#influenced their stories. i mean these two are relatively new but i SWEAR they are considered vessels in a much different way that the lamb

[riiviir]

shockingly I drew something other than COTL today

anyways. ocs

[oh-hush-its-perfect]

do you think there is any significance that alex's colour scheme is green and pink? or do you think rr went "u know what this character needs? to look like a watermelon"

((Prefacing this by saying that I'm giving RR way too much credit here, but you shouldn't take anything an author does for granted— even a serial author who often makes blunders and mistakes.))

A while ago I saw a (pretty unfair) assumption that RR made it green and pink because blue and pink would be too obvious, but that his intention was obviously to reinforce the gender binary by using two distinctly gendered colors for a character with two distinct genders. Of course, they did not phrase it so delicately. No offense to whoever made that post, but I disagree.

Although that may have had to do with it, there's other things to consider. One of them is color symbolism. And oh. OH. I ADORE symbolism— especially flower/plant symbolism (Language of the Flowers and all that jazz), seasonal symbolism (there's a reason that evermore is my second favorite Taylor Swift album), and color symbolism.

GREEN

Let's talk about green first. Green can symbolize a lot of different things, and there are a few that can be applied to Alex's character. The most obvious thing that green often represents is jealousy— hence the expression "green with envy." But envy is not really one of Alex's character traits. Feel free to argue with me if you think that Alex is significantly envious. Just because I couldn't think of substantial textual evidence for it does not mean that there isn't any.

One of the traits that Alex does have is wealth. Green is the color of American currency, and since both RR and Alex are American, it's safe to take an American lens while looking at this color. Alex's socioeconomic background effects her in a big way. I mentioned in a previous post that I think that Alex's fatal flaw is her sense of entitlement. That kind of entitlement is a quality not exclusive to but common among the upper class. However, her distance from her wealthy background enhances the sense of irony in the story, which is a VERY big thing that we NEVER talk about within the fandom.

This is kind of a little thing, but it's worth noting that when it comes to Valhalla and everything, Alex is "green"— as in new and inexperienced.

The color green also emphasizes Alex's connection with nature. This is one of the parts of Alex's character that the fandom consistently underplays, which is an absolute shame. I don't think I have to explain why the color green is associated with all things natural. Alex's association with nature provides a few key things to her character:

It makes her a more well-rounded character. Another criticism of Alex I believe is totally unfounded is that "being genderfluid is her only personality trait because it influences her philosophy on pottery, which is her only hobby." I'm probably going to make another post in, like, a few minutes about why I find that argument a little silly, but the primary problem is that pottery is not Alex's only hobby. She also loves camping, hiking, and ice wall climbing (I bet y'all forgot about that last one!)

It gives her a connection with Magnus. I mentioned in a previous post that Magnus and Alex are foils, but I neglected to bring up why that also makes for very good chemistry between them. Of course, yes, they have different goals and philosophy, which is what makes them foils in the first place. But foil relationships function best when the characters also share some traits. As it turns out, Alex and Magnus share several hobbies, and one of them is a mutual love for nature. This is a very unexplored thing in fics. Start doing it more plz.

Finally, and this one's kind of minor, but the Alex's green gives her a connection to Natalie. I know, whenever Alex and Natalie are compared, either in canon or in fandom, everybody kind goes "eww. Oedipus complex." Which is very fair and true. But they really do have a lot of similarites. The green of Alex's hair and clothes connects her to the green of Natalie's eyes. It's worth saying, too, that Alex has one amber eye— and amber is pretty close to dirty blonde, like Natalie's hair.

If I had more faith in RR, I might bring up the concept of intextuality and how Alex wearing green is an allusion to The Great Gatsby and how Alex is elusive to Magnus, just like Daisy is to Gatsby. But I don't.

PINK

To give credit to the person who wrote the post I mentioned at the beginning of this spiel, I do believe that part of the reason pink was used was to support femininity. Please keep in mind that Alex dresses in an androgynous way— not that there is an actually "gendered" way to dress, since gender as we perceive it is mostly made up. But Alex's existence as a transfemme person (which I will maintain until my dying day) means that pink has a certain significance to her. A lot of AMAB people embrace traditionally feminine things because if they don't, they will not be accepted as genuine women or genuine nonbinary folks, since masculine dress is unisex and kind of the default. So Alex wearing pink probably had something to do with her gender, yes. But that's not necessarily a bad thing, and it's certainly not an unrealistic thing.

