out a soft ‘oh’ as if it suddenly made sense why a perfectly decent eligible bachelor would choose Penelope over one of her better daughters.  Though, she was also semi-impressed that Penelope had somehow convinced someone to look out for her.

“I can look after myself,” Penelope argued, rising to her feet. “I’ll never marry.”

Portia finally decided to interject.  “Not on my watch,” she told her daughter. “You best accept this proposal or you’ll end up on the streets. I won’t have you rejecting a Bridgerton.”

“This isn’t for negotiation,”  Penelope said looking murderous as she stormed her way out of the drawing room, slamming the door on her way out.

Benedict, despite being a bit shellshocked, could only laugh.

“Well, that went well.”

[dvp95]

can’t breathe when you touch my sleeve - chapter 11

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: e

warnings: none

tags: alternate universe, slow burn, fluff & humour, tiny bit of inner turmoil wrt sexuality but trust me it’s not that deep, deeper than anticipated but still not that deep y'all this is primarily silly, eventual smut, idiots in love

word count: 3,995 for this chapter (49,787 total)

summary: Dan keeps making a fool of himself in interviews, to the point where it’s basically a meme. Now he’s got to sit down for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the YouTuber he’d had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.

read from the beginning on ao3 or on tumblr!

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

The flat is dark but for the string lights over Phil's headboard and the candles on his nightstand. Phil's fingers are tracing patterns on Dan's chest, loopy circles and spirals that leave goosebumps in their wake. He's humming something familiar under his breath that Dan can't place and his eyes are half-lidded behind his glasses.

They're tangled up on Phil's bed, ostensibly getting ready to sleep, but Dan is struggling. He doesn't want to miss a single moment he's got left with Phil. He'd thrown on some boxers in concession of sharing space with a dog, and Phil has gotten completely dressed in Dan's pyjamas with muttered complaints about the cold. Dan already misses looking at his body, but he has to admit that he likes looking at this, too.

"Remind me again when you're leaving?"

Dan sighs, lightly tapping a line of freckles down Phil's arm and tangling their fingers together when he reaches them. "Sunday afternoon."

"Too soon," Phil says, quiet and light like he's trying to play off how much it sucks.

"Too soon," Dan agrees. "But I'll be back as soon as I can. And we can - I mean, I want to still, like. Date you. Even when I'm not here."

With a little hum of a noise, Phil blinks up at Dan. He looks a little perplexed. "Well, yeah," he says. "I'm just gonna remind you again that I introduced you to my parents. I wasn't planning on running off with the next local idiot who fawns all over me."

"I did not fawn," Dan protests, but his lips are twitching. He presses them to Phil's forehead to hide the movement. He didn't actually believe that Phil was thinking of this as something with a time limit, but it's nice to be reassured. They're quiet for a long moment, and then Dan has to ask the embarrassing question that's been plaguing him. "Are you, like. Are you my boyfriend?"

Phil laughs, not unkindly, and nuzzles into Dan's neck to press a kiss there. Dan can feel the curve of his smirk when the sensation makes Dan shiver.

"Yeah, Dan," says Phil, low and fond. "I'm your boyfriend."

"I'm just making sure," says Dan.

"You're so stupid," Phil says, pulling back from Dan's neck to grin up at him. His eyes are so bright that it almost aches to look at.

There really isn't a good argument for that. Dan shrugs, pulls Phil close enough that he can feel Phil's heartbeat. He buries his face in Phil's hair so that he doesn't have to watch Phil's expression change when he says, "Yeah. I told my brother about you, actually. Told him you were my boyfriend."

Phil chuckles. "I told my brother about you, too. Dunno why you're embarrassed about it."

"Yeah, but that's different," Dan mutters. "You talk to Martyn."

"I get that your family is," Phil says, pauses for a brief moment, "complicated, but I'm not bothered by them knowing about me."

"That's good," says Dan. "Because, er, I'm having lunch with my mum after the morning interviews tomorrow, and I thought - well, y'know."

A gentle hand in Dan's hair pulls him back from the cuddle so that Phil can look at him. His eyes flicker over Dan's face like they're looking for something. Whatever it is, he doesn't seem to find it.

Phil smiles indulgently, shaking his head a bit. "I actually don't know, Dan. I'm gonna need you to use your words. Because right now it sounds like you're inviting me to lunch with your mum. Which, to be clear, wouldn't be weird for me, since you've met mine, but I get the feeling it might be weird for you."

That hadn't been at all what Dan was asking. He thinks about it, though, wonders if if would be better or worse to have backup for this lunch.

Dan loves his mum. Their relationship is strained, distant, has got a heavy buildup of guilt and mistrust on both sides, but he loves her. He isn't sure he can bring Phil into that and explain it, not when he's met the wonderfully warm people who raised Phil.

"I was actually just asking if you'd be okay with me mentioning you, but how about," Dan says slowly, turning the idea over in his head. "We meet you at the park after lunch? I wanted to whine until she brought Colin, anyway, this gives me a good excuse."

"Colin?"

"My family dog," says Dan. "Don't make fun of his name, your dog's name is nerdy and a pun."

Phil laughs and kisses the tip of Dan's nose. "I wouldn't dream of it. I like animals with hilariously normal names."

"So, you'll come? You really don't have to."

"Sure, I just," Phil says and pulls a little face, like he doesn't want to voice whatever he's thinking. "Is she... one of the people reacting badly? Wanna know what I'm getting into, here."

"No, she's been great," Dan says quietly. "She might be weird, but she won't be... y'know."

"I do know."

The smile playing around Phil's lips makes Dan want to kiss him, so he does. He can't believe that he's just allowed to do that, can't believe he somehow stumbled into being the luckiest person alive.

Dan's done a lot of things over the past decade that he thinks would shock and awe his teenage self. He's met and worked with some pretty big names, gotten drunk with his costars at some pretty big events, and publicly made a fool of himself in some pretty big ways.

He thinks this would take the cake, though. Just the simple act of kissing his boyfriend in bed would have been more than teen Dan could have dreamed of. He'd wanted that, of course, in a pipe dream sort of way, like how he'd wanted to stop hurting his girlfriend, wanted to feel some kind of acceptance for who he was so terrified to be. But the world had been way too fucking scary for him to consider it outside of daydreams.

Not to mention the fact that the man he's kissing is AmazingPhil. Dan laughs, pulls back from Phil to grin at him.

"You know," he says, "I used to have the biggest fucking crush on you."

"Used to?" Phil teases, brushing his fingers over Dan's ribs to make him squirm and laugh harder.

"Shut the fuck up," Dan says fondly. "I mean, like, in 2007."

Phil blinks. He's a lot sleepier than Dan is, which Dan very generously attributes to how long it takes Phil to do simple math in his head. "Wait, you seriously had a crush on me when you were sixteen?"

"Maybe," says Dan.

"Oh, that's so cute," Phil coos. He gives Dan a smug little grin and rolls on top of him. Their limbs are so long and they're both so clumsy that Dan isn't surprised by Phil almost kneeing him in the balls in the process, but he's also so far gone that he barely cares. "And what would sixteen-year-old Dan think of all this?"

"He wouldn't believe it," Dan laughs, settling his hands on Phil's hips. "Like, literally, this would have never occurred to him as a possibility."

"Why not?" Phil teases, knocking their noses together gently. Dan gets the impression that he's more charmed than he's letting on with his dry voice. "You didn't wanna come to Summer in the City? Make an impression?"

That makes Dan honk a laugh right in Phil's face. Objectively, that's mortifying. Phil just snorts, though, so Dan decides not to worry about it on top of everything else he's constantly anxious about in Phil's presence. "The impression I would have made on you in 2007 or even, like, ten years ago, wouldn't have been anything good. You think I'm awkward now? You can only imagine what I was like before I had any kind of confidence."

"I'm sure it was very cute," says Phil. "I'd have added you on MySpace."

"I hate you," says Dan, not least because he'd sent Phil a friend request on MySpace. He is absolutely not going to bring that up, though.

"Yeah, sure seems like you do," says Phil, grinning.

Dan doesn't like the smug look on his face, so he takes Phil's glasses off and sets them aside, chuckling when he immediately starts to squint. "It's bedtime," he reminds Phil.

"Bedtime," Phil agrees, and he blinks a bunch before he laughs. "I can't see you. You gotta kiss me goodnight."

Definitely a request Dan can handle.

--

Once again, Dan finds himself staring at the ceiling of Phil's flat. He's got a snoring dog at his feet and a snoring man draped over him, and he should really be relaxed enough to drift off by now. He's comforted by the smell of Phil's sheets and the soft pattering of rain against the small windows, but it doesn't help get him any sleepier. It's frustrating. He's got interviews all morning - the last of the Isles leg before they get shipped off to the continent for another two weeks of the same circus - and he doesn't want to be cranky for them or have to apologise to another makeup artist for the dark circles under his eyes. He tries for a really long time to fall asleep before he gives up on it for the moment and reaches for his phone.

The familiar cycle of applications helps settle some of the restless energy that's thrumming under Dan's skin. The fingers of his right hand run over Phil's shoulders and through his hair, gentle and idle enough to avoid waking him, as he scrolls through different social media sites with his left thumb.

His feeds are busy enough, since it's not quite late enough to be considered unreasonable in Atlanta or Chicago and Los Angeles is fully awake, but none of it is really catching his attention. He likes a bunch of dog photos and gets lost in a Twitter moment on a topic he's never heard about before. Three different times, he almost buys something that's being advertised to him before he remembers that he already owns something similar to it.

Normally he'd put on some AmazingPhil videos to help him fall asleep, but that feels pretty weird to do when the man himself is literally drooling on his chest right now. Not to mention, he'd have to get up to find some headphones, and that would just defeat the purpose of staying in bed.

Dan spends twenty minutes drafting an email to his grandma, hindered by only using one thumb and his brain not being at full firing power as it is. It ends up saying more or less what he'd texted to his mum, only with an apology at the end. He doesn't know why he does that. He isn't sorry for who he is, or for not telling her, or for not believing in the god that might inform her reaction. He almost deletes the apology, actually, but the fact is that he is. He is sorry for all of those things.

He doesn't want to be. He wants to be unapologetic. But this is a woman who he's always respected and who is so vocal about supporting his career that he sometimes gets embarrassed by the statuses she posts about him on Facebook. This is also a woman who brought him to church for a good chunk of his life.

It's so vivid, even now. Getting his collar smoothed down by her dainty hands, his cheeks pinched by all her friends. The stifling, muggy air and hard pew under him in the summer.

Discomfort. Physical discomfort, as a child, and a deeper sort once he realised he didn't belong there. If he has to narrow it down, he's sorry that he might be giving her a different sort of discomfort in return.

He emails so that he can check for her response on his own time instead of panicking and shutting his phone off like he did with his mum, and then he goes into the app store to download some new, mindless games. Those entertain him for a while, the easy taps of his thumb giving him something to focus on that is not all the ways he's failed his family or the terrifying reality of what he might see in his mother's eyes tomorrow.

Today, he supposes. He'll be lucky to get a couple of hours at all.

In the end, he doesn't get any sleep. He wants to, because he knows he's going to be a zombie at work and at lunch, but maybe that's a good thing. He doesn't know what his mum is going to say, after all, doesn't know if she's going to try and defend his dad or talk about his reaction at all, so perhaps it's for the best that Dan feels everything a little more numbly than usual.

Dan turns off his alarm a split second after it rings, which is never a great feeling after a hard hit of insomnia. It's the final acknowledgement that sleep is not coming, no matter how much he tries to will it. He sighs and gently rolls Phil off of him. The way Phil grumbles and curls into his pillow, cuddling it to his chest, manages to get a weak smile out of Dan. He's just... cute. That's all there really is to it. Thor perks up when Dan gets out of bed, his ears all the way up, and Dan figures that it isn't the worst idea in the world to get some fresh air.

"You wanna go for a walk?" Dan whispers. He has to bite back a laugh at the way Thor reacts - spinning excitedly in a circle on the bed before hopping down and running to the door.

The sun is just starting to rise, giving Dan enough light to avoid injuring himself as he finds something to throw on for the walk. He ends up with his own pyjama pants and some graphic tee or other of Phil's because he can't be bothered to look for something else. He figures that anyone else awake right now won't judge him for it.

He remembers to grab keys and doggy bags before he tries to get Thor out of the door without his excitement turning into barking. He hasn't really barked much in Dan's presence, but he doesn't want to take any chances. It would be just his luck to wake everyone in the building up because he has no idea what he's doing when it comes to training a dog. The dog his family had when he was growing up was cute, but he was real bad at being a dog. Dan's got absolutely no practice with making dogs listen to him, and he's not exactly assertive. He's been chased by chickens more than once.

The chill of the dawn air makes Dan glad he grabbed one of Phil's countless denim jackets, and he pauses on the pavement outside for only a brief moment before Thor starts tugging him down the road. Thor knows the area, even if Dan doesn't, so he's happy to let the dog guide them with his nose and stubby little legs.

It's too early to talk to anyone, for sure, but Dan wants to rip the band-aid off before he has to shift into his public persona. He texts his mum with one hand, can u bring colin please i miss him so much and ive got a friend for him, attaches a cute photo of Thor sniffing at a neighbour's flower box. After a moment's thought, he sends the photo to Phil as well. He'd watched Phil put his phone on silent before they got into bed, so he isn't worried about waking him up. Dan has to slip his phone back into his pocket to quietly scold Thor for eating someone else's petunias and scurry away from the scene of the crime.

Everything feels just a little hazy with the rising sun, the mist of barely-there rain, and Dan's own lack of sleep. He lets Thor guide him into a lazy walk around the block and breathes in the polluted air like it's going to make everything better.

Maybe it should be scary how right this feels. In fact, it is scary, and Dan would like to blame it entirely on his insomnia and idiocy, but he knows it's more than that. He wants this to be his routine, as stupid as that is. He doesn't want that right away, doesn't want to leave Atlanta and come right to Phil's flat, but he wants... that. Eventually. First, he wants a drawer in one of Phil's dressers, wants to text whenever he's outside, wants to meet Phil at the dog park with two coffees and a grin on his face.

Dan never really took himself for a hopeless romantic, but then again, he also never thought that he'd be able to date someone he wanted to be with for the long haul. Even a medium haul had been off the table with the girls he's dated since his last actual relationship. It was always going to be missing something.

When Thor starts whining and tugging at the lead a bit harder, Dan smiles. "You wanna go home, cutie?" he murmurs, spotting the distinctive blue of Phil's front door. "Let's take you home."

--

The questions are the same every time. Not the exact same, no, but still the same. Every publication and media site wants to know the same shit about the show, and they don't even have all the answers.

