#i will write for mr reed soon as promised

[resurrectionist3]

Timex

Daniel Cleaver x fem!Reader (18+)

✒️ - 12/25/2024 🔏 - 01/08/2025

⏳ - 5,563 words

⚠️CW - 18+ NSFW, oral stimulation (p in mouth), no p in v (yet), general smut, Daniel Cleaver and his sliminess (his presence deserves a warning)

✧─── ⋆⋅ ✧⋅⋆ ───✧

📜 - A fairly new hire is getting ready for a very important meeting at her job as the co editor in chief at Pemberley Press. To her surprise, she seems to have lost her favorite wristwatch.

At work, she manages to find it ... on the desk of her most insufferable colleague.

Author's Note - First fan fiction posted to Tumblr, I cannot believe it's for this man. It is actually inspired by the fact that I lost my favorite watch just before Christmas - don't ask how my brain decided to write a fan fiction because of it. I did manage to find it while I wrote this so, that's a win for me. Yes, Frankie is inspired by Francis Abernathy from The Secret History. And yes, the presence of an author named Miles Finch does indeed imply that this fan fiction and this version of Daniel Cleaver do exist in the same universe as the 2003 Christmas comedy film, Elf, starring Will Ferrel. Our beloved Mr. Reed will be here soon, I promise. But I fear I must get this freak out of my system before I can focus on the other one.

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“Chilly morning in London today, with a high of 4 degrees and a low of -1° tonight! Expect light flurries this evening with-” The cheerful English news reporter said in his routine chatter about the weather forecast. I poured out a decent serving of cat food for my sweet Argo and sat down to my own breakfast. Turning down the television volume and opening my work notebook, I reviewed the notes from the previous day regarding today’s very important meeting, with a very important author. 

I furrowed my brows as I read the author’s scribbled name, Miles Finch, trying to remember where else I had heard of him outside of work. 

My eyes drifted lower on the page to a different name that I had written down - one that made my heart race and my cheeks blush. Daniel Cleaver, my insufferably attractive colleague and co-editor in chief at Pemberley Press. Our boss, Mr. Fitzherbert, thought it would be some wonderful idea for us to work together preparing for this meeting; the loyal employee of several years teaching the new hire ‘all the way from Boston, Massachusetts’. Weeks spent working a little too closely with Daniel, all leading up to today. To be completely honest, it took its toll on me. One can only take so much of him and his arrogance. 

And his smile … his eyes … his voice … his-

“Ugh,” I caught my mind wandering and stopped, nearly choking on my morning coffee. “Enough of that, (y/n).” I said to myself as I stood from the table. 

I carefully chose a CD to play while I got dressed, settling on one burned by my friend back home. The first song, some obscure 80s pop tune, filled my room as I made my way to the closet. 

“Miniskirt and blouse,” I pondered out loud, pulling the outfit from the rack. “Or, black suit dress?”

Eyeing both choices, I tried to decide which outfit would warrant the best response during the meeting. I looked again at the miniskirt momentarily, blushing as I recalled the … effect it seemed to have on my intolerable associate when I last wore it. 

The way Daniel eyed me that entire day was undeniable. I had been rather used to his stares after 6 months of working with him, but that was different. The way he bit his lip as those icy blue eyes wandered to places they definitely shouldn’t…

“No,” I said quickly, dropping the skirt onto my bed. “Absolutely no distractions today. Suit dress it is.”

After finishing my outfit and makeup, I only had a few minutes before I had to leave. I gathered my things, listing off everything important: ‘notebook, car keys, bag, coat, scarf…’

I prattled off  my belongings in my head as I stopped at my vanity one last time. ‘Necklace, rings, wristwatch-’ I named each item as I put it on, but-

‘Wristwatch…?’  I froze mid-list as I realized my favorite watch was nowhere in sight. I opened every drawer, brows furrowed as I searched all over the apartment. I thought of anywhere it could possibly be, and yet, still nothing. 

I stopped and sighed at the new mess I had made in my hunt. Clothes and jewelry strewn over my unmade bed after my unceremonious rummage around. 

‘I wore it yesterday.. I remember that,’  I thought to myself, stood amongst the disarray. ‘Then.. where did it go afterwards?' 

Figuring it would be easily found on my desk at work,  I relented. I took all my things and left the apartment, throwing on my scarf and coat once inside the elevator. 

In the car, my mind drifted back to the watch. After earning this perfect job at Pemberley, I bought anything I wanted. Expensive jewelry, designer clothes, a new car - even my fancy apartment in London after relocating. I could probably buy 7 of the same basic black and gold Timex watch, but this one was special to me. 

“I’m being quite honest, Frankie, I can't find it anywhere,” I sigh over the phone to my best friend. “I looked all over my apartment, all over my work desk, even asked our security guard if he’d seen it. I fear it’s gone.” I slouched a little in my desk chair as I came to my upsetting realization. 

“Please, (y/n), it’s not that serious. It’s a small thing, I’ll buy you a new one if you like.” Frankie said, his voice as cool and unconcerned as always. Franklin Arkwright; assistant to the CEO of our partner publishing company back home in Boston. He was my oldest friend, and the one who managed to get me the job at Pemberley in the first place. 

I stood from my chair and paced about my office, the phone cord pulling as I walked around my desk. “It’s not just a small thing, Frankie. You know how much I love that watch, and I don't enjoy losing my belongings.” My hand went to my (y/hc) hair as I sighed again. I turned around, going to the opposite side of the room when I accidentally locked eyes with him. 

Daniel Cleaver’s office sat inconveniently right beside mine, both spaces walled completely with floor to ceiling glass (I preferred more privacy myself, but the sleek and modern look was just so in these days).

My heart quickened for a moment, sending a strange pulse through my chest as his blue eyes met mine, a smirk appearing on his face. I managed a smile back as he waved, still talking to whoever was on his own phone. He eyed me up and down as he always did, his gaze lingering on my choice of dress; the dress that I suddenly realized had such a low neckline. 

I scoffed and looked away from his irritating stares, my eyes moving to his desk instead. Frankie continued on in my ear about something his mother had said as I scanned the organized mess of Daniel’s workspace. Stacked papers and folders, pens and pencils, a paper coffee cup, my watch, a stapler-

My watch?

My eyes widened at the undeniable sight of my wristwatch sitting on the desk of none other than Daniel fucking Cleaver. The black leather wristband and gold rimmed clock face was recognizable even from where I stood. I looked back up to him as he paced about his own office, talking away on his phone. He seemed either unaware that it was there, or he at least didn't care. 

'How on earth did it get there?’ I thought to myself as I wracked my brain, finally remembering yesterday’s encounter. 

✧─── ⋆⋅ ✧⋅⋆ ───✧

In the meeting room, Daniel leaned against the long table as I went over my checklist for a final time. “Right, the presentation is finished, I wrote up my little spiel. Do you have yours ready, Cleaver?” I asked and instantly rolled my eyes as I caught him staring where he shouldn’t. Again. 

“Yes, yes, (y/ln), I’ll get on that straight away,” He said briskly, reluctantly meeting my eyes. I could tell he was very distracted, and likely hadn’t heard a word that I said. 

“Daniel, please just know that if you fuck up this meeting and make a fool of me, I will have your head for it.” I said in a casual voice, returning to my written list.

“Noted. Thank you, (y/ln)” Daniel responded coolly. I caught his eyes wandering again and shot him a glare. Perhaps he felt bad for not listening to me, or more than likely, he was trying to play off his stares as he leaned off the table and walked closer. 

“You know, (y/n), I never noticed how nice your watch is,” He said, tilting his head as he looked at the clock on my wrist. “I think I like it.”

 I furrowed my brows at his out-of-place comment and looked at him skeptically. “Well, I do wear it everyday, Daniel. How have you not mentioned it before?” Daniel just shrugged in response, eyes still on my wrist. 

“The gold suits you quite nicely,” He said pensively, almost as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud. Daniel gently reached out for my hand, and asked for a closer look. Confused, I set down my notebook and pen, taking the watch from my wrist. Our hands brushed momentarily as I set the watch in his palm, making my heart skip annoyingly. As he examined it, I went back to my list and finished going over everything for tomorrow. 

Before I could say another word to Daniel, Mr. Fitzherbert had entered and asked for me. The last thing I remembered was taking my notebook and pen, and hurrying out - leaving my favorite watch with Daniel. Fucking. Cleaver. 

✧─── ⋆⋅ ✧⋅⋆ ───✧

“(y/n)...? (Y/N)??” Frankie repeated over the phone, taking me out of my memory. “Are you still there, babe?” 

I let out a laugh and took a breath as I realized I was still on the phone with him. “Y-yea, I’m still here, Frankie.. But I think I should go. I, uhm, I found my watch.”

Without another word, I said goodbye and hung up the phone. Daniel had also finished his own phone call and was standing by the window, reading some documents. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose as I contemplated actually going over there. After all, it IS just a watch. But, it was still my favorite one. 

I readjusted my dress and made my way to Daniel’s office, entering politely. “Afternoon, Mr. Cleaver,” I said with the nicest smile I could manage. “Today’s the day! Big meeting with Miles Finch. I hope you’re ready!” 

Daniel flashed me a smile - that terribly charming smile of his. “Good afternoon to you, Miss (y/ln). To what do I owe this lovely intrusion?” 

From the look he gave me I could tell, he knew what I was there for.  My eyes went from him to my watch, sat right on his desk beside his computer, almost displayed like some kind of trophy. I lost my fake smile and relaxed, crossing my arms. “I’m here to see if you're prepared. And to take my watch back; I’ve been looking for it all morning.” 

Daniel looked confused and taken aback by my statement. “Your watch..? (y/ln), you must be barking, I don’t have your watch.” 

I narrowed my eyes at him and walked towards his desk. I wasn’t in any mood for his games today. “Yes, Daniel. This watch, it’s mine.” I reached out to take it, just as he bent over the desk and picked it up himself. 

“Oh, this watch? Odd, what is it doing here? Are you sure it’s yours?” Daniel said while he examined it just like he did the day prior. I rolled my eyes at him and his antics. 

“Yesterday.. The meeting room? You asked to see it and then I had to go.” I recalled briefly, still irritated with his little act. “I really have been looking for it all morning, I’ve been worried half to death.” 

Daniel’s eyes widened in fake shock. “Half to death? God, (y/ln), it’s just a watch,” He said, turning it over in his hands. “Why do you wear it everyday? It's a bit worse for wear, isn't it? Scratches in the glass here, creasing in the wristband. And, oh dear, is that a crack? Surely, they pay you enough to buy a nicer one.” 

I glared at him from the other side of his desk and huffed in anger. “It’s very special to me, Daniel. My dear friend, Frankie, gave it to me before I left home to move here. It used to belong to him; he knew I loved it so much,” I stopped myself and sighed. Something told me that it was futile to try and explain the emotional value of a wristwatch to someone like Daniel Cleaver. “It’s .. sentimental. Perhaps you’d understand if you had friends of your own, now I’d like to have it back please.” 

The emphasis on my statement didn't seem to matter as Daniel just smiled to himself and looked back at my watch. “How dare you presume to know the status of my personal friendships,” He said after taking a gasp of fake offence. 

I held my hand out for him to give the watch back, a silent plea for him to end this ridiculous nonsense. But to my confusion and irritation, instead of offering it back, he pulled back his sleeve and put it on. “You know, I think I'll hold onto it for you. Just for today, what do you think, (y/ln)?” 

It was my turn to be taken aback now. “What, no- Cleaver, just give it to me,” I said, my already thin patience running thinner. “This isn’t grade school, what are we, confiscating each other’s belongings now..?” 

Daniel said nothing as he walked around his desk and stopped in front of me - a little too close for a colleague. “You can come back and collect it at the end of the day. Stay later tonight.. If you want it back, then you’ll know where to find me, hmm?” He said, his voice patronizing. Yet, quiet and … suggestive. He was so close, I could smell his cologne - a familiar fragrance from Jo Malone. He lifted his hand and I held my breath, ready for him to do something deranged, like brush back my hair or caress my cheek. Hell, he was close enough to lean in for a kiss.

 Instead, he looked over my shoulder at my watch on his wrist to check the time. “Well look at that.. It’s time to meet Miles Finch,” Daniel said with a quick smile as he stepped back to his desk to pick up some documents. According to the clock on his wall, he was right - ten minutes until 3pm. A few people from different departments even walked by Daniel’s office and into the elevator, clearly on their way to the meeting room. 

Daniel walked past me quickly and I followed behind to retrieve my own things from my office, just as he stopped and turned back.

“Hot dress, by the way, (y/ln),” He started, making my cheeks blush red. “With a neckline that low, I’m sure you won’t even need your notes in order to convince them.”

I gasped and tried to interject as he made his way out to the elevator. 

The meeting came and went, ending on a high note with Miles Finch agreeing to our proposed contract for his upcoming book series. It was truly a triumph; after weeks of hard work and preparation, it actually paid off. The entire meeting room filed out, talking happily and shaking hands with one another with a few minutes to spare before the end of the work day. I was approached numerous times by colleagues and representatives visiting from our New York location, congratulating me and Daniel on a job well done. As the building slowly emptied, I retreated back to my office and opened my computer to start on some extra work. I hadn’t forgotten about what Daniel said. And I certainly hadn't forgotten about my damned wristwatch. 

There were five separate invitations to go out for drinks with everyone from the meeting. And I really did wish to attend. Perhaps for a chance to earn a spot within Miles Finch’s good graces (he was said to be a difficult man to please), but I declined every single one. “Such hard workers, you and Mr. Cleaver are. You make an excellent team, I’m quite glad to have hired you.” Mr. Fitzherbert said when he heard that Daniel and I wished to stay late to ‘get ahead’ on the next big project. 

‘Oh yes,’ I thought to myself. ‘I'm sure we’ll be working very hard tonight.’ It was the only thought I had in my mind as the boss praised us. Checking my email for a final time before I got to work, I noticed a new message. The sender’s name made me sigh and curse as I clicked it open. 

 ‘45 minutes, floor will be empty. 

50 minutes, after George does his rounds, you know what to do.

-DC’

The wall clock ticked away at an agonizingly slow pace. A few times, I even caught myself instinctually turning my wrist to check the time, and cursing under my breath when I found nothing there. When the time finally arrived, George, the security guard walked casually past my glass-walled office. We exchanged polite waves and I watched him walk through the room and out, heading for the stairwell. I recognized my moment, and turned off my computer. I took my things as if I were ready to leave: packed my notebook and pen into my bag, gathered up my coat and scarf, and made the dreadful walk of shame to Daniel’s office door. I felt his eyes on me as I hesitated outside, wondering again if this was all really worth it. I knew I wasn’t just going to walk in, collect my trinket, and go. It would never be that easy with Daniel. 

“About time, (y/ln), took you long enough to finally open the door. Having second thoughts?” Daniel said, without looking up from his computer screen. 

“Actually, yes,” I confessed, putting my belongings down on the chair by the door. “Am I going to regret coming in here, Cleaver..?” I gave him a sincere look of worry. His expression visibly softened as he stood from his desk and walked over. He stopped in front of me, just like he had done earlier. Except this time, there was no one around to see us. No one to watch him do something deranged… like brushing back my hair, or caressing my cheek. Or..

“Daniel,” I whispered, pulling away when he leaned in. My hand went to his chest, ghosting against the bare skin where his dress shirt was left unbuttoned. “Please - don’t risk our positions, or our jobs, for this silliness.” Daniel responded with a soft smile as his hand went to my cheek, caressing it gently. 

“It’s only a problem if we’re caught, (y/n).” Daniel began, his other hand trailing slowly up my side and to my waist. He pulled me against him and I stumbled a little, falling against Daniel’s chest and fully into his arms - right where he wanted me. “And if we are, which we won’t be, I’ll take the blame. It’s my idea after all. I’ll risk my position and my job… not yours.”

Somehow, Daniel’s own version of a sacrifice was endearing enough to make me blush furiously. I opened my mouth to protest, just to be met with his thumb gliding gently over my bottom lip. “It’s alright, (y/n),” He whispered with an amused smile on his face. He winked and I couldn't help but return the smile. Daniel backed away briefly, pulling me by the arm to his desk where I settled against it. He resumed his place in front of me, pulling me back into his embrace. “I’ve got it all figured out… and I've got you.”

I felt myself physically relax at Daniel’s words - more relaxed than I’ve ever felt while being with him. I raised my eyebrows at his statement, sighing against his lips. “You always have everything figured out, don't you Daniel?” Before he could give me one of his clever responses, I closed the gap between us and pressed my lips to his. Just to shut him up. 

His hand settled on my hip, keeping me pinned against his desk. I let my own hands move up his chest, and over his shoulders. One hand rest on the back of his neck, while the other went up into his hair, getting tangled in his dark locks. He let out a moan against my lips, and I couldn't help my mischievous smile.

“Excuse my enthusiasm, (y/n),” Daniel began, pulling away only enough to form words. “But I have been fucking dying to get you like this since the day I met you.” It was my turn to be amused now. I smiled and bit my bottom lip, delighted to see him this flustered. “Oh, I can tell, Daniel,” The feeling of his growing erection against me was enough to know that he was serious. I let my hands fall from their work in his hair, dropping one to his shoulder and the other to the desk behind me. It rested beside Daniel’s left hand, my fingers ghosting over his. “To make a confession of my own, I’ve always found you rather attractive - hot as fuck, even. But your insufferable arrogance was often far to much for me to bear.” 

Daniel laughed against my neck as he dipped down to kiss the sensitive skin there, earning a breathy moan from me. I moved my hand from the desktop, gliding over his hand and to his wrist, where I felt the undeniable outline of my watch. I quickly moved my hand up, tightening around his forearm as he nipped at my neck, hoping he wouldn’t get suspicious. “Daniel…” I moaned to him, making him hold my waist tighter in response. My other hand slid off his shoulder and down his back to distract him while I began to remove my watch from his wrist. 

‘Almost…’ I thought and let out a sigh when I felt the leather strap slide from the small buckle. Daniel bit into my neck harder than he had before, and I gasped sharply. He paused, bringing his quest to cover me in love bites to a close. “Don’t stop, please,” I pleaded, nearly whining for him. Not only was I close to finally getting my watch back, but the physical contact actually felt too good to lose. I felt Daniel smirk against my lips as he pulled away from me completely, my hand drifting off his shoulder and lingering outstretched for him. 

“You almost had me, (y/n),” Daniel said while he fastened my watch back onto his wrist. “Don’t make me restrain you, (y/ln). Play fairly and you’ll get what you came here for.” 

I roll my eyes and groan, crossing my arms in front of me. “Fine, Daniel. What must I do to get my precious watch back?” Daniel put a hand to his heart and gasped. 

“You wound me, (y/n), honestly,” He paced to the side of the desk, leaning on it bringing our faces inches apart once again. “I had hoped that what you wanted from me wasn't just your watch.” 

“Daniel-” I scolded, as if he were a child. He was surely acting like one. He just laughed and held up his hands in surrender after taking a step away. “Alright, (y/ln), alright. I need you to do something for me. A favor, I suppose.” His voice dropped in volume as he finished. I chewed the inside of my lip, eyeing him cautiously. 

“Like what? Take over a project for you? Cover for you while you run off to some broom closet or storage room with one of the interns?” Daniel approached me with that damned smile on his face again. The one that first made my heart race. The one that could convince me to do anything. 

“Bold of you to assume I’d be running off with anyone other than you, (y/ln). But no, nothing like that,” He paused, seemingly thinking. His tongue traced his bottom lip as his eyes scanned over my face while his hand absentmindedly rubbed my thigh beneath my skirt. “Well, you are quite good with this mouth of yours.” 

My eyes widened and my lips parted in my shock. ‘Oh, surely not.’ 

“I don’t suppose you mean I have a chance of talking my way out of this?” I asked, trying desperately to avoid what I knew he was implying. Daniel shook his head, still enamored by me as he resumed his kissing along my jaw and down my neck. “Come now, (y/n), don’t play innocent. It’s a poor act, and it doesn't look good on you.” 

He kisses and roughly nips at a spot just below my jaw, making me crane my head back and sigh. He pulled away again and looked at me. I had never seen his blue eyes look so dark. 

‘No. No. No way. Tell him no, say-’

“Fine,” I nodded to Daniel’s desk chair, telling him to sit as I pulled my hair back. I bit my lip to hide a smile as he scrambled to take his seat. I stole a pen off his desk and stuck it into my makeshift updo, securing it in place. 

I left my spot on the front of the desk, rounding it to stand between Daniel’s legs. The outline of his cock was apparent even through his dark trousers as I lowered myself down between his legs. The only sounds for a moment were heavy breaths and Daniel’s zipper sliding down. He shifted in his seat, pushing his trousers down slightly. I took a breath and paused when I slid my fingers around the waistband of his underwear. I hesitated for a moment, making Daniel hum in amusement from above me. I looked up at him, eyes locked with his. 

“You’re really doing this, (y/n)?” He said, surely meaning to challenge me. His arm was propped by his elbow on the armrest of the desk chair. My Timex watch sat, still fastened to Daniel’s wrist, looking almost like it was meant to be there. The gold hardware glinted in the low lights in the office and I felt my chest tighten at the thought of Daniel Fucking Cleaver keeping one of my most treasured possessions forever. “Of course I am,” I say, settling onto my knees and slowly letting my hands slide under Daniel’s dress shirt, up and down the sides of his torso. “I want my fucking watch back.”

Daniel nodded and readjusted himself in his seat, leaning back like a king on his throne. “Go on then Miss (y/ln). Use that pretty mouth of yours… take what you came here for.” I smiled back and rolled my eyes, letting my gaze settle on Daniel and his endearing grin. “Yes, right away, Mr. Cleaver.”

I slid my fingers into his waistband again and pulled them, no hesitation this time. My eyes widened a bit when his cock sprang free from its constraints. He was admittedly very large. Daniel let out a groan as I took him in hand and licked his tip playfully. I continued my teasing, enjoying the sounds of Daniel nearly whimpering. 

“O-ohhh, (y/n).. enough of that, please.” He begged, dropping his left hand to my face. Daniel held my chin up with one, and with the other began to stroke his cock, positioning it in front of my mouth. “No more teasing if you want your watch back.” I nodded obediently, which pleased him. 

“Now, (y/n), if you’d be so kind, just- ohhh, fuck,” Happy to quiet him, I took him into my mouth, going as deep as I comfortably could. I breathed slowly and deliberately, ensuring that I didn’t choke too severely. 