Speaking of Alex's gender in relation to the color pink, let's talk about pink's use as a queer rights symbol. Alex was RR's first character to be introduced as a queer character from the start. This was not an insignificant thing, especially in the year of our Lord 2016 (which, despite popular belief, seriously had an entirely different landscape of queer rep. Though it's commonplace now to include genderqueer characters, it was exceptional at the time— especially by such an accomplished and mainstream children's author.).

Let's go back in time to Nazi Germany. Some of you might know this, but for those of you don't this transition must seem jarring. I swear there's a point. In addition to Jews, Romani individuals, people with disabilities, and Poles (among others), gay men were victimized by the Nazis. If you're wondering why lesbians weren't persecuted, it's because the Nazis didn't see them as a serious political threat, or as a threat to the perpetuation of the Aryan race since they assumed gay women could be forcefully impregnated if need be. Yeah, ew. Anyway, much like the Star of David being used to mark Jewish people, gay men were forced into concentration camps and forced to wear a pink triangle. Years later, after the gay population somewhat recovered, the pink triangle was reclaimed and used as a symbol for gay men. Some people who were not gay men used it, too, but that's somewhat controversial since it wasn't their symbol to reclaim. When the first pride flag was created, it had a pink stripe at the top to signify sex (this was later dropped so flags could be more easily produced). The pink triangle (inverted) was used during the AIDs epidemic with the caption "Silence=Death."

My point is that this is a very important color to queer folks. Having one of the first genderfluid characters in kid's lit wear pink...... I mean, it makes sense.

The last and final thing that pink represents, in this context and in general, is innocence. Granted, this kind of connects to feminitity since women (especially white women) are often infantalized and seen as innocent— which is another issue. In any case, the use of pink to represent innocence in Alex's dress is ironic. Alex has been robbed of her childhood innocence, first by her abusive parents, then by her life on the streets, and then by her eventual death at age sixteen. But then she actually regains her innocence. At the beginning of the—

Hold on. I just had a revelation. I'll make a post about it soon.

At the beginning of SotD, Alex is acting a little childish. The most obvious example is him jumping on Randolph's bed to "make noise." Alex's life is stable and relatively healthy for the first time in the years, and she experiences something that a lot of queer folks experience: a re-emergence of childhood at a late stage.

I imagine you didn't expect a post this long. I either make essay responses to asks or I add on one sentence and post it. Oops. Anyway, I believe the mcga fandom can be more creative than calling Alex a watermelon. Here are some other (kinda romantic) pink-and-green alternatives:

Roses

Dragonfruit

Grapefruit

Cherry blossom trees

[godzillerd]

Resident Evil 8 AU Pt 2: Parenthood Boogaloo??

Former Post Here

To summarize: Ethan takes deal. Miranda goes boom. Village goes boom. Chris is like this is serious. Heisenberg is like no baby for me pls. Ethan is like yeah no absolutely no baby for him pls. Chris is like sorry but baby for him. Didn’t even get a baby shower. Fucking brutal. Hate this place.

RIP pls forgive this obnoxiously long post that will never become a cohesive fic.

Why am I like this. 

My life is a sea of regrets.

Seriously though forgive how all over the place this is - it is literally me vomiting thoughts for sport.

Immediately after leaving the village (what was left of it) Heisenberg headed west with Rose. 

As expected, it took a matter of hours for the Duke to show up bearing gifts. Not much, mind you, but enough. 

He even allowed Heisenberg to start running a tab, despite quibbling that it was a bad business practice. 

For the first year, they were completely off the grid with zero contact with the rest of the world, usually living in ramshackle hunting cabins in the forests of whatever country they happened to be in at the time. Hungary, Austria, Slovenia, and eventually Switzerland. 

Not requiring food or water himself, caring for Rose was relatively easy with some help from Duke. Heisenberg became an old hand at building fires out of nothing.

The whole baby thing did not come naturally to him. In fact, it took over six months for Heisenberg to have any kind of clue as to why the potato might be screaming this time. 