"No, we haven't heard about a new season yet," Jaime is saying for the third time in one morning, with some kind of unending patience that Dan will never understand. "Trust me, the internet will know as soon as we know. Of course it would be nice to keep working - I don't think my character's storyline is anywhere near done!"

She laughs, but Dan can tell that it's forced. It's starting to take a strain on her, too, and he knows that they're all just waiting for something original to come up. Patrick has zoned out, pulling a Full Dan and staring off into space.

There aren't any pins for Dan to comment on this time, even if he'd wanted to. The morning has been slogging, not least since he'd left Phil still asleep in bed with a kiss to his sweet-smelling hair. Dan is so tired, but he knows they're all so tired. There's nothing for them to do but paste smiles on their faces and deflect spoilery questions while they count down the minutes to their free afternoon. Well, Jaime and Patrick have a free afternoon. Dan is going to have his hands full.

His mum had agreed to bring Colin happily and mooned over Thor's photo, but Dan has been perplexed by the fact that she didn't even ask whose dog it was. He wants to tell her, wants to be clear that he hasn't gone and got himself a big responsibility just yet, but there's a larger, pettier part of Dan that wants to keep Phil to himself until his mum is face to face with him. Dan wants to see if she has to school her expression, wants to know if this is an arms-length continuation of their relationship or the start of something rocky and healing.

Since Patrick is off in his own world, Dan tries his best to be present for this interview. He makes the interviewer laugh and tells stupid anecdotes to keep the attention off of everything Jaime won't say about her character arc.

It's a good thing he is paying attention, because Dan isn't sure how he'd have reacted if he'd been caught off guard by, "And as I'm sure you're aware, a lot of fans have been speculating about on-set romances. Is there any truth to those rumours or is that just some fun for the fans?"

Jaime snorts loudly. It's very unladylike. Dan is so, so fond of her.

"Uh, no," says Jaime. "I mean, if you're talking about between the three of us - which I have seen, the shipping isn't as quiet as y'all think it is - then, I'm sorry, but there's no way. I won't even act like there is to keep people guessing. I'm not going to date Daniel or Patrick for, like, twenty thousand reasons. If you want to talk about Tanner, though..."

She winks and trills her real laugh, which makes Dan laugh in turn. Jaime's crush on the man who plays Patrick's father is such an open secret that he's surprised more people don't ask her about it. Maybe they think it's a sensitive or uncomfortable subject, but Jaime's got no compunctions about loudly fancying someone who is both a decade older than her and married. The interviewer's laugh is a bit less genuine.

"Really?" he asks, sounding skeptical enough that Dan wonders if he ought to be offended. "And the two of you think the same? No chance?"

What? If they did want to be with Jaime, why the fuck would they say that in an interview right after she'd denounced them as romantic interests? Dan wonders if this guy understands that's an insane thing to expect, or if he's just trying to get a reaction out of them.

"Er, yeah," Dan says. He looks at his costars for backup. Jaime shrugs, and Patrick seems to have only just realised he's being spoken to and has the panic of 'what was just asked of me?' in his eyes that Dan is all too familiar with. He decides to word his answer clearly enough that he can help get Patrick up to speed as well. "I mean, like, we're all just good friends. I don't think any of us have any interest in more than that. And honestly, if we did disagree with Jaime, we wouldn't force our feelings on her anyway. That'd be fuc- I mean, that would be messed up."

He sees the glint of triumph in the interviewer's face and groans internally. Fuck, he should have stayed in bed.

"Interesting," he says, "that you've already thought about a situation where you have unrequited feelings for your on-screen girlfriend?"

Yeah, Dan thinks. Super interesting. He's kissed Jaime a thousand fucking times for the camera and it doesn't do anything for him, thanks ever so. He sighs and runs a hand through his straightened fringe so he doesn't slap himself in the face for opening this can of worms.

"Look, I get that a lot of fans want to know," Dan says, keeping his tone as light as possible. "The thing is that I'd like to keep my personal life private. I'm happy to tell you that it doesn't involve Jaime in any way, though."

"I'm fine with my personal life being public," Patrick deadpans. "There's nothing going on in it and that's how I like it. We're all equally pathetic that way, right?"

"Oi," Dan says, unable to hide his offense. The lack of sleep is really making his filter drop, and that's dangerous.

Jaime throws him a life vest before the interviewer can jump on his reaction, patting Dan's knee and saying, "You know, Patrick, some of us are pathetic in many more ways. Like, do you remember the time..."

And off she goes, weaving a story about Dan making an ass of himself. He interjects at all the right moments, laughs and groans in equal measure, covers his face when he starts to legitimately blush at the memory of an entire Starbucks thinking he'd gone insane.

He's comfortable with sharing that amount with his fans, he thinks. He's not dating Jaime, he never will be dating Jaime, and he's a private person. That's really all they need to know for now.

[blueyesandleatherjacket]

Ghost of you, 19/?

Volume: 1.

Number of parts: 19/?.

Pairings: Human!Nine x Rose; Human!Ten x Jack; Clara Oswald x Olivia Baxter (OC).

Synopsis: "He went straight to the restricted area where he had locked Colin and dismissed the guard standing there. He needed to talk with the scientist alone. It wouldn’t be nice."

A/N: I've started writing this fiction last year after I had a particularly weird dream (as usual) and after I wrote the prologue, I've put it aside to work on other stuff. I've gone back to it not so long ago and decided that it would be the fiction I would post next, after not posting anything for a while. I must have watched I am legend and Game of thrones way too much to come out with something like this but I hope you will like it. I am not a scientist, nor did I have a particular knowledge of sciences. I do my researches on the internet like everyone to make sure everything is as close to the reality as possible. I have a literature degree only. Writing is what I do and it makes me explore next fields, and learn new things.

“A man with outward courage dares to die; a man with inner courage dares to live.” - Lao Tzu.

CHAPTER 19:

Tegan was now standing before the sad and cold truth. He had delayed his meeting with Myrtle Appleton once again. A death in the building was a priority. They had to take down the possibility of a virus, of a possible infection. The lab was still in lockdown. If a virus had escaped, they were all screwed up. However, it was better not to think about the worst yet. Adam had been demoted. He was working in practise lab and had access to nothing really dangerous that was kept in this building. If something had been taken out of the sealed vaults, Tegan would have been told immediately and no such bad news had come to him. It was a relief not to have to deal with another potential risk of infection. He wasn’t ready to face another crisis that was as big as the noctiagus. He didn’t want his name to be associated to the death of hundred persons. They could add Adam on the list of the victims of the noctiagus but Tegan didn’t like the idea of a lie. Adam was just a kid. He certainly had parents waiting for him somewhere in the world. What would they say? How would they take the news? Tegan wasn’t a father himself so he couldn’t imagine the pain and devastation they would feel. He couldn’t tell them either that their son had committed suicide – because that was a suicide, right? They would ask questions and no one had the answers to them. No one but Adam. Adam that was now laying lifeless on the grey and cold ground of the lab. Rory had closed his eyes but Tegan had the feeling that he was looking straight at him and blaming him for his death. Because it was his fault. He hadn’t listened to his excuses and motives; he had put the blame on him for Maxence’s nearly death and demoted him. There was no way it could have been a murder. Tegan was clever enough to see that in the sad scene before his eyes. Adam had ended his life and done no mess. He created a bubble of air in the vein of his arm and when it reached his heart… Tegan swallowed. It was clean and quick, but also quite painful. “I found this next to him.” Rory was doing his usual round when he had found Adam. To him, it was clear that it was a suicide too, and the object he was holding out to Tegan was proving it: it was Adam’s professional tablet. They were all using one for their researches usually but the noctiagus had become their priority number one and all their researches had been put aside until better days came around. The neurologist took the device and unlocked it – Adam had taken down the security for them to have all access to it. The first thing that appeared on the screen was a video. A new entry to Adam’s personal log. Afraid of what he would hear, he pressed the play button. Adam Mitchell video log. Twelfth day of October 2017. Doctor Spitz. I know you won’t watch this video until you’re finally cured from the noctiagus but it’s okay. I really hope that you will make it through this virus and accomplish the great things you’re meant to. But that entry isn’t to congratulate you on your future successes. I’ve done terrible things, Doctor Spitz. I’ve betrayed your trust in me and that’s something I can never forgive myself for. One of those things was to nearly have killed you because of the Doctor Appleton. I admit it, I’ve been a victim of his methods, just like many of us here, in this lab. We were all assistants of the greatest minds in the UK and we weren’t satisfied with the little tasks they were giving us instead of the big stuff we were dreaming of. Colin offered us chances and we fell in his trap. Once we entered his cobweb, we were screwed. I happened to be the weakest member of this lot of young assistants. I wanted more and I was ready to play against the rules to get it. Naive and ambitious as I was, it was easy to manipulate me and to make me do almost anything. I’m guilty all down the line and this made me Colin’s puppet. I regret everything I did. It didn’t take long for the Doctor Smith to make me confess my crimes. I fully understood his reaction and punishment. He’s been fair to everyone in this building and would be a great leader if the offer was ever done to him. However, all what I’ve done can’t be undone and so the guilt is eaten me up to the point it has become unbearable. The Doctor Burnley can’t help me. Not anymore. I’ve gone too far by almost killing you. I would have gone to the police if it still existed but the only way to get redemption for my crimes is to die myself. I’m sorry for all the mess my death will cause. I hope you’ll all find the cure and save the world. Thank you for everything. The video ended this way but there was another one, a shorter one in which Adam was giving a list of names. It was all the names of people that had followed Colin in his plans and helped him create a mess in the whole place. Tegan would have to deal with that. But later, when Adam’s body would be taken care of, when the cure would be found. But he was gonna keep a close eye on these people, even if Colin was locked away. “Use a crate and take his body to the morgue. Put him in the cold room. I want him to be treated with respect until we can find his family. Not a word about this to anyone.” Rory gave a nod. Tegan could trust him. He would do his job with all the confidentiality and respect needed. The neurologist left the office, his guts completely knotted and his headache definitely worse than earlier. He was dreaming of a good night of sleep but that wouldn’t be before a while. He rushed to the sterile room that was keeping Myrtle Appleton prisoner. His mental image of the scientist was shattered by the actual being. He had never met her before, nor had he read her works. He knew the name but not the face but he had expected her to kinda look like Colin, almost like evil twins. But Myrtle didn’t look anything like him. Less serious, more eccentric, and she had that spark of cold intelligence in her eyes. But she looked more “human”, more manipulable than her brother. “That’s not how I imagined the great Maxence Spitz,” were her first words. It felt quite weird to be standing in front of this particular specimen, in front of the creator of the noctiagus. There was something comical to see the virus eating out half of her being when the other persisted to remain fully human. The perfect representation of the balance of things in a corrupted person. “You’re very different from your brother,” he responded calmly. “Colin, Colin, Colin,” she hummed, “Always the name. It’s always him, the genius, the man of success. Until he met you, his biggest rival. Now it sounds more like ‘the song of Maxence Spitz”, the man who ruled the world of sciences’.” “But the world will sing your name after that.” “Not in the right terms I’m afraid,” she sighed. “This was never what I wanted.” “What did you want?” “Cure the Xeroderma Pigmentosum. In the end, I just made something worse and that’s the only part of the story the world will retain.” “Not if you help us.” Myrtle had expected this answer from the great Maxence Spitz – not knowing that the man she wasn’t speaking to wasn’t Maxence at all – and it was the precise reason why she was here but she wasn’t gonna jump on this opportunity so fast. She didn’t need any of them. She just had to wait for death to come and take her. However, they needed her. Desperately. Even if they had had access to all her researches, they had codified all the information. If they didn’t find the code she had used, they wouldn’t go anywhere. “What’s to win for me?” “I don’t know. That’s up to you.” “You’re asking what I want?” She was incredulous. How was working this man? Was he dumb or something? She could have taken full advantage of him but this answer had surprised her so much that she couldn’t express a clear idea of what she wanted. Or was it the noctiagus working on her? She felt so slow suddenly. Such a shame that such a brilliant mind has to end this way, thought Tegan to himself. He was wondering if she was really thinking about a possible answer or just making him think she was. As a neurologist, he knew well the damages the noctiagus could have on a brain. The process was being slow in her case but it would reach its goal eventually. She would end up like the millions of persons outside this place. Unless she was lucky. It had been proven that the virus was touching more men than women, that women could resist it better. Once again, they were being the strongest. “We don’t negotiate with terrorists and you’re not one, am I wrong?” “No, you’re not.” “And you’ve come here to give us a hand to earn your redemption in the eyes of the world.” “If you think so.” “Why would you come here knowing that you’re gonna be arrested?” “You weren’t supposed to know I’m the one behind this whole mess.” She was playing around but Tegan wasn’t an idiot. Despite the lack of sleep, he was very attentive to the sign of fatigue doubled by the relentless attacks of the virus on her system. She had lost her balance a couple times. Just an imperceptible move of her feet had brought it to his attention. And now, she was having a solid grip on the table beside her. “The thing is, we do.” “Obviously.” She was too tired to keep standing and she nonchalantly hauled her bottom on the table to rest her legs. She leaned on her hands. She was losing ground and she understood better why Colin hated Maxence Spitz this much. This man was so clever it was annoying. He was taking all her ripostes to pieces with that odious calm. She had wanted an argument with him, something brilliant and powerful. She had to settle for this instead. She let out a deep sigh. “I want two promises.” “Sounds like something I can do.” “First, I don’t want Colin to know I’m here. Wherever he is, whatever he is doing, keep him away from here.” He would disapprove of her decision and come here to ‘save’ her if he was to learn that she was locked in there. He would also make acerbic comments on her stupidity. She didn’t need that now. Her decision was taken and irrevocable. She was collaborating with his enemies. “Will do.” “Second...” She didn’t finish her sentence. This was the hardest part of that deal. He could refuse to do this because it would be going against the moral codes, against their professional oath. However, this decision was also definitive. It was her time. “Don’t cure me. Just let me end my life here or wherever you want to. I just don’t wanna survive this.” The silence he returned in response to her second promise was eloquent. First, he was shocked. He wasn’t used to be confronted to this question. They were facing a life or death situation every day but facing a person asking you to let herself die, to do nothing to help… it was different. It was a failure to assist a person in danger. But it wasn’t the only reason. He could interpret this demand as a way to avoid the consequences of her acts. She created this mess and she wouldn’t take the full responsibility for it. It wasn’t the reason behind it but it was useless to try and tell him. He wouldn’t understand. “I can’t do that.” “I was worried you’d say that.” “What other option there was?” “Accepting the deal.” “You’re asking for mercy.” “I’m demanding the death sentence. Let me die by my own hand.” “Judge, juror and executioner. You’re picking the easy way.” “I never said I wouldn’t face the consequences of my act. The virus doesn’t kill and I have all my mental abilities. You can denounce me if you want and force me to face the consequences. You can even punish me yourself if that’s what you’re wishing for.” “What kind of man do you think I am?” A man that wouldn’t send another human being to death without a good reason. He was a man of words, a man with a consciousness and a good morale. A man who had been raised well. The decision was hard to take but he didn’t have much of a choice. It was either accepting and getting help or leaving Maxence to die. “Fine. You won’t be cured, if cure we find. What about that virus?” “Works like a cancer, spreads like AIDS.” “Sexual transmission is on the list but it’s not the only way.” “Fluids. Blood, saliva, sperm. That’s it. That’s the transmission. A simple cut on your hand and you’re screwed.” “Well, gives us a good lead.” If there was anything to add to this talk, Tegan would never know. They weren’t many to know where Myrtle Appleton was detained and this very few persons were aware that he didn’t want to be bothered. Except if there was an emergency. The presence of the Doctor Jack Harkness in his corridor was the sign of imminent troubles. What in the world was gonna fall on their heads again?