I felt Daniel’s hand snake around to the back my neck and hold me, tangling into the hair at the base. I moaned as he began to guide my head back and forth; slowly and gently. I shut my eyes for a moment, focusing on my breathing again. He was so much … more than what I had experienced in the past, and I was not accustomed to it. 

I felt Daniel move his hand from my chin and I opened my eyes slowly. His head was thrown back in ecstasy, his groans and whispers filling his office space. I pulled off his cock and trailed my tongue along the length of it, earning a hiss and a long moan of my name. I looked up again, hoping to catch his gaze and instead was met with the clockface of my watch on his wrist as his hand held the base of his cock. I stared at it before me, as I closed my lips around him again. 

‘He’s doing it on purpose, surely,’ I thought as his moans became a bit louder. 

“(y/n), fuck. I’m close, darling, so close-” Daniel groaned, his hold tightening on the back of my neck. I hummed and hollowed my cheeks as I took him, enjoying the sounds of his cries. 

I glanced up through my eyelashes and watched as he reached his climax, finishing into my mouth. I shut my eyes, swallowing what I could as Daniel’s hold on my neck loosened completely and his hand fell while he relaxed. 

“God, you are good Miss (y/ln). Fuck,” He groaned, fixing his clothes and redressing. I paused and patted his thigh gently, while I turned and spit the rest of his cum into the wastebin beneath his desk. Daniel watched as I casually stood and wiped at my mouth, rubbing off what remained of my lipstick. “Too much for you, darling?” He said, making me roll my eyes. I leaned forward, resting my hands on the chair’s armrests. My lips grazed Daniel’s tauntingly as I let my tongue glide over his bottom lip. “Is there anything else you require of me, Mr. Cleaver?” I asked with the best demure voice I could manage. 

Daniel groaned again, seemingly close to giving into me. “(y/n), darling…” He whispered, holding my face gently. “I thought I told you the innocent act isn’t your thing. Besides, as badly as I need to bend you over and fuck you on this desk, George’s next round is going to start soon and I’m confident that you don’t want him to find us like that.”

I stood and let him stand from his chair. “How do you know the security guard’s patrolling routine so well?” 

Daniel grinned. “My sweet, (y/n), why do you think?”

I didn’t give him an answer. Instead I scoffed at him and fixed the collar of my dress, crossing the room to pick up my belongings. “Oh, now I’ve earned the silent treatment have I?” Daniel leaned against his desk, watching me put on my scarf and coat. I failed to hide a smile when I watched him attempt to seem as though he wasn’t crying my name a moment ago. I crossed the room again, back over to Daniel and extended my hand wordlessly. He rolled his eyes and sighed, carefully removing the watch on his wrist. 

He lowered it into my palm and I nodded. “Thank y-,”

“On second thought,” Daniel began, cutting me off and pulling my watch away again. “I think I’ll hold onto it a little bit longer. Just until tomorrow evening, that alright, (y/ln)?”

My cheeks went warm while I watched him put the watch into his pocket and put on his own coat. I huffed, admittedly like a child, and crossed my arms. “Oh, was I not good enough?” I asked, a little too loudly. He shook his head. 

“Oh no, darling, you were wonderful. Too good for me to let this little game end right now. What do you say to … The Ritz? Tomorrow evening?” Daniel took his own things and walked to the door of his office. “I do owe you after all. I fear I’ve robbed you of a lovely night of drinks with our colleagues.”

I followed him out of the room and over to the elevator, waiting for the doors to open. “I'd say I've never been,” I confessed. “You do know you can ask me out to dinner without holding my wristwatch hostage, right?”

Daniel shrugged, sliding his arm around my waist as we watched the numbers of the floors descend. “Sure, but this is just more fun,” He leaned down, his lips grazing against my ear as he whispered, making my chest tighten. “It’s like getting back at you for those revealing outfits you’ve been wearing here - especially that little miniskirt you have.” I shivered as his fingers made gentle circles on my waist. 

He lifted his head, and stood up straight just in time for the doors to open again. George was indeed on his second round of the empty building, having left the other security guard at the front desk. We waved goodbye and were met with a cold wind beyond the front doors of Pemberley Press, the flurries mentioned on the news this morning already making their appearance. I paused to button up my coat, as Daniel examined my Timex watch yet again. 

“You know, (y/ln), I really do think this watch suits me nearly as well as it suits you.” He said, putting it back into the pocket of his trousers. I rolled my eyes and faced him. “Oh sure. Perhaps once we’re all done here you can get one of your OWN.” I heard Daniel’s laugh echoing behind me as I walked away from him. As I reached my car, I got inside and started it up wondering how on earth I was going to explain this situation to Frankie when I called him on the phone at my apartment.

✧─── ⋆⋅ ✧⋅⋆ ───✧

I hope you all enjoyed!! Potentially scheming a Part II at some point, but please let me know what you think!

[violettduchess]

Hello Duchess! Losing my mind over your soft!Keith kiss.

I’d so love to see you do alter!Keith, and Sariel if you felt like it ☺️♥️

A/N: Well, a few people asked for Alter!Keith. And I had the time....so here we are!

Alter!Keith (Dark Keith?) x reader

Just for the sake of clarity: reader is fully on board with everything. There is nothing he does that isn't consensual.

Word Count: 493

He approaches, a predator with eyes that glitter as it weaves its way through dark foliage. You know better than to look directly into the sun, but you can't help but stare into those golden eyes when he reaches you. There is nothing but intent burning in them, bright as Bengal fire. They roam your face as his gloved hands slide up your shoulders. Possessive. Confident. In total control. One hand snakes its way around the back of your neck, pulling you closer. The other finds long locks of your hair and winds them around his fingers. 

Your name is a sound born of hunger, a low growl in the back of his throat that sends a shiver rolling through your body like thunder. He pulls your head upwards with the slightest tug. You allow your body to bend like a willow reed, your face tilted up towards his, eager and already breathless at the promise written in the sharp curve of his smile.

There is no warning. No gentle drops of rain or light snowfall. There is only the storm as it descends and claims you. His grip on you tightens while his mouth opens, ready and ravenous. There is barely time to breathe, barely time to respond as he sets out to devour you. His kiss is comprised of lips and teeth and tongue, voracious and unyielding. Every movement of his mouth sets another fire and sends it burning through your veins, as if they were filled with ether instead of blood. You can only hold on, your hands gripping the strong muscles of his upper arms, a lifeline in the face of raging winds and an inferno of want.

He breaks away from your mouth, licking his lips, his breath hot and ragged. His eyes are a turbulent, golden blaze, restless as he looks for the next place to feast. His hand leaves your neck to push up into your hair, freeing strands from their prison of ribbons and pins. Then he bends his tall body down, his mouth finding the sensitive slope of your neck, staking a claim there. Sharp teeth scrape over your skin, a hot mouth sucks hard and you are spinning, a wild cyclone of blistering desire let loose within the strong confines of his arms. You hardly recognize the sounds leaving your lips, whimpers and gasps and the drumbeat of his name, over and over, like a blacksmith’s forging hammer striking an anvil. 

This is no gentleman. He would tear the clothes from your body here and now. He would ravage you until there was nothing left but smoldering ashes. And you would let him. You would let him again and again and again.

It is only the sound of voices, those cold, sobering reminders of other people, that stays his hands. That lifts his covetous mouth from your feverish skin. His chest rises and falls, heavy with frustration. 

He reaches up, soothes his thumb over your red lips, lips that tremble from the wreckage of his passion.

Soon, that touch declares. Soon.

💋

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @leotoru @ariamichel @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @moonstruck-writing @scorchieart

[nancywheeeler]

"your cosmic call sign" inspiration bible

it was very strange not writing yccs this week and knowing i wouldn't have a new chapter to post tonight, so i've finally organized the media influences and playlist i promised! under the cut are the many different movies / episodes / podcasts / music that inspired "your cosmic call sign." another huge thank you to everyone who came along on this intergalactic adventure with me!

MOVIES

The biggest influences on YCCS were Super 8 (alien vs. a pack of teenagers and their camera) and The Vast of Night + The Fog (small town vibes and radio broadcasts as a narrative device). While I recommend all the movies on this list, The Vast of Night and The Fog deserve more love! The Vast of Night is atmospheric sci-fi, reminiscent of 50s radio dramas, and The Fog is atmospheric horror. Both are 90 minutes and make for great Sunday night watches, especially once it's dark outside.

The Vast of Night (2019)

Arrival (2016)

Super 8 (2011)

Adventures in Babysitting (1987)

Explorers (1985)

Starman (1984)

E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (1982)

The Fog (1980)

Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977)

The Blob (1958 & 1988)

Invaders from Mars (1953)

It Came from Space (1953)

The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951)

TWILIGHT ZONE EPISODES

Where Is Everybody? (S1E1)

Time Enough at Last (S1E8)

The Hitch-Hiker (S1E16)

The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street (S1E22)

Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up? (S2E28)

To Serve Man (S3E24)

Death Ship (S4E6)

PODCASTS

Conspiracy Theories: Montauk Project Pt. I & II

Mile Higher: The Montauk Project Conspiracy

YOUR COSMIC PLAYLIST

[asterisks: songs explicitly mentioned in YSSC]

Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft {Carpenters}

Always Something There to Remind Me {Naked Eyes}

Owner of a Lonely Heart {Yes}

Radio Ga Ga {Queen}

The Passenger {Iggy Pop}

Oh! You Pretty Things {David Bowie}*

Symptom of the Universe {Metallica}*

Interstellar Overdrive {Pink Floyd}

Ticket to the Moon {Electric Light Orchestra}

Planet Caravan {Black Sabbath}

Space Oddity {David Bowie}*

Captain Jack {Billy Joel}*

Midnight Special {Creedence Clearwater Revival}*

Since I’ve Been Loving You {Led Zeppelin}*

Comfortably Numb {Pink Floyd}*

What’s Happening?!?! {The Byrds}*

Vienna {Ultravox}

Moving in Stereo {The Cars}

More Than This {Roxy Music}

Memory Motel {The Rolling Stones}*

Satellite of Love {Lou Reed}

Take It to the Limit {Eagles}

‘39 {Queen}

Everybody Wants to Rule the World {Tears for Fears}

Hazy Shade of Winter {The Bangles}

Moonage Daydream {David Bowie}

Twilight {Electric Light Orchestra}

Mr. Spaceman {The Byrds}

This Time Tomorrow {The Kinks}

Across the Universe {The Beatles}*

Rocket Man {Elton John}

Goodbye Stranger {Supertramp}

Drive {The Cars}

Starcrossed Lovers {Siouxsie and the Banshees}

Because the Night {Patti Smith}

Radio, Radio {Elvis Costello & The Attractions}

You Can’t Always Get What You Want {The Rolling Stones}

This Must Be the Place {Talking Heads}

Stand By Me {John Lennon}

Darling Be Home Soon {The Lovin' Spoonful}

Starman {David Bowie}*

Eclipse {Pink Floyd}

[dc41896]

Attention

Pairing: Johnny “Human Torch” StormxBlack Reader

⚠️: Tiny bit of angst (if it even counts really), also tiny bit of implied happy times, but mostly fluff💕!

Re-reading over your notes for what felt like the millionth time this week, you softly mumble to yourself the highlighted material hoping that everything would remain stuck in your mind for your practical tomorrow.

“Intramuscular means within the muscle and is given at a 90 degree angle. Intravenous means within the vein, given at a 25 degree angle. Subcutaneous: in the subcutaneous layer at a 45 degree angle. And finally intradermal-,”

“Psst....psst!!”

If only your boyfriend would stop being a grown man child and let you finish studying though.

“Yes Johnny?,” you sigh still looking down at your binder.

“Take a break, I want to show you something.”

“No Johnny we’re not doing that again.”

“I wasn’t talking about that princess,” he smirks moving to lean against the bedroom door frame. “Although I’m not complaining if you want more.”

Giving him a look clearly showing how you weren’t in the mood, he chuckles holding up his hands to show he was done joking.

“Seriously though I want to show you something, so can you please come with me?”

“Just tell me, or take a picture of it on your phone and show me that way. I really have to keep studying and don’t have time for a bunch of breaks.” Straightening up, a low huff leaves his lips as you hear him pad through the living room before coming back holding a new action figure posed as if about to throw a handful of flames.

“Look! It’s me!,” he beams squatting next to you holding out the toy for you to see.

“Mhm that’s nice babe,” you smile not really displaying the reaction he wanted you to.

“I see you’re having a hard time containing your excitement,” he retorts sarcastically, bringing his mini me back towards his chest.

“It really is nice babe, it’s just similar to some of your other toys that I’ve already seen.”

“But with this one, the little flame lights up. See?” Pressing the small button on the back to show the tiny, plastic flame glowing scarlet, a wide smile spreads across his face making you giggle.

“Yes very cool. Now if that’s all, I gotta get back to this okay?”

“Alright,” he sighs standing up to return to his spot on the couch probably cold by now. “Why don’t you come study out here? It’ll be more comfortable than sitting on the floor.”

“Because you’re watching tv and that’s gonna distract me.”

“Not anymore. The game’s off so I’m done for the night,” he playfully smiles stealing one of your study packets making you whine his name. “Cmon you know you’d rather sit on the big, soft, incredibly comfy couch.”

Wiggling his brows, you roll your eyes trying to focus back on the words in front of you, but as always, seeing his adorable pout was wearing you down. Plus the ache in your buttcheeks was really making the couch, or any soft piece of furniture for that matter, sound like heaven.

“And, as an added bonus, your incredibly hot, charming, all around amazing boyfriend will be there.”

“Johnny...”

“As!...support and to help anyway I can of course. What did you think?,” he feigns shock as you shake your head.

“Alright fine. But if you try to distract me just once, I’m kicking you out for the rest of the night, and you’ll have to either get a hotel, or crash with Reed and Sue.”

“Okay deal,” he chuckles helping you stand and gather the packets, pens, and highlighters you needed to continue your attempted all nighter.

Sat in the middle of the plush sectional with one of his legs draped over your folded ones and the other stretched out behind you, so far he’d done well on his agreement. He stayed busy on his phone watching sports highlights with earbuds attached to his head, and hardly ever touched you unless to give a reassuring hug when he could sense you were getting overwhelmed, or softly dance his finger along your arm making you smile. He even started quizzing you from whichever packet you were on as you lied just below his chest playing with his free hand.

From how he was earlier, seemingly a bit more clingy and not wanting to be away from you, something told you deep down this was all he wanted. Just feeling your body near him as you did whatever, no matter how boring the task was. And although a little distracting, you couldn’t be completely mad at him for his antics since deep down you know you wanted it too.

Honestly need may be the better word judging from your noticeably calmer state. Even Johnny could feel your heart rate gradually decrease to its normal speed through his body.

Soon his yawn began to trigger your own set and eyelids became heavy as the questions came slower along with your answers. You tried to fight it off, but apparently your body had other plans making it increasingly more difficult to open your eyes until both of your light snores were the only sound that could be heard throughout the room.

———

“Good morning Mr. Johnny Storm, Miss Y/N,” the computerized security system greets opening the curtains to reveal the bright sun and cause you to stir. Rubbing your eyes, you see all the packets spread on the glass coffee table quickly reminding you of your exam.

“Sherlock, what time is it?,” you ask in a panic as you sit up causing Johnny to shift slightly without opening his eyes.

Also, why he decided to name the computer system Sherlock, you’d never understand.

“11:30 am miss.”

Grabbing your packets as fast as you can, a string of curses fall from your lips as you run about trying to collect your things. By now you were supposed to be on campus looking over your notes one last time before going in for your slot time at 12. At this rate, you’d definitely be over an hour late and received an automatic zero.

“What’s the rush princess?,” your boyfriend tiredly asks stretching his arms over his head as he stands.

“I overslept and I’m late,” you sniff trying to hold back your tears as you search through drawers trying to find your scrubs. “Where are they?”

Joining you in the room, he tries to kiss your cheek only to miss you completely as you rush past him still looking for your clothes.

“Closet babe. By my suit.”

“Well what about the other ones since those need to be washed now?”

“In the basket to be washed.”

“You mean the same clothes in the basket I asked you to wash last weekend,” you retort changing into the faint ash smelling scrubs. Noticing you wiping your eyes a bit more frequently, he manages to grab your arm stopping you from wherever else you needed to go.

“Johnny seriously I don’t have time for this-,”

“Relax okay? Let’s try to call your professor and tell them what happened to see if you can get a new time.”

“It’s not gonna work. This isn’t an emergency situation, I just overslept like an idiot,” you answer pulling away to finish the rest of your morning routine in the bathroom.

He sighs hearing you bang about while pulling his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants trying to find the number for your school. His upcoming events list popping up though makes him deeply chuckle as he shakes his head.

“Oh honey...!”

“Johnny please don’t start. I’m already frustrated a-and overwhelmed trying to figure out what to do and just need to-.” Holding his phone in front of your eyes, you see his calendar showing all his important meetings and interviews, along with your test date.

Which wasn’t until next Monday.

Pulling your phone from your backpack, you go to your calendar to find the same thing making you feel even dumber.

“...S-So I don’t have my test today?”

“No princess,” he smiles coming closer to caress your face with both hands, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“And I stayed up all night this week studying for nothing?”

“Well not for nothing. You know your stuff now, so you won’t have to worry about it later.”

“Yea,” you sigh looking up at him as you hold onto his strong forearms. “Sorry for snapping at you about the laundry, and for kinda being cranky yesterday.”

“You were stressed. I get it.”

“But still, there were things I could’ve said differently-.”

“I forgive you,” he smiles leaning in to meet your soft lips with his in a needy kiss he’d been craving since yesterday. Biting your bottom lip as he just barely pulls away, your hands wander from his forearms to his flexed biceps, shoulders, and eventually chest stopping to graze your index finger along the small dip below his neck.

“Well since I don’t have an exam today and no classes, I was thinking...”

“Oh I think I know,” he smirks tilting his head lower to nip at your jaw and neck making you giggle.

“I help you do the laundry.” As soon as the sentence left your mouth, his stopped making you laugh harder while he groaned against your skin.

“Alright I promise it’ll get done today, but can’t we do it later?,” he whines with puppy eyes, lifting you so your legs could wrap around his hips as if trying to persuade you.

“Let me finish. We do the laundry so I can have clean scrubs and between loads, I give you all the attention I know you’ve been wanting that I wasn’t fully able to give this week.”

“Hey it’s not like I’ve been that-,” he tries to deny before meeting your eyes as if they were saying “really?”

“...yes please,” he smiles before his mouth returns to your smiling lips.

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @maxcullen @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jnk-812 @jojolu @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @secretmysteriousperson @scoop93535

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[magnesiaandlemonjuice]

Friday 22 December 1826

7 1/4

11 50/60

the magnesia does very well for me, not acting too much like medicine - In my salon at 8 5/60 - fine morning finished dressing - at my desk at 8 55/60 - finished my letter to Miss MacLean (vide yesterday) wrote the 2nd end and much under the seal, and a few lines across one end, all very small and close - what I extracted yesterday took up about the latter 1/3 page 1 and 1/2 page 2 - the following is about 1 or nearly 2/3 of page 3 after promising to write regularly I go on to observe 

‘you give me no hope of seeing you here - you doubt whether you should like Paris in ‘my way’ as I do - what way is that? Perhaps you mistake it a little - I am sensible of the merits of the place for edification, and amusement, and salubrity, and the general purposes of living in all the comfort that money can purchase - but I am patriot still, and British to the bone - were it not for my aunt, I should have no thought of settling here - But what can I do? we sometimes talk of going farther south - The question is whether, when it comes to the part, my aunt can bear the journey? - I know not what to think - On leaving England and on arriving here, her life seemed not worth 1/2 a years purchase - Since writing to you last, she has changed so wonderfully for the better, she may continue for a dozen years - The climate has been of very great service, and till this last day or 2, she was really as she said, quite well - Even now that she cannot walk about quite so well, it seems merely a temporary effect of the weather - we had had a little sleet and drizzling rain all the morning, the 1st time we have had the 1st appearance of snow in its smallest shape - One might have hitherto walked, and sat out in the Tuileries gardens every day excepting 1 or 2 rainy days - and one might indeed, have walked there well enough this afternoon - I was not aware of having given you to understand that, in the event of anything happening to my aunt, I should positively and immediately return to England - She has desired to be interred here; and this might, or might not, according to circumstances, make so little difference - Be this as it might, you would probably see me soon - At present, however, I have not, as before, this to muse upon; for my aunt, tho’ very infirm, appears in no sort of danger - It is extraordinary that my 2 letters should give such opposite accounts - but such is the fact, a fact certainly beyond my calculation when I wrote to you last - ‘I am happy MacDonald still pleases’ - this sentence struck me at the time, and strikes me now - were we on terms more formal, I should still be cautious what I replied to this, grateful always for the Trouble you took for me; but, as it is, I shall write exactly what I think at present - It was difficult to find such a person as we wanted, without some fault or other, or if not a fault, some failing in what we wished for - I begrudge spending much paper on such a subject, especially as, on the whole, we go on pretty well - My aunt sometimes complains of carelessness on the part of MacDonald, and that she seems as if she did not always know what she was about - there are 2 things I have never named to my aunt, Miss Reed’s last letter (on her return from Bath) and a circumstance that occurred at Shibden - I have more than once spoken seriously to MacDonald I abominate what looks like prevarication and since a talkathon last Monday, I have had less confidence in her than ever - Her head is certainly not clear at all times - whether she has any thing on her mind, or any thing in her blood to confuse it, I know not - She is always very obliging, and cooks for us very nicely, and can do quite well for my aunt - Had she never the appearance of being so oddly confused, she might be invaluable - I shall probably speak to her no more - She is not in my province - Enough - It is probable you do not give me much credit for knowing how to manage woman servants - Mrs Lawton could no more understand her than myself - Perhaps if you were here, you might excuse us both - But breathe not a word of all this - we shall go on as we do, - well enough - and you shall give me a practical lesson 1 of these days in housekeeping, which, by the way, pothers me not a little just now’ - 