He came very close to just killing it and fending for himself, but after seeing what Rose did to Miranda... it was enough to make anyone hesitant. 

Around eight months in, Duke showed up with a new present: A cell phone. And a secure number. And a delicate observation that Ethan Winters might actually kill Heisenberg if he didn’t call soon. 

Calls with Ethan were an infrequent thing. Ethan passed along pertinent information, but being under heavy monitoring, he didn’t have a lot of private time. 

Heisenberg had less of an excuse, and just genuinely didn’t like Ethan. 

Despite being told about it specifically, Heisenberg missed Rose’s first and second birthdays. She didn’t seem to mind. Ethan did.

Around then, it became obvious that living in the woods, completely cut off from humanity, wasn’t going to work out well for a growing child. 

Did you know electromagnetic energy can really fuck up a bank machine? 

Heisenberg (well, Duke) found a reasonable, small cottage on the outskirts of a village in the south of France. He put together a decent little business selling metalwork crafts that were simple (for him) to build, but could sell for high profit. Horses were a bit of a specialty.

Became the local backwoods crazy rural uncle who can fix anything using anything. 

Ethan managed to pull enough strings to buy himself a four hour window while in France for unrelated business to visit Rose for the first time just before she turned three. 

They agreed to meet in a town about an hour south as Ethan had ‘security concerns’. 

ie. He and Chris both doubted Heisenberg’s ability to blend into a crowd. 

To prove a point because he’s a petty bitch, Heisenberg walked Rose past Ethan five times while Ethan was waiting around for them. Ethan only noticed them when Heisenberg said his name. 

Shaving, showering, a haircut, and new clothes can do a lot for a man. 

Rose did not recognize Ethan and was extremely reluctant to speak to him at all. Eventually, she was coaxed into introducing herself as “Rosalie-Elise”. For reasons beyond Heisenberg’s comprehension, this seemed to have a profound emotional effect on Ethan. 

Aside from occasional visits from Ethan (usually every year or two) it was mostly Heisenberg and Rose against the world. 

Duke did roll through, though less frequently than when they were actively fleeing the village. He was incredibly fond of Rose, after all.

Until Rose turned three, Heisenberg largely saw her as a nuisance - something he was obligated to keep alive for his own sake. 

When she was three, and shortly after they settled in the French House, Rose began picking up on Heisenberg’s mannerisms. Speaking like him, sitting like him, trying to mimic everything he did on a smaller scale...

Overnight she went from a nuisance to the apple of his goddamn eye. 

Heisenberg rarely called Rose by her name unless it was serious. More often than not, she’s ‘Kid’ or ‘Blondie’

By the time she started school, Rose could dismantle, repair, and reassemble most standard engines (with a bit of help). She was also shaping up to be a mean little welder.

She also picked up a bad habit of swearing (fortunately, only in English)

Rose was raised speaking French almost exclusively, and her English was heavily accented. Heisenberg learned it with great difficulty, but became fluent by speaking only French for years.

Despite being happier by himself, cut off from other people, Heisenberg deliberately put in the effort to appear as ‘normal’ as possible. 

He never claimed to be Rose’s father - to her or to anyone else. Instead, he called himself her crazy uncle and left the gossip-mongers to come up with a story about her parents. 

Ethan was mockingly referred to as ‘Brother’ every time he called or visited, though. 

When Rose was six, Heisenberg gave her a watered-down version of what happened in the village. 

Watered down for him, at least. 

Rose had nightmares for six months. 

In the midst of that fun time, Ethan gave them a warning that the BSAA was starting to suspect something, so they up and disappeared in one night. 

This pattern continued for years, destroying any chance of Rose having a ‘normal’ childhood. 

Despite that, she developed a startlingly good mindset about things. Influenced by Heisenberg, Rose grew up with a tendency towards independence and isolation, with a hell of a lot of self-confidence and pride to boot. She never particularly enjoyed being around other children, even when she had the opportunity. She preferred staying close to Heisenberg whether it was necessary or not. 

Being an obnoxiously touch-motivated brat, Rose spent most of her childhood hanging off his neck, or flopped over his shoulders, or literally hugging him while he was juggling hot metal. Heisenberg gave up caring when she was about four and by the time she was five he didn’t really notice it at all. He often sprawled on the couch just so the kid could nap on him and catch up on sleep. 