x

Rory couldn’t remember seeing this anywhere but in these dramatic movies that were always ending well for the heroes of the story: the command post had called all units to tell all the security guards that were the closest to the energetic resources’ areas that they had to run there. Troubles had been detected around here and since this place was supplying the whole CRCD with electricity, internet access and non-infected drinkable water, if something was to develop a fault, it would be the end for all of them. This whole building was protected at all times to avoid any unwanted visitor from sabotaging the generators. For the last couples of days, the security had noticed movements outside the outer wall of the Centre. They had thought it was nightwalkers but a round in daylight had shown that they were survivors looking for a new shelter, for answers, for the end of all of this. No one but the security knew about their presence and everyone had been watching their every move to make sure they weren’t dangerous. However, the fact to be ignored while they were perfectly aware that they were scrutinised was infuriating them. That was the most worrying. There was a team of a dozen persons doing rounds all day and all night and they were armed with guns and makeshift weapons. It was like watching an adaptation of The Walking Dead. Frightening. The tension was now palpable and since Allegro wasn’t there to give clear orders, Rory had temporarily been named head of the security teams. He wasn’t as good as their usual boss but he was doing his best. Nevertheless, his best wasn’t enough at the moment since they were facing one of these situations they had all prayed to never see in real life. For the last five years, they had managed to keep their generators safe and working. To save the energy, the unnecessary stuff had been deactivated. Only the labs and the personal quarters were still supplied with energy. The internet network was reserved to the labs. They had a phone network that was still working too, but almost no one to contact outside. It was just useful to communicate with people from the labs making it easier to communicate the information and reacting to emergencies. Of course, after five years, the services couldn’t be as good as they used to be at first and they had had power-cuts that never lasted long. They had become more frequent during the last few months and it was getting worrying. If it wasn’t fixed quickly, they would have to abandon the place and destroy it completely. What was inside this building must never come out of it. Today, the supply had been considerably reduced in all the building. Several dysfunctions had been detected and reports had been sent to the technicians who were taking care of the maintenance. They weren’t as many as they used to be because they were infected or preferred staying with their families when things had gone south. The few persons that were left had informed them that the malfunctions were too important to be fixed as quickly as usual. Now, the final diagnosis had fallen: the malfunctions didn’t come from the machines, it had been created by a human hand. No one from the maintenance team was responsible. A group of survivors had noticed that the area sometimes wasn’t as secured as it looked and they managed to come in and vandalise their energy resources. They hoped to get attention that way. With that major failure, the security of the place was compromised. The security teams were quickly overwhelmed by the angry survivors sneaking in and getting their revenge. The situation quickly became out of control but Rory wasn’t gonna let those troublemakers ruin all their efforts. “Call the command post! Let the Doctor Smith know that we’re launching emergency program 5!” Emergency program 5 was another one of those programs that had been set to protect the whole Centre and its workers. It was a complete lockdown of the place with the obligation for the personal to go to safety. Those people wouldn’t get in. And if they managed to, they wouldn’t be able to lay their filthy hands on their works or colleagues. Rory just hoped that there wouldn’t be too many victims of this insurrection.

x

Tegan ran to Rose’s office. The alarm was already resounding in the whole building but he knew he would find her there because she would never leave Maxence to a fate worse than the one he was facing currently. She would never accept going to safety while he was left to meet people that would kill him without a second thought. Many people were thinking that the sick persons couldn’t be cured and that it was useless to try anymore. As the nightwalkers were becoming violent – Maxence himself had been the victim of this violence – they were slaughtering them to keep themselves safe, to clean the city and to take a fresh start in a better world. However, the nightwalkers were humans and murdering them wasn’t the solution. They had to be patient, just a little bit longer and they would be cured. Tegan used the master key and got into Rose’s office. The young woman turned around surprised to hear someone coming in her second office so easily and the sight of a breathless, slipshod with a deep worried frown on his face boss had her on alert. She could hear the alarm and the automatic message saying that emergency protocol 5 was activated but she was ignoring it to continue her researches. “What’s going on?” She checked the screen of her tablet. Maxence’s vital signs were worrying but he was still alive so he wasn’t the problem. Allegro had been released from his cage a few minutes ago and was now taking a decontaminating shower. She had noticed that the electricity of the building was having some failures and the latest one wasn’t fixed yet. The second generator had taken over but it was less powerful than the main one. Tegan took a deep breath and quickly delivered his orders to Rose. “You go in the cage and pull him into a hazmat suit. You two go to the hyperbaric chamber and wait for me. I’ll lock it myself.” Her heartbeats increased at the urgency in his voice and when he opened the door to rush out to give new orders, she could hear, above the shrill sound of the alarm, voices. The security was yelling and hitting and firing and there were others screams. People screaming. Screams of rage, screams of pain. Her face went pale. With the main generator down, the outer wall was vulnerable. They were invaded. It was a wonder why it never happened before, why people never tried to get in here to get answers sooner while the town was falling into chaos. “I just gotta let you know…” Tegan walked closer to her and looked behind him to be sure they were alone. He put a hand on her shoulder and lowered his voice. Once again, he was making sure no one would hear the information he would give her. It was no good sign. “The results of the last scans…” he hesitated. “They’re not great. The attack… It… His brain has been more affected than I’ve told Liv and Clara. I’m not sure he’ll fully recover, Rose, and his pain sensors, … they’re hyper sensitive. He’s in pain. All the time.” The time for Rose to process the information, Tegan was already gone. She grabbed all the papers related to their current researches and threw them into a satchel she passed on her shoulder. She ran out of her office and went to the lockers. She pulled her own hazmat suit and picked one for Maxence. She dropped her satchel in front of the cage, came through the airlock and ran to Maxence. His inexpressive black eyes turned to her. Good. He knew she was there. “Honey, we’re having an emergency.” She cupped his cheek, ignoring the painful stab in her heart when he shuddered. “I have to take you out of here. For safety purposes.” She freed him from all the machines he was connected to and dressed him into the hazmat suit. His grunts and whines of pain were breaking her heart but she didn’t have the time to be delicate. She couldn’t hear the screams in the cage as it was perfectly soundproofed but she had the feeling that they were coming close. She dragged her husband through the airlock, got her satchel back and made her way to the hyperbaric chamber room. Maxence was weakly protesting but she was doing this for his sake. “Come on, Max. I’ve been told. I can’t know what you’re going through but please, help me on this one.” He was so vulnerable, so weak, so in pain and she was forcing him to move, to walk faster than he could. They reached the room and she sat him down on the ground just the time to unlock the chamber. She never used it before and she hadn’t studied its manual. She had it in hand now as she was trying to open it and put her husband to safety. The technology was reacting negatively to her attempts though. She grew angry and anxious as her hands were typing on the keyboard, as the screams were getting closer. The security was overwhelmed and there was no one able to stop the invaders. She had to be quick. Maxence was now lying on the ground, his painful body looking for the most comfortable way to rest. Breathing was the hardest thing at the moment. It felt like he had a huge mountain sitting on his chest, crushing him, smashing all his bones at once. The suit wasn’t helping. The plastic fabric was giving him the inner feeling that he was locked in a room closing its walls on him. Add to this that all the noises were amplified in this plastic prison and that he was being half blind and dying. It was terrifying. Just like those footsteps he heard close to him. He groaned when a foot collided with his ribs. Rose yelled something he couldn’t understand in the midst of the ringing bells of pain. The response of the attacker was as cold and clear as ice though. “He shouldn’t be allowed to live.” Maxence swallowed. If this guy was here to kill him, he better do it fast before his heart or lungs or brain stopped working. Which should be imminent. But the man was much more interested in Rose. He hadn’t seen such a beautiful woman in a while, let alone touch one so he was gonna have some fun before doing his duty. Rose fought him. She wasn’t gonna let him lay a finger on her with his dirty criminal hands. He was telling her insanities and she just wanted to puke on his face and kick his balls. She knew how to defend herself but this situation reminded her too much of her past. The panic was reaching her and all she could think of was that she was gonna be a victim. Again. And right before the eyes of her dying husband…

To be continued...

Ghost of you © | 2017 - 2019 | Tous droits réservés.

×××

In the next chapter:

The pain was another factor. It was the main factor. Since his brain had restarted from his cerebral attack earlier, all of his pain sensors seemed to be on fire. It was as if he had been in a car accident and all his bones were broken. He was still in the car. No, he was under this wrecked car that was crushing him under its heavy metallic and plastic carcass. When Rose has caught him earlier, when she had moved him from his bed and deprived him from air, she would have cried out if it could have been a relief instead of adding more pain to his poor shattered self. He had made no effort to move more, just let her drag his body to this room where he was now dying alone. Black dots filled his field of vision recovering the mask of opaque steam on his helmet window. It was the lack of oxygen that was killing him. That, and the fact he was fighting a virus ruining his DNA.

×××

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English version:

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[tuneful-ramblings]

The Kick Inside - Kate Bush: Album Review

Release Date: 17th Feb 1978

Hello

And so it has begun. Welcome to Tuneful Ramblings, where I plan to review/discuss a wide variety of music, whether it’s music I’ve loved for years, something I���ve just discovered or something someone has requested me to review. Oh, and one last thing: There will be rambling. You have been warned. :)

What is it to me?

I’ve chosen to begin with one of my all time favourite albums by one of my all time favourite artists. There will probably be a fair amount of bias in this review, and I’m not sorry about it.

The Context

Picture the scene. It’s 1978, Britain. Things are okay, but something is missing and no one is quite sure why. Until… hark! A distant warbling can be heard over the rolling English countryside. It gets closer and closer until it lands amongst the mortals and suddenly, everything falls into place. For the first time, Kate Bush graces the speakers and screens of anyone brave enough to listen. And all across the land, everything is well.

The Tracks

1) Moving ‘Don’t think it over, it always takes you over’ The Kick Inside’s first track, Moving begins with 20 seconds of whale noises (because why the hell not?), establishing the somewhat meditative atmosphere of the album. I can’t name any other songs that start in this way. (Actually, I can, and I will in a minute.) Anyway, after those 20 seconds, the whale is upstaged by Bush’s famously high songbird-like call. Shockingly, she sings about movement in this song, apparently as a tribute to her mime instructor. It does have a kind of rhythm that makes me want to sway, so I guess she succeeded there. I’m no drummer, but I must say that the soft drumstick tapping and occasional quiet cymbal are pleasantly relaxing. Moving is not my top pick from the album, but I like it more each time I hear it. Ramble Rating: 8/10

2) The Saxophone Song ‘Of all the stars I’ve seen that shine so brightly, / I’ve never known or felt in myself so rightly’ The second song on the album begins with, you guessed it, more whale noises! It always strikes me how young and sprightly Bush’s voice sounds in this song. I can’t believe she was around my age when some of these songs were recorded (and I’m still fresh out of the womb). Honestly, I’m not entirely sure of the song’s meaning (and why should I be? I didn’t write the blinkin’ thing), but it’s the kind of tune that very easily gets stuck in my head. Long story short though, if you like the sounds of whales and saxophones, you’ll probably enjoy this one. Ramble Rating: 8/10

3) Strange Phenomena ‘You pick up a paper. You read a name. / You go out. It turns up again and again.’ Strange Phenomena explores the link between female energy and the universe, and the psychic powers women are said to gain around that time of the month. Previously to hearing this song, I wasn’t aware of this myth, and I’m not sure if I can testify in favour of it because I like to think I’m quite psychic all the time, regardless of the ‘phase of the moon’. Only quite psychic though, not enough to make a living out of it. But yes, as someone who experiences a lot of coincidences *cough* accurate premonitions *cough* in my every day life, the lyrics of this song speak to me. Ramble Rating: 8/10

4) Kite ‘I got no limbs, I’m like a feather on the wind / I’m not sure if I want to be up here at all’ I always assumed this song was simply about escapism but, upon revision, I’ve discovered it’s true that if you assume, you really do make an ‘ass’ out of ‘u’ and ‘me’. With mention of Beelzebub and not knowing ‘how to get down’, I now theorize that Kite may revolve around being coerced to leave your life behind based on someone else’s promises and then regretting it. Or maybe not. I don’t know. Ramble Rating: 7/10

5) The Man with the Child in His Eyes ‘Maybe he doesn’t love me / I just took a trip on my love for him’ This beautiful song is almost a lullaby, rocking our inner children to sleep. Maybe our inner children can learn from our outer elders. Or maybe we can learn from others with inner children. Okay, I’m done. Ramble Rating: 9/10

6) Wuthering Heights ‘Too long I roam in the night / I’m coming back to his side, to put it right’  Wuthering Heights was Kate’s first big hit and is probably her most iconic track. Now, I don’t want to sound dramatic here, but this song changed my life. After rediscovering this video a couple of years ago, I fell in love with three things: Kate Bush, Noel Fielding and Emily Bronte’s novel, Wuthering Heights. I’m not going to bore you with the details, but, long story short, I can see many aspects of my life and creativity which have been influenced in some way by this holy trinity. For that, I am eternally grateful. Oh yes, and at some point, I taught myself the entire dance routine from Bush’s ‘red dress’ Wuthering Heights music video. No regrets. I’m sure it’ll come in handy one day… Ramble Rating: 10/10

7) James and the Cold Gun ‘You’re a coward James / You’re running away from humanity / You’re running out on reality’ I don’t know who James is, but this song is lit. Yep, I really did just say that. I don’t know how else to describe it. You just have to hear it for yourself. I dare you to listen to this song without tapping your foot. Ramble Rating: 9/10