….. Breakfast at 10 20/60, read about 1/2 the paper, and had done all the above of today at 11 1/4 - ‘How do you and Mr Lawton agree? ‘I thought you did not at all like him’ there was a time when we did not agree; but we both thought better of it, and agreed to agree in future - He does not like York, so never goes there’ - Say we shall change our apartment - on account of ‘a kitchen 2 stories above us - bells that the servants cannot hear &c [etcetera] &c [etcetera]’ - altogether a very long, kind letter - sent it off at 11 1/2 to ‘Miss Maclean of Coll, Tobermory, N.B. Ecosse’ - Settled my accounts - dawdling over 1 thing or other - took George and went out at 1 3/4 - went to the potshop rue Saint Honoré numero 357. ask 5/. for basket panier de couteaux rue du marché Saint Honoré Numero 42. the woman asked George 3/. for it the other day - asked me 1/50, and I could get it for no less but could have had the other set for 1/25 at another shop merchancer the rue neuve des petit champs when I bought the large vegetable basket sometime since - thence to Bertaud rue neuve des petit champs Numero 33 - nice little pot of marmalade oil abricots very good à 1/50, but did not buy it - Roquefort cheese 2/. a lb very good - from de Parma (Parmesan) 2/40 a lb - thence to Berthellemot Palais royal for bonbons - Chinois &c [etcetera] 6/. a lb. all things of this kind 6/. a lb - said I had paid only 5/. - they declared it could not be - bonbons 6, 8, 10, 12/. a lb. - they said at last ‘nous arrangerons’, but I walked off determined to try elsewhere - bonbons 8, 10 and 12/. in the rue de Richelieu - just before coming to Saint Roch very nice figs in a little box at 2/. a lb. might have the box for 3/. allowing 2oz for the weight of the box - stopt at no. 334 and bought the plaqué tea-pot (vide line 7 page 60) for 29/. then got a little porcelaine sucrier à l’Anglais made me 1/75 tho’ only asked me 1/50 in the morning and another blue finger glass at the cheating pot-shop Numero 357 (rue Saint Honoré) and then some oranges and marrons, numero 353, and sent George home - I called at Melleriod about the plate, and bought some bombons à 8/. à la Belle Angelique Numero 25 Boulevard des Italiens - the boy followed me home with them - came upstairs at 4 - Dawdling over 1 thing or other (seeing that my money was right) till 4 20/60 then thro’ the gardens to the Faubourg Saint Germain to order wine chez meurice Numero 21 rue des petit pères - went up the rue des augustins almost to the end of the street then turned back a got right - ordered 2 dozen macon for the servants at 1/05, and 1 dozen for ourselves (red Beaune) and 1 bottle white Beaune à 2/. a bottle and 1 bottle Champaigne à 4/. and 1 ditto Bordeaux Lafitte à 4/. to come tomorrow morning - Got home (thro’ the place du carrousel) at 5 1/4 - Dawdling over 1 thing or other till dinner exactly at 6 - shewed the teapot &c [etcetera] - she hoped 1 could afford it - on telling the cost she was satisfied -

on speaking afterwards of the dessert she said it was all for Mrs B I said I would have as much every day for only myself with my own consent and if π [Mariana] came and I hoped she would manage it so we might have nine plates of dessert without costing very much my aunt only hoped that what ever I did I should manage to have a few franks for her to go out airing in the summer I said this sstruck me exceedingly she should always have as many franks for this purpose as she chose I would order no more about the table I had meant to agree for her to have the carriage twice a week it was she who prevented me she saw she hat touched a tender cord and began to lament her always ssaying what she thought it was all for my sake and she was crying but I told her what she had said she would know must strike me if she thought about it a minute I would rather go without dessert all my life than abridge her of the carriage or anything else I would rather be hundred more in debt she dried up her tears and we talked of macd our now frequent subject thought I to myself well no more thought beyond what is absolutely necessary I will save my money said I would not interfere about the table I see I had best make up my mind to a little more hugger mugger than necessary to enter into society it out of the question remember save my money and do not fidget my aunt by attention to desserts and appearances of this ssort I had thought of getting better teacups I shall give it up and will spend as little as I can begged my aunt to order the carriage whenever she liked - but we were very harmonious afterwards -

at Michel’s this morning as my eye casually glanced over the order book I saw an order for the Tasburghs rue Royal Numero 13 - from 9 1/4 to 10 wrote the last 38 lines - wrote a little note this morning to Mrs Barlow to ask her to order more charcoal for us. George took the note after leaving me - the charbonier chanced to call this evening to inquire if we wanted any - ordered it for tomorrow - we consume a sack i.e. 12 boisseaus in 3 weeks - charcoal 9/. charbonier for bringing 14 or 15 sols - made minutes of what I have to go tomorrow. no time to settle my accounts tonight - go to my room at 10 1/2 very fine day - O [two dots, marking discharge]

extraordinary my cousin does not come ought to have been with me wednesday week -

[Margin] ver[y] fine mild morn[in]g F40 at 8 1/4 a.m. 44o at 12 1/2 p.m. 41o - 6 - - - 10 1/2 -

SH:7/ML/E/10/0033 & SH:7/ML/E/10/0034

[wasalwaysagreatpickle]

Sunday 4 September 1831

7 1/4

11 20/..

Up at 6 for 1/4 hour – so bilious lay down again – at 8 1/2 3 pages of 1/2 sheet franked by Mr Frankland Lewis from Lady Gordon 34 Hertford Street to say ‘my judges have decided my fate, and I am not to go to Spain – It is said that a power of attorney will do as well, and the expense be saved me – for I reckon that my half of our land journey would be £250 – I am very very sorry that our partnership (for the present) falls to the ground, I should have delighted in being your compagnon de voyage, and hope still we may join issue – perhaps next spring – for Switzerland and the winter in Italy’ … pardon for all the suspense – not her fault but misfortune – ‘Do write to me and do come to London before the 14th when I leave London for Ramsgate’ 

Yours always most sincerely poor soul I really am not angry but what a reed to lean on I am glad of it two hundred and fifty are better in my pocket as well as hers it is a lucky escape how often heaven helps me out of my own follies 

Letter 3 pages and one end, hurried from Mariana Lawton and Coleshill on the way to Leamington – Charles had that moment (Thursday at Coleshill) told her to write to Warren to be taken ‘in for a few days on the 9th – he has talked this morning of going to Paris’ – ‘Seems decided about leaving Lawton, and now talks of living in York, this I think will never do – even Cheltenham would be more advisable …. my own family so near at hand would not long suit Charles’s feelings, and then whatever queer things he does had better be done anywhere than in York – what think you?’ I should make no objection – If Warren cannot take them in, would like to go to Dover Street – to write and give her the address – all this is odd enough – my 1st thought was to write to Charles about our going to Paris together – no! will not confine myself – It may be, if Mariana can manage it – if not I care little about it – nonsense to try making terms with the winds! – 

Breakfast at 9 in 1/2 hour in the little breakfast room my father and Marian there – said that the Spanish journey was off for the present to my great satisfaction – said I had heard from Mariana might go with the Lawton’s to Paris – could fix nothing just yet – came upstairs at 9 1/2 – wrote the whole of the 3 last pages and so far of this till 12 – 

Having also written copy of letter to Lady Gordon – 

Went down to my aunt at 12 – telling her of my letters etc. etc. till 12 3/4 – then in 25 minutes read the short morning service and came upstairs at 1 1/2 – wrote 3 pages and ends to Mariana out some time with my aunt in her new wheel chair for the 1st time – then wrote 3 pages to Lady Stuart, to Mariana on the subject of living … York wrote, that I in her place would not say one word against it – don’t think it would be worse than Cheltenham – should not oppose too often – some advantages in York – ‘leave the thing to chance or Charles’s fancy, or anything but your avowed influence’ - …. ‘Not everywhere that the spending a few thousands a year will make apologies more easily – But do not pother yourself much about anything – Have patience with dame Destiny, and she will pay everybody.’ after much backwards and forwards Spain given up ‘at least for the present and we now talk of arrangements ‘for the spring – this will decidedly suit me better; for it will give me time’ – but shall be off from here as soon as possible ‘and will try to get a peep at you in London – I am thinking of giving myself a few quiet preparatory months in Paris, or there abouts, and maybe crossing about the middle of this month – I shall quietly go my own way; and if it happens to be yours, do give my best regards to Charles, and say how happy I shall be, if I can be of the least use to you’ – shall be in Dover Street (no. 26) if at any hotel in London – by for a [line] before they leave Leamington – ‘I must be here a few days longer’ – direct to me here, or at Hammersley’s if at a loss about me – 

Must send Cameron money and will tell her to give £5 of it to Mrs Belcombe on Mariana’s account – decline a bed at Lawton – Kind letter of thanks from Mrs Milne and wrote kind answer to ditto in parcel of Isabella Norcliffe at Fisher’s – have got the will 15 pages will fill up blanks and leave it at Hammersleys which I have begged Mr (Proctor) Lawton to remember – have explained all to Mr W. Priestley should anything happen to my aunt and Mariana come over he will do all for her she (Mariana) wishes – shall have 5 or 6 hundred pounds to lay out at least ‘I must really turn bear, and suck my paw in the winters’ – Not settled about George but shall not longer unnecessarily by the way, and think he will do to the water’s edge and Quillacq’s commissaire will do the rest – at least this my present idea – Terribly bilious of late – give the address to Hawkins’s family hotel 29 Albemarle Street or 26 Dover Street – wrote under the seal – ‘I am shockingly hurried – Don’t mistake me – I have written what seems best about Paris – no indifference I do assure you – I shall do my utmost to be in London when you are there – but you can have no idea what I have to do – I shall try to arrive by the 12th or 13th’ -

Dinner at 6 1/4 – my aunt sitting by me as usual – read her my letter to Mariana and reconciled her to my being off so soon – came up to my room at 7 1/4 – wrote very nearly 2 pages to Lady Gordon – good hurried badinage bidding her never mind the suspense I had been in etc. etc. ‘It is more particularly said of hope delayed, that it maketh the heart sick – But if we ‘join issue’, I shall not, as supposed, die [S.P.] and this will be a final recovery anything but good for the health of herself presumptive – off enough that this morning’s post has brought me a letter of entreats to go with an old friend to Paris – But everybody seems in a hurry – I have not yet made up my mind what to do about it – at all rates, I shall hope to see you in London – ever very truly yours A. Lister’ – 

My letter to Lady Stuart mere chit chat – my anxieties about Vere at rest – should have written at least a week ago but for the utter uncertainty I was in till this morning how the plans of others would be decided – ‘a good Spanish-speaking companion thro’ Spain, was a great temptation, and put all Italian ideas aside – I find, however, that powers of attorney have prevailed at least; and with my usual facility about bearings, whether north or south, never was mind more quietly upset, or schemes more easily returned into your old courses – I have some domestic reasons for wishing to be tolerably near home during the winter, and many mental ones for promising myself a few quiet preparatory months before attempting to enjoy the classic scenes of Italy’ …. ‘count upon 2 or 3 days of absolute enjoyment at the Lodge, en passant, if you have room for me, and, if not, supposing you to be at home, it would delight me to try the experiment of the Star and Garter’ - …. ‘should have written to Lady Stuart de Rothesay but for the curious state of uncertainty I was in, and fancying she knew all about it between then I did… slight mention of Holland – would not, if I could, live there, for all the dikes have cost’ - …. ‘I dare not attempt to fix a day, but hope it will be about the 12th or 13th – the moment I know when I can get off, I will write again – my love to Vere, and believe me always, dear Lady Stuart, very truly and affectionately yours’ –

Sent off George at 8 20/.. with my letter to ‘Honourable Lady Stuart, the Lodge, Richmond Park, London’ and to ‘Lady Duff Gordon 34 Hertford Street London’ and to ‘Mrs Lawton Copp’s hotel, or if not there, Royal hotel, Leamington, Warwickshire’ – wrote 1 1/4 page to Mrs Norcliffe and went down stairs at 9 20/.., and came up again at 10 25/.. – Dullish morning – rain at 9 1/2 for an hour then fine day – Fahrenheit 67˚ now at 10 26/.. –

[writingthingsisdifficult]

Oh my god they were roommates part 4

You are forced to take over the monitoring of Loki. Snapshots from the life of being a god handler.

It’s weird how a phrase or sentence can inspire a whole story. In this case it was “A polished turd is a turd nonetheless.” This is what grew from it. The whole story is almost 13.000 words long, so I felt I had to split it into parts.

This is the last part. Hope you like it, though I have to put a warning on this one: blood, insects, death, maggots are the ones that come to mind first. And angst. But it’s me, so :P

If you like it, let me know. Knowing that people enjoy my writing is what keeps me posting my stories.

Word count: 5010

Part one  Part two  Part three

_______________________________________________________________________

You beckoned to Loki. “Come on. They’ve called me in.”

He sighed heavily, but followed you through the shop, still carrying the shopping basket. “Oh joy! I guess there’s no time to drop me off before you go?”

Looking down on the phone in your hand, you shook your head. They wouldn’t send a text like that if it weren’t urgent. “Sorry. Guess you’ll have to wait in the car or something. I’ll drop you off once I get my assignment.”

Loki shrugged. “I should’ve brought my book.” He put down the shopping basket next to the cashier and nodded politely as you left. Better he put the items back on the shelves than leaving the basket in an aisle somewhere. Besides, you doubted he would mind much.

He had developed a little crush on you both, and you had yet to come up with a good way to let him down gently. Loki had jokingly suggested gauging the poor guy’s eyes out. After laughing it off, you still weren’t a hundred percent sure he was joking.

Another solution had popped into your mind too, but you had dismissed it just as quickly: pretending to date each other would probably get him off your back, but that would place you in an uncomfortable position. For your part, the pretend part would hurt a little too much for your liking.

Loki’s book remark made you wonder. “What do you mean you should’ve brought a book?” The car roared to life.

“Waiting out missions tend to get tedious,” he explained patiently, leaning his temple on the window. “Especially after they got their hands on those cursed manacles. I blame Thor for that.” His eyes darkened. Frost swirled over the glass.

“It’s happened before?” You almost stopped the car on the side of the road, but a fleeting image of Maria Hill’s disapproving face popped into your head. “More than once?”

Loki nodded. “Oh yes. Before Agent Powell they would not let me out of their sight at all. Made for some interesting days, I’ll tell you. Even when Agent Reed took over my… care, I was confined to a cell or the back of a vehicle when he was needed somewhere else. Granted, their missions were less frequent than other’s, but yes, I’ve seen my fair share. I imagine – hey! Watch out!”

The road in front of you exploded in purple, and you swerved, barely avoiding hitting the lump of unidentifiable mass in front of the car. You sped up, muttering under your breath. “What the hell?”

“I made a habit of always carrying something to read,” Loki continued, unperturbed.

As you got closer to HQ, you got closer to the fighting as well, but for a tiny second all you could see was Loki’s dejected expression. Patting his knee, you tried an encouraging smile. “Listen, I’ll try to… I can’t promise anything, but…” You fell silent for a while before muttering: “At least I’ll make sure you’ve got a book.”

The large, dark grey gate loomed over you, and you flashed your ID to the guard in the booth. He nodded to you and took an extra good look at Loki before waving you through.

Parking in the lot behind the lab, you marched quickly to the office building. “You better wait outside,” you said, gesturing to the long line of personnel vehicles.

“I know the drill,” Loki replied and turned right by the door.

Inside, Director Fury himself was involved in handing out the assignments, together with Agent Hill. An uncomfortable pressure settled in your chest. The situation must be really bad, but you took a seat next to Agent Torres and a new recruit you hadn’t seen before. Shaking your head slightly, you thought about how the recruits seemed younger every year.

Agent Hill quickly briefed the room on the situation while Fury stood in the background looking grim, but collected. Nothing threw that man out of balance.

“We have yet to determine the origin of the attackers,” Hill said, confirming your suspicions, and allowing for a collective gasp to go through the crowd.

Uncertain origin always meant aliens, extra-terrestrials. You swore silently. There would be a lot of casualties.

Hill continued: “The Avengers have been notified and will focus on the main threat, aided by the armed forces. Your mission will be damage control and civilian evacuation.” They had put together a pretty decent plan in such a short time, and you wondered if they had one ready, and just changed the dates and locations according to need. Soon you were queuing up to get your assigned tasks.

The recruit in front of you let out a curse on a trembling breath.

“Hey, don’t be scared,” you whispered. “We’ve been through worse. Just stick to your mentor and everything will be okay.”

He nodded and squared his shoulder, before hurrying after a more experienced agent. Rubbing you eyes, you tried not to think too hard: he wouldn’t last through the day if he didn’t manage to get his nerves in check.

When it was your turn, Maria handed you a big, yellow folder. “You’ve been assigned to Sector 3; yellow. Some families, mostly senior citizens and immigrants. How’s your Spanish?”

“Non-existing,” you replied with a grimace, taking the folder and headed for the exit. Just as you reached the door, you turned back.

“Yes?” she said. The question must have been obvious in your face.

“Ma’am, as I have custody of Loki –“

“He knows the routine,” Fury interrupted.

“Yes, sir. About that… I would like to request him coming with me on this assignment.”

Hill raised and eyebrow, but Fury nodded once. “And he will. The handcuffs are being brought down as we speak.

Inhaling deeply, you decided to just jump in. “I meant with us, as an agent. He –“

“Agent Y/N, that would be unwise. Loki is hard to control.”

“With all due respect, Sir, I believe he has proved himself trustworthy. Since I took over the charge, he has had several chances to do ill, but he has refrained from doing so. He is on good terms with the neighbours, and the community knows him as a helpful person. Hell, Lydia, uh, Mrs Martin all but worships the ground he walks on – though I’m not sure that counts in his favour,” you added silently. Looking up at both Fury and Hill, you tightened your jaw, pulling out your last argument. “God knows we need an extra pair of hands, and he is experienced in combat, should it come to that.”

“Fury, she has a point,” Hill said, surprising you with her support.

“Fine.” Fury rolled his eye. “But that’s your ass on the line. If anything happens – if he tries anything, that’s your responsibility.”

“Understood. And thank you,” you added. You could’ve sworn you saw a smile cross Fury’s face, but it was gone before you really registered it. It might as well have been a figment of your imagination.

“Run along before I change my mind.”

Outside you ran into Agent Reed. He looked like Christmas had been cancelled. “You’re gonna get us all killed. That blood’s on your hands. Loki can’t be trusted.”

Glaring, you didn’t really want to deign him with an answer, but he blocked your way, and you were getting angry. “We need all hands on deck, Benjamin.” When he didn’t move right away, you raised an eyebrow, staring at him with contempt in your eyes. “And to be honest I trust him more than I trust you. Get lost, Reed.” You pushed your way past him, leaving him looking like a goldfish.

Loki was waiting by the car, eyeing the crate with the magical manacles and the guards standing on each side of the crate. His face was neutral, but you knew he hated those manacles more than anything in the nine realms.

“Looks like you don’t get to sit this one out after all,” you told him with a mischievous grin, clipping in place the clasps on your vest. “Of course I tried to dissuade them, but Fury was adamant it was all hands on deck.”

When he registered what you said, his stance visibly shifted. You hadn’t noticed before, but it was clear he had been slumping. Now he was standing tall, a new spark in his eyes. “Oh no,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “No quiet evening in the back of the truck for me. Whatever shall I do?” As he spoke, his armour grew, and you sucked in an extra breath.

It shouldn’t have affected you the way it did, but the confidence in him at that moment was almost too much to keep you on your feet. Adjusting your earpiece, more to distract yourself than anything else, you manage to shake it off, and opened the car door. “Let’s go.” You held up your hand, and he looked at it, then at you.

With a contemptuous sneer he slapped it, then shook as if he had just touched something slimy. “Never again, Y/N,” he said and slid into the vehicle, pushing the other agent further in.

“Yeah yeah.” You grinned and got in after him. Closing the door with a slam, you knocked on the window to let the driver know the car was ready, and sat down. Seconds later you were en route to the second alien invasion in three years.

The car stopped and the doors opened to reveal a crumbled building. Frightened people were running in every direction. Some tried to jump in standing cars, but the chaos affected the traffic as well. It was a miracle your evacuation convoy had even gotten this far.

Within minutes you were set to work.  The team leader had directed you to a pair of buildings that were partially collapsed.

Helping shocked civilians and digging through the rubble together with Loki and the other rescue teams was hard. The concrete crumbled upon touch, releasing puffs of white dust into the air, making it harder to breathe.

Suddenly you stopped in your tracks. You heard whimpering, but it wasn’t coming from the building. Rounding the corner, you spotted a little girl.

She couldn’t have been more than four or five, and she was completely alone. It was obvious she had been crying, but when you found her she was silent like a stone. Her face was grey with dust, her skin only showing through the paths her tears had taken.

Someone had already dug her out of the rubble, but for some reason they had left her standing in the piles of concrete. You cursed and reached out to her, but Loki beat you to it.

Crouching down, he stretched out his arms, inviting her to come to him. And she did. “You’re okay now,” he said in perfect Spanish, stroking her hair and brushing dust from her face. “Such a brave little girl. What’s your name?” She didn’t answer, but he continued to talk calmly until he reached the evac bus, where a team of paramedics and agents were ready to take over.

The girl remained silent until he tried to hand her over to a kindly looking woman with curly hair. She buried her face in Loki’s neck, tangling her fingers in his hair, straight up refusing to acknowledge the woman at all. When she was lifted away from Loki she started wailing. Her tiny hands grabbed the empty air.

It was heart breaking to watch, but you knew she couldn’t stay. At the shelter she would get food and water, and maybe, just maybe, she would find her parents there.

Loki smiled gently, shushing her and brushing away her tears. “It’s okay, brave one. Don’t be afraid.” He continued to speak for a while, and finally the girl calmed down and allowed them to carry her to the waiting transport.

You got through the day with only a few scrapes on your knuckles and a small cut under your right eye. Loki, of course, looked like he hadn’t even broken a sweat, even though he had lifted and carried and comforted more civilians than the rest of the team combined.

You were slightly envious, but you were also more than ready to forgive him the rudeness of his perfection if that meant you could just go home and collapse on the sofa and do nothing for the next three weeks. Getting rest was the only thing that mattered, and the sole thing standing between you and it was one last check of a nearby kiosk.

The building was far from safe, and uninjured people had begun to rifle through the scattered goods as people usually do in event of a catastrophe. Your last task as the sun was setting, was to make sure none of the looters were caught if the building collapsed, and to properly block the street after the last evac bus had left.