After learning the truth about the village, Rose never did sleep particularly well at night - especially not alone in her room. Most nights, Heisenberg would sit next to her bed until she fell asleep. Sometimes even all night. 

Again, likely influenced by Heisenberg, Rose grew to dislike Ethan as time wore on. Despite her solid relationship with Heisenberg, most of their arguments were about Rose seeing Ethan. 

Heisenberg understood that their safety relied on Ethan being on good terms with both of them. Rose “didn’t give a fuck”

They reached a compromise eventually that Ethan was only ever promised one hour with Rose. If she wanted to leave after that, it was her choice. Similarly, Heisenberg let her set the boundaries about hugs and calling Ethan her father. 

Needless to say, Ethan stopped getting hugs by the time Rose was ten, and he was never called her dad. 

On the other side of things, Rose adored the Duke just as much as he adored her. Whenever Duke was in their neck of the woods, he made a special point to track them down in order to give Rose extravagant gifts. 

Puberty was a hell of a time.

A hell of a time

Rose manifested a massive amount of power in the span of six months when she was thirteen. Around the same time she discovered her love of girls, teenage rebellion, and sticking it to the man.

During one rip-roaring fight when she was fourteen, Rose sent Heisenberg through not one, nor two, nor even three walls. She sent him through five.

Somehow, that incident was enough to curb the rising tide of teenage hormones and got them both back on track.

Heisenberg always struggled with knowing how much or how little to tell Rose about their predicament. On one hand, Ethan hated the idea and thought it would destroy her entire childhood. On the other hand, Heisenberg disliked the idea of lying to the kid. 

Eventually, circumstances were such that there was no choice but to tell Rose everything in order to stay safe. By the time she was twelve, she had a pretty good idea about everything that had happened in the past. 

Mostly because Ethan assumed he wouldn’t do it, Heisenberg also told her all about himself.

Surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly, after so many years) it didn’t change much. She tried to use it as ammunition during a few teenage tantrums, but when she realized it didn’t phase him, it was never really brought up again. 

[shallicomparetheetolagrenouille]

2022 in books

I discovered I like Sellerio’s collections of detective stories - that’s it, I’m done. This is my new addiction. I already own Una notte in giallo and I already have Un anno in giallo and Una giornata in giallo in my sights. Help?

For context: Sellerio Editore is very well know in Italy for its excellent selection of mystery and detective story authors, the most famous of whom is Andrea Camilleri. They have this very recognizable editorial collection of books in the format you can see above: small, dark blue, with a picture or painting in the middle square and amazing paper for its pages (it smells amazing). One of the cutest phrases I read about Sellerio is that the format is so iconic and the content so reliable that the Italian word for detective story (”giallo”, meaning yellow, because in the 30′s a well-known publisher, Mondadori, started selling a very popular collection of detective stories all with a yellow cover) should become “blu”.

Sellerio regularly publishes this type of collection, with eight to ten of their authors all providing a story with a common theme: in this case, they need to solve a mystery in exactly one week. The titles of the installments of this series are a play on “in giallo” = in yellow. A week in yellow, a night in yellow (each story takes up only one night), a year in yellow (twelve stories, each one in one month from January to December), the holidays in yellow (either the detectives/protagonists or the victims are on holiday at the time of the crime), New Year’s Eve in yellow and so on.

My favorites of the stories in Una settimana in giallo have been:

Alessandro Robecchi’s story, which made me find out the lovely Monterossi mini series on Amazon Prime and convinced me to go buy at least a couple of his books (during the next Sellerio sale, next August - I swear I’ve resisted up to now!); the protagonist is a TV content writer (despite his wishes) and, with his actual-detective-friends, he is tasked with finding a reluctant heir to a furtune; all of Robecchi’s books with Monterossi as a protagonist are noirs set in Milan and, if the miniseries is even remotely close to the first two novels, they are delightful. The style is ironic and quick, a pleasure to read and I am definitely hooked