8) Feel It ‘The glorious union, well, it could be love / Or it could be just lust but it will be fun’ Tracks 8, 9 and 10 appear to be a collection of songs about love. Feel It is a rather sensual song, and I’m not sure quite what to say about it. I do really like it though, and it’s certainly another earworm. Ramble Rating: 8/10

9) Oh to Be in Love ‘I could have been anyone / You could have been anyone’s dream’ As a friend of mine once said, Oh to Be in Love is a very theatrical song. I don’t know about you, but it makes me want to parade about doing some kind of improvise musical theatre routine (who am I kidding, that is what I do!). It also makes me want to be in love with someone who isn’t a fictional character portrayed by Colin Firth (or indeed, Colin Firth himself). But I suppose that’s a story for another day. Ramble Rating: 7/10

10) L'Amour Looks Something Like You ‘The thought of you sends me shivery / I’m dressed in lace, sailing down a black reverie’ This is another track which has grown on me over time. It is nice. I like it. Wow, my reviewing skills are second to none right now. (My apologies, it’s gone midnight, but I’m determined to get this post finished today, it’s been far too long in the making.) This song often catches me out because the little twinkle at the very beginning sounds a lot like Wuthering Heights. Ramble Rating: 8/10

11) Them Heavy People ‘I must work on my mind / For now I realize / Everyone of us has a heaven inside’ I think Them Heavy People is all about potential we all hold within us. This is something that I think many people forget, or lack confidence in, as I’ve always believed that half of succeeding at something is believing that you can do it. The song is also a bop. Ramble Rating: 8/10

12) Room for the Life ‘Like it or not, we were built tough / Because we’re woman’ I’m not entirely sure whether this song is a celebration of motherhood or of womanhood in general, but, regardless, it has a lovely, jaunty, reggae-ish beat, and stands out from the rest of the album, sound-wise. I recall a recent episode of BBC’s Pointless where one of the three questions in the final round was to try to guess a song from The Kick Inside that could be pointless (meaning that none of the people in the ‘survey’ had said it), and the lady answering seemed to have merged Room for the Life with Them Heavy People, resulting her answering with ‘Heavy Woman’. Oh how I did chuckle. Besides that, Room for the Life makes me feel that, although I don’t particularly want to have a baby, it’s nice to know that I can. Ramble Rating: 7/10

13) The Kick Inside ‘Your sister I was born. / You must lose me like an arrow, / Shot into the killer storm.’ And last, but certainly not least, we come to the title track, The Kick Inside. The first time I listened to this track, I thought it was all well and good, until I heard ‘Your sister I was born’, and, well, I was rather disturbed and taken aback. I knew there must have been some interesting meaning behind the song’s incestuous tone, so I headed straight to the Kate Bush Encyclopedia, to find that it was inspired by a traditional folk song called Lucy Wan. This is probably the saddest song on the album, as it is essentially a suicide note written by a woman who has become pregnant with her brother’s baby and feels she must kill herself to save his reputation. Ramble Rating: 10/10

And on that light-hearted note, we have reached the end of this journey. Don’t expect my future reviews to be quite this long. It is only because this is one of my favourite albums that I had so much to say about it. Do let me know what you think of The Kick Inside, and please leave any requests for music you would like me to review next. :)

OVERALL RAMBLE RATING FOR ‘THE KICK INSIDE’ ALBUM: 8.2/10

[enbouton]

Better Call Saul Rewatch, Part 4/30: Upon This Rock I Will Build My Church

Hero (Season 1, Episode 4)

Written by Gennifer Hutchison / Directed by Colin Bucksey

This episode deals largely with identities. Jimmy is Saul Goodman, he’s Slippin’ Jimmy, he’s Howard Hamlin, he’s his own receptionist on the phone, he’s Tony Curtis in the bath scene in Spartacus, he’s a local lawyer and a local hero. It’s fitting that we open with a flashback showing young Jimmy using the name “Saul” for the very first time, and just as fitting that it’s done without fanfare: it’s tossed out as a half-joke. “S’all good, man!” Jimmy, in a garish, slithery-looking striped shirt, leads his mark down the alley where his partner in crime awaits. The unhurried pace of this sequence is very effective, suiting the stillness of nighttime Cicero and the low-key nature of Jimmy and Marco’s con.

The flashbacks on this show (with the exception of the corner-store one) all take place at night or in dimly lit rooms; here’s some good meta that touches on how Jimmy thrives in darkness. Is it significant that the first Slippin’ Jimmy con we see is one that wouldn’t work on an honest person? Jimmy needs a mark who’s willing to make off with the "Rolex”, thinking he’s got one over on the rube who settled for $1,580 in cash.

Afterwards, Marco is radiant with admiration for Jimmy— “I love watching you work”— but Jimmy says his talents are good for beer money, and that’s about all. Again: what would have happened to this guy if he hadn’t had to leave Cicero? This is not the face of a man who’s happy with where he is in life:

(It is the face of a man who’s being "haunted by the ghost of vladimir lenin” (@deadpanwalking), but I digress.)

Back in the present, Craig and Betsy stand over a pile of money and stress that what they did was “for the kids” (sound familiar?). In substance if not style, Jimmy’s pitch to the Kettlemans bears more than a little resemblance to Kim’s pitch to Mesa Verde: “What are you gonna get from me that you won’t get from those other guys? Passion. Commitment ... If you’re with me, you’re my number one client, morning, noon or night. You call me, I’m there. I would be singularly devoted to you.” But Betsy isn’t swayed: “You’re the kind of lawyer guilty people hire.” Ouch. Exhausted and beaten down, Jimmy takes their bribe.

Nacho, now released, surmises that Jimmy tipped off the Kettlemans. I like that Nacho is as smart as Jimmy. I like that the show generally surrounds Jimmy with people who are as smart as he is. Jimmy counters that Nacho didn’t need any help making himself look suspicious, and Nacho stalks off.

As Jimmy launders his money, assigning stacks of cash to “consulting fees”, “research” and “travel expenses”, he constructs yet another alternate self, this one belonging to a narrative in which he worked for the Kettlemans.

We see Jimmy getting measured for an expensive, conservative suit, yet when the tailor steps out of the room, something wonderful happens:

#it’s like watching a baby being born #a really tacky baby

But Jimmy isn’t just using his windfall to smarten up; he’s playing a long con involving a billboard exactly mimicking one of Howard Hamlin’s, ringlets and all.

Small brain: using your ill-gotten seed money to advertise your business

Galaxy brain: dressing up as your enemy, buying a provocative billboard that you know you'll be forced to take down, hiring a film crew, then bribing a worker to fall off the billboard so that you’ll get on the local news for rescuing him

“He’s… you know, a free spirit,” Kim says, having been dragged out of the office to look at it. She demurs when asked if she and Jimmy are still friends, which, tbh, is fair enough, given how Jimmy behaves around Hamlin (we’ll get into that later). There’s lots to think about with Jimmy literally dressing up as Hamlin, recreating his look down to the smallest detail. Once again he’s taking on another persona, albeit just to achieve a short-term goal. “What kind of lawyer are you going to be?” Kim will ask him in season 2. It’s a question Jimmy seems to keep asking himself.

In the midst of Jimmy and Hamlin’s clash, we get an early glimpse at the tightrope Kim is expected to walk at HHM. She shouldn’t feel the need to lie about who her friends are in order to stay in her boss’ good graces, yet she does, and later on she breaks off a friendly conversation with Jimmy to hand over a cease & desist letter. With Kim, BCS dodges the “successful woman has to choose between career and relationship” trope in favour of something much more interesting, a woman facing uncertainty and unfairness in both spheres. Kim’s relationship with Jimmy isn’t even the main reason she’s treated unfairly at work, and her allegiance to HHM isn’t what’s keeping her and Jimmy apart.

The billboard comes down, but not before Jimmy has himself filmed in front of it, first speaking to camera about the injustice he’s faced, then racing up a ladder to rescue the worker whom he bribed to take a fall. It’s fascinating to watch how Jimmy tells his story here. He hits all the right beats— patriotism, bootstraps, public service, the dream of owning one’s own business— and casts himself as the all-American underdog who “scrimped and saved” to buy a billboard only to have it snatched away from him. We’ll see Jimmy employ a lot of these tropes in his advertising later on; this is his skill at face-to-face communication writ large, but the foundation of the billboard con is his ability to create situations that he can manipulate to his advantage.

When Jimmy drags the worker back up onto the walkway and the two slap hands, we finally see his angle. Watching him on the news in the HHM boardroom, Howard mutters “whole thing’s a damn stunt” and walks off. Kim gives a little smile.

The one part of the situation that Jimmy can’t control is his brother. He has the foresight to keep the newspaper from him, but he can’t account for Chuck’s pedantic attention to detail. Of course Chuck will wonder why his newspaper wasn’t delivered; of course he’ll look outside and see that all his neighbours have theirs; of course he’ll deduce that there’s something in the paper that Jimmy doesn’t want him to see, and cross-reference this against what Jimmy told him about a sudden change in his fortune; and this, perhaps combined with the urgent care receipt that fell out of Jimmy’s pocket a few weeks prior, will concern him enough that he’s compelled to go outside.

The show has already tipped its hand re: the true cause of Chuck’s symptoms, but that’s almost beside the point here: what matters is that they are real and debilitating. As soon as he steps outside, he’s overwhelmed, his senses are deranged, and he nearly runs into the path of a car in his haste to get across the road. The chaotic, visceral sequence ends with a blackly comic cut to his neighbour’s perspective. From the outside, this proud, suffering man is just a crazy guy in a space blanket, scurrying back to his door.

Misc.

“You assume that criminals are gonna be smarter than they are,” Jimmy muses to Mike. “I don’t know. Kinda breaks my heart a little.”

IIRC, the billboard, which went up for filming in Albuquerque in 2014, was how we all found out Saul’s original first name.

A wall of glass blocks appears prominently behind Jimmy and his mark as they walk down the alley. Marco’s fake ID, in the name of Henry Gondorff, bears an issue date of July 1991.

What we see of Kim’s office is devoid of personal items, except for a pair of sensible sneakers on the floor.

Timeframe: this episode picks up right where “Nacho” left off and covers a period of about two weeks. The Albuquerque Journal is dated June 20, 2002; Chuck’s copies of the New York Times and Wall Street Journal bear cover stories that were published on June 19th or 20th (they are “Israel Acts to Seize Arab Land After Blast; Bush Delays Talk” and ”Unhappy Returns: IRS Moves to Bring Back Random Audits”).

Music

“Smoke on the Water” by Deep Purple (1972), sung by Marco

“Listen” by Chicago (1969), as Marco and Jimmy smoke

“Battle Hymn of the Republic” by Herbie Mann (1969), as Jimmy launders his money. Saul plays a different version of this song in his waiting room in Breaking Bad.

“Unsquare Dance” by the Dave Brubeck Quartet (1961), as Jimmy calls the media

References

Young Jimmy offers to take his mark to a place “a couple blocks off Cermak”. He’s referring to Cermak Road, a major east-west thoroughfare that runs through Cicero, neighbouring Berwyn, and parts of southern and western Chicago.

“Super 170 Tasmanian wool”: the “Super” number corresponds to the diameter of the wool fibres; the higher the number, the finer (and more expensive) the cloth. 170s wool suiting is very fine, soft and lightweight. More info here.

Sea Island cotton: a variety of extra long staple cotton historically grown in the Caribbean and named after the area of South Carolina:

“Sea Island cotton is the ultimate choice for any suiting connoisseur due to its unrivaled softness and second skin-like feel. This ancient fibre is now grown mainly in the paradise climates of Barbados, Antigua and Jamaica; its inherent long staple yarns create a silky yet strong surface, resisting wear while smoothing over time. Extremely scarce, it makes up just 0.0004% of longer staple yarn production.“ (Turnbull & Asser, where you can buy a Sea Island cotton shirt for £345/$456)

French cuffs: double cuffs that are folded back and fastened with cufflinks; a very formal style

Club collar: a white collar with rounded points, created by alumni of Eton College who wanted their dress to indicate that they belonged to that exclusive “club”. All in all, the elements of Hamlin’s signature look connote wealth and sophistication in a formal, conservative way.

Jimmy refers to Tony Curtis’ appearance in a particular scene in the 1960 epic Spartacus. It’s worth noting that the scene, which features two men bathing together and some heavy innuendo about “snails” and “oysters”, was considered so homoerotic that it was cut entirely by the censors and only restored to the film in 1991 (source). You can watch part of the scene here.

Kim invites Jimmy to a screening of The Thing (1982), a horror film about a group of researchers in Antarctica encountering a parasitic alien entity.

While talking to reporters, Jimmy mentions Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, investigative journalists who covered the Watergate scandal.

The Groucho Marx mirror routine Howard refers to is this scene from Duck Soup (1933).

< PREVIOUS EPISODE: NACHO > NEXT EPISODE: ALPINE SHEPHERD BOY

[pattie-remembers]

Pattie Boyd: What my marriage to George Harrison and Eric Clapton taught me

6 May 2018 — 12:00am

My maternal grandfather, Alexander, was an extraordinary man. He spent much of his life in India with the British Army building bridges and railway lines. He moved to Kenya with my grandmother and had a beautiful house. He loved his rose trees and was a gentle man for a soldier.

Grandfather Boyd [her paternal grandfather] was a wild guy who lived in Cornwall on a big farm. He worked as a miner and had sheep and cattle; he loved riding his motorbike. He knew when his time was up: the story goes that he walked into acres of shrouded mist at Bodmin Moor and continued walking until he died. It's a very romantic ending.

My mother, Diana, met my father, Colin, at a dance at the age of 16. He was handsome, in the army, and they fell in love. He became a pilot and had a bad crash and was hospitalised. He was badly damaged but my mother promised to marry him. She felt she had to go through with the marriage, but he was never the same.

My father didn't remember me being born, which seems odd to me. He was very quiet. I don't really know if he loved me. He died two years ago.

I am the oldest of four children born to my parents. My brother Colin is two years younger and I have two sisters, Jenny and Paula.

We moved to East Africa to be with my maternal grandparents between 1948 and 1953. Colin and I were both sent to Catholic boarding school.

I remember begging my mother as an eight-year-old to stay home. It taught me independence. I didn't understand why they didn't want me at home. My mother had too many children and wanted to clear the deck a little.

I was nine when we went back to England. My mother and father separated around this time and she remarried [to Boyd's stepfather Robert]. She moved to England first with my two sisters and left me and my brother with my father for a few months. I had no idea what was going on. It felt like a terrible dream when she said, "Meet your new father."

I have two half-brothers, David [nine years younger] and Robert [11 years younger]. I loved them as babies and pushed them around in prams during school holidays.

My stepfather left my mother after six years together. He fell in love with a neighbour and my mother was heartbroken. She is 94 now.