Suddenly a man came sprinting right at you. Before he stumbled over a pile of concrete, he stopped, panting and watching you with wild eyes. “My wife!” he shouted and started climbing over the rubble.

“Sir,” you began. “This is not a safe area. Please move.”

He didn’t react.

“Sir. Your wife is not here. We have scanned the building, it is empty, and those who were buried have been excavated. The evac –“

“Move!” he growled, still advancing, apparently intent on entering the building.

Loki stepped forward. His appearance would stop most men, but this one was clearly not aware of what he was doing, and worse: in his hand he held a big bundle that looked vaguely like a gun.

“Stop,” Loki began, and you reached for his arm.

“Are you insane? You don’t know what he’ll do.”

He grinned widely. “Jury’s still out. Probably lots of people who would argue for it. But trust me. I know what I’m doing. I can help him -”

“No, Loki! He’s got –“

The man drew the weapon and before you could reach for your own, the street exploded with purple light and a high-pitched screech. You shielded your eyes, expecting to be ripped in half any moment, but you felt no different, and when you looked again the man was sprinting down the street, the gun tossed aside like a banana peel.

The next thing you saw froze your blood. “Loki!” Dropping to your knees, not caring that the jagged edges of the concrete rubble lacerated your skin. You fumbled for his hand. It was so cold, and covered in blood, and he was gasping for air. The armour on his chest was melted away, revealing a blistering gash. He was bleeding heavily.

“No, Loki,” you whispered over and over. “You’re okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.” If he died, you would never forgive yourself.

In a moment’s clarity, you fished out your phone, almost dropping it because your hands were so slick, and for backup. That weapon was not of human origin. Besides, you couldn’t very well call an ordinary ambulance for Loki.

A small crowd were forming by the time SHIELD arrived. Some were filming your feeble attempts to keep Loki’s blood on the inside, others were just watching, but all stepped back once the black cars showed up and agents swarmed the area, collecting evidence and mobile phones and witness statements.

You noticed nothing of that, though. The only thing you heard was Loki’s ragged breath as you focused on keeping him awake. “Listen to me,” you said with a trembling voice, failing horribly to sound stern and confident. “Don’t you dare die! Not like this!”

Loki coughed and smiled weakly. “Well, I figured this was the only way you would leave me alone.”

Laughing grimly, you shook your head. “What, am I such a bad roommate you have to die to get some peace?”

He nodded once before his eyes started to glide shut.

“This is bullshit!” you yelled just as the paramedics ploughed their way through the onlookers. Once they started working on him, you sat back on your heels and closed your eyes. Your tears were indistinguishable from the rain, but you could not ignore the burning behind your eyes. All sound drowned in the rush in your ears, and distantly you registered someone hoisting you to your feet. Supported by an agent, you let yourself be lead to an ambulance so they could take a look at your bleeding legs.

Someone strapped you in and attached beeping machinery and devices to you, but all you could see was Loki’s ashen and bloody face lying lifeless on the pavement.

_______________________________________________________________________

Loki opened his eyes and blinked in confusion. You rushed to his side and handed him one of the white plastic cups. “Don’t try to speak. Drink.”

He nodded and sat up, gulping the water down greedily. Some of it dribbled from the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t seem particularly bothered by it. When he was finished, he put the cup down on the little side table and looked around.

Once he noticed the balloons, he burst out laughing. “What the –“ His voice was raw, and the effort made him cough.

“Better not talk to much yet,” you said, grinning now that he was awake and didn’t seem insulted by them. “Let me jump start your memories.”

He reached for the nearest balloon and examined it while gesturing for you to go on. The balloon in question read Get well soon you attention seeking twat on one side, but as it slowly revolved, the other side revealed It can’t always be champagne, cocaine, and hookers. (Get well soon.) Loki let out an amused chuckle.

You felt like crying with relief, and you hoped your voice wouldn’t crack. “Basically you had to be a hero and scare the shit out of me. You’ve been in a coma for almost two weeks! You dick!”

His eyes shone with remembrance, then widened from your sudden outburst.

Suddenly aware of what you had said, you started sputtering, ears burning with embarrassment. “And I wasn’t the only one who were upset. When Thor found out you were in a coma he let loose a storm that almost flooded the city. It wasn’t until the doctors finally confirmed you would live he let it go.

To be fair the lightning show was kinda pretty, but it made it hard to sleep. The curtains aren’t exactly lightproof,” you added, looking at the windows over your shoulder.

Loki followed your gaze, before his eyes landed on the crumpled blanket on the chair in the corner. He swallowed and grimaced. He never thought you would have resort to such uncomfortable methods to keep an eye on him.

“The hit you took caused significant injuries to your torso. The doctors contemplated a skin graft too, but they were unsure how your body would react to Midgardian technology. Luckily you’re a fast healer.”

It took another week before the doctors deemed Loki well enough to be discharged, and you were more than happy to have him home again. The apartment, though unharmed in the attack, seemed so dark and ghostly without him, and you had even snuck into his room a couple of times when the anxiety shot through the roof.

Pushing the wheelchair through the glass doors, you headed to the waiting car. “Ready to go home?”

“Yes. And ready to get out of this ridiculous chair. I can bloody walk on my own.”

You snorted. “Yeah, sorry about that. Standard procedure, I think. So that you can’t sue the hospital if you stumble over a mat or something.”

Loki snorted too. “Right. Well, this is beneath my dignity.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve made spaghetti for dinner,” you said, hardly able to contain your laughter.

Loki let out a loud groan and got into the car.

_______________________________________________________________________

His face was grey and spattered with blood. It flowed rapidly from the deep slash across his chest, and no matter what you did it would not stop bleeding. Soon you were slippery with blood, both on your hands and on your feet. It became increasingly more difficult to find foothold, and you slid over the slick surface trying to keep pressure on the wound. Blood seeped through your clothes, warm and sticky, his life force coating your skin in red.

You called his name, over and over, but got no answer; his unseeing eyes turning milky white as you watched the ground swallow him inch by inch.

Mid-scream you were yanked backwards, landing on a soft surface with a silent oof. Dreading what you would see, you opened your eyes slowly – and looked straight into Loki’s concerned eyes. He was holding your shoulders harder than what was comfortable, pressing you into the mattress, but once he got eye contact, his grip loosened.

Blinking, you tried to orientate yourself. You were in your room. The bed was where it ought to, and you were tangled in your blanket. The t-shirt you usually slept in clung to your sweaty skin, and your face felt raw and stiff.

Seeing the wildness in your eyes, Loki let go completely and stepped back. “You were screaming,” he said softly, as if he expected you to scream again. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Frowning for a second, you didn’t know what he was talking about. Then a light flicked on in your brain. He had misunderstood your terror. “No, no. You didn’t. I… I had a nightmare. You…” You hesitated. “I didn’t know where I was. Thank you for waking me.” It hurt to talk. You wondered what the neighbours thought had happened.

“What did you dream about?”

You shook your head. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

Loki nodded. “Alright. Sleep well, Y/N. I wish you pleasant dreams.” He turned to leave, but before he could close the door, you called him back. “Loki, wait.”

He poked his head around the door. “Yes?”

You drew a deep breath. “Will you stay? Just a little while?”

He came back and sat down on the edge of the mattress, looking both confused and concerned.

“I’m scared the dream will return,” you explained with an apologetic smile. His lifeless face appeared each time you closed your eyes, and it made you nauseous. “Maybe if you, if you distracted me, I’ll fall asleep again. I mean, if you… oh, but you probably want to go back to sleep. Nevermind. Sleep well, Loki.”

You curled up and tried to think about nice things. Puppies and kittens, balloons. Summer. Flowers, meadows, grass, dirt… holes in the ground, sinking, maggots, dead Loki… You shivered.

Loki shifted next to you. “I was reading when you… uh,” he said quietly. “Perhaps I could, if you want to… I could read to you? Mot– Frigga always did that whenever I could not sleep when I was young.”

“I’d like that.”

He smiled and conjured a book out of thin air. “I just procured this wonderful edition of old fairytales. Some of them remind me of my childhood stories.”

You turned over on your side, resting your forehead on the side of his thigh. The warmth and life and movements calmed your nerves even further.

Loki opened the book, leafing through it until he found the page he was searching for. “Dapplegrim. This is one of my favourites,” he said. “Once upon a time there lived a rich couple with twelve sons…”

You glanced at the page, admiring the gorgeous illustrations. “Wait, Loki… that’s not English. You… are you translating as you read?”

He nodded, a red tint appearing in his face. “Yes. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” you murmured, and soon his smooth voice wrapped around you and carried you off to dreamland.

_______________________________________________________________________

Bugs and maggots. He was green and bloated and decomposing. You were stuck. Can’t get away, can’t get away, can’t get away. Invisible hands pulled you closer and closer. Chalky eyes stared into emptiness. It’s your fault. He’s gone. Never. Never. Never.

Gentle hands shook you out of the dream. “Y/N!” Loki repeated your name until you opened your eyes. “You were screaming again.”

Your throat was so sore – it hurt to swallow, and you could taste blood. A raw sob escaped, and you hid your face under the blanket. Every time you closed your eyes, his dead face swam into view. Would you ever be able to sleep again?

He gently stroked your hair, letting you cry until you could breathe evenly again. Then he asked for the seventh time in just as many days: “Will you not tell me?”

You clutched your blanket and shook your head.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“Please.”

When you stumbled into the kitchen the next morning, Loki handed you a cup of coffee, sat down next to you and crossed his arms. “You look like hell, Y/N.”

You scoffed. “Why thank you, Loki. How kind of you.”

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed you by your elbow and dragged you to the door, coffee abandoned on the kitchen table. “I did not mean it like that, and you know it. Come. I’m buying you a hot chocolate down at the Bean, and then you’re going to tell me what’s bothering you so much you can’t sleep at night.”

Sighing in defeat, you wound a scarf around your neck and said a silent goodbye to the flat that had been your home for so long before following Loki out the door.

The Bean was a no nonsense café just a couple of minutes walk down the street. Fortunately it was unharmed in the attack, and you found yourself visiting almost every day, and the owner always greeted you warmly when you came by.

Loki sat you down by the table in the back, making sure he had a clear view to the door and window, then ordered two large hot chocolates with extra whipped cream.

“Come on,” he said, licking cream from his lip. “This is getting out of hand. Tell me what those abhorrent nightmares of yours are. It can not continue like this. You haven’t had a good night’s sleep in… how long?”

“A week,” you answered meekly. “Sorry I’ve been keeping you up.”

Loki shook his head. “Don’t worry about me. Now. What is it that you dream about?”

You looked at him and he wiped a tear from your cheek. “I… It’s you.”

Loki’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, and he straightened up. Suddenly he was cold and distant, and the change startled you, it was like he was a stranger.

Closing your eyes, you inhaled deeply, finding comfort in the lingering sensation from his touch. “I see you,” you continued. “Dead. Decomposing. Gone. And it’s all my fault.” Now that it was out in the open it felt like a boulder had been lifted from your shoulders, and you dared to look up at him again.

He was no longer emotionless and stiff; his face had softened, and his eyes showed a new gleam that you had never noticed before. He took your hand in his and squeezed. “It was just a dream. You know that? I’m not dead.” Tilting his head, a small smile spread over his lips. “How could I sit here if I were?”

You swallowed hard. This could destroy a wonderful friendship, or if you were lucky – no, you didn’t dare to even think it, let alone hope. You gave up all pretence. Your old apartment was still there, and you could always volunteer for more fieldwork.

“Don’t you see? It hurts me so bad seeing you…” You swallowed again. Even saying it out loud was painful. “…dead, because I… I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Mouth slightly open, he slid off his seat and crouched in front of you, holding your hands in between his own. His face was serious as he looked into your eyes. “That is not a wise decision, Y/N,” he whispered, and you felt your heart plummet to the floor. “I am not an easy person to love.”

“I know,” you muttered, struggling to hold back your tears. “But I can’t change what my heart tells me.” You sniffed and twisted in your seat, trying to manoeuvre around Loki. “I’ll send someone to pick up my things.”

You tugged on your hands to free yourself, but Loki would not let go. He straightened and pulled you closer. “You misunderstand me. I am not an easy person to love, but if you are willing to try, I will do what I can to ease the effort.”

“What?”

“Y/N, I had given up hope that someone would ever love me, and to find that that someone turned out to be you? It is more than I could have asked for. You have been in my dreams since the day we met, and I tried so hard to be civil when you met that fool. Tommy? Wasn’t that his name? And now… now you tell me that… that…” His voice broke. Instead of continuing, he lifted your hand to his lips. His touch was feather light, but it still sent a chill through you. Resting your hand against his cheek, he looked up at you, and you saw nothing but love in his eyes.

Many hours later, as you walked up the stairs hand in hand, Mrs Martin quickly poked her head out the door, then withdrew and closed it again.

“Oh shoot, now the whole building’s gonna know by morning,” you said, imagining the gossip spreading like fire from neighbour to neighbour. In your head you could see them staring, and the little knowing looks her and Mr Howard in number 15 would share.

Loki chuckled and brought your hand to his face, gently brushing his lips against your skin. Goosebumps erupted over your entire body.

“Yes, she will never shut up about it,” he murmured, looking fondly at the closed door. “Guess we really do have to invite her to the wedding.”

Your brain fizzed out, and you stopped mid-step, staring at him.

_______________________________________________________________________

Tagging:

@80percentmarvel @tardis-is-mine @schwarzwaelder-kirschtorte @jessiejunebug @thefuriousquake @wolfgar15

[f4liveblogarchives]

Fantastic Four Vol 1 #201

Tues Aug 27 2019 [12:08 AM] Wack'd: So this is the last regular issue of 1978 [12:08 AM] Wack'd: There's also an annual. And also last year's annual because there's literally no room in 1977 or 1978 for it to have happened, so Marvel Wiki shoved it here [12:10 AM] Wack'd: We opened with us still being in Latveria! Okay, sure [12:10 AM] Wack'd: Definitely the outfit of a man who's planning on putting together some meaningful democratic elections

[12:11 AM] maxwellelvis: That hat looks familiar... [12:11 AM] Wack'd: But he confirms he is. He's real happy that political parties are forming and that there's "fighting and endless squabbling" because it means progress is happening [12:12 AM] Wack'd: Political parties never result in anything bad happening, ever, especially when they hate each other's guts [12:12 AM] Umbramatic: yes [12:12 AM] maxwellelvis: SupercalifragalisticexpielaWACKY! [12:13 AM] Wack'd: So the team returns to the Baxter Building, mostly because it's the only place in NY they can put the Pogo Plane [12:13 AM] Wack'd: Reed is still kinda iffy on reforming the team, which naturally everyone rolls their eyes at [12:14 AM] Wack'd: Collins is there to greet them! Good old Collins [12:15 AM] Wack'd: Even though the Four are a damn nuisance there's literally no one who wants to rent the Four's old headquarters, for fear of supervillain attacks, so he offers to let them back in..."for, ahem, a raise in the basic rent, of course, to make up for my losses" [12:15 AM] maxwellelvis: Yer a peach, Collins [12:15 AM] Wack'd: Ben is like "actually, fuck you, we want the rent lowered, a promise that the heat will stay on, and a promise of no solicitors" [12:16 AM] Wack'd: Collins...doesn't really have a choice unless he wants to keep losing money on like a sixth of the building [12:17 AM] maxwellelvis: Y'know, I think I'd take Mr. Ditkovich as my landlord over Collins. [12:17 AM] maxwellelvis: How about you guys? [12:17 AM] Wack'd: And so within the day contractors are on the scene to get the Four back in working order [12:17 AM] Wack'd: Just, uh, regular ol' contractors, apparently! Who are a little baffled by Reed's talk of "ion displacer cables" and "Negative Zone locking mechanisms" [12:18 AM] Wack'd: But they're doing their best [12:20 AM] Wack'd: Johnny maybe you're not having any luck on the dating scene lately because you're a misogynist

[12:21 AM] maxwellelvis: Frommage? Sue, I think you've been swindled. [12:21 AM] Wack'd: She means From Mage. It's a magic dress [12:21 AM] Wack'd: It's actually really impressive Johnny managed to set it on fire [12:22 AM] Wack'd: Hey hey! A good ol' fashioned Baxter cutaway. I've missed these.

[12:23 AM] Wack'd: And, for the first time, an acknowledgment that the building has two other walls on which rooms can be constructed [12:23 AM] maxwellelvis: Interesting that Ben's quarters are marked "when he's staying at the building" [12:23 AM] maxwellelvis: and also "Room X" [12:24 AM] maxwellelvis: Bet we're going in there soon. [12:24 AM] Wack'd: Ben and Alicia are living together, presumably. [12:24 AM] Wack'd: In siiiiiiin [12:24 AM] maxwellelvis: If it's good enough for Sweet Aunt Petunia, it's good enough for them, I guess. [12:24 AM] Wack'd: So, uh [12:24 AM] Wack'd: Franklin is now ten years old, assuming time is still moving [12:25 AM] maxwellelvis: You'd think that it is, and yet... [12:25 AM] Wack'd: He still has a crib. And a door that opens directly into his parents room [12:25 AM] Bocaj: Room X FROM OUTER SPACE [12:25 AM] Wack'd: But I think my favorite detail is--and I'll admit there's maybe no way to avoid this problem--there's a rocket launch pad right next to Franklin's room [12:26 AM] Bocaj: Amazing [12:26 AM] Wack'd: That kid is gonna have some sleepless nights [12:26 AM] maxwellelvis: Maybe that's how Comic Book Time gets you. It creeps in, in small doses at first, until you have something like that staring you in the face. [12:26 AM] Wack'd: I mean probably that makes a fuckton of noise wherever you put it but Franklin needs ten hours a night! He's a growing boy! [12:26 AM] Wack'd: Right next to his room is by far the worst option! [12:27 AM] Wack'd: Also, hey. No place for Agatha. So I guess we're done with her being a live-in nanny [12:27 AM] Wack'd: In fairness Franklin is back to having the regular presence of two parents. In theory [12:28 AM] Wack'd: So back to the story [12:29 AM] maxwellelvis: She might be living down the way at Avengers Mansion. [12:29 AM] Wack'd: Reed, the police exist to oppress minorities. And other superheroes...are probably fine, relatively, that's a good point. NYC is fucking packed

[12:30 AM] Wack'd: Anyway Reed is attacked by "Microbe 201-B" and now I want to see them try and shoehorn the issue number into every story somehow [12:31 AM] Wack'd: 201-B has grown a lot and escaped its test tube, baffling Reed [12:31 AM] Wack'd: This is probably why you don't hire normal contractors to set up a superscience lab [12:32 AM] Wack'd: Anyway 201-B eats Reed. Bye Reed [12:32 AM] maxwellelvis: Oh no, it's the Intruder! Everyone run! [12:33 AM] Wack'd: Ben and Sue are also attacked [12:33 AM] Wack'd: Ben by his own superscience exercise equipment and Sue by lasers and then a water main break [12:35 AM] Wack'd: Sue, honey, you spent 20 issues divorced and another ten with the team splitting up and got basically no character development. Being away from the team does not guarantee you an interesting arc

[12:36 AM] Wack'd: Johnny is also attacked. But also these are his thoughts so something big is coming, maybe, possibly.

[12:36 AM] Wack'd: Johnny is attacked by fire extinguisher foam because of course he is [12:37 AM] Wack'd: But he manages to escape by flying outside the building and manages to rescue Ben and Sue [12:37 AM] Wack'd: Sue who, I'll remind you, was attacked by a burst pipe [12:37 AM] Wack'd: And is unconscious in a pool of water when they find her [12:38 AM] Wack'd: Reed has escaped from being ate off-panel and is now instructing Johnny to go shut down the main power core [12:39 AM] Wack'd: Johnny is immediately taken out by some gas traps because obviously the main power core is booby-trapped, c'mon [12:40 AM] Wack'd: So Sue goes in after him and manages to stop all the traps with her force field. There's a sequence code to turn off the main power core that if you get it wrong it explodes, because sure [12:40 AM] Wack'd: The obvious solution is to put in the wrong code on purpose and then contain the explosion with a force field so she does that [12:40 AM] Bocaj: This is why you more carefully choose contractors [12:41 AM] Wack'd: If that's the moral of the issue I will be mildly shocked [12:41 AM] Wack'd: I totally believe any given Marvel writer would have a bad experience getting their home fixed and then write a mean-spirited story about it [12:42 AM] Wack'd: So Reed goes over the computer and finds no problems but is gonna call Tony Stark to look them over [12:42 AM] Bocaj: I like the guy but Tony Stark is the last person you should call about a computer malfunction [12:42 AM] Wack'd: Tony Stark: the best at knowing when machines have turned evil [12:42 AM] Bocaj: His whole life is a computer malfunction [12:43 AM] Bocaj: You'd think it would give him expertise but consider also that it keeps happening and never stops from happening [12:43 AM] Wack'd:

[12:43 AM] Wack'd: A few things to note here: [12:44 AM] Wack'd: 1. Yes, those were Ben's exact words. Which means Ben was making fun of "with great power comes great responsibility" like half a year before it was a thing. [12:44 AM] Wack'd: Anyone who doesn't like when Marvel gets self-deprecating or too meta can shove it [12:45 AM] Wack'd: 2. This is still a hilariously simple rationale for getting the team back together, especially since it has nothing to do with why the team split up and only addresses concerns that were first raised this very issue [12:46 AM] Wack'd: 3. Steve Martin was presumably real big in 1978 [12:46 AM] maxwellelvis: He was, actually [12:47 AM] Wack'd: 4. "The Osmond family" is still a metanym for wholesome togetherness. I don't think I need to tell any of you that's not gonna last very long, which is fine, because the Four aren't a very "wholesome togetherness" kinda group anyway [12:47 AM] Bocaj: They get more wholesomeishesque as time goes on [12:48 AM] Bocaj: At least they have a very dangerous edge in the early stuff [12:48 AM] maxwellelvis: The late 1970's is exactly when Steve Martin was at his peak, at least strictly as a comedian [12:48 AM] Wack'd: It's weird when rosy memories of a thing retroactively whitewash their sharper edges. Happened with Jiminy Cricket and Kermit the Frog something fierce [12:49 AM] maxwellelvis: Oh yeah, I remember Jiminy Cricket being surprisingly horny. [12:49 AM] Bocaj: wut [12:49 AM] Wack'd: He's also kind of a snarky asshole, too [12:49 AM] maxwellelvis: Especially to that rotten Lampwick kid. [12:49 AM] Wack'd: Most of his moralizing at Pinocchio takes the form of yelling or lectures or just making fun of him [12:50 AM] maxwellelvis: He HATED that boy. Not Pinocchio, Lampwick. [12:50 AM] Wack'd: Anyway I think the Four are mostly wholesome by comparison? Like Bart Simpson. They're never gonna be flawless role models but as time goes on and you can depict more bad stuff they slowly slide towards the acceptable end of edginess [12:51 AM] Wack'd: Like, they're closer to Mickey Mouse than Deadpool but mostly because Deadpool is waaaaay out in the deep end [12:51 AM] KarkatTheDalek: Bart isn't that wholesome [12:51 AM] Wack'd: Yeah but compared to. I dunno. Stewie Griffin. Which is a real comparison Family Guy spent like an hour making that one time. Also Cartman which is something South Park also got into [12:51 AM] maxwellelvis: He isn't the iconoclast he was in 1989 anymore either, Karkat [12:52 AM] Wack'd: Edgy cartoons love making fun of how mundane Bart's troublemaking is [12:52 AM] KarkatTheDalek: That is true [12:52 AM] Bocaj: It has the same energy as Spawn declaring that "Only SISSIES change their costumes in a phone booth" [12:53 AM] Bocaj: It immediately fills me with disdain towards the property trying to be so edgy in comparison [12:53 AM] KarkatTheDalek: But I do recall an episode where they were at the dentist, and Bart saw Skinner loopy on the laughing gas, so he went in, pretended to be the dentist, then practically beat the shit out of him before pointing the x-ray machine directly at his balls [12:53 AM] Wack'd: We're getting off track [12:53 AM] KarkatTheDalek: Probably, yes

[samayla]

An Utterly Impractical Magician

Chapter 9

A Jane Eyre/Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell fusion fic.