Santo Piazzese‘s idea was a nice detour from the usual organized crime storiline - it was the funniest story of the bunch, incredibly enough, considering the theme! Basically an up-and-coming mafia family use their influence to have a girl employed as a cook in a restaurant long-loved by the protagonist, Lorenzo La Marca (a university biology professor in Palermo), and owned by an old friend of his - except, she’s terrible at it but she has this idea of being a misunderstood genius and the owner cannot get rid of her without fearing repercussions on his restaurant; basically, La Marca finds a way to get her own relatives to remove her from the restaurant and the ending is particularly satisfying for a little mention of a certain character

Fabio Stassi’s search of missing characters from novels. His protagonist, Vince Corso (not a detective, but a psichologist who treats people by prescribing specific books depending on what ails them), falls asleep and dreams of meeting a dead author, who got a leave of absence from Heaven to come back for a few days and help Corso find the characters who started disappearing from books in protest, so they find, for the announced closing of a little library nearby, in Rome. They also find the time to go be interviewed by Fabio Fazio at Che tempo che fa, but only after saying hello to a very friendly Robert De Niro and starting a brawl

The other stories featured actual investigators/policemen or the usual curious-journalist/writer-who-finds-death-wherever-they-go or random people solving small-scale mysteries. Some were more entertaining than others, but the the three above are totally the winners, for me.

A remarkable thing that was actually very touching is the final editor’s note: this is the first “in giallo” collection designed and published after Camilleri’s death and, to honor him, all authors were asked to slip a reference to him or his work in their stories: sometimes it’s the name of a book, sometimes his most famous police commissioner, Montalbano, is mentioned (or disappears from his own novels), other times it’s a quote (book titles slipped in the dialogue or hidden quotes). That was so sweet!

Anyway, I got hooked both by the format (the stories in this are 50 to 70 pages long, more or less, so readable in a quiet lunch break) and by how this lets you have a little taste of authors’ writing style, so that you can see if you would actually like their novels (I am so glad I never picked up Savatteri’s stuff!). So expect to see more pictures like this in the future!

[hibisha]

Hello, a friend of yours said you might be able to recommend some radiodust fanfics, and it can be anything im not picky

RadioDust fanfics you say? Alright *cracks knuckles* here we go.

1.) The Charismatic Cannibal’s Guide to Self Care

Rating: E

Summary: Alastor chuckled around a hand. Angel would never get over how shark-like he could look. Fangs were the norm here, but Alastor’s had a certain animal quality that fit strangely in a humanoid face. Too big and too many. And right now they were tinged with a hint of red from his choice of drink.

“So what,” he said, “would liven up the place for you, sport?”

You might assume that Angel Dust is the bad influence in every situation. You would be wrong.

The Radio Demon has plans for Hell, and plans for Angel. And they aren't pretty.

Will contain gore/cannibalism/murder and plenty of fun, bad people. Please read the tags and content warning. Plot now, smut to follow.

Personal thoughts: It only one chapter so far but I really like the premise.

2.) Their Arrangement

Rating: E

Summary: Alastor and Angel Dust have come to an agreement after Angel pushes the Radio Demon's buttons a little too far and inadvertently awakens the long forgotten urges buried under decades of bloodlust.

Personal thoughts: One of my literal favorites. Alastor and Angel’s evolving relationship from sex friends to ‘oh shit I have feelings’ *chef’s kiss*.

3.) Absolute Territory

Rating: E

Summary: Angel Dust is an absolute terror for Absolute Territory.

Alastor never knew he had a thing for stockings until Angel decides to flaunt a pair, matched with a pleated skirt and an oversized sweatshirt.

Personal thoughts: Have some good ol’ smut.

4.) Heart Between His Teeth

Rating: E

Summary: So maybe there are better things to life than being drugged and fucked so hard you can't even think for yourself.

Personal thoughts: OMFG. I CAN NOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS FIC.

5.) Angel Dust’s Not So Illustrious Life

Rating: T

Summary: Alastor isn’t sure why he’s become Angel’s primary target, but the more he attempts to dissuade Angel’s advances, the more fervent they seem to become.

And maybe Alastor likes that...maybe...Yet it seems there’s more to Angel than innuendos and a quick romp.

Personal thoughts: I kinda love this fic a lot where Angel and Alastor respect each other’s boundaries.

6.) Caught In His Own Web

Rated:E

Summary: "So when the devil wants to dance with you, you better say never. Because the dance with the devil might last you forever."