I had my first kiss around age 16 with a local boy who played tennis. It was exciting, but I viewed boys as brothers more than the kissing kind.

I moved out of home at 17. I got a job at an Elizabeth Arden salon in London and then started modelling.

My first boyfriend was a photographer, Jean-Claude. He was handsome and encouraged me to be a model. We only kissed and he left me for another girl. We are still friends.

I then dated photographer Eric Swayne for a year. He died in 2007 and I am close friends with his son Tom. I wasn't a go-getter girl. I was really shy.

I married the Beatles' George Harrison in early 1966 aged 21 [she left Swayne for Harrison]. We connected and it was all on very quickly. He was the one who wanted to get married; my memory of marriage was of my mother having two husbands. Once George and I married, I didn't want to get divorced but it happened eventually in 1977. We drifted in different directions.

My celebrity crush was Elvis Presley. I got to meet him at Madison Square Garden with George in 1972. I was around John Lennon a fair bit, too. He was exciting but could be a bit scary.

I married Eric Clapton in 1979. We divorced in 1989. I had that wonderful, childlike belief that love would last forever. You don't realise until you live through life that fairytales aren't true.

Through my time with Eric, I learnt that women are far more emotional than men and rely heavily on feelings. I don't think men can be destroyed by their emotions. They hold back. I think Eric was like that.

I first met Rod Weston, a property developer, in the '80s in Sri Lanka while on holiday with friends. We started dating in 1994. We married in 2015 and have a nice relationship that's warm and friendly, with no pressure. That is a relief.

https://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/music/pattie-boyd-what-my-marriage-to-george-harrison-and-eric-clapton-taught-me-20180503-p4zd46.html

[ultradoux]

2020 Reading List

Because in the end it was a great year for reading! Just a list of the books I read this year, with comments that (maybe) get progessively more boozy as I go on

1. The Historian - Elizabeth Kostova: A really irritating read to start out this year (feels prescient?). Only worth it for the travel log features of places like Istanbul, Amsterdam, and most of Eastern Europe. Even Dracula was completely boring and useless. 

2. Howard’s End - E.M. Forster: Love, love, I will forever whore myself out for bright women acting mildly rebellious in Edwardian England, love

3. Les liaisons dangereuses - Choderlos de Laclos : Pas un seul personnage aimable, c’est magnifique, 10/10

4. The Brothers Karamazov - Feodor Dostoevsky: Did I read this as a flex in early confinement mode? Absolutely. Did I enjoy it? Christ no. If I have to read one more Christ allegory I’m climbing up on that cross myself. 4/5.

5. Chéri - Colette : C’était mignon et trop sucré, comme de la pâte aux amandes. Moins de 100 pages, du coup à avaler dans une gorgée. 

6. Pride and Prejudice (for maybe the 8th time?) - Jane Austen: Substitute “Regency” for “Edwardian” in the comment for Howard’s End and I’ll literally start vibrating. I want to be buried with this book, preferably with 90s Colin Firth, too

7. The Sorrows of Young Werther - Goethe: I go through more sorrows in seven hours of existing than Werther did in his whole life. Pass. 

8. The Epic of Gilgamesh: Ok, fine, I skimmed. You ever try reading a religious text out of respect and interest, not being very religious yourself, only half the text is missing and it’s been written so long ago that most of it is gibberish until you stumble upon a few lines that reach across millennia and sucker punch you? Similar experience. Hard to find a good translation. 

9. Mémoires d’Hadrien - Marguerite Yourcenar : Il m’a fallu une putain de pandémie, mais j’ai en fin (en fin!!!!!!!) fini ce bouquin et qu’est-ce que c’est beau. Yourcenar était un génie, ce livre est son chef-d’oeuvre, je suis tellement content que je n’ai plus à le lire. 100/10.

10. Dune - Frank Herbert: Ok, don’t come at me because it will only frustrate all of us (much like this book did me), but SNOOZE. A+ world building, but God, at what cost?  Timothée Chalamet could respectfully get it, though.

11. Going After Cacciato - Tim O’Brien: This was good? Like in the territory between okay and good? Just like a fine little book, albeit stuck in the middle of the Vietnam War. 

12. The Good Earth - Pearl S. Buck: Is a white American woman from the 30s necessarily the best person to write about rural China? Probably not, even if she was raised in rural China. Honestly, though? Still pretty good. 

13. Tender is the Night - F. Scott Fitzgerald: Do you ever get so desperately bored of pretty, rich 1920s people having pretty, rich 1920s people problems, like being tragically unfaithful or having too much money and not enough problems? No? You might by the end of this book -- but it’ll sound pretty while you’re reading. More engaging than Gatsby, in any case. 

14. Jamaica Inn - Daphne du Maurier: Reading a du Maurier novel is always trippy because the tone is like “I’m a plucky heroine and I’ll give them a piece of my mind!” and then the stakes are literally “I’ll bash your head in and strangle you on the moors and you can’t stop me.” Reading this book is like swigging moonshine in a soft, lace- and chintz-covered tea room. Gotta love it. 

15. L’éducation sentimentale - Gustave Flaubert : C’est bizarre, car mon beau-frère s’appèle Arnoux aussi, mais c’est une belle histoire qui perd un peu de son élan vers la moitié du roman. Je préfère Madame Bovary quand-même.

16. Wishful Thinking - Carrie Fisher: Who doesn’t love Carrie Fisher?

17. Shogun - James Clavell: Is a white Australian man from the 80s necessarily the best person to write about feudal Japan? Probably not (he was not raised in feudal Japan). But it’s well researched and very good. This unfortunate theme in authors did not continue this year, luckily. 

18. Chanson douce - Leïla Slimani : J’adore, j’adore, j’adore. Louise m’a donné des frissons tellement elle faisait peur. Impossible de ne pas se mettre à la place de Miriam; à lire, 100%.

19. A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian - Marina Lewycka: A cute, light read that I stumbled upon in a bookshop (support local businesses, kids! Jeff Bezos will harvest your dreams like one of those shitty vampires from Charmed where they couldn’t afford good special effects!) Some of the writing felt a little more caricatural than anything else, but I liked the main character. Sometimes things can just be fun. 

20. L’ombre du vent - Carlos Ruiz Zafón : !!!!!!!!! Le livre de l’année, l’étoile de l’été, un gout de miel qui a laissé des traces sur mon âme. Que d’amour pour ce livre (et ce n’est pas que le champagne qui parle!)

21. L’étincelle - Tahar Ben Jelloun : Etant l’époux d’un Tunisien, je suis plutôt obligé de tout connaître sur le printemps arabe, et j’ai bien aimé ce livre. Par contre, d’après ce fameux époux tunisien (bisous baby!) ce n’est pas forcément la meilleure ressource pour en parler. 

22. Barbe bleue - Amélie Nothomb : J’aime bien Amélie Nothomb, mais c’est clairement pas son meilleur. Ça donne envie de boire du champagne, par contre. 

23. Les contes de Perrault - Charles Perrault : Ecoutez, je me faisais chier en août, et c’est quand-même pas mal. Merci à Barbe-bleue d’avoir inspiré tous les cauchemars de mon enfance.

24. La princesse Palatine - Christian Bouyer : BOF. Elle aurait été plus intéressante si elle avait eu des vrais problèmes. Profite bien de tes châteaux, betch. 

25. Things Fall Apart - Chinua Achebe: For some reason I started this one years ago and didn’t get past the first few pages, but it was totally compelling this time around? It truly is a wonderful (and tragic) story, completely worth a read. 

26. Rules of Civility - Amos Towles: Katy is the type of person I wish I was, I would look so good in 30s clothes, I just wish I hated NYC a little less (it’s not your fault, NYC [I mean it is but I at least feel bad about it])

27. A Room of One’s Own - Viriginia Woolf: Quintessential! Still a transcript of a lecture though. Prosecco is amazing! 

28. Le horla - Guy de Maupassant : Soyons honnêtes c’est plutôt une nouvelle. 

29. Alcools - Guillaume Apollinaire : J’aime pas la poésie, même quand elle est belle. Meh.

30. Consider the Lobster - David Foster Wallace: I’m so tired of this man being the standard for everything. I mean I know I ended up reading this but what the hell. He was just bored. He read a few edgy novels and he was bored. Come on. That being said, this was an enjoyable read. 

31. Doctor Zhivago - Boris Pasternak: Ok, to be fair this was a PAIN in the beginning, but by the end I had tears?? In my eyes. That very rarely happens. Love it. 

32. Censoring an Iranian Love Story - Shahriar Mandanipour: It would have been better if he was so convinced of what a great writer he was?? What was the point of the weird dead little goblin?? Must we read from countless men every day of our lives?? Must we????

33. Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrel - Susanna Clarke: So my Fenian grandmother loved this book, which is why I feel I have no right to go too hard on it, but at the same time if English exceptionalism had a literary form it would be this book (but like that insidious kind of English exceptionalism where it’s all tongue-in-cheek, so if you call them out on it they just mock you for being a rube. I see you, English exceptionalists. You’re only special because you’re on an island)

34. Go Tell It on the Mountain - James Baldwin: Christ I loved this book. Anyone who reads or writes hopes one day to be as lucid as James Baldwin. 

35. The Maltese Falcon - Dashiell Hammett: I was left largely unmoved. 

36. Alexis - Marguerite Yourcenar : Pendant six mois j’ai cherché ce bouquin, et une fois trouvé il m’a déçu. Alexis est gay, voilà le grand choc. 

37. Kafka sur le rivage - Haruki Murakami : Je ne suis toujours pas sûr d’avoir bien compris ce livre ; il faudrait peut-être le relire encore une fois. Mais ça vaut le coup d’être relu encore une fois. 

38. Le mec de la tombe d’à côté - Katarina Mazetti :  Super cute comme roman!! Inattendu, mais ça a super bien démontré le conflit de cultures même à l’intérieur d’un pays. 

39. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley: I should have totally read this in high school, but didn’t. I’d waste your time with a bunch of faux-deep statements about how prescient this was, but I’m about a bottle of prosecco deep and no one really wants that, right?

40. Ninth House - Leigh Bardugo: I am basic for reading this and I am so glad I did; very good stuff, I’m all in, I’m sure UChicago had the same type of shit, love it!! 

41. The Alchemist - Paulo Coelho: I read light on Christmas break, ok? 

42. Watership Down - Richard Adams: I’m not big on anthropomorphic, animal-based stories, but this really went off? These are some hard-ass rabbits, respect.

43. Sharp Objects -  Gillian Flynn: Intense!! Great!! Sharp!!!!!!!!!!

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

asks (40)

Anonymous said: Holy frick that is so encouraging and I needed that so much bc I literally visited my college to measure my dorm room and drove home in tears bc I panicked myself into a frenzy about whether or not everything leading me to this point has been a mistake and what if I fail and ruin my life before it even starts (I have since calmed down a little) so your encouragement was much needed & is much appreciated

I’m glad I could help <3 <3 <3 Good luck at school! I’m sure you’ll kick its ass

areverieofchaosdreams said: It's Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day. So thank you for all your amazing stories!!!

Oh goodness I’m all a blushin :’)

Anonymous said: *HAPPY WRITER APPRECIATION DAY* Send this to someone whose talent has blown you away, who you'd like to encourage to keep on writing always, and who you'd like to thank for working their butt off to provide fandom members with breathtaking stories to consume! THANK YOU :D

Aw thank you!

Anonymous said: Hi! I Hope you're well! Do you still take fic requests? Because I really miss Colin Wilkes and I'd love to a story of him with your writing!

Unfortunately I don’t often take requests these days, but I’ll definitely keep Colin in mind!

dirtycherrypie said: hey! applying for WE for the R&D department (may or may not be aware of producing bat gadgets)

dirtycherrypie said: SHit forgot my name - Bea, at your service!

[Bruce Wayne voice] hired

tigers-and-weeds said: Literally just fell down the rabbit hole on your tumblr for the last 12-24 hours. I am in love with with you headcannons and fics! The angst feeds my soul... So I figured I would request: anything angsty with Dick and Damian please please please

Okay again I don’t usually take fic requests BUT I like me some angst so the odds that this will eventually happen.... are extremely high. I’ll try to remember to dedicate the next one to you :) And thank you!

math--ew said: I went on a little birthday vacation to california and I've never been to the beach before. I was bending down to grab a pretty shell and this huge wave knocked me face first into the sand. Like, five people saw and laghed but I got the shell so I guess it's a win win.

Duuuude back at Lake Michigan last month the same thing happened to me. I was taking care of my little sister and her five year old friend, so I was so busy making sure they were okay that the wave plowed me halfway across the beach

babybatbrat said: when i was in ap physics i once spent an entire study period in my physics teacher's room working on one problem. as far as i could tell i was doing all of the work correctly and had all the initial values right so i was racking my brain trying to figure out why i wasn't getting the right answer. the third time i went up to my teacher and asked for help he told me to start at the beginning and walk him through my process bc he couldn't tell why i was getting it wrong either (1)

babybatbrat said: (2) so i start the problem and explain how i got through all the values - "okay so the rod is 5 inches long and half of 5 is 3 and a half -" and i stopped there bc it occurred to me that 3.5 is not half of 5. "it's what?" My teacher asks. i put my head in my hands and stood there for a minute before picking up my work and walking to the back of the classroom while he laughed, bc i had just spent 45 minutes convinced that half of 5 was 3.5 and not, in fact, 2.5, and that was the only thing wrong

Honestly??? Relatable

babybatbrat said: One time i woke up at six in the morning to hear the neighbor's dog barking and instantly realized that meant my dog had jumped the fence, so i went racing outside and sprinted down the street to catch her. when i did i picked her up and turned around to go home and then saw my neighbor standing on their front porch, realized i was in only an oversized spiderman tshirt and snowman pajama shorts, holding a twenty pound labrador and thats how i met my new neighbors

Incredible...... 10/10.....

thrakaboom said: Not a funny story,but two days ago at comic con I met Tom King and he showed me a picture of his kids while he was signing my books

Well hey that’s pretty cool

Anonymous said: I adore your Tumblr. It was a wonderful way to get into the Batfamily fanbase; prior, I thought that there was only one Batman and a single Robin, dearie me was I wrong. And those stories you write, just great. The Headcanons are just as enjoyable. As for Batman, that has come to be a sibling enjoyment. Thank you for your contributions and existence!

!!!!!! Welcome to the crew!

frnkensteingrrrlz said: hey!!! i just went through ur reasons to be happy tag and!! i'm so so happy bc of it (esp the damian hcs, they're spot on imo and he's my favourite) so i hope u have a good day!!!