Also on AO3

Summary: When John Reed burnt Thomas Godbless’ book of magic to spite his cousin, he had no idea how drastically he would alter both her fate and that of English magic.

@majorxbuddyxboy @shygaladriel @bookhobbit @wolfinthethorns @kaethe-nicole @warsawmouse @cassandravision @mythopoeticreality @jmlascar @seriouslythoughguys @isawatreetoday @rude-are-food @the-stars-above28@the-candor-shadowhunter

Let me know if any of you would like to be added/removed in the tags list.

So... I just quit my second job yesterday. 

I have two shifts left, and then I’m down to just my regular day job. The plan is to write part time through the spring, and then find a summer job if I need cash while school is out, but I’m hoping to have a book by then. I have a kids’ story ready to go, aside from the letters and paperwork -- and finding a good-fit publisher for it, but *shrugs*.  Anywho... Have a chapter to celebrate my newfound freedom!

9

The Master’s Moods

Hurtfew Abbey, July 1805

Hurtfew Abbey was a sleepy, solemn sort of house. Never a mote of dust in the air or a single quill out of place, it was the sort of house that smelled chiefly of furniture polish and old paper, and where candles were never, ever left burning unattended. But when John Childermass arrived with his new charge in the wee hours of the morning, he found the place in a state of relative pandemonium. Lights shone in half the windows. Smoke still rose from the library chimney. The front door hung ajar. And as they drove closer, he could see someone pacing in the front parlour.

Clearly, his master was in a Mood.

Though she’d put on a creditable performance of it, Jane had only slept truly peacefully in the final few miles of their journey, and Childermass feared the shock of waking to one of Mr Norrell’s infamous fits. He waited until the last possible moment, lest Mr Norrell catch onto his plan, then leaned out the window and directed their driver to take them round to the servants’ entrance at the back of the house. No doubt Mr Norrell was watching — by means either magical or mundane — and would head for the servants’ hall as soon as he spied the carriage making its turn, but Childermass hoped to have the girl awake and settled with one of the maids by the time his master arrived.

He reached across the carriage to shake Jane gently awake. She was upright and alert at once, as if she’d been struck by lightning, but she apologized only half-coherently for dozing off during the lesson. “Peace, Little Miss,” Childermass soothed, patting her knee beneath his bulky coat. “We’ve arrived is all.”

True to his word, the carriage eased to a stop just then. Jane peeked out the window and cast a skeptical frown at the grim rear face of the house. Childermass helped his charge out of the carriage, relieved her of her lone bag of possessions, and offered his arm with an exaggerated flourish to brighten her up. “This way, Little Miss.” She smiled a little, looking especially small and pale in the dark of the kitchen yard, and accepted his arm gingerly. He patted her hand, mindful of the bandaged stripes on her palms, and offered her an encouraging wink. “It’ll look more promising come morning, I assure you.”

Jane nodded, but she seemed to shrink within his coat, and the smile she offered in return did not reach her mismatched eyes.

Thankfully, it was Hannah down mending shirts in the servants’ hall when they entered. Childermass was in need of an ally, and of all the maids, she had the most level head on her shoulders. Still, the sight of Childermass with a little girl on his arm was a startling one, and Hannah rose with a gasp when she registered what she was seeing. Pretending it was the most natural thing in the world that he should arrive with a child in the deep dark between moonset and sunrise, Childermass performed the introductions.

Hannah took his lead, her quick eyes catching the way the girl clung to his arm like a lifeline. “Lovely to meet you, sweetling,” she said warmly, though she kept as much distance between them as could be reasonably considered natural.

The girl started to answer, but she stopped short at the sound of Mr Norrell’s voice carrying down the corridor. “…what he means by it!” There was a pause as somebody else answered more quietly. “Propriety’s never stopped him using the front door before!” Norrell snarled.

“Hannah, love, we’ve had a very long journey, and I think a soft bed and a bit of proper looking after may be in order.” To Jane, who had gone very still and tense at his side, he said, “Go on with Hannah, Little Miss. I’ll send Dido along with some bandages in a bit.”

“You can meet the master in the morning, sweetling,” Hannah agreed, stepping in and beginning to unravel her from the cocoon of Childermass’ coat. “It’s been far too long a day for good first impressions now, but Lucy suspected you might be joining us when Mr Childermass headed north in such a hurry. She’s done up the Green Room just for you, just in case.”

“Off you go,” Childermass urged, disengaging her grip as Mr Norrell’s ranting grew louder and nearer. “We’ll sort the rest out in the morning.”

“We will do no such thing, sir!”

Jane went white as a sheet and shoved her hands behind her back as Mr Norrell stormed into the hall. She twisted her fists anxiously into the back of her skirt, but otherwise, she did not move. She might as well have been turned to stone standing there in the no man’s land between servants and master.

“I will have an explanation now, Childermass! Gone without a word — not where you were going, nor when we should expect you back! Inexcusable, sir! Utterly inexcusable! How do you account for it?”

Childermass stepped close and squeezed Jane’s shoulder. He was gratified to feel her resume breathing beneath his hand. “Mr Norrell,” he said pleasantly, “this is Miss Jane Eyre, formerly of Gateshead House. Miss Jane, Mr Gilbert Norrell, master of Hurtfew Abbey. Hannah was just about to take her up to bed. We have had a terribly trying day, sir, and it is far too late for little girls to be up.”

“I should say so!” Norrell exclaimed. “It’s already gone one in the morning! Utterly irresponsible, sir! She ought to have been in bed hours ago, I should think!”

Childermass resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You heard Mr Norrell, ladies,” he scolded, pushing Jane into Hannah’s waiting arms. “Off to bed now, and no dawdling.”

“Of course, Mr Childermass.” Thankfully, Mr Norrell was utterly oblivious to the smile in his maid’s voice.

As Hannah departed with Jane, Childermass set off in the opposite direction, in search of Dido and a bite to eat. A single bowl of stew as most decidedly not enough to keep him until morning. Mr Norrell was conflicted for all of half a minute, but then he scurried after him, still irritably demanding explanations. Childermass ignored him for the moment. He chose instead to deliver orders to Dido, who was preparing tea in the kitchen. “Hannah will be needing some bandages up in the Green Room shortly, love. Would you mind?”

Lucy bustled into the kitchen just then, clearly having met Hannah and Jane on the back stair. She commandeered Dido’s tea kettle just as it began to sing on the stove. She discarded Mr Norrell’s Earl Grey and replaced the leaves with soothing chamomile and a sprig of mint from the window box. “Oh, Mr Childermass! You were quite right to be concerned for her! The poor thing is skin and bones! And her hands! Best bring a pot of Mr Laceworthy’s salve when you come, Dido. I know Mrs Porter keeps some in her cupboard for burns. And another kettle of water, if you please.”

“Of course. I won’t be but a minute, Lucy.” She curtsied to Mr Norrell with a perfunctory “Sir,” and disappeared to the cook’s cupboard, while Childermass made for the larder. He returned to the kitchen with a plate of cold ham to see that some of the bluster had gone out of his master. He’d looked fit to burst when Lucy had absconded with the makings of his tea, but now, he looked very nearly concerned. “What’s happened to the child’s hands?” he asked.

“Beaten for doing magic,” Childermass answered shortly. He carved a hunk off the ham.

Norrell’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Beaten for doing magic? What a positively medieval notion! Why on earth would they do that to a child? Who did that?”

“Her headmaster,” he answered around a mouthful of ham.

“But what magic can they think she’s done? She’s odd-looking, to be sure, but a magician?”

“Jane is the supposed book murderer from last fall.”

“The Book of Thomas Godbless! That is the girl you spoke of?”

“Aye.” He swallowed and carved off another slab of meat. “I’ve had half an eye on her since we met, and I believe she’s become somewhat entangled with the magic of the burned book.”

“Highly unlikely, I’m afraid. There are no accounts of such a thing having happened before. But then, I suppose it was extremely rare for a convicted book murderer to live beyond a week. This is entirely unprecedented, Childermass! I suppose nearly anything is possible in a case such as this!”

“It may be prudent, sir, to remember that she is not, in fact, a book murderer, but rather the one who attempted to save the book from the flames,” Childermass said blandly. He raised an eyebrow. “For your sake and hers. She will not take kindly to any careless accusations.” He thought back to the fierce little creature in the library, daring him to show his mettle, and he could not imagine such a showdown going well between the girl and Mr Norrell.

“Of course! Of course we must be entirely accurate in this matter, Childermass! It is good you see it too! I only wonder why you waited until now to say something.”

Childermass had to stifle a smirk at this reversal. Naturally, this was all Norrell’s idea now, and Childermass was the reluctant one.

“Really, Childermass, I recall you saying you felt something amiss that very day when you were at Gateshead. Only think of what we might know by now! Though one must wonder, of course, why the magic — if that is indeed what it is — has taken so many months to manifest…”

“Almost as soon as Jane arrived at her school, strange reports began coming in from that area of the country. The only mystery, is why it took so long for her headmaster to get fed up with her disrupting his flock.”

“Then why have you waited until now?”

“I consulted my cards a fortnight past, and was warned of disaster.”

“Your cards,” Norrell scoffed.

“Aye, my cards. And I arrived at Lowood to find that girl beaten bloody by her headmaster, near-starved, and halfway to disappearing into a moldering mural in the school’s chapel.”

“Truly?” And Norrell was off, scurrying down the passage toward the stairs, grousing to himself all the while about the oppression of magicians, medieval attitudes, and the dangers of mold and damp. Anyone who overheard his muttered tirade might have thought him on his way to single-handedly rescue Jane Eyre from all three. But when he reached the Green Room, however, all the righteous indignation seemed to go right out of him to puddle ineffectually on the floor, like an overfull wine skin that had suddenly sprung a leak. He paused several feet from the open doorway, as if he had only just remembered that the little girl they’d just been discussing was, in fact, a real, living, little girl.

“She won’t bite you,” Childermass teased softly, leaning against the wall beside the door. They could hear Hannah and Dido talking softly, and a faint splashing told them they were still cleaning her hands. Norrell, who in other circumstances might have answered back, instead ignored Childermass entirely and peered around the door frame as though frightened of being caught in the act.

“She’s an odd creature, to be sure,” he hissed, “and she’s been treated abominably, but I don’t understand why she should come here, Childermass. Surely there is somewhere more suitable —”

“The orphanage, sir,” said Childermass bluntly.

“But—”

“Then Bedlam, no doubt.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Brocklehurst says she is unnatural and will lead the other girls to damnation,” Childermass explained, his lip curling in distaste at the memory of the conversation. “He will not have her in his school any longer.”

“But what about the girl’s family at Gateshead?”

“Her parents are dead, sir. Her aunt, a fashionable waste of space, cast her off after the incident in her library. She has no other family to claim her.” He let that sink in a moment. “She has been branded a troublemaker, a liar, and an unnatural creature for the way trouble seems to flare around her. And when the orphanage comes to the same conclusions, she will be committed as a lunatic, beyond hope of redemption.”

“And yet you wish me to take her on!”

Lucy came to the door with a reproachful look at this outburst. She shut the door firmly. Norrell looked indignant, but Childermass chose to ignore it and continue in the most reasonable manner. He had been long enough in Mr Norrell’s service that he recognized the approaching end to the argument. He was like a child determined not to go to sleep: one last little burst of resistance before dozing off quietly. Taking on this little girl was the most reasonable thing in the world, and Norrell was but a hair’s breadth from accepting it as fact. “Aye,” Childermass soothed. “I have asked my cards, and they say she is none of those things.”

“Your picture cards!” Norrell spat. “What is she then, according to your all-knowing picture cards?”

“She is a little girl whose only friend in the world has ever been Thomas Godbless.”

That seemed to quiet Norrell for a few minutes while they listened to the soft murmuring on the other side of the door. The maids came out and bid them a very firm good night, and Lucy shut the door behind herself once more with a stern look at each of them. They  watched the maids go, chattering softly amongst themselves about clothes and dolls and hairbrushes and every other thing a little girl might need in a new household.

“But what am I to do with her, Childermass?” Norrell asked at last as the chatter faded down the stairwell. “My work is sensitive — sometimes dangerous! I cannot have a child scampering about, getting underfoot.”

Childermass snorted. “To look at her, sir, I would very seriously doubt Jane Eyre has ever ‘scampered’ in her life.”

“You have not answered my question, Childermass.”

He sighed. “Teach her, sir. She seems a bright little thing, once one gets past her timidity. And she is very fond of reading, which I daresay is a good enough start.”

[vestsfriends]

Divided But United (an Andi Mack HP AU Fanfic) Chapter 2: “Farewells”

Pairings: Jonah Beck/Cyrus Goodman, Andi Mack/Walker Brodsky, Buffy Driscoll/Marty, Amber Kippen/Iris, Reed/Kira, and many more to come.

Characters: Andi Mack, Jonah Beck, Cyrus Goodman, Buffy Driscoll, TJ Kippen, Amber Kippen, Walker Brodsky, CeCe Mack, Bex Mack, Bowie Quinn, Pat Driscoll, Iris, Reed, Lester, Kira, Kaitlin, Kip, Natalie, Gus, Leo, Libby, Dr. Metcalf, Coach Rez, Mr Coleman, and many original characters.

Word Count: 1,887 (for this chapter only)

Note: if you want to be apart of the tag list, please let me know :)

First item, check. Second, double check. Third, triple check...

Jonah scanned his finger down the parchment in his hand for what felt like the thousandth time. He had barely slept the night prior, Jonah was much too excited to sleep. The brown-haired boy was seated on his bedroom floor near his window, impatiently waiting for the sun to appear in the horizon.

Jonah yawned and stretched out his legs in front of him. He glanced down at the green-spotted pajamas he was wearing, smiling silently to himself.

In just a few hours, he would be catching a ride on the Hogwarts Express. No matter how many times he repeated those exact words in his head, Jonah could still hardly believe it. Hopefully everything would go according to how he planned.

He was soon going to the school of his dreams, Jonah would finally find his place in the Wizarding World. Ever since he was a young boy, he had been counting the days up until he would enter the grounds of Hogwarts. And now, it was finally here.

The brown-haired boy hugged his sides in excitement and peered over at his sleek wand resting on his bed, remembering the embarrassing events that lead up to attaining it. Jonah blushed at the memory of the attractive dark-haired boy, Cyrus, and how he had utterly embarrassed himself right in front of him. Yet, even though things hadn’t been too smooth at first, he hoped he could see him again.

Before Jonah knew it, his thoughts were slowly slipping away into the depths of his mind, his head gradually propping up against the wall of his bedroom as he fell into a deep slumber.

•

•

•

A couple hours later when the sun was rising up in the sky, Jay, the human alarm clock, was hurrying from the bathroom to wake up his brother. He tore open the door and sped straight up to Jonah, shaking him from side to side. He was causing such a ruckus that their parents could hear from down the stairs.

“Get up sleepyhead! Wake up! Today’s the big day!” He proceeded to yell at Jonah, who had not stirred.

“You’re going to be late!”

With those last words, Jonah’s green eyes shot wide open, leaping to his feet while almost knocking his younger brother off the bed.

“Ack! Sorry Jay!” Jonah apologized repeatedly at his annoyed brother who now sat at the edge of his bed. “But I need to get ready.”

And with that, Jonah pushed his brother out of the room and locked the door, quickly turning his attention to the completed Hogwarts supply list sitting lopsided on the floor. He snatched it immediately, along with his wand, the textbooks he had bought for school, his suitcase, and his owl’s cage. Jonah heaved, his arms struggling to carry everything, and trudged to the door. Only then did he catch a look of himself in his mirror whilst exiting his room.

“Shit.” Jonah cursed under his breath. He looked himself over in the mirror.

Low and behold, he was still wearing his green-spotted pajamas. Jonah mentally slapped himself in the face as he cast aside all of his items back onto the ground.

Jonah raced to open his closet and grabbed the nearest outfit he could find, seeing as he was already off-schedule. He threw on some black robes with a white shirt underneath, along with a loosely fastened green tie around the collar.

The green-eyed boy scrambled back to his things and pulled the door shut. He hurried down the creaky stairs, his suitcase thumping loudly on the wood.

When he arrived at the bottom of the staircase, Jonah inhaled deeply, trying to calm his beating heart. He momentarily dropped his things onto the floor so he could properly greet his parents who were staring at him with raised eyebrows.

“Jonah, sweetie?” His mother asked, standing up from her chair. “I heard quite a bit of banging coming from your bedroom. Are you prepared to leave?” She gestured towards the door.

Jonah let out a small chuckle. “Yeah. I’m ready to go now.” He grinned happily.

•

•

•

Similar to the Beck family’s trip to Diagon Alley the day prior, they were again swarmed by other witches and wizards along with the addition of many muggles as well. In the midst of chaos, Jonah pushed his heavy cart of items through the herd of people while he gazed down at his train ticket, hardly able to keep his eyes off its golden writing. He searched the signs above for platforms nine and ten, knowing well that the portal to platform nine and three quarters was hidden in between them.

Walking closely behind Jonah was his proud parents and brother who were beyond excited (and nervous) for him to move on to the next milestone in his life. His mother and father held back happy tears as they walked alongside each other.

Unfortunately, during a few moments where Jonah had accidentally been keeping his eyes on his train ticket for longer than he should have, he bumped right into a stranger in front of him, sending a few of his textbooks flying out of his cart and crashing onto the ground.

Jonah jolted his head up immediately. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” He held his hands up apologetically. “I didn’t mean to-“ Jonah made eye contact with the stranger, and his good communication skills quickly vanished into thin air.

“Well, I didn’t expect to be seeing you again so soon Jonah,” remarked Cyrus, the attractive dark-haired boy from Ollivanders, with a big smile gleaming on his face.

Jonah’s mind eventually registered that the boy was speaking to him. He blinked away his initial shock and returned a grin. “What a weird coincidence,” Jonah replied softly as he reached down to pick up his textbooks off the ground.

“Is that your family over there?” Cyrus pointed to Jonah’s parents and brother who were standing a few feet back. They had been watching the two boys carefully, sharing knowing looks among the three of them. Cyrus waved at them kindly.

Jonah nodded hesitantly. “Sadly, yeah.” He let out a sigh. “Anyway, I was just heading over to the train platform before I crashed into you.”

Cyrus giggled at him. “Did you want to join me then?” He held out a hand to Jonah. “I know a shortcut. You don’t need to go the long way. I can navigate through the crowd pretty well.”

Jonah looked at Cyrus’ extended hand then back up to his face. Jonah could see a ray of sunshine shining brightly on Cyrus’ face, all of his features standing out more clearly. It seemed as if the wind was blowing through Cyrus’ thick strands of dark hair, making the whole experience feel like a dream. Every aspect of it seemed like the universe was telling him to say yes. Jonah beamed and willingly grasped his friend’s hand. Cyrus’ fingers laced around Jonah’s palm, the warm feeling bringing heat to his cheeks.

Jonah broke the silence. “You promise you won’t take me to the wrong platform? I don’t want to smash my head into a brick wall.” Jonah explained, sweat beads forming on his forehead.

“Of course I won’t. Why would I do that?” Cyrus laughed. “Wouldn’t want to hurt that pretty face of yours.” The dark-haired boy winked.

Jonah’s cheeks flushed darker. “Yeah uh,” Jonah gulped, brushing off Cyrus’ flirtatious comment. “I’m gonna go say goodbye to my parents, it’ll only take a sec.” He awkwardly removed his sweaty hand from Cyrus’ as he walked back to his family.

Jay raised an eyebrow mischievously. “Soo, was that the boy who called you cute yesterday?”

Jonah immediately shoved a hand over the young boy’s mouth. “Shush! Not so loud! He might hear you.” Jonah couldn’t bear to embarrass himself in front of Cyrus even more than he already had.

Jay grabbed his brothers wrist and pried Jonah’s hand off his mouth, ignoring his warnings. He opened his mouth to speak before being cut off by his father.

“Hush now, Jay.” The man smiled at his youngest son. “You don’t want to ruin Jonah’s chances of having a good time at Hogwarts, do you?” He glanced down at Jay who responded with rolling his eyes.

Jonah’s mother came forwards to wrap her arms around the green-eyed boy’s head tightly. “I’m so proud of you, sweetie,” she held him close. “Tell us everything when you come home for Christmas.” The woman ruffled her son’s light brown hair.

“Don’t worry, I will.” Jonah released himself from his mother, turning away from his family. “Bye, see you guys soon!” He bid them farewell before heading back to Cyrus not too far away. Jonah’s parents waved him their goodbyes, their figures becoming smaller and more unclear to Jonah as he walked away.