Redemption is hard when you don't want to do it. Redemption is even harder when a certain Radio Demon keeps enabling your sinful behavior.

Personal thoughts: My favourite trope, bad people being worse together.

7.) I Thought I Knew You 

Rated: M

Summary: Angel Dust can't ruin the hotel's reputation if he can't go outside. Or, at least, that's what Alastor says. Of course, it's all a ploy to torture Alastor's least favorite spider demon, but maybe he doesn't know Angel Dust as well as he thinks he does.

Personal thoughts: I really like this one especially since it feeds into my “Alastor is a dick in all AUs.”

8.) Sex, drugs and radio host

Rating: E

Summary: For some ungodly reason, Alastor decides to keep Angel safe and sound - meaning no sex, prostitution and certainly no drugs. Of course, this wild idea is met with more than a little resistance. But... no one ever cared if Angel was safe. And sometimes, all he would like is a hug. Sex sure is nice, but he is more than willing to explore the possibilities.

The trouble is, it doesn't seem like Alastor is offering anything specific. Keeping things strange and vague is not helping, especially when a new guest catches Alastor's attention.

Personal thoughts: Its cute and theres feelings involved is all I’m saying.

9.) Gentleman's Wager 

Rating: None

Summary: Sick of listening to Angel Dust's crass and vulgar language, Alastor makes a bet with him. If Angel Dust can remain absolutely silent for one whole week, he'll give in and kiss him.

Personal thoughts: *inhales* JVKJGCHJCHJCVJHVJHGCJHCJHCGFD I LOVE THIS SO MUCH PLEASE READ IT.

10.) Triggered 

Rating: None

Summary: Angel Dust had never really thought too much about the static hum surrounding Alastor wherever he went... until now anyway.

Personal thoughts: It's a very good fic about ANgel dealing with PTSD. Def check it out.

11.) Dinner and Drinks 

Rating: None

Summary: Alastor and Angel Dust can barely tolerate each other and Charlie seeks to fix that.

Personal thoughts: Again, a slow development of Angel and Alastor’s relationship.

12.) You Do Something to Me 

Rating: T

Summary: Alastor's radio signals go both ways, and for the past few decades he's tuned into the most beautiful voice. What a surprise to find the source in the Happy Hotel right under his nose.

A relationship that grows through music.

Personal thoughts: AGAIN, PLEASE READ THIS IT IS CUTE HECK AND WILL CLEAR YOUR SKIN. Also, its part 2: No One Knows Anything But Us 

13.) 1932

Rating: M

Summary: The 1930s are the for perfect time to nurture any up-and-coming radio host or serial killer alike. Alastor is no exception.

Set in New Orleans in 1932, Alastor is living his best life. Broadcaster by day and home chef by night, he's learned that Jumbalaya is best served with a side of human liver and a still beating heart. That is until he brings the wrong meal to his table, a member of the Italian mafia, and ends up biting off more than he can chew.

With his latest meal escaping the table and his identity running the risk of being found out, Alastor faces his biggest hunt yet. The streets of New Orleans are his forest and this time, it's his head on the platter.

AKA Alastor screws up and now has to fix his mess in Dixieland while balancing his day job, cannibalistic hunger, and learn how to be a decent human being for once along the way. Should be fun.

Personal thoughts: I absolutely adore this fic. Please give it a shot.

14.) Contracts and Deals Series

Rating: E

Summary: Angel Dust, Hell's number one porn actor.

Alastor, Hell's most renowned overlord.

The two cross paths.

Angel makes a deal with Alastor to get out of his contract with Valentino. One thing leads to another.

Personal thoughts: It’s a good series that eventually gets really fluffy.

15.) Good Management

Rating: M

Summary: Alastor thought he had Angel Dust filed away into his niche box in the Hotel. He was wrong. But he's a good enough manager to fix his responsibilities.

Personal thoughts: Its AngeliaDark. You know it’s good.

16.) Anything for you

Rating: M

Summary: Valentino faces the consequences of hurting someone that Alastor deeply favors

i.e. Val fucking dies

Personal thoughts: Any fic where Val dies is a good fic.

17.) Predator and Prey

Rating: M

Summary: Every couple of years, Angel Dust goes through