Thanks! I am having a good day today! Although I’m sure it’s been a long time since you sent this :////

Anonymous said: HELLO I have just discovered and binge-read all of your fics with my homeboy Damian in them, and just wanted to pop by and say that I love you & you are my hero & you write my boy so well so thank u and I hope your life is blessed & you achieve your wildest hopes & dreams

My day is made :D

badfaith00 said: Best batman storyline you've ever read ?

Ooooooh hm I’m mighty attached to n52 Batman and Robin? Particularly the first storyline, but the second is also fantastic

Anonymous said: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SHAMELESSLY REBLOGGING YOUR OWN WORK BC I HADNT SEEN IT BEFORE AND ITS HONESTLY SO PHENOMENAL ITS GOING ON MY LIST OF ALL TIME FAVORITES THANK U AND BLESS U

THANK YOU!!! THAT ONE IS MY FAVORITE AND I AM VERY PROUD OF IT

onwardmotley said: In today's Detective Comics someone finally told Bruce and co that Tim's alive. They didn't explain where he is, or how to get him back, but hey. It might've had more impact if anyone was seen actually mourning Tim and it wasn't just played as him being in cosmic time out, but at least it should end soon idk. Hopefully.

Tim Drake? It’s been years since I heard that name.....

Finally. Thank goodness.

Anonymous said: Idk if I prefer your soul crushing angst or your heartwarming fluff... actually I like to suffer so I'll stay with angst lol

Y’all seeing this? Anon gave me permission. Can’t yell at me next time because it won't be my fault (thanks babe :))

Anonymous said: for music, idk what kind of music u like so here is variety: St. Vincent - Paris is Burning, Sea Wolf - Dear Fellow Traveler (tbh everything by Sea Wolf is great), Dirt Poor Robins - Eleanor Rigby, Between Wind and Water- HAEL, Ellem - Kings and Queens and Vagabonds, The Rigs - Rise & Fall, Tally Hall - Light and Night, and Streetlight Manifesto - The Hands that Thieve.

Thank you! I’m excited to listen to these! I’ll start right now!

Anonymous said: 1) What are the good comics to read for Batfamily stuff (from any point in time) and 2) what are the best Jason Todd comics? Thanks!

Okay for Jason I would definitely start with the big ones, which are A Death In the Family and Under the Red Hood. After that you could try Red Hood: the Lost Days and Countdown to Final Crisis. I would avoid the n52 series until you have a good enough grasp of the character to recognize bad writing when you see it. 

For the generalized batfam.... that’s pretty broad. My personal favorites are Red Robin, Batgirl (2009), and both B&R series. If you have more specific questions, you should IM me! I promise I’m better about answering those than asks

yellowwallsbluesky said: Have you heard Swooner by The Zolas? I've really been jamming to it lately

Listening to it right now! Sounds like a bop so far :)

Anonymous said: Hidden citizens paint it black 💜

Much obliged!

Anonymous said: Harry styles "sign of the times".

[adds to list] thank you!

neo669 said: I MISS CASA OLE!! Sorry just read that you lived in Bryan/College Station and I used to live there as well. It's kinda hard to find people that even know that it exists. But I'm sure you can kick law schools butt. You got this!

Yooooooo I miss cstat too :((((

palliddark said: Adalgiza, and I'll be a translator (English to Brazilian Portuguese)

[Bruce Wayne voice] also hired

maeofthedead said: I love your headcannons and now I sort of want to cry thank

Excellent that is the exact target response 

Anonymous said: Love your rant in the tags about the pizza making I'm laughing so hard

Listen..... I have strong feelings

Anonymous said: Did you hear they're making an omnibus of Tomasi's entire run on Batman & Robin?? I just heard and now I kinda want to get this massive book in honor of my favorite batkid and the series that made me love him so much

Man I already have all the individual volumes but if I didn’t......

sonicboom00724601 said: Hi. :) Nice headcanon. :)

I’m not sure which one you’re talking about, but thank you! You're real sweet

Anonymous said: can you maybe write an interaction between Wonder Woman and Captain America? I absolutely adore your style and would love to see your take on it.

Hmmmm I don’t really have a good enough grasp of Captain America’s characterization to try that one :////

Anonymous said: i tried to kill on mosquito that was on my ceiling by slamming it with a book but mosquito was on the move so i bounced swiftly and jammed both my wrist and thumb and now my existence is Pain. also my thumbs swelling and looks purple, so that's nice

Oh shit anon you good???

daziy said: Do we know who Barbara's mother usually is?

Yeah! In her original version, Babs had a birth mom and an adopted mom. She was originally Jim’s niece, so her birth mom’s name was Thelma Gordon. After the adoption, her parents were Jim and Barbara Gordon, with her adopted mother being her namesake. So two Barbara Gordons.

I think for awhile the canon was that her mother died in a car crash, but the current version has her still alive. She left Jim when Babs was young, taking her son (Babs’s brother) with her. James Gordon (the son) turned out to be a serial killer. 

Barbara Gordon Sr. and James Gordon Jr. both appeared in the n52 Batgirl series during the Death of the Family arc. There’s also a very good story about James from the Dickbats period. That one’s called The Black Mirror, if I’m not mistaken?

Anonymous said: Hi! What do you think of the upcoming metal event? Dick and Damian seem to have a big role in it ( I hope Jason is involved too but there's still no sign of it)

Hmmmm I don’t know that I have an opinion just yet, but as always, I hope to be pleasantly surprised 

Anonymous said: bless you are your wonderful tagging system. know that i may have avoided death because of how easy it was to f ind the thing I wanted in your tags. bless

Oh goodness anon I hope you’re not serious about almost dying.... but thanks?

Anonymous said: hi amy! would u say that damians narrative is written as a child abuse one? like there are definitely many allusions to it but its also not as explicit as say, cassandra or rose. like how much of it would u chalk up to comic world dynamics and how much to actual abuse? also would u consider jason to also be a case of this?

Oh I have very strong opinions about the role of abuse in Damian’s narrative. It’s absolutely there, and the effects are staggeringly large. There is no doubt in my mind that the league was an abusive environment, and I can’t justify some of the things Bruce did either.

I think I would say the same thing for Jason, if not quite as strongly. I definitely think that some of the things that happened to Jason as a child shaped his story later on, but less of those were abuse than outside circumstances. The n52 takes a different track on that one, I think, but I don’t put much stock in that characterization. 

Anonymous said: has jason forgiven bruce for not killing joker? if so, what made him?

Unlikely. They get along better these days, but I would argue that comes from poor characterization of Bruce, not an actual resolution process. 

mellenabrave said: My mom accidentlly threw my Damian doll away (╥_╥)

Tossed in the garbage by yet another parent--

Anonymous said: Whoa where'd you get that bat and oracle shirt you're wearing in your necklace pic? It's so cool! (The necklace is also gorgeous!)

Shoot I think it was from Redbubble? But I can’t find it now

Anonymous said: Omg that necklace was so cool!!! Kudos to the maker of it!! Also I really like your top!!

Thank you <3

[angel-gidget]

Fire At My Feet Again (Tim/Cassie, post-Red Robin)

Title:  Fire at my Feet Again Fandom: DCU, Teen Titans, Red Robin (preboot)     Rating:  PG-13 | Words: 4.6K  | a03 link Summary: Tim and Cassie have been assigned to mentor the upcoming new version of Young Justice. Cassie isn’t drunk enough yet to process this turn of events properly. But if she has her say, with Tim’s help, she soon will be.

Set a handful of years after Red Robin. Contains miscellaneous comic references including 90’s YJ. Yet also borrows an element or two from the Young Justice cartoon. Bc I do what I want. Also unbeta’d. Bc impatience.

Note: Also using this fic to fulfill prompts/days 1-3 of Tim Drake Week (First & Lasts, Childhood & Adulthood, Dreams & Reality) bc this sucker took me long enough that I say it counts and I’d like to catch up.

The déjà vu was murder. Cassie wanted to scream at the Justice League that they had the wrong girl, she wasn't a MENTOR, if anything, she was still a MENTEE, but Tim was standing right next to her, giving his Serious Business head-nod, and Cassie realized that if she did, in fact, start screaming at the JLA, she wouldn't be screaming at strangers.

Because screaming at Aquaman and Superman and Batman was one thing, but the NEW Batman was once Nightwing and she didn't really like the idea of screaming at him. She would also be screaming at Vic, who was her friend. And--sweet Hera--she had FRIENDS in the JLA. You're a grown-up now, Cassie. You're a MENTOR now, Cassie.  So is Tim, for that matter. Hell. She didn’t want to admit out loud how familiar it was. How, in the last days before she gave up the Titans, she’d had trouble remembering the names of multiple team members; they had come and gone so quickly. So playing chaperone to a bunch of kids she didn’t know was actually way more familiar of a feeling than it ought to have been. But they weren’t asking her and Tim to be team leaders. They were asking her and Tim to play Red Tornado to their new batch of kids. Not to lead. Just to make sure they didn’t break anything. To help them with reporters.  To save their asses if things got out of hand. To be around if they wanted advice. "You start on Monday." Vick told them. "We start on Monday." Cassie repeated in a daze. When the rest had left, and it was only her and Tim, the feeling that it was real began to press on her lungs. "We start on MONDAY. Oh God." "Cassie? Are you o--Um. I can do it. You don't have to help. I--" "Do you remember what we were like?! You'll need my help. WE may need help. What if they have their own Kon? What if they have their own BART?" "Or Slo-bo." "Oh God." "It'll be okay. They're just as likely to have their own Secret, somebody they'll band around to protect. Or their own Anita, who can radiate reason. Or their own YOU, somebody smart who can represent the team and keep them in line. Ultimately, they'll be themselves and we can just give them the benefit of the doubt. It'll be okay." Maybe it was the truth of his words, or the blatant compliment, but Cassie did feel herself begin to calm down. This wasn’t history repeating itself. It was just a few parallels here and there. And the history wasn't all that bad anyway. When did she get so good at only remembering the rough parts? "I'm good. I swear I am, but I think I need a drink." Tim's smile was weird. Like he was about to be nostalgic, but it was 50/50 whether it was going to be a good idea or not. "I know just the place." She half-expected him to take her to the same zany hole-in-the-wall they went to for his 21st birthday years back, but he surprised her with a Gotham spot she had never seen before. It was kind of on the (conventional) sporty side, and kind of posh. Not really the sort of place she had expect him to go. "This was my dad's favorite place." Cassie shook her head to clear it. She could count on her hand the number of times Tim has talked about his dad with her, and four times out of five, he had been in tears while doing it. "Do you remember Klarion?" Tim asked. "Bum, bum, bum… The witch boy." She wanted to slap herself for completing the obnoxious little tune on autopilot, but decided not to be too hard on herself. It WAS catchy. "Well, when he had us stuck in adult bodies, I got the bright idea that I should go check on my dad in his natural environment." "There is no way that went well." Tim nodded, "He said I reminded him a bit of his son, and he invited me to sit down and have a beer with him." Cassie felt a smirk coming on. "And you had never had a beer in your life." "Correct. I spit it up all over him. And he never learned that the weird guy who chilled with him and wrecked his night was me.”

Cassie chuckled, “So, do you want a beer?”

“Hell, no. Can’t stand the stuff.” It might have been the funky lighting, but as Tim scratched the back of his head, she could swear he was blushing.

“Me neither. Good thing we’re old enough to admit it. Hey bartender!”

Cassie waved at the old man behind the counter. He seemed to be hard of hearing, as he kept cleaning the other end of the bar. She sighed, “Go over the new roster with me.”

“They haven’t got the official—“

“I know you know the biggest candidates for this thing, and I’d like to have a heads up, please and thanks.”

Tim nodded, as he waved his own hand in the old man’s direction to help her out, “Okay. So Lian has already said yes, and if there is a god, she will hopefully end up being team leader…”

Cassie smiled, “Roy Harper’s kid would be good at it. Though Robin will probably fight her for it…”

“Damian will be there under duress. Dick thinks it will be good for him, but the chances are that if he gets out of line…”

“He absolutely won’t listen to you, so I will have to do it. Uhgh.”

Tim gave her a pained laugh, “Thank you in advance?”

Cassie shrugged. She was already beginning to understand why the League was insisting on both of them. There had been some rosters of the Titans that were like that, some deferring only to Robin and some only to Wonder Girl. But by that time, she and Tim had mastered being in-sync to the point that it was a (mostly) doable nightmare.

“Who’s the heaviest hitter we’ll probably have to clean up after?”

Tim steepled his fingers thoughtfully, “That’s a toss-up between Damian’s friend Colin, who is actually an incredibly nice kid, and Jon Kent: our new Superboy-to-be.”

Cassie frowned, “Wait, I thought… what happened to Christopher?”

“You didn’t…?” Tim’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Um, a lot of things happened to Chris. But when he came home from the phantom zone a few months ago, he… well, it wasn’t like when a Robin gets replaced, but he told me it took a lot of adjusting to the fact that an entire time-line crisis had given him a baby brother that was already twelve years old. Last I’ve heard from him, he’s trying to decide on a new code-name and … well, he’s too old for the team.”

She felt her draw drop. “Chris Kent, who was like barely past my hip last I saw him, is TOO OLD for this team? What the hell?!”

“Cassie, the last time you saw him, I was babysitting him because he was ten. And with the phantom zone, well…”

“Well how old is he n—wait. Don’t answer that. Not until I’ve had whiskey, because this  now officially calls for whiskey. BARTENDER. WHISKEY.” The time for being polite and patient had officially passed.

Cassie cradled her head in her hands as she listened to Tim placate the offended bartender, and modify her order. Apparently whiskey wasn’t specific enough. Apparently the brown-eyed little boy she’d last seen wearing little boy shorts and a cartoon character wristwatch was now too freaking old to join Young Justice 2.0.

“So help me, Tim, if you’ve ordered something crazy-expensive, you are buying.”

Tim sighed, and Cassie felt a twinge of guilt. This wasn’t any easier for him. Hell, it might be harder. She knew Damian always made things harder for Tim.

Cassie was both boggled and somewhat grateful that she didn’t have a new Wonder Girl to contend with. Though, now that she thought about it, it did seem almost a shame for one to be missing from the roster… No.

No, she was still too young to be getting mopey over legacies. Not that she hadn’t always dug the idea of an Amazon legacy, but it was supposed to be, like, a general legacy. Not hers. Not yet. And yet…

“I am buying, and you will like it. I promise. It’s only a little expensive, but trust me that you don’t want the default of anything in this place.”

The next thing she knew, she had a strong-smelling double-shot over ice in front of her. It tasted like honey. If honey weren’t made by bees, but instead made by kangaroos kicking her in the face. She decided she liked it.

“Cassie, you’re supposed to sip that.”

She smirked at him, “I’ll sip the next one. Better hope our tab’s on your platinum card.”

He snorted, but didn’t really protest, taking a taste of his own glass.

She observed him.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head as he drank, though not with the speed of someone rushing a shot. It took the shadows off his face for a moment, so she could clearly see the tiredness around his eyes and the faint stubble around his jaw. She faintly recalled that said stubble had come very late in life to him. At the very tail-end of puberty.

She remembered that the first time she had kissed him—mourning Kon’s death in a sea of shattered glass in the Titan’s sublevel—the line from his cheek to his adam’s apple had been completely smooth.

Don’t go there, Cassie.

That was a long time ago, Cassie.

“So… um. So how’s Kon taking the whole codename thing?”

Tim shrugged, blinking his eyes open as he continued to hold the glass near his lips. “You know about as much as I do. He can’t decide what to pick. That is, he agrees that he’s years overdue to shelve “Superboy”, but replacing it is giving him conniptions.” Tim gestured the bartender back to refill her glass.

“That’s about what I know,” Cassie conceded, “But somehow, you always know a little more. So spill.”

As promised, she sipped the next glass. Sipping was like getting kicked by a baby honey-making kangeroo. It was still pretty damn good. She raised her pinky jokingly, which finally got a smile out of Tim that went up to his eyes as he spoke.

“He’s actually been trying to pick Chris’s brain on the matter. While Kon can hardly think of anything, Chris’s knowledge of Kryptonian language and mythology is giving him a ton of ideas and he just can’t choose.”

“Yeah, well. Kon’s gonna have to get used to choosing names in general. And soon.”

Tim’s puzzled expression stopped her cold.

“Oh Hera. He hasn’t told you yet.”

Tim similarly froze, “He… told me there was something he though he’d tell a lot of people in person. Said it wasn’t bad news. But with his new off-world mission, and how, um, busy we both will be… “

Cassie nodded. If Kon wanted to protest, he could blame her.

“M’gann is pregnant.”

It was always fun: managing to surprise Tim with something he’d clearly had absolutely no clue about beforehand. So fun. So rare. He was even choking a bit on his own drink.

“You’re serious. Kon’s going to be… a dad?”

“Totally.”

“Wow. He’s got to be over the moon. Both in a happy and terrified way. I’ll be an honorary uncle. Heh…”

He went serious then, totally quiet. Sometimes Cassie didn’t dig the reminder that she didn’t really have the full specs of the brain of Timothy Drake. But then again, did anyone?

She held back a tiny flinch as Tim set down his drink and put his hand over hers…

“Are you okay?” he practically whispered.

“Yes…?” she mimicked his low voice.

“Because I know you’ve never liked talking about how things ended, but it’s alright to…”

Gears clicked into place.

“Omigod. Tim. I’m fine. Kon and I are both totally over each other. Promise. Seriously, have you been worrying about that for the past five years?”

His face didn’t turn red, but his ears did.

“Hey, you wouldn’t talk about it, okay? And Kon may be my best friend, but… he’s not my only best friend. You and Bart… you can’t think I love you any less. Do you?”

Holy shit. The L-word. From TIM. In a totally platonic sense, of course.

As it should be, Cassie.

She knew Tim had been trained to resist truth serum and torture since his Robin days. Apparently, his own taste in alcohol was considerably more effective if it could get talk of actual feelings out of him.

Focus, Cassie. He asked you a question.

“I know you love me.” She squeaked.

A distinctly fraught look pulled his eyebrows together, and it occurred to Cassie that her assurance didn’t sound very believable.

So she tried again, “I’m serious. I don’t mean that in whatever placating double-meaning Bat-way you guys usually communicate in Gotham. I mean it. I know. You love me. I love you too.”

Those burning ears of his were back, but at least the distressed twist to his forehead had gone away. And that… Cassie knew she’d said enough. Her brain knew, anyway. Her tongue didn’t. “If… if a burning building had you and my mom inside and I only had time to save one, I’d save my mom because she didn’t sign up for the life we did. But I’d be every bit as devastated over losing you as if I had lost her.”

What the hell, Cassie?! Dark escalation much?

She spared a glance at her drink as though it had betrayed her. Was she on glass number two or number three?

Tim just snorted with a smirk, “Me too.”

He took another sip, which seemed to oddly sober his face again, “Though… I’d probably be more devastated if it was you. I… I sometimes wondered if there was something wrong with me considering how fast I recovered from my mom’s death. We weren't  close. I… I wanted us to be. So much. But we weren’t.”

Cassie held her breath. She… she had known that Tim’s mom was out of the picture. That when his dad died, that was it. Officially one of Batman’s orphans. But she’d never…

Apparently, it was Tim’s turn to look at his drink as though it were up to shady behavior.

“I’ve never admitted that out loud to anybody. Not in so many words, anyway.”

They both let the silence breathe a moment, before Cassie tentatively let her curiosity get the best of her.

“What was her name? Wanna tell me about her?”

Tim didn’t look her in the eye, preferring to keep his gaze pinpointed on the single oversized ice cube in his glass, but he nodded.

“Her name was Janet. She um…” A tiny strange grin quirked the side of his mouth and he finally looked up at her through messy black bangs, “Remember that time when your mom invited me and Bart to dinner with you, and she complained for half an hour about the ‘jet-set’ archaeologists who have all the money but half-assed dedication to historical findings? Who are all about the fun and polish?”

“Um, yes?”  Oh gods. Helena Sandsmark’s fifth favorite rant topic. She had hours of material on the unfairness of wealthy socialites’ interaction with the archaeology scene. Cassie always died of embarrassment anytime someone she knew was exposed to even a fraction of it.

“My mom was one of those.”

Cassie slumped in her chair, beginning to feel her own ears turn red.

“Oh gods, I’m sorry—”

And Tim giggled. Giggled. It was… stupid but nice and he kind of sounded like he hadn’t taken in quite enough oxygen at first to do it properly.

“Don’t be, Cass. Your mom didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I wasn’t mad. It was… nice remembering her. She was spoiled, but in a classy kind of way. At least, that’s what my dad would say about it. But he might have been biased. Considering.”

“Considering.” Cassie let a relieved giggle of her own slip.

The silence that followed wasn’t a bad one. She eventually realized that Tim was faintly tapping on the edge of the bar to the tune of the music softly playing over he speakers, though she didn’t recognize the song.

At some point in their conversation, he had let go of her hand, and she tried not to overthink her awareness of that. She also tried not to overthink the fact that she was mentally listing the different ways she might get him to put it back.

She was startled from carefully not contemplating these things when his finger tips continued tapping, but this time against her own fingers lingering on the bar. She saw an expectant expression on his face, and it took her a moment to realize that the music had changed.

Cassie’s eyes widened. Was that.. Mmmm Bop? It was. The one hit from that stupid band that every member of Young Justice has solemnly sworn to hate into eternity was dancing over the speakers.

Some members, however, had been lying through their teeth when taking said oath.

Cassie had been one of them. Apparently, so had Tim.

Their moment of mutually tapping to forbidden tunes was interrupted as the old bar keep slammed a giant pink drink in front of Cassie’s nose.

“From th’ gentleman.” The man muttered, tottering away.

Cassie frowned. Tim seemed to be on the case, however, as he made a subtle pointing down the bar. She looked over her shoulder and saw the guy. He was tall and broad, with a lear and patch of scruff on his chin that reminded Cassie of Tim’s old Mr. Sarcastic disguise. Just… without the sarcasm. His target of choice hadn’t accepted the drink yet, and he was already elbowing his buddies and preparing to stand.

“He looks like the pushy type to me,” Cassie muttered, “Mr. Detective?”

Tim gave a small sigh, “I’m inclined to agree. How do you want to play this?”

There were a lot of correct choices. Not the least of which was taking the drink and pretending it meant nothing. Making eye contact and firmly pushing the drink away was a fair call too. If Mr. Pushy pushed, well… It would hardly be any skin off her back to return the favor. But a hero was always supposed to avoid escalating the situation or provoking it. Such was the correct choice.

You’re going to be a mentor, Cassie.

Meaning—she replied to the voice in her head— that if she was going to do something wild and on the side of crazy, it had to be tonight. So, she grabbed Tim’s hand and whispered in his ear.

“Pretend to be my boyfriend.”

His eyes went comically wide for a fraction of a second, but the next instant, he was giving her a succinct nod of the head.

She felt his fingertips slide up to her jaw, pinpricks of cold from the condensation of his drink. She barely registered the procession from one moment to the next as his lips were suddenly touching hers.

Barely touching. Very lightly.

But staying. Not a peck.

Rather, a quick brush followed by a very slow second brush.  

Her eyes slipped closed, acknowledging that the feeling was nice, if unexpected.

She held still everywhere save her mouth, mimicking his movement until she could breathe in the honey-tang from his breath instead of her own.

She then set her icy fingernails against his cheek, as was only fair.

He gave a quick inhale that let her know she had startled him back.

“Two for flinching.” She chuckled against his mouth.

In an instant, she wanted desperately to see his expression, but he ducked his head to whisper in her ear again.

“Why go back to competing when we’ve gotten so good at teaming up?”

Tim thought he was so clever sometimes. She wanted to agree and roll her eyes at the same time. She was about to reply when something in the shift of his shoulders told her they had trouble.

“What is it?”

“Pushy Type has strolled out with his friends, but they went around the alley area of the building without grabbing a ride and none of them had car keys.”

Cassie hissed, “They wanna jump us? Are you serious? This neighborhood sucks.”

Tim pulled back far enough that could see his face. There was some uncertainty there that he was doing his utmost to hide, but Cassie was too familiar with it to be fooled by it anymore.

Goddess. He liked it. He liked it as much as I did.

And now he’s wondering if he messed up.

“Tim—“

“I know the corner they’ve picked. No cameras, no witnesses. They’d be… very surprised to not have the advantage. We could change into uniform in the restrooms and sneak out the back of the kitchen. It’ll be fun.”

And… he was off. He even left the barstool he’d been sitting on spinning.

Fine.

Stupid bat-birds and their emotional issues.

She’d let him get away with it for now.

——

Two hours later, they stumbled into Tim’s apartment dripping wet, with an unanticipated number of cuts and bruises.

“Fun, you said. We intimidate them and they’ll re-think their life-choices, you said.” Cassie scoffed.

Tim clutched his bruised rib, “I didn’t know C-listers were developing their own knock-off venom pills these days. It’s a recent development.”

His other arm was over her shoulder, keeping weight off his bruised ankle. If knock-off venom could punch her right into him, she didn’t want to think about what the original Bane could probably do.

But it probably didn’t help that they were both a little tipsy. While Tim might not have guessed that Mr. Pushy—who had wanted to be called The Dejector, of all things, yeesh—would be carrying supervillain steroids, they both would have resolved the fight a lot faster if they had both been sober and had their minds off… well.. The Thing they were avoiding talking about.

After they had the perps bagged and tied for the Gotham PD, Tim had decided to play it safe and not drive his motorcycle back. Cassie had similarly decided against flying.

So they had walked.

And then it rained.

Because Gotham.

Cassie carefully set Tim down on his couch. She then followed his directions to find the first aid kit as he began to check himself for damage.

“Just so we’re clear: I’m not actually mad, Tim. Just grumpy. I had plans for tonight. They didn’t involve this many scrapes.”

“I… Oh.” He froze, “I didn’t know I was keeping you. Sorry.”

“You’re not,” Cassie corrected, setting the kit down by his foot and she cinched up the leg of his jeans. (The nice thing about his crazy expensive wardrobe: there was some extra stretch to the denim.) “You were at the center of the plans.”

“Oh.” He tensed again, and Cassie worried for a moment that she had hurt him just by applying ice. But as she looked up, she realized his ears were red again.

Okay, Wonder Girl. Time to be brave.

“Confession time. So… you already know I love you. We got that out of the way. The big secret is that I also might… kinda like you on top of that.”

Tim snorted, but it was with a tiny hopeful smile on his face that quickly smoothed itself out to boarder-line sly.

“Oh really?”

If he was gonna be that way about it, there was no need to be delicate with the application of the ice. He flinched for real.

“Yeah,” Cassie muttered, meeting his eye, “Funny how that works.”

“Funny how it’s mutual.” He panted.

Cassie blinked. “Does this mean we…?”

“If you want.” Tim whispered.

She kissed him.

Sweat, rainwater, scrapes and all. She had wrapped her arms around his neck, and even when she bumped his foot and his leg tensed, he still clutched back.

It was hard to tell who’s idea it was to lean back into the couch. Definitely her idea to start lifting his shirt off. His hair was just long enough that damp tendrils lingered where his neck met his shoulders and she didn’t resist the temptation to run her hands through it. He rolled into the movement like a cat with his eyes closed, and something like déjà vu struck her for the second time that day.

For all that Tim’s everyday body language exuded a polite distance, actually touching him was so very different. Kind of like a sunflower desperate for a hint of light. As if no one had held him for years. Maybe no one had.

Rain still clung to her own hair as well, water droplets shaking loose from assorted strands of her blond hair. They splashed onto Tim’s chest, making him shiver.

She knew he could resist the cold, if he wanted. He could use a simple stretch of his own self control to curb his reactions, but he chose not to. Chose to let her see it, and the thought lit something warm in her chest.

She leaned in close again, feeling her own shirt slide up, enjoying the contrast of warmth where their stomaches touched and cold where their hair got in the way. Tim was the one doing the kissing then, returning to that slow brush he seemed to have perfected, only against her neck instead of her lips. His arms held tight, tighter. And she gladly returned the favor until—

“OUCH!”

His whole body tensed, but Cassie knew it was the foot.

The Achilles Heel, as mom would say.

“Guess it would be more fun to save the rest for when we’re both in one piece, huh?”

Tim sighed, “‘Rest’ implies a finite amount. Was going more for an indefinite sort of plan.”

Cassie grinned.

“I’ll remember that. Now where are your towels, Young Man Wonder?”

He scowled at her, but he gave up the location of the towels. And the location of his popcorn machine. And blankets. And spare pyjamas. And dvd collection.

I could get very used to this.

She was cuddled in his arms on the couch again, but this time calm and dry with antibiotics gently applied to her minor scratches.

“It’s different this time, you know. I can feel it.” She whispered.

Tim stirred beneath her, though he took a moment to speak.

“You mean… us?”

She nodded against his chest, “Us. The vibe of it. The… the kissing. It’s different. We’re different.”

She didn’t have the energy to lift her head, but she felt him nod all the same.

“Last time, we were in a bad place. Now we’re in a good one.”

She smiled against him and trusted that he could feel it, “Even if you have to face down the Damian squad on Monday?”

“It won’t be Damian’s squad. Not immediately, anyway. But yes. Even then. We can do this. Together.”