“Well they seemed friendly,” Cyrus remarked. “Shall we go?” He gracefully held out a hand for the other boy to take, grinning innocently.

Jonah rolled his eyes and played along. “We shall.” With his other free hand, he pushed his cart while Cyrus guided him around the mob.

After a few minutes of peaceful silence between the boys, they arrived at the spot. Standing before them in plain sight was the signs for platforms nine and ten, Jonah’s green eyes now glancing from the two pillars to Cyrus’ proud face.

“We got here so fast,” Jonah raised an eyebrow. “How did you-”

“I told you I knew a faster way,” Cyrus cut him off. “My dad used to have a job that required constant traveling, plus my friend’s parents literally work at Hogwarts.” The dark-haired boy shrugged.

Jonah blinked. “Wait- you know people who are professors at Hogwarts?” He couldn’t believe his ears.

Cyrus let out a giggle at the other boy’s shocked expression. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to introduce you to them. But I personally think their kids are better,” He continued. “They’re my best friends, and I think you’ll get along pretty well with him.”

Jonah understood. “Yeah, sure. But we should probably go through the portal before we miss the train.”

“Right,” Cyrus stepped aside, letting Jonah go through first. “After you.” He gestured to the brick wall in front of them.

Jonah tightened his grip the cart, gulping down his fear before running into the portal.

When he opened his eyes, he let out a sigh of relief. The train hadn’t arrived yet.

Jonah was soon joined by Cyrus, whose face brightened with excitement. He pointed to a clutter of people, grabbed Jonah’s arm, and dragged him over.

“Hey, what are you-” Jonah began, beyond confused why Cyrus had yanked him over to a jumble of people waiting by the ticket booth for the train to arrive.

“I’m introducing you to my friends!” Cyrus exclaimed with great delight, his reaction seeming like he had won an Oscar. He motioned his hand over to two people specifically from the crowd, who’s backs were facing them.

Cyrus called to get their attention. “Hey, guys! I’m back.” He cheerfully waved to his friends.

The two people slowly turned around.

“‘Bout freaking time-” One of them snickered.

“Wait-” the two girls were now facing Cyrus and Jonah, their mouths dropped open.

“Jonah?”

[yougottalovebuckybarnes]

What Do I Deserve? (Bucky x Reader)

A/N: I find that writing is my safe place... I can release whatever I emotions or feelings that I have inside of me into what I write. So... that’s what I will be doing. It will be a Y/N / reader piece, but it’s based on similar things that I’ve had to go through recently.  If you made it this far and didn’t skip to the actual story, thanks for reading this part. :) Enjoy.

WARNINGS; Unhealthy relationships (also an FYI: names mentioned are made up, not real people)

---

  Growing up, I was constantly reassured that I would find the love of my life and get married. I would have the perfect wedding with a beautiful white dress and with the most handsome man that would sweep me off my feet by just simply smiling. 

And that was what I wanted. 

Sure, I was aware that I didn’t have to have that life style to be happy, but it was something I honestly wanted for myself. I found my happiness in being with others, and I felt that I’d find it most in finding a man to spend the rest of my life with. 

The years past, and now here I was, (Y/A) and single as ever.  Every visit with family members had a varied form of  the question “When are you going to get a boyfriend?” and it hurt every time. 

So... after a few months of hesitation, I decided to try online dating. Would my parents approve? Absolutely not.  But it wasn’t really about their happiness. It was about mine. 

I decided not to tell anyone on the team for awhile, because I really did not need Steve Roger’s disapproving shake of his head, or any speech that followed along the lines of “You just need to wait for the right man”. And I was 99% sure that the rest of them would just laugh at me. 

So one day, while the rest of them were out getting pizza, I decided to download Tinder and give it a shot. I was laying on the couch in the living room as I began to fill out my profile. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Doing what?”

I nearly jumped off the couch at the voice behind me, and I spun around to see Bucky standing there, a mischievous smile on his face. “Don’t do that! You scared the living shit out of me!!”

“Sorry, sorry!” He raised his hands in surrender, before walking around to sit next to me on the couch. “But really... what are you planning to do?” 

“Nothing.” I blush and quickly try to tuck my phone in my pocket.  But in a matter of seconds, the device was snatched from my hand and into his possession. “No! Give it back!”

“I wanna see what you’re doing!” He chuckled and stood up, purposefully turning away so I couldn’t take my phone from him. “Oh... wow. Online dating?

“Give it back!” My annoyance quickly turned into humiliation, tears starting to pool in my eyes. “It’s none of your damn business!” 

Bucky turned and I quickly pulled my phone from his hand, locking the screen quickly.  I started to storm by him to my room as the tears burned in my eyes, but a cool metal hand touched my wrist gently. I turned to face him, and his eyes were soft. 

No amusement, no bitterness, no judgement. 

“Why are you so upset?” He asked softly, and gently pulled me closer to him. “It’s your life.”

“I’m embarrassed... I’m embarrassed that I’m (Y/A) years old and I still haven’t found my match.” A tear fell down my cheek and I quickly wiped it away. “I know that everyone thinks its stupid but... I don’t know.”

“It’s not stupid.” Bucky shakes his head and tilts my chin up to look at him. There was a glimmer of something in his eyes but I couldn’t place what it was. “I just want you to be careful... there are a lot of bad men out there, and you are beyond perfect. They might want to take advantage of you.” 

“I know.” I smile softly as I look at him. “I’m gonna be safe, I promise.” 

“Good.” He leaned in and kissed my forehead softly before pulling away and smiling at me. “I hope you find the right man for you.” 

“Thanks.”  I frowned slightly as he started to walk away, noticing that the smile he just gave me wasn’t genuine. It always reached his eyes, but it didn’t this time. His lips were pulled up almost in a reassuring way, but it wasn’t a sign of true happiness.  I opened my mouth to speak again, but he had disappeared around the corner. 

With a sigh, I sat down on the couch and continued to set up my online profile, only hoping that I’d meet my “Mr. Right”...

--

FOUR WEEKS LATER...

It didn’t take long for the matches to start coming in. Although I had talked to a few men, there was one in particular that seemed completely genuine to me. 

He was Carson Reed, a 24 year old business owner who lived only five miles from the Tower.  He was generally well off, and wanted a future with someone close to him.  We both swiped right, and minutes later, we began to have a conversation. 

After a few days of conversing online, we decided to go and get coffee together at the nearby coffee shop. To say it went well was an understatement. 

It was one of the best dates I had ever been on in my whole life. 

We exchanged numbers, and agreed to go out again the following week.  And that was exactly what happened, except this time, he took me out to a fancy theater to see a play before we went out to dinner. 

After having a few glasses of wine, he offered for me to come back with him to his place and I agreed. We sat on the couch for awhile and continued to talk, until he leaned in and kissed me. 

It continued to grow from there, and soon enough, we were headed into his bedroom.  I fell asleep in his bed with him, tucked gently against his side, and woke up the next morning alone. There was no note, no texts, no Carson.  

I got dressed and went home, a growing ache in my heart that maybe this was just a game to him. But I reassured myself that he had a word emergency and he would text me later. 

The hours passed by as I waited on the couch in the living room of the tower, checking my phone occasionally to see if he had messaged me. Nothing.  A lump grew in my throat as I kept watching episodes of my favorite show on Netflix, making me question why I had even made an account on Tinder in the first place. 

After having a slice of pizza for dinner, I decided to put my pride aside and call him. The phone rang for a few moments before it picked up.  “Hello?” I said hesitantly. 

There was no response but a moment later, a soft moan sounded through the speakers followed by, “Fuck, you’re the best fuck I’ve had in a long time.”

My blood went cold as I heard another round of moans before I quickly hung up the phone. I felt myself begin to shake as a soft sob escaped my lips. As I felt myself slowly fall to pieces, footsteps began to walk into the room. I didn’t realize someone else was present until a soft hand touched my shoulder.  I quickly turned to see Bucky, his eyes confused and concerned.

 “I thought I told you not to fucking scare me like that!” I snapped, before standing up, my pain morphing into a wave of anger. 

“I’m sorry!” his eyes widened slightly. “I heard you crying and-”

“I’m fine!” I gritted my teeth before starting to walk away. 

“You always say that, but I know you’re not!” Bucky grabbed my wrist and stopped me from leaving. “What happened?”

“Why do you fucking care?” I exclaimed, my voice starting to break. “Don’t you have a girlfriend to care about?”

“No!” His blue eyes were ablaze with anger as he stared down at me. “Theres only one girl I want, and she can’t see it!” 

“I’m sure she’d take you in a heartbeat.” I whispered softly, as I look up at him. “Everyone wants you. But no one wants me.”

“What happened with Carson?”

“I’ll tell you what happened.” I snatched my phone off the couch. “We went out last night and everything was great. But I didn’t hear a word from him all day. I decided to call him, and what do I hear?  I hear him fucking another girl!” 

My vision is blurred with tears as I shake my head and look up at Bucky. “What do I deserve, Bucky?” My voice was broken and much quieter. “To me, it seems that I deserve nothing. I deserve to be treated like I’m nothing simply because of how I fucking look or just who I am. And it’s so unfair.”  

“You have no idea how wrong you are.” Bucky shakes his head slowly as I move my hand to wipe away my tears. “You deserve the world.” 

“Then why do men treat me like this?” My voice is a mixture of a humorless laugh and a sob as I look at him. “Why am I always the one left in the dust like I’m nothing?”

“Because they don’t know what they’re missing out on!” Bucky takes my hand in his, and my heart flutters in my chest as he pulls me closer to him. “You are beyond enough. You helped me learn to smile again , and to be open to people. You pulled me out of my shell, and taught me that my past doesn’t define me anymore.” His metal hand moved to cup my cheek. “My... arm doesn’t make me a monster, even though HYDRA made me kill for them.” 

“But there are so many other girls that-”

“No.” Bucky shakes his head as his face starts to lean closer to mine. “You are simply stunning, and you don’t compare to any of those other girls. “ His eyes flicker down to my lips. “Can I...?” 

My skin feels like its on fire at his touch, as his lips draw closer to mine. “Yes...” 

His soft lips brush against mine softly, and I kiss back gently, my arms wrapping around his shoulders as our lips move in sync with each others. His lips turned into a smile against mine, and I couldn’t help the one forming on my face as he pulled away and looked at me. 

“I know it might seem like it’s too soon, but I love you.” A blush formed on his face as he smiled shyly at me. “And I want to make sure you feel loved, if you’ll let me.” 

“Yes.” I smiled at Bucky before pulling him down gently and kissing him once again, feeling my past pain fade away and be replaced with the only thing I would ever need... Bucky Barnes.

---

A/N 2: Sappy ending, sorry. XD  I have yet to find my “Bucky Barnes”, but... I guess time will tell. 

[lostinthe-pines-blog]

Beginnings: Abbie Reed

This is a set of stories about the past and events that brought everyones Hartfeld favorites together. Once all parts have been told I hope to incorporate them into a slightly altered storyline about the Hartfeld gang. Though I will not get to far ahead of myself.  This second story brings us into Abbie’s past her struggling family and her financial solution. Some names have been changed to fit with in my story line. I found myself always having a hard time writing Abbie because I didn’t know who she was or where she came from really. So I hope this helps!

All character rights belong to PixelBerry and their Choices stories The Freshman, The Sophomore, The Junior and The Senior.  TAG LIST: ( this is a tag list from all of my pervious Freshman related fics. Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed) 

@jared2612  @katurrade @annekebbphotography @emerald-bijou @jellybean-marshmellow @jollybouquetangel

Poverty tends to come with judgement, or disgraceful glances. But those that live in it sometimes are the happiest people of all.  A perfect definition for the slums of Los Angeles county especially in summer of 1994. Life in poverty is so looked down on by the elite surrounding those small areas. But the same elite do nothing to help or change it. But in Compton, California some of the hardest times created moments of the strongest friendships. It was under these friendships that Abbigail Reed was born. She would not have to share blood with those around her fro them to consider them family. Abbigail would carry with her the love of her community for her entire life.

      June 17th 1994 in the fluorescent lit room of the Martin Luther King Jr. Community Hospital Whitney, Jeanie, and Angela sat awaiting the birth of their best friend Luna’s child. Passing their time by watching the riveting car chase only a few miles away from them as police followed O.J. Simpson and Al Cowlings through multiple freeways. The three girls who share the same stunning deep skin tone sit on the edge of their seats as the watch the White Ford Bronco pull up to O.J. Simpson’s Brentwood Home. But they are quickly interrupted when a nurse steps in front of the television.

      “Hey!” Whitney screams waving her hand insisting the young girl move aside “I cannot miss this. You better RUN! OJ!” she continues to yell as the nurse moves aside out of confusion and then speaks to the two calmer friends.

      “It’s a girl!” The nurse reveals to the two listening parties “Luna is in recovery right now you’ll be able to see her soon I promise. But I can offer the opportunity to see little Abbigail if you’d like.” She finishes kindly.

      “Yes!” Jeanie and Angela yelp at the same time standing on their feet quickly to follow the sweet nurse.

      “Whitney read about it later, life is literally happening in front of you!” Angela jabs grabbing Whitney’s arm and pulling her away from the Television.

      The nurse leads them in front of a viewing gallery and points out the small girl wrapped in a pastel pink blanket.

      “That’s Abbigail!” Whitney who is all of a sudden interested in the events surrounding her screams “She’s so cute, beautiful skin just like her mother.”

      “And not a trace of her dead-beat father” Jeanie adds as the nurse walks away uncomfortably. “Little Abbie you are going to be the most loved child in all of Compton.” She adds waving at the sleeping child through the window.

      Abbigail Reed was indeed one of the most loved children in the neighborhood. As she grew up she was surrounded by passionate and loving women. But Whitney, Jeanie and Angela would be the most constant. They would each pass on a trait to the young girl. Whitney gave her passion for life, Angela her patience and Jeanie gave her understanding and culture of the world around her both past and present. But most importantly her mother Luna Reed gave her love, so much encompassing love.

      Luna Reed was born in 1975 in the same small town she’d give birth to her own daughter. Her best friend all her life would be her wise father, James, who passed to her the same love she’d give to Abbie. At the young age of 3 Luna’s giving mother passed away. Leaving James to teach her to trust someones soul, and love even their darkest parts, just as her mother had. James, who wanted to the best for his girl but could rarely provide it. He worked day in and day out at the mechanic shop down the main street of the town, but he only scraped up enough money for a trip to the movies or a nice dinner once a month. Leaving Compton eventually seemed impossible to Luna and she began to settle into the life she had been given. Sharing the best of it all with her loving father after the passing of her mother at the age of 12.

      In High School Luna would meet her three best friends and she would carry them with her for the many years to follow. She was especially thankful for Angela whose family was the most well off of her friends. Angela became like a sister to Luna, on days when Luna couldn’t afford a lunch Angela was there with an extra sandwich. Angela was there as a shoulder to cry on and in early December of 1993 her shoulder was the wettest it would ever be.

      In January of the same year Luna Reed had accepted a front desk job at a hotel in Hollywood. The commute was long with the busy freeways of Los Angeles, but the payoff was worth it. She was finally able to contribute to the hard work her father had done for so many years. But the pay wasn’t the only part of work that excited Luna. She was falling for a boy, a stranger really, and she was falling far too fast. Jackson Louis was a business man who frequented the hotel, he had fair skin dark hair and piercing green eyes. But those eyes wandered all over the beautiful and foreign unblemished skin of the front desk worker who checked him in month after month.

      In May, Jackson checked in for the 10th time that year when Luna finally got the courage to ask the man the questions she’d been wondering for months.

      “Mr. Louis what brings you back to town so often?” She spoke softly -her voice a perfect melody to his ears- as she organized the stack of papers, he’d signed in exchange for a hotel room key.

      “I’m a business man Miss Luna. I like to say that I can see a bit into the future... and there is a wide market for renewable energy especially in a crowded town like Los Angeles.” He explained never taking his eyes off the striking girl behind the desk.

      “Well we are happy to have you here, and pleased that you continue to stay with us.” Luna spoke her automated sentence she’d given to all of their repeat guests. Though her tone of voice may have meant it more now.

      “Can I be honest Luna?” Jackson chuckled in his question watching Luna respond only with a nod. “I was offered a room at the four seasons for this trip.” He continued shaking his head at the offer he’d denied. “But I wanted to come back here, because…” he trailed almost embarrassed to admit what his love-struck heart had done. “I wanted to see you again.”

      Shocked Luna dropped the mess of papers and keys she’d already been nervously  fiddling with, as the papers flew she hid her blushing cheeks by lowering herself behind the desk to clean quickly. But to her surprise the wealthy business man was there behind the desk with her handing her the papers he’d caused her to drop.

      “I didn’t mean to cause all this” he laughed “I just thought after all these months I should be honest. Miss Luna I’d like to take you to dinner tonight when you’re off if you’d like that.” He offered gently.

       Fighting her instincts to be afraid or to judge the man who was offering up his evening to her, he thought carefully about the response to give. Could she trust him? She certainly wanted to. After deciding to follow the advice of her father and trust the soul of the person before her she answered only with a nod worried that if she opened her mouth a giddy squeal would come out. After standing again and dusting off her skirt she finally built the courage to speak. “I’m off at 6:00” she whispered through her infectious smile.

      “I’ll meet you right here at 6:00” he nodded before taking the room key from her and heading toward the elevator.

      The hours that passed were the longest Luna had ever worked through. She couldn’t believe the events of the morning. She talked through her entire lunch break using the work phone illegally for her personal call to Angela who was equally as excited for her friend. With Luna’s luck her relief had arrived early and she was able to step into the public restroom in the lobby to freshen up for a few minutes. As she looked in the mirror she tried to see past her insecurities. She flattened the wrinkles of her shirt and took a deep breath before exiting the restroom and seeing the tall man waiting there for her.

He was striking, though she didn’t expect any less of him. He’d lost the suit jacket he’d dawned this morning and wore a white button up shirt tailored to him sleeves rolled tucked into a pair of tan suit pants. When he saw her step into view his eyes perked up. She was the vision of perfection that had brought him back time and time again.

      “Hi!” she spoke immediately regretting the amount of excitement she fit into one word.

      “Are you ready?” he responded surprisingly with almost the same level of happiness.

      Using her signature ‘silent nod’ again, Luna walked by his side down the street. She’d feared her whole life the thoughts of others but she was in Los Angeles this was the city of Angels. All around her the world was yelling. As they began their walk down Hollywood Boulevard, she saw so much diversity and love around her. On her late night walks through the crowded city she’d normally kept her head down walking from her building to her car she’d never once took in the acceptance of the town around her. A smile plastered it’s self a cross her face and Jackson quickly noticed.

      “What are you smiling for?” he questioned keeping a slower pace next to the shorter woman beside him.

      “Just this city. it’s full of angels isn’t it.” She offered letting her loving eyes wander to so many different scenes around her. Some of two men holding hands, others of interracial couples, single mothers and even the homeless forming friendships and sanctuaries with one another. “I just feel lucky to be here.” She nodded “that’s all.”

      “I’m lucky to be here with you.” Jackson said smoothly, but he was taken back by the observations she’d made. Could the girl beside him truly see the beauty in this world in every single person she passed? Was that even possible? He needed to know her better. Gently reaching his palm out to her, Luna’s tender heart skipped a beat. She accepted the offer and laced her fingers through his quickly.

      The night seemed to go by to fast as she learned more and more about the gentleman who’d rung the bell ontop the desk so many times. Jackson Louis was from Seattle Washington, his favorite place to visit was Los Angeles because he could finally see the sun “as it was meant to be seen” he’d say. He was 5 years older than the 18-year-old girl now sitting crossed from him at the restaurant of her choosing. At 23 years old he’d already acquired a Master’s degree from the University of Washington something he’d begun working on at only 16. The privilege of his skin was apparent in his upbringing. But to him the colors of their flesh did not matter. He never looked down on the stories of her childhood; he never questioned the sadness in her life brought on by a hateful world. He embraced them and began to love them as much as she did. That first night as he walked her back to her car parked in a garage 4 blocks from the hotel itself, he searched her face for permission to kiss her.

      She watched his eyes wander from hers to her lips and back, she knew what she wanted. She may have been young but she was not dumb. Stopping their nervous banter, she stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his own as he softened in return. Shocked by her bold gesture he wrapped himself around her slender frame and she followed the movements in return. This night would be the first of many spent this way in the following week before he returned to Washington. They’d come to learn each others passions, fears and ambitions. They’d swapped stories for their vastly different upbringings and shared many kisses before the week was out.

But in early June he returned again. This time with the news that he’d officially be moving to The City of Angels so that he could be closer to the woman he viewed as his own Angel. By the end of the month Luna was a 30-minute bus ride from the first person she’d ever felt this way for.

      The long hot summer brought on hotter nights as she accepted his offer to move in with him. She felt guilty not paying for a portion of the place so with her extra dollars she would constantly keep the kitchen stocked with as many delicious fruits as she could purchase. And she filled the air with the smells of her incredible cooking. Everyday she became more and more excited for his return, she was happy and even thought of Jackson left butterflies in her stomach.

Luna was still giving a portion of rent for her father’s small Compton home knowing that he wasn’t able to work the long hours anymore. On July fourth Jackson was welcomed into that home for a Fourth of July like he’d never experienced before. Luna’s father quickly approved of the young and accepting man. He saw the way Jackson excited Luna. The two of them were in sync and it was infectious to those around them. James truly believed things were seeming to look up for the Reed family.

Jackson had surprised Luna for her late July birthday by fixing up the long list of repairs in her father’s home, free of charge. By now even Angela approved of the white skinned lover her friend had taken up. Though Whitney and Jeanie remained skeptical of the foreigner.

As mid-September rolled around another blessing came into her life, Luna was pregnant. She’s always wanted to be the mother that time had not granted her own. And while she was fearful of what a disgusting society began to think of her, she knew the only opinion that mattered was that of the small child growing inside this woman who only ever radiated compassion.

On an early November morning before he left for work Jackson woke his love laying his head gently against her slowly stretching abdomen.

      “Luna…” he said softly listening to some sound of his growing child beneath.

      “Yes?” Luna asked running her hands through the deep locks of the man she’d too quickly fallen in love with.

      “Would you consider marrying me?” he questioned and to her shock she sat up shoving him off her.

      Looking directly into his eyes with happiness and fear. Would she? Would she vow herself to someone she’d truly met only a few months before? Was she crazy? In the silence she questioned what he’d asked her, had she heard him right?  Sure, the pregnancy was unexpected but she’d never say it was unwanted. Could this be the path to the family she’d always dreamed of, “Can you say that again?” she asked her voice weak.

      “My angel… would you marry me?” Jackson smiled as he spoke quickly correcting his choice in words. “No, not would you Luna Michelle Reed”, he paused dramatically wobbling on the soft mattress until he was perfectly positioned on one knee. “WILL you marry me?” he said though he had no ring to show.

        “Yes! Yes!” she cheered pulling him from his unstable kneel her lips quickly locked with his own. She couldn’t believe the blessing that this year had brought to her. But all of it came to an end at Thanksgiving.

      Luna and Jackson agreed to join his parents for the heavily family-oriented holiday. It was then he planned on announcing his engagement, and later the pregnancy. Though his biggest mistake was not giving one warning of her race to his conservative family. He thought he’d done it to protect her but now she was weak in front of their stares. Luna knew Jackson loved her she felt it in her soul that the feelings and the events of the year were all true. She did not doubt this, but she knew money was stronger than love these days and that’s exactly what his father held over his head.

      After the announcement of the engagement Jackson could tell announcing the pregnancy would make things even worse. So through a few glances and shaking of heads he and Luna kept their secret. The silence and stares of the evening were suffocating him because he could not make his siblings and parents see the incredible human, he’d brought to them.

That evening Mrs. Louis showed Luna to a spare bed in the attic giving her as much kindness as she was able before leaving her alone. As the aging woman turned to leave Luna stopped her.

“Mrs. Louis” she spoke trying to fill her voice with respect, though she felt the racist bitty deserved none.

“Yes?” the unknowing grandmother of Luna’s child responded.

“I just want to thank you, truly. For letting me stay here and more importantly I wanted to thank you for your son. You’ve raised a remarkable child, he has more love in his heart than I think can fit.” Luna chuckled and to her surprise she was met with a kind smile.

“Thank you dear.” Mrs Louis spoke softly, now questioning every wrong glance or judge-mental thought she’d given to the kind girl in front of her now. Luna could see the internal conflict on the woman’s face. She longed to be kind, but her upbringing had taught her not to be in this scenario. Luna wouldn’t torture the woman’s conflict anymore and released her with a gentle “good night.”

Luna knew that Jackson would come to her before returning to his childhood bedroom so she waited up. But the discussion she’d heard in the office below the floor boards scared her more than any terrors of the creaking dark room around her.

      “Are you serious Jackson bringing her here?” Mr. Louis yelled at his middle child “With no warning?”

      “I didn’t speak of it because I knew you’d react this way!” Jackson yelled back “Luna is the most captivating human I have ever crossed paths with if you could only see that; if you could only open your mind long enough to let your heart love father.” Jackson protested as their yells began to turn to whispers.

      “Jackson Nathaniel Louis, you will leave that girl behind or you will never hear from our family again. Not your siblings, not your mother. We will not be shamed by the selfish actions of your wandering dick.” His father spat at him, “Financially you will be ruined, your investments and the career you’ve begun to build. Do not forget who has funded it. So my son you must make a choice, It is your family, your money and your childhood or it is her. When you finally decide I hope you leave that god forsaken city forever.”

“Please!” Jackson pleaded, “Father she is everything to me.” even through the hushed tones below Luna could hear the pain in his heart. How could she let him leave his family. Disgusting as their views might be they were his life, he’d been sharing stories about them since their first date. Luna had at one point been thrilled by the love he carried for his family, but now it only scared her.

      Luna had been right, Jackson did come to bid her goodnight now, she held in her tears as she heard him enter the small space.

       “Luna...” he trailed and while her eyes were dry his were not. He slumped into her lap as conflict formed in him.

       “Jackson, I love you. I don’t know what this all means. I don’t know why mankind can harbor so much hate in the color of someones skin. And I don’t know why you have to face this trial of choice. But I do know, I love you, I love every ounce of you and the kindness, acceptance and change you’ve given me.” she explained though she never received a response. The pair of the slept together in the small bed in the attic. Against the wishes of his family they laid closely breathing in the air of prejudice that Luna had known all throughout her childhood.

       Her travels back to Los Angeles with Jackson were almost completely silent. She feared deeply the thoughts in her head and a week later the fears became the strongest reality. As she entered the apartment after a long day at the hotel, she found it as it had always been, though a few personal belongings were missing. Resting on the pillow of the bed they’d spent so many nights together on was a note from the father of her growing child.

      “My Angel,

      I apologize for the hurt that this news will bring to your life. I must return to Seattle, to be with my family indefinitely....

After reading the first line written on the page, she crumpled it beneath her hands wanting to forget its words not willing to read the rest of them. She wanted to forget the mark he’d left on her and in her. He was gone and she was truly dying inside.

      Jackson had given her only one kindness in his absence. He’d paid the rent on the apartment for two more months and he’d left behind the expensive furnishings he’d bought for her. Keeping what she knew her father would need and selling the rest to earn money for her child after the rent was up she moved back to the small home of her past. The following months brought her to her lowest but regardless of the father, Abbigail would pull her out of her darkness on that fateful July day.

       Growing up Abbigail had taken interest in art at a young age creating sidewalk art with her many pieces of chalk and then moving on to the finger-painting on the pages around her. At 8 years old her class had an art show and her entire family attended including her three eccentric aunts Whitney, Angela and Jeanie. After winning a few candy prizes for her work Abbigail would be given the greatest news her small mind could think of.

      Luna had again found love in an unforgiving man who after knocking her up would leave once more. But Luna knew the blessing that Abigail was so she only felt love for the second daughter growing in her now.

      “A SISTER!” little Abbie screeched. “I’m going to have a SISTER!” her small body jumped with excitement as she hugged her mother’s waist band.

      And a sister she did have, Angie born in 2002 was named after Angela and was the brightest star that shined to both Luna and Abbie. Their little family would stop there and not grow again but the three girls would be as tight as they could. They trusted each other and leaned on each other in every moment of weakness.

      At 17 years old Abbigail began to wonder just as her mother had if she would ever leave this small and debt-ridden life. She dreamed of the East Coast and the adventures that it could bring with its rich history. The art she could create with the inspiration of time astounded her. But she knew she could not put her family in that kind of financial peril so she had decided on a few community colleges around the city. But her curiosity peaked and she did secretly send out one application to Hartfeld University in Connecticut; assuming a girl with her financial background would never be accepted.

      When the letter came, she ran directly to her bedroom and read the words out loud to herself as tears formed in her eyes “Welcome to Hartfeld! It is with great enthusiasm that I write to congratulate you on your admission to the Hartfeld University class of 2019!” but she wasn’t alone, her now 11-year-old little sister was standing behind her silently.

      “You’re going to Hartfeld?” she questioned startling Abbie in her tears.

      “Angie, no we can’t afford it… but I wanted to know for myself that I could get in. Don’t worry I won’t leave you.” Abbie said wrapping her arms around her petite sister as her tears fell. She wanted to go, she wanted to leave this place. But she knew her fate would end like her far to loving mothers.

      Again, Abbie  didn’t know that the same loving mother stood just outside the room hearing the entire thing. Times had changed since 1993 and with the joys of social media she didn’t think twice about the actions she took next. After a few hours of diligent searching with the help of Jeanie who’d gone back to school to learn more about the modern age of technology, Luna found what she was looking for.

      Dialing the number into her dated cell phone she waited as the ring was finally answered.

      “Jackson Louis’s office my name is Shelby how can I help you?” a secretary spoke quickly as Luna could hear the typing of her fingers in the distance.

      “Shelby! This is Bethany Louis, I was hoping my brother was there. I couldn’t reach him on his cell.” Luna mocked the voice of the girl she remembered clearly from Thanksgiving those long years ago.

      “Of course, Bethany! He’ll be delighted to hear from you, let me transfer you.” Shelby exclaimed as the call fell silent before ringing again.

      Luna felt her chest swell with fear as the ringing stopped and a voice, she’d feared hearing from came from the other side. No doubt the perky secretary had told him who was on the line as he greeted the call with a personalized welcome.

      “Beth! Lovely to hear from you!” Jackson spoke delightfully.

      “I’m sorry to have lied.” Luna began hoping he would be haunted by her voice, and he was.

      “Luna…” he whispered rising from his desk and closing the door of his office.

      “I vowed that I would never call you, or contact you after what you had done to me. But it’s been 17 years and  while you’ve been faithful with your child support payments, that I’m sure the lovely blonde wife in your social media profile doesn’t know about. It’s time for a bigger favor.” She explains quickly hoping her words attack him.

      “What do you need Luna.” He replies flatly still regretting his past.

      “Abbigail was accepted to Hartfeld University.” Luna boasts pridefully. “She’ll be going, and you will pay every penny.” She adds her demands but is met with silence.

      “Fine.” Jackson speaks moments later “But when she finishes, I’m attending that graduation and you will tell her who I am.” he fights in return

      Luna had hidden Jackson from Abbigail avoiding the topic of her father at all telling Abbie “You don’t need a father to have a father figure.” Her bitter heart accepted the child support but denied Jackson any contact. The last he’d seen of Abbigail was a 6th grade portrait.

      “Fine, if you can even find the courage to face the daughter you left behind.” Luna agreed knowing that by 4 years from now Jackson would have something else he’d rather do than attend the graduation of the daughter he left behind.

      That night at dinner Luna told Abbigail that she would be attending Hartfeld and that she need not worry about the finances, that the town would be covering them. Whitney, Jeanie and Angela all aided in the lie saying that they would be offering money to the cause as well. And when summer turned to fall Abbie packed her things and headed out into a world far different than any she had known before.

[gokinjeespot]

off the rack #1223

Monday, July 30, 2018

 Many comings and goings here recently. I had a visit with a friend from Victoria, BC over the weekend. Treated him to a fishing trip and he had a blast. My niece is moving to Bahrain tomorrow after being home from Japan for 8 months. I will miss her but we will keep in touch via social media. Penny is off on a road trip today to visit family up north and friends in Huntsville and Barrie, Ontario. She'll be back in time to welcome dear friends from Calgary, Alberta arriving next weekend while they are here visiting family. I'm not going anywhere soon but that's the way this homebody likes it.

 Detective Comics #985 - Bryan Hill (writer) Philippe Briones (art) Adriano Lucas (colours) Sal Cipriano (letters). I like the short and sweet origin story for this new super villain Karma. We find out why he's terrorizing Gotham City and what his demands are. This is a really good challenge for Batman and his allies.

 Moon Knight #197 - Max Bemis (writer) Jacen Burrows (pencils) Guillermo Ortego (inks) Matt Milla (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). It's a sit down dinner with a select group of extreme sadists. I question the "Teen+" rating for this issue. It definitely should have been rated "Parental Advisory". I mean, even I got a little queasy reading each guest's story. I kept waiting for the host to announce that they were going to kill someone for the main course. Yuck.

 Infinity Wars Prime - Gerry Duggan (writer) Mike Deodato Jr. (art) Frank Martin (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). This story starts off promising enough with Loki in a library reading old stories about himself. This leads to Loki going to the Quarry of Creation to find some missing parts to one of his stories. I felt like I was missing a lot as I continued to read since I did not follow the Infinity Countdown and related tie-in books. I was left wondering what the fork was going on when Adam Warlock pays a visit to Doctor Strange. By the time the inevitable super villain was introduced I was feeling so lost that I decided to skip this war altogether. Other readers may be intrigued enough with the mysterious character with the infinity goggles to want to see what happens to the stones. I was completely shocked by the one death in this issue though.

 Justice League Dark #1 - James Tynion IV (writer) Alvaro Martinez Bueno (pencils) Raul Fernandez (inks) Brad Anderson (colours) Rob Leigh (letters). When Peter Milligan (writer) first introduced this team to the racks in 2011 I did read some of their adventures but I stopped before that run came to an end in 2015. I guess the team was disbanded but now there's a threat to magic in the DCU and all the mystical members have to join together to survive. This time they will be lead by Wonder Woman. Zatanna and Swampthing are front and center in this issue but there are plenty of other magic users waiting in the wings. I like the new Man-Bat but I'm not a fan of Zee's braid.

 Saga #54 - Fiona Staples (art) Brian K. Vaughn (writer) Fonografiks (letters). Many shocks this issue, the least of which is the announcement that Saga in going on a year long hiatus. Brian Michael Bendis (writer) walking away from Miles Morales bummed me out and this news also makes me sad. Having Hazel narrate this stunning issue prepares me for the major changes coming when this title hits the racks again next summer. I hope the creative team enjoys their much deserved break and look forward to the continuation of Hazel's story.

 Mr. & Mrs. X #1 - Kelly Thompson (writer) Oscar Bazaldua (art) Frank D'Armata (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). Love & Marriage part 1. I did not read the heavily hyped wedding issue where Kitty and Piotr followed in the footsteps of Batman and Catwoman so I don't know why they didn't tie the knot. Somewhere in there though Rogue and Gambit decided to take their on and off relationship and really get it on Marvin Gaye style. So we are gathered here to witness the wedding and part of the honeymoon until they are called to duty and have to retrieve something out in space. I like that Kelly toned down the southern drawl for Rogue and the Cajun inflections for Gambit so that their dialogue didn't get too annoying in my head. I loved the art and wish that Storm would wear her hair like that all the time. Very stylish and classy. Good job Oscar. Remy and Anna Marie make a cute couple and a surprise appearance on the last page will make for a fun threesome.

 Silencer #7 - Dan Abnett (writer) Viktor Bogdanovic (pencils) Viktor Bogdanovic & Jonathan Glapion (inks) Mike Spicer (colours) Tom Napolitano (letters). Honor's mission to make sure Talia al Ghul stays dead takes her and her family into the friendly skies. Unbeknownst to her Cradle and Grave are on the same flight. I like how the inevitable fight shows off what her super suit can do. I know she won't be successful in killing Talia for good and gone but it will be fun to see her try.

 Doomsday Clock #6 - Geoff Johns (writer) Gary Frank (art) Brad Anderson (colours) Rob Leigh (letters). We're at the halfway mark and this is my favourite issue yet. It's an all villains issue. I like how the Marionette and the Mime's origin story is woven in. This mature version of the Joker is much more interesting and I can't wait to find out what he does with the incapacitated Batman.

 Multiple Man #2 - Matthew Rosenberg (writer) Andy MacDonald (art) Tamra Bonvillain (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters). This story is confusing enough with the time travelling but adding in the many Jamie Madroxes makes it even more confusing. I was almost willing to continue reading more issues when someone who knows stuff showed up but she was only there for a cameo. Layla was my favourite X-Factor member.

 Action Comics #1001 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) Patrick Gleason (art) Alejandro Sanchez (colours) Josh Reed (letters). One of my favourite things about Brian's writing is his nice flowing dialogue and there's plenty of it in this issue. We find out who is setting fires all over Metropolis as a new super villain is introduced. Her name is Red Cloud and she is as fatal as a sarin gas attack.

 Amazing Spider-Man #2/LGY #803 - Nick Spencer (writer) Ryan Ottley (pencils) Cliff Rathburn (inks) Laura Martin (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). Back to Basics part 2. Boy, talk about getting back to basics. We start off with a little fight with Man Mountain Marco and the Ringer and then another fight with the Black Ant and Taskmaster. Gee, Stan the Man and Steve Ditko used to do this sort of stuff every issue too. What is really tickling my fancy are the changes going on in Peter Parker's life. For one thing Stan and Steve never showed Peter and Mary Jane waking up in bed together. Then there's the surprise on the last page. Who is that masked man?

 Marvel 2-In-One #8/LGY #108 - Chip Zdarsky (writer) Ramon K. Perez (art) Frederico Blee (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). Ben and Johnny are powerless now and stranded in a universe where Spider-Man is a despot. It's very dramatic when Johnny finds out that Ben didn't tell him that Reed, Sue and the kids are dead. I don't believe that for a second. Who's going to be in the new Fantastic Four comic book if that's true? Chip is doing an excellent job writing this.

 X-23 #2 - Mariko Tamaki (writer) Juann Cabal (art) Nolan Woodard (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). The Stepford Cuckoos suffer a death in the family and they go cuckoo for real. This leads to Gabby being captured and Laura needing to come to the rescue. This book gets my highest recommendation.

 The Sentry #2 - Jeff Lemire (writer) Kim Jacinto & Joshua Cassara (art) Rain Beredo (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters). I was not prepared to like this as much as I do now. Jeff has made this character a lot more interesting with the crazy situations and supporting cast. This book and Moon Knight are weirdly psychological.

 Wakanda Forever: X-Men #1 - Nnedi Okorafor (writer) Ray Anthony-Height & Alberto Alburquerque (pencils) Ray Anthony-Height, Ray Anthony-Height, Juan Vlasco & Keith Champagne (inks) Erick Arciniega (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). It's Storm, Rogue and Nightcrawler's turn to team up with the Dora Milaje to fight Malice and her doomsday weapon Mimic-27. So just three X-Men then. Colossus isn't in this like he is on the cover. This issue leaves Mimic-27 more powerful than ever so we'll see what the Avengers can do when Wakanda Forever: Avengers #1 hits the racks August 22. I'm going to guess that T'Challa is going to set the lovestruck Malice straight and Mimic-27 will be blowed up real good with the help of, oh I don't know, Captain America and maybe She-Hulk.

[secretradiobrooklyn]

The Singing Senator Edition | 5.22.21

Secret Radio | 5.22.21 | Hear it here.

1. Dara Puspita - “Bertamasja”

Dara Puspita was an Indonesian band, active right from the start of rock n roll — like, they jumped into it in 1964. I love how it sounds like gnarly garage rock until the lead guitar tone pulls out and reveals a super VU sound. With a surf structure! It’s just about a perfect nugget of song. 

2. Yol Aularong - “Sou Slarp Kroam Kombut Srey (Rather Die Under a Woman’s Sword)”

Yol Aularong has the wildest voice, and total commitment to rock’s magic transformative power, even in a context where he was risking his life. He does things that would make Screamin’ Jay lean back and appreciate. The arrangements and his delivery just o’erbrim with life and character. 

3. The Psychedelic Aliens - “We’re Laughing”

This band is like Atomic Forest in that they’re just the answer to any collector’s wildest dreams of rarity: they’re a Ghanaian band who released exactly 8 songs and were big in the Accra scene. The groove of this song, especially in headphones, is just mesmerizing, and his delivery gets gradually more and more abstract. It sounds like Marijata and what I wish WITCH sounded more like. Undeniable.

- Glenn Miller Orchestra - “Sunrise Serenade”

4. Prewar Yardsale - “Turn On (Live Peel Session)”

We got into Prewar Yardsale through Jeffrey. Because we got into this band that he introduced us to, he said he had some rarities and other tracks. That he sent our way, and this is from that.  

5. Chai - “In Pink (feat. MNDSGN)”

I think first it was the New York Times, then the Guardian, then the New Yorker all writing about this band essentially in the same week — and we definitely had no idea what they sound like. This song had just debuted on YouTube 18 hours earlier. I think, especially now through repeated listens, it’s a rad track. I love the way MNDSGN winds his vocals into the song, then has his passage, then smoothly winds his way out again. It’s like meeting a really interesting person at an already cool party.

6. Waipod Phetsuphan - “Ding Ding Dong”

Siamese music — Thai music. The guitar part is so primal and the drums so bright in the fills and meanwhile it sounds like he’s casting a spell. And what a refrain.

7. Jacques Dutronc - “J’ai me un tigre dans ma guitare”

One of the greats — I have loved every song of his I’ve ever heard. This song really makes me appreciate his band, especially his drummer. 

8. Orchestra Baobab - “Kelen Ati Leen”

When we started WBFFing, it was partly because we were being blown away by the indisputable proof of James Brown’s influence on, and interaction with, the entire world. I don’t think I realized JB was a lot bigger than the Beatles in huge swaths of the world. This track is fundamentally expressing a JB groove and doing their own entire thing at the same time. The lead vocals’ flavor is just off the charts and the band is SO tight. 

9. Pierre Vassilou - “Qui c’est celui-là?”

What IS this song? It’s in French but it sounds like Brazil — I guess really it sounds like Os Mutantes. 

10. Betti-Betti w T.P. Orchestre Poly Rythmo - “Mahana”

The abundance of T.P. Orchestre keeps on giving. This beautiful, beautiful song is from an album they did with Cameroonian star Betti-Betti, who basically expressed the pain of her country so precisely that the whole nation mourned her passing when she died young. This melody is just stunning, and the harmony 

- Stunt Double - “Be My Baby”

Ace track from some of our favorite people in all of LA.

11. Bug Chaser - “Crowley’s Kids”

I don’t know if Bug Chaser is active at the moment, but some of our favorite STL shows have been watching and/or playing with Bug Chaser. We did the City Museum rooftop twice — and we split favorite VU songs at the Lou Reed Farewell show. Two drumsets, way too much information per track, and an epic live show with a lead character who knows how to lose himself in a song.

12. Eko Roosevelt - “Attends Moi”

We learned about Eko Roosevelt by glimpsing him in a movie about Betti-Betti. He’s a handsome bearded gentleman behind a piano. The first songs by him that got us were super heavy disco, but this one has its own special power. Lately Paige has been singing and playing it on guitar — I’m kind of hoping that we hear her version of “Attends Moi” in another broadcast.

13. Manzanita y Su Conjunto - “Shambar”

One of the sweetest musical gifts in our life has been the discovery of Analog Africa’s ever-growing musical jackpot. They sent their list a note recently about an upcoming record focused on Manzanita y Su Conjunto and their path through cumbia music, and there are two  tracks available now counting this one. We’ll be getting this record, this shit is amazing.

Paige: “I gotta get in touch with Mrs. Link.”

14. Lizzy Mercier Descloux - “Fire”

This song is from her 1979 debut, “Press Color,” and man, what an undeniable new character on the scene! She was based in Paris, hooked up with Michel Esteban, and together they not only established a store of crucial Parisian punkness but also published a fucking MAGAZINE called “Rock News”!! While making music like this! Eventually they moved to New York in 1977 (natch) and as far as I know just continued to be the coolest humans on Earth. I can’t wait to share some of her other tracks with you — besides the brilliant first album, there’s a whole record called “Zulu Rock”! 