Cassie threaded her fingers through Tim’s as her eyes fluttered shut for the night.

She believed him.

F.I.N.

[thecameldances-blog]

Why Katlyn Nicole Davis "Suicide" with forced variables Is the saddest moment in U.S. History? This country has came a long way from when it was founded from its 13 colonies to its great 50 states and in only 2 centuries and a half to not only become a superpower but the number one superpower compared to other superpowers being older than a millennium. As I look back the reason why is George Washington's vision for America was the greatest thing to happen to human civilization since the Renaissance because now people were open to express themselves and share ideas and issues human had together George washington said why the hell now that man is civilized do we have to listen to this King who just takes our daily breads and sends his Dukes who basically can pillage or rape any woman they chose so after 250 years of being here and every human on earth dreams of everyday where rights are not granted but are guranteed and the little voicet is always heard whether it be a minority group or a single human being there voice is heard and this is the reason U.S. has became what it is today. Ok over this time this country hasnt been perfect us as human beings always make mistakes whether siding with the wrong country or abusing power over their own citizens due to economic panic and stress. This country went to war 20 years after it was founded due to not renewing a bank contract but came out with minor damages but still stride on.U.S. learned that although the Bank plays a major role in the economy they must be kept an eye on due to some of the bankers will choose greed of dignity  Then there was the Mexican American war where General Zachary Taylor freed Mexicans from tyranny people oppose this today but they didnt know that the Mexicans living in California through Utah were begging U.S. to aide then for decades on end to help them from unjust treatment and General Zachary Taylor decided it was finally time becsuse he couldnt bear another cry for help from them. U.s. learned from this that people living under tyranny are in need of aide just as much as the american citizen. Civil war where hundreds of thousands were killed but still this country survived also realizing all races deserve George Washington's vision for america. See man just became civilized 15000 years ago and its a learning process but if man isnt expose to the issues then he wont even bother thinking their issues to begin with. Then there was world war 1 which u.s. fought someone elses war and lost hundreds of thousands lives but u.s. realized that me and my brother will fight the opressing forces but if our cousins are being opressed is just as bad as if we are.  Then came the great depression when business took greed over self dignity and caused havoc on the economy u.s. learned we were just transcending from Colonials days 100 years prior and it wasnt about going out in the wild to hunt or gather wood it was the start of the modern world then world war 2 and korean and vietnam and Iraq wars which U.S. has fought and one I always admired about U.S. Wartime Generals they always proved that they actually took Self dignity over greed especially my favorite General in history General Mcarthur because his love for this country the way he went about the war and the fact he had a chance to ransack Japan for Billions if he wanted when they surrendered but he took Dignity of Self greed and honored the true American tradition and what it meant to him if that wasnt the case thrn General Mcarthur grandson wouldve still been the Emperor of Japan. All these wars hundreds of thousands of lives were lost as General Swharkopf put it 1 life loss is 1 to many and not to mention each life loss strikes tragedy in their families and burdens on their communities.  Then came 9/11 which effect every American but aftwerwards the United States reformed its U.S. Policy and reminded us that we are not invincible although we are strong willed. So why is it that Katlyn Nicole Davis tops all these as the saddest moment in U.S. History. The first is the story itself a 12 year old American girl commits suicide that alone will strike at any mans heart.:( Then everyone wants to know why Katlyn why did she do it. The media states she did it because her moma was a child abuser thats why she did it:(:(  before any real investigation could be inducted the news and media were coming out with stories on how the family had problems at home amd her being abused at home was a key factor to her suicide and she wasnt healthy. Katlyn for a 12 year appeared alright to me Her mom. Fed her clothed her and held her in her stomach for 9 months to my judgement katlyns mon took care if her dsughter better than most out there. Then bloggers all over the internet added insult to injury stating she did it because her moma was a child abuser and a whore.:(:(:(  The fact no one really takes bloggers as credible source but it wasnt just one it was a lot of them pointing at her mom saying it was because she was a whore. then add in the fact it was all recorded with her applogizing to god for her selfishness and even worst when she said i just dont deserve this I dont deserve to live immediately whrn i heard her say This i said aloud then none of us do Katlyn and after she commited suicide 10 minutes in you hear her moma in panic stricken voice yelling for her daughter to come home calling all her friends all in the background sound  and also the one that felt like my heart just was hit when Katlyns 5 year old brother AJ was heard  yelling for Ms. Katlyn to come home while her lifeless body was hanging from that tree. All you here is a little boys voice yelling KAaaTTLYYYYN See Katlyn was a victim of internet stalking and voice 2 skull which caused her to commit suicide it wasnt her moma. In between her saying Im sorry Everyone Im sorry everyone. You can hear a ssssss sound now in slow motion you can hear the elf noise of a older woman saying Soorrrey what i think happened is the fact you need 2 things for v2k to work elf wave sound and white noise. The elf wave is 1 to 40 and the white noise is the background noise which is important for the elf wave to catch onto the the white noise can be anything from car engine to fan or thunder or wind.but if the wave doesnt catch onto the white noise properly the wave sound will be louder than the white noise and thats what happened with the sorrrrey part in her video. She was a 10th generation 12 year old American girl needless to say she shouldve been on the U.S. top priority for defense. Again she was a 10th generation 12 year old american girl wouldn't you think that is what every u.s. citizen considers must be top of the defense list and with 52% of the u.s. budget spent on defense every year it should be a gurantee Katlyn would live her entire life forced suicide or not forced with 52% spent on defense their is plenty of money to protect her civil rights yet no one says a word on this and they ruled a 12 year old girl commited suicide due to negligence at home. Now put yourself in her moma shoes now I mean Katlyn looked healthy to me her moma took care of her but your daughter just commited suicide and everyone in the nation calling you a whore and a child abuser.This is the turning point of the United States downfall I gurantee it this is the moment I can really say after 250 years standing strong this country is going to shits. Katlyn Nicole Davis 10th generation 12 year old american girl your definition of Innocent and your definition of American pie taken advantage of by people with to much control and technology and no one seems to care.I shall mourn you until I die Katlyn you become my Virgin Mary of Phycological Warfare I will never forget you I promise in due time I will go to your hometown 20 miles west of Atlanta (Cedartown) find your moma and say my condolences for your daughter you were a good mom you took care of her may i put these flowers under her tree in the backyard and if she lets me i will go back their look up at that tree and say this Katlyn Nicole Davis O' Great blessed Virgin Mother of God protect me from my demons forgive those who have sinned Attract health abundance love and prosperity O' great blessed Virgin Amen put the flowers under your tree and leave Now I aint no christian or anything but thats what Katlyn believed in and I respect that all in thanks to George Washingtons vision for America. Maybe it started out in the Colonial days fueds between the Protestants and the Quakers but the his concept is the most beautiful concept now this is a fact every man for himself its a dog eat dog world out there and this country has a tendency to turn the other cheeck but i said to my self if you get played for your money or your honey then like Thomas Edison said quote "Its American Humor" needless to say some people go to far but on the end the its mostly the fools fault but that one piece paper brought man to common sense is George Washingtons Vision for America which is the Checks and balance that has been bestowed in the hearts of Men since 1776. Ok he just lost his house and his wife but in respect to the constitution let him attain his self pride and whatever self esteem he has left not in his namesake I aint worried about him but the in giving props to George Washington. See Colin Kapernick is a idiot not standing for pledge of allegiance no one cares Kapernick your a atheist a Quaker its not for that purpose in the nation of freedom of religion you can pray to anything you want but the pledge of allegiance is not about giving respect to god although god in my eyes is most important but pledge of allegiance is about giving props to George Washington for the greatest idea since the renaissance.To mankind: Katlyn Nicole Davis (Itzdolly) I never met you and oddly enough were exact opposite in the demographic scale of every demographic scale living on opposites  sides of the united states but I mourn your death everyday I miss you everyday and I love you I truly believe George Washington hung himself with Katlyn Nicole Davis This poor girls rights were completely violated and after it all no justice was served and injustice was added to the victims family:(:(:(:(:(  RIP Itzdolly Ms. Katlyn Nicole Davis the saddest moment in American history its not just her stalkers fault but its also my fault and and all 350 000 0000 Americans in this country Katlyns blood is on all our hands and we will all be punished from our greater power for this. It is if like everything Benjamin Franklin George Washington Andrew Jackson worked so hard for and stride on for 250 year of trial and error went down the drain sfter what had happen to Katlyn Nicole Davis, Why my dad struggled so hard in Fall of 1969 to get over with only $10 in his pocket. He had that immigrant hope of a better future for him and his family only deemed possible in the United States. My father who worked for Union Pacific for 23 years fathered 6 children and will add to the American roots. My name is Mohamed Saleh and I am a 2nd generation Arab American from California. I know the world is not perfect and Man struggles to survive everyday but the fact Katlyn had double coverage and yet she was taken advantage of the fact she was protected by the Constitution and the Unwritten rule in the hearts of men should've guaranteed her to live her life. I have 2 sons now and I hope 10 generations down the road I have a grand daughter here in United States that will have the free spirit and love that Katlyn Nicole Davis had. Katlyn Nicole Davis was a 10th generation 12 year old American girl your definition of innocent your definition of American pie. R.I.P. Itzdolly Feb. 20th 2006-Dec.30th 2016 Mohamed Asker Saleh

[amtushinfosolutionspage]

Brain-Dead Hucksters have Hijacked Colin Kaepernick’s Protest

Last August, during the NFL’s preseason, Colin Kaepernick started sitting down during the national anthem.

When a reporter finally noticed what the quarterback was doing, Kaepernick gave a clear justification for his peaceful, 90-second protest: he could no longer turn a blind eye toward the brutality suffered by people of color at the hands of law enforcement. He wanted to open a dialogue about oppression, inequality, and the fact that some police officers avoided consequences after killing innocent, unarmed people in the United States. He believed the lives of those human beings were more important than him or his job, and personal and professional consequences would not stop him.

An extremely vocal portion of the country reacted by asking, But what about the song? That sentiment morphed into gripes about respect for the flag and then, finally, the absurd logical end of this nonsense, Why do you hate the troops and, by extension, America?

Kaepernick wanted the spotlight focused on powerless Americans having their rights trampled and lives taken; the disingenuous right countered with a year-long campaign to discredit Kaepernick and anyone who joined him by pushing a false narrative about disrespecting the troops, who apparently specifically died in every war for a song and a piece of cloth and not the right of Americans to take those knees, or the right to live in a country where police officers don’t get to murder citizens without repercussion.

It’s heartbreaking to say, but this past Sunday shows that brain-dead argument perpetrated by brain-dead hucksters and embraced by brain-dead people is serving its purpose, by deflecting attention away from the protest’s original meaning.

The response by so many athletes to President Sentient Egg Avatar’s “Get that son of a bitch off the field right now” statement during a speech in Alabama on Friday was wonderful but also indicative of our current reality: that the stupidest, most duplicitous people have hijacked the conversation Kaepernick started and placed NFL players in a reactionary position. It’s no longer about the unchecked police violence and widespread inequality that drove Kaepernick’s protest; it’s about (almost entirely) black athletes responding to the words of arguably the dumbest person to ever occupy the Oval Office and how much more than half of America hates him.

The unity was inspiring and the support of teams that mustered the backbone to condemn the inflammatory words of the President through a press release was commendable, but what are we talking about now?

Sound bites from those who kneeled, stood together with interlocking arms, or remained in the locker room were seemingly required to include a statement from the player about how much he loves the troops or the flag or America because God forbid he doesn’t make that clear for the underhanded snakes ready to pounce from the tall grass and scream about disrespecting a soldier that gave his life, as if that proclamation of love from the players matters to the cretins who would scold them anyway.

Kaepernick capitulated to no one, and it’s a likely reason for his current lack of an NFL job. Meanwhile, players who are still employed are now compelled to satisfy the Tammy Lorens of the world when the reality is nothing short of total subordination will ever make people like her happy.

Here’s what Patriots wide receiver Brandin Cooks said about standing arm-in-arm with his teammates during the anthem:

It’s one of those things, you’re going to stand with your brothers, kneel with your brothers and be by your side. One statement I’d like to make, a lot of people think we’re disrespecting the flag and the military but my father was a Marine, my uncle was a Marine, my family fought in the Vietnam war, I have the utmost respect for the men and women who fight for our freedom … The message we’re sending is, we just want respect and unity and there’s only so many ways you can do it.

And here’s what Kaepernick said the first time he was asked about taking a knee:

I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses black people and people of color. To me, this is bigger than football and it would be selfish on my part to look the other way. There are bodies in the street and people getting paid leave and getting away with murder. This is not something that I am going to run by anybody. I am not looking for approval. I have to stand up for people that are oppressed…If they take football away, my endorsements from me, I know that I stood up for what is right.

The difference in tone is all the evidence required to see that those who would undermine Kaepernick’s original purpose have been successful. Cooks took a brave stance but spent more time talking about how much he loves the troops than he did about respect and unity, two vague and nebulous ideas; Kaepernick’s message offered no qualifications about flag love and had a clear, sharp point from which he never wavered before being blackballed out of the league.

What if Cooks’ father was a teacher and his uncle a janitor? What if no one in his family fought in the Vietnam War? What if members of his family protested the Vietnam War? Would that make Cooks or anyone else less worthy of respect? No, of course it wouldn’t. The people who pretend that it matters are the same people who want to treat him as less than a person in the first place.

At best, Kaepernick’s specific protest has morphed into a more wide-ranging one about race in America and standing up to a leader of the free world who believes there are good and bad people on both sides of a fight between white supremacists and those who would stand in their way. At worst, though, any movement started by Kaepernick has been stalled by a spin machine—and a President—that clearly cares more about symbols and vague notions of patriotism than people of color.

Kaepernick’s protest was a forceful and specific statement that, for people of color, America is not all it’s cracked up to be. This weekend’s dramatic expansion of athlete protests was reactionary, with many players feeling the need to include a new caveat that they loved America. Disingenuous political leaders, talking heads and media members, and craven opportunists have shifted the conversation from calling out injustice and inequality to offering up patriotic bona fides and asking for unity.

The opportunity is there for players—all players—to recapture control of the narrative Kaepernick authored last August. If this was nothing more than a one-week response to President Wasn’t Loved As A Child, he and all the people like him win. He will have fractured and fragmented one of the most important athlete movements in years and rendered it unrecognizable.

But if players create and claim ownership of a new narrative that comes out of this weekend, one that results in an awakening in this country about race and inequity and is more than just holding up a middle finger to a fat old man, Kaepernick’s original movement can become more powerful than anyone ever dreamed.

Brain-Dead Hucksters have Hijacked Colin Kaepernick’s Protest syndicated from http://ift.tt/2ug2Ns6