15. Os Mutantes - “A Minha Menina”

And as always I think: What did the Beatles think of this music?! They must have known about it, they must have. To me it really brings a whole additional level that the Beatles wanted to get to but literally didn’t know how — and Os Mutantes did. 

16. Suburban Lawns - “Janitor”

Sometimes I wonder why something that sounds so objectionable can be the most vital music in the world. Like, nothing about the lyrics or the way this song is sung should be appealing — and instead, this song is brilliantly undeniable. It’s even better when you see them performing it. If you don’t know what they look like, I guarantee you she will be a surprising character.

My favorite words on it ever are something someone wrote as a comment under the video of their TV performance of this song: “Spent 15 years as a janitor. Can confirm every word.”  

17. Sinn Sisamouth and Ros Serey Sothea - “Mou Pei Na”

These two are just amazing characters in the pre-Khmer Rouge Cambodian music world. Ros Serey Sothea’s voice is totally unique, and Sisamouth has a sincere urgency that gives the whole song a surprising narrative shape.

18. Ranil - “Ángel Terrenal”

Analog Africa again — the cure for what ails you. They are truly combing the world for music that amazes. They played the length of the Amazon river and did their best to stay out of big cities after a bad experience with a record label. So they released these psychedelic jungle masterpieces on little slabs of vinyl that they sold up and down the river. Can you freaking believe that? 

- Salah Ragab - I believe you are responsible for telling us about Salah Ragab, Josh Weinstein. So good.

Also, as promised, further information about glue traps and why they’re so harsh (and how to pull off a successful rescue!) can be found here.

19. Dagi D - “Beka”

I feel like I knew my musical life had changed when I started thinking of every visit to an Ethiopian restaurant as a valuable moment to learn as much about the music as possible — especially Meskerem in St. Louis, it must be said. It turns out modern Ethiopian pop music is super addictive and can easily get stuck in your head for days. 

20. Raxstar - “Jaaneman”

We’re still pretty new to Kensington, our neighborhood in Brooklyn. We knew that a Muslim holiday called Eid al-Fitr was happening, and when it was happening, but we were still surprised by what a joyous holiday it was in our neighborhood. Everyone of all ages was out in their fines, which involved a whole lot of sequins and shining metallic threads. The men wore a lot of caftans and those excellent long shirts and/or jackets, most with beautiful patterns. We went for a long walk and just enjoyed seeing a holiday at full pitch — excited kids and tutting grandmas, people carrying big flower arrangements (in the shape of a crescent and star!), heavy-looking tins of food headed toward a feast, even fireworks overhead. We crossed paths with a group of dudes all dressed up in various states of celebration, from a sharp Western-style two-piece suit to an even sharper South Asian suit with a Nehru collar and snug caftan. It looked like they had just finished the parental part of the night and were deciding where and who to meet up with — exactly like, say, Thanksgiving night in your hometown. It felt like, from Coney Island to McDonald, Church to Cortelyou, it was New Year’s Eve for everyone but us. 

After our walk we returned to our apartment and set up a little folding table out back to enjoy a glass of wine in the warm air. Our neighbors across the fence were still in the midst of family time, with tons of kids running around, including a teensy little girl on a tiny little pink scooter and a gaggle of beautifully awkward teens in the posture and attitude that says “stand by your cousins and let me take your picture.” As the evening wore on and the parents drifted back inside, the young adult contingent got a speaker going, and soon we were catching tracks we’d never heard before. The one that made us first pay attention was “Jaaneman,” with the vocalist’s super-charismatic delivery and priceless accent. We found ourselves Shazaming song after song, and thus started learning about Desi hip hop, a whole world of East Asian immigrant tracks that offer a lens into life in the US and UK that I haven’t really seen since watching “My Beautiful Laundrette” many years ago. Fascinating!

“Jaaneman” literally means “soul of me,” but translates to “my love” or “my darling.” Check out Raxstar — I’d love to see him play SNL and get an impression of what he’s like live. Just last month he released “Forever Jaaneman,” which updates his original smash hit and is also a very strong track.

21. Nate Smith - “Spress Theyself”

One of the last shows we got to see in St. Louis was Nate Smith at Jazz at the Bistro, and holy smokes, what a pleasure to see him do his thing up close. I love this solo album because it sounds like a practice sesh that died and went to heaven. It doesn’t have a song’s logic, but it does follow the feel of a great intuitive exploration of a beat, wandering through subdivisions and feel variations with complete ease. 

22. Jefferson Airplane - “White Rabbit”

This is Paige’s call. I think it’s cool because I can hear the direct connection between this and Erkin Koray’s Anatolian psych rock style, which I previously had no idea about. This listen through, we’ve both been appreciating how overwhelming massive Grace Slick’s voice is.

23. Marie France - “Dereglée”

Another cut off the fantastic Born Bad Records comp “Paink,” and more proof that punk was happening in other languages at the same time. (Though I think they called themselves “méchant”… or denied being méchant, depending) The album art reveals that Marie France happened to look uncannily like a punk Marilyn Monroe, which only makes both MM and MF cooler. 

24. Operation Ivy - “One of These Days”

I was never for one second a punk in high school, but I knew that the Op Ivy t-shirt was the essence of functional punk.

- Shin Joong Hyun - “Moon Watching”

25. Shin Joong Hyun - “Spring Rain”

This guy has an otherworldly sense of melody and performance that indie rock only starting catching up with decades later. This is the guy sometimes referred to as the “Korean godfather of rock.” He was active from the early ‘60s til 1975, when he was arrested, tortured and banned in South Korea. Eventually, the leader who had hammered down on him died, and he was able to begin piecing his life back together. These iconic, evocative, cinematic recordings would sound great in any decade. 

Spoiler: it wasn’t! We walked across the bridge and it was a thoroughly magical New York evening. 

[exxar1]

Aaron

10/29/2020

This picture was taken at my 9th or 10th birthday party, which would make it summer of ’87 or ’88. Pictured from left to right are Aaron Walker, my brother Jeremy, me, Jeff Reed and Brett Biers. Aaron, Brett, Jeff and I grew up together in Twin Falls, Idaho. I can’t tell you exactly when we all first met, but I don’t remember my grade school years without any of them, and I know there’s a photo album in my parents’ basement with a picture of me and Aaron playing together when we were only a few months old. The four of us were inseparable, and, while there were others in our circle of friends, these three guys are the main cast in my memories from childhood.

Yesterday, as I clocked off for my lunch break at Walmart, my watch signaled a new text notification. I glanced down, and the world around me came to a grinding, silent halt. It was from my dad, notifying me that Aaron had died.

I stared at the message, not quite comprehending what I was seeing. I read the words, but they had no meaning. I just kept reading them over and over, trying to wrap my mind around this terrible news. I finally forced myself to get moving, and I called my dad for more details as I left the store.

Even now, as I write this, it still doesn’t seem real.

I spent all that afternoon in that strange, detached daze that only sudden grief can cause. Memories flooded me in tidal waves that forced me to fight back tears as choked out the words “Good afternoon, welcome to Walmart” to the strangers coming into the store. There was, thankfully, only two hours left in my shift and, as soon as it was over, I wasted no time in clocking out and racing for the solitude of my car.

Here’s a few memories of my old friend:

Aaron, Brett, Jeff and I at our friend Jake’s dairy farm in Jerome, Idaho. There was a massive, deep manure pond that we all loved to chuck giant rocks into and then leap back to avoid the splash effect. (It’s a wonder none of us ever fell in.)

Sitting on the grass outside school during lunch, bartering for each other’s desserts, and then swapping dirty jokes, making sure to speak low enough so the nearby teachers wouldn’t hear. Aaron and Jeff had the best ones, as I recall. Most of them were about Pollocks and Jews, and more than a few were good, old fashioned fart jokes. (There is no one outside the age of grade school boys who can truly appreciate the fine humor of bodily functions.)

Aaron, in particular, always made me laugh. He was the one in class sticking pencils up his nose or using scotch tape to make funny faces. And, if I’m recalling correctly, he could also use scotch tape and notebook paper to make the sharpest Chinese throwing star this side of the Rockies.

Aaron – like his father – had a particular sense of humor. In addition to the aforementioned jokes, he loved nothing more than a good prank. His favorite one was to pick up a deck of cards and ask me if I want to play “Fifty-two card pickup”. I said, “Sure.” He then tossed the entire deck on the floor and said, “There ya go. Now pick ‘em up.” (The sad part is, I fell for that joke more than once.) He also enjoyed reaching across the table at lunch and jamming his finger into the middle of my PB&J while asking, “Is that your sandwich?” That one always pissed me off and I’d retaliate by mashing his sandwich or tossing his chips on the floor. (Something else you should know about grade school boys: we don’t have the best of manners, and we show our friendship in odd ways.)

(And, while we’re on the subject of practical jokes, Brett once gave me what I thought was a chunk of oat bran cereal to snack on. After eating it, he laughed and told me it was dog food.)

I remember fishing trips with the Walkers and me trying to learn the fine art of skipping rocks on the lake water. Aaron and his dad taught me and my brothers how to properly gut a fish. That I still remember clearly, and I could probably do it right now if I had a fresh fish and knife here on my coffee table.

I also remember the four of us hiding from the 6th grade bullies at recess, and there was one time when Aaron had to be rushed to the emergency room because one of the older boys gave him a white piece of candy that was actually a mothball. (These were the same older boys that always teased me for sometimes playing with the girls at recess.)

I remember sleepovers at the Walker house where Aaron and I played Frogger on his Atari. (I believe that Jeff was the first among us to have an original Nintendo system, and it was at one of his birthday parties that I was introduced to Super Mario Bros.) The Walkers were also professional UNO players, and I almost always lost to Aaron, his brothers, or his dad.

There were summer trips to Red Cliff Bible Camp in Pinedale, Wyoming, where we spent a week enjoying all kinds of outdoor recreation as well as nightly church services. If my memory is correct, Aaron and I were the only ones from our circle of friends in grade school who attended Red Cliff once every summer. While I still remember bits and pieces of those summers, there is one clear memory that stands out from the rest. It was one night towards the end of the week, and a bunch of us kids were seated around a large campfire in front of – or near to – the main lodge. It was one of those perfect summer nights – not too cold, just a hint of a breeze, and vast sky full of stars. We were all in the midst of a sing-a-long being led by one of the counselors, and, in the middle of it, Aaron turned to me and put his arm around my shoulders. He smiled at me, and, with tears in his eyes, said, “I love you, man!” “I love you too,” I replied, throwing my arm around him.

For most of high school there was only ten in our class, and we became as close as any group of kids could be at a Christian private school in a town of less than forty-five thousand. There were Friday night ski trips where I remember Aaron on his snowboard, swooshing down the mountain at various speeds and trying not to faceplant. I’m pretty sure it was either him or one of his brothers that ended up crashing into a tree because he went off the trail after dark. (If not Aaron, it was somebody in our class, I know that much for sure.)

In our senior year, during homeroom on Monday morning of each week, our class would select a saying or motto to write in the upper corner of the blackboard that would stay there the whole week. For awhile, Aaron was the one picking the sayings, and they were usually lyrics from current, popular rock songs. It took a few weeks before our teacher, Mrs. Tutty, finally caught on and gave us all a good scolding. In the years since, whenever I hear the song, “The World I Know” by Collective Soul, I always think of Aaron.

Also during our senior year: a winter trip to South Dakota that was just us boys and Brett’s dad. We spent a weekend up in a cabin in the mountains and rented snow mobiles. There’s a lot from that trip that has stayed with me these many years, but the only thing that’s relevant here is that Aaron succeeded in crashing his snow mobile when he tried to cut through a grove of trees. Thankfully, the worst of the damage was a cracked windshield that was easily replaced. The rest of that trip was a lot of guy bonding time that definitely included more dirty jokes and Jeff once again demonstrating his remarkable ability to make fart noises with his armpit.

In the years after high school, as we all set out on our respective paths into the world, we promised we would stay in touch. And we all did . . . for awhile. The path I chose was the Army and it took me to a posting in Germany. But that career didn’t end well, and when I needed a character witness for my courts-martial, I called Aaron. The Army flew him overseas, and were briefly reunited in Hanau, Germany, in fall of ’99. We hadn’t seen each other for a couple years, and we had fun catching up. He told me about a girl he met at college, and I told him all about life in the military. (It wasn’t great.)

In the years that followed, as life took us further and further apart, all of us from the class of ‘97 lost touch, as childhood friends often do. Aaron and I, however, stayed in sporadic contact with one another since we were both back living in Twin Falls by 2001, but we didn’t really hang out on a regular basis. I eventually moved to Boise in the fall of 2003 to attend BSU, and Aaron was busy getting his realtor’s license. He even spent the night at my apartment one time because one of his tests was at a campus in Boise. We ordered pizza, watched a movie, and spent the rest of the evening get caught up on each other’s lives. It was at this time that I decided to tell Aaron that I was gay. I don’t think he quite knew how to react, and, while he tried to be supportive, my confession turned the evening awkward. I changed the subject, and we didn’t speak of it after that.

After I graduated BSU in December of 2005, I moved back to Twin, but Aaron and I didn’t get together anymore. I tried a few times to get in touch with him, but my calls and texts went ignored. I was a little hurt, at first, but I didn’t know what else to do so I just let it go.

A few years ago, after I had relocated to Las Vegas, and when I was back up in Twin for a family visit, I received a text from Aaron. He wanted to take me to dinner. I said yes, and, while I was excited to be reunited, I was also nervous. We hadn’t talked in many years, and it seemed a little strange that he suddenly wanted to hang out with me again after all this time.

One of the things that I’ve always loved about Aaron is that he’s so easy to talk to. Our dinner conversation started where we’d left off several years earlier, as if nothing had changed. I told him I was glad he had reached out to me, and that I was afraid I had alienated him because he wasn’t comfortable with me being gay. Aaron assured me that, no, that wasn’t it, and he had no issue with it. He’d just been going through some things in his own life at that time, and he hadn’t meant to lose touch the way he did. The rest of our conversation was spent like the others before: catching each other up on what we’d been doing for the last few years. He had accomplished way more than me: a beautiful family and a very successful real estate business.

After dinner, we ended up at Elevation 486, where we sat outside on the canyon rim by the fire, and we continued talking. At some point, another guy took one of the empty seats on the other side of the fire, and I don’t remember if it was Aaron that struck up a conversation with him, or if the stranger made a remark about something Aaron had just said to me. Either way, Aaron and this guy started talking, and their conversation lasted for several minutes. I watched, amazed, wondering if Aaron already knew this guy through work or something else. By the end of their talk, as the guy stood up to leave, Aaron gave him a business card and told him to contact him if he ever had any real estate needs. After the guy left, I turned to Aaron. “Was that one of your friends?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. Aaron just laughed and shook his head. “No.” I laughed too, utterly amazed and a little envious. I have never been able to be that kind of a people person. I’ve always been too introverted and socially awkward to be able to instantly connect with strangers the way Aaron connected to that guy that night around a fire pit.

That, in a nutshell, was Aaron. He was the friendliest, kindest soul you would ever meet, and he knew no stranger. Even if he and I hadn’t started out in a playpen together, we would have probably met somewhere on the road of life and been instant friends. He, like all of us, had his demons, but he loved God and he loved his family, and he will forever be missed during the rest of our time down here. I look forward to that time when we can be together again on the other side, reunited at the feet of our Heavenly Father.

Goodbye, my old friend.

[tipsycad147]

The Undines

By shirleytwofeathers

Undines are water elementals, and as such, spirits of the water world. First named in the alchemical writings of Paracelsus. Undines are almost invariably depicted as being female. They are said to protect our water. As a water elemental, the Undines’ domain are the oceans, seas, rivers, lakes, ponds, water and all it encompasses. There are theories that say undines are present in every drop of water. We could say an Undine is a personification of water, that they are the energies of water. Many schools of thought liken Undines to sprites, nymphs and mermaids.

There are many groups of undines. Some inhabit waterfalls, where they can be seen in the spray; others are indigenous to swiftly moving rivers; some have their habitat in dripping, oozing fens or marshes; while other groups dwell in clear mountain lakes. According to the philosophers of antiquity, every fountain had its nymph; every ocean wave its oceanid. The water spirits were known under such names as oreades, nereides, limoniades, naiades, water sprites, sea maids, mermaids, and potamides. Often the water nymphs derived their names from the streams, lakes, or seas in which they dwelt.

In describing them, the ancients agreed on certain salient features. In general, nearly all the undines closely resembled human beings in appearance and size, though the ones inhabiting small streams and fountains were of correspondingly lesser proportions. It was believed that these water spirits were occasionally capable of assuming the appearance of normal human beings and actually associating with men and women.

There are many legends about these spirits and their adoption by the families of fishermen, but in nearly every case the undines heard the call of the waters and returned to the realm of Neptune, the King of the Sea.

Practically nothing is known concerning the male undines. The water spirits did not establish homes in the same way that the gnomes did, but lived in coral caves under the ocean or among the reeds growing on the banks of rivers or the shores of lakes.

Among the Celts there is a legend to the effect that Ireland was peopled, before the coming of its present inhabitants, by a strange race of semi-divine creatures; with the coming of the modem Celts they retired into the marshes and fens, where they remain even to this day. Diminutive undines lived under lily pads and in little houses of moss sprayed by waterfalls.

The undines worked with the vital essences and liquids in plants, animals, and human beings, and were present in everything containing water. When seen, the undines generally resembled the goddesses of Greek statuary. They rose from the water draped in mist and could not exist very long apart from it.

There are many families of undines, each with its peculiar limitations, it is impossible to consider them here in detail. Their ruler, Necksa, they love and honour, and serve untiringly. Their temperament is said to be vital, and to them has been given as their throne the western corner of creation.

They are rather emotional beings, friendly to human life and fond of serving mankind. They are sometimes pictured riding on dolphins or other great fish and seem to have a special love of flowers and plants, which they serve almost as devotedly and intelligently as the gnomes. Ancient poets have said that the songs of the undines were heard in the West Wind and that their lives were consecrated to the beautifying of the material earth.”

In medieval times the conjuration and exorcism of elementary spirits was practised extensively, the crystal being a preferred mean of evoking them. In every instance, a special consecration of the four elements was a principal and essential part of the ceremonial procedures.

Undine origins may be best traced back to ancient Greece wherein mythology cites a clan of nymphs called Oceanides who claimed the waters of the world as their home. These beings were the daughters of Titan and his wife Tethys. Their presence in the oceans was legendary among seafarers. Mostly beneficent, Oceanides would aid water-travellers in navigation and provide safe sea-ways.

A Short Summary:

The term Undine comes from the Latin root unda which means “wave.”

As they are entities united with water, Undines are governed by the Moon.

Undines are also associated with the directional domain of the West.

As water lovers, Undines will speak most freely to water signs (Cancer, Pisces, and Scorpio)

The realm of cups in the Tarot are connected to Undines and study of this Tarot suit may augment our concept of their temperament.

In European lore, Undines are fabled to be the wandering spirits of love-lorn women. I imagine their tears of sorrow composed the salty seas as they wept, having lost at love. Tales indicate these female spirits are enchantingly beautiful. They are reputed to be relatively benign, but like any decent spirit they’ve got a temper when crossed.

Undines, (like their elemental kin: Salamanders, Sylphs and Gnomes) unite within their medium to form a impenetrable energetic bond. Thusly, nature-based belief systems may pay homage to the Undine as the embodiment of water itself. When we hear the term “Guardians of the Watchtowers” Undines would be the guardians of the water, and so communication in this arena would be directed to their kind.

A German Folktale

The undine, or undine-like creatures, are not limited to just one mythology. They are found in Greek, Irish, Scottish, Russian, Norse, and German stories.

Although resembling humans in form, they lack a human soul, so to achieve immortality they must acquire one by marrying a human. Such a union is not without risk for the man, because if he is unfaithful, then he is fated to die.

One German folktale tells the story of a young man who is caught in a storm and seeking shelter. He finds the cottage of a sweet elderly couple who live by the river. They have a beautiful daughter who is wild and tempestuous — and incredibly enticing for this young man. She is an Undine, though the human man does not yet know it, and her elderly father is King of the Watery Realm.

The old man gives the traveller permission to marry his daughter and take her to his kingdom, but on the condition that he treat her well. Should he forget that promise, he would lose his wife forever.

They marry and the Undine gives birth to a son soon thereafter. Now in possession of a human soul, the nymph loses her wildness and becomes a demure, polite housewife — which, in turn, causes her husband to be bored of her. Not even her devastating beauty keeps her husband from straying.

Once her husband betrays her, the Undine returns to her watery kingdom and warns him that if he should ever fall asleep, she would steal his breath. And of course, unable to stay awake, the man ultimately pays for cheating.

There are many different versions of this story, some of which have made their way to operas, novels, and films.

Something To Think About

“We never know the worth of water till the well is dry.” ~Thomas Fuller

I’m of a mind to say these beings intertwine their energy in mass to actually produce the element of water. Just as molecules cling and weave together to form bodies of mass – so too might the Undines unite their energies in a grand matrix that IS water.

Would that mean when we drink a glass of water, we are actually consuming Undines? Would we be more aware and honourable in our use of water if we knew we were interacting with beings possessing real feelings, thoughts and human-like aspects? I don’t know, but it’s something to consider.

Indeed, when these concepts came to me, I became more mindful about water and my consumption of it. This perspective put an actual face on water. Water ceased to be some object at my disposal. Rather, water became a community of personalities and intelligence to which my respect is due.

Give this thought process a try for yourself. Consider your interaction with water as you would interact with a close friend. Doing this really opened up floodgates of tremendous insights and poignant discoveries for me. I wonder if you will have similar experiences of psychic cleansing and breakthrough.

A resource for your consideration as you swim in the energy of the Undine might be Masaru Emoto’s book, The Hidden Messages in Water. Emoto’s research visually captured the structure of water at the moment of freezing, and through high-speed photography he shows the direct consequences of destructive thoughts and the thoughts of love and appreciation of the formation of water crystals. The revelation that our thoughts can influence water has profound implications for our health and the well-being of the planet.

Masaru Emoto contends (and indeed, has evidence) that water responds to external influence such as human suggestion. His research supports the idea of personality and intelligence indwelling water.

Are Undines responding to suggestion?

Are they the ones behind the scenes creating those magnificent crystal formations Mr. Emoto has captured on film? You be the judge.

Sources:

Wikipedia

What’s Your Sign

The Secret Teachings of All Ages

Amino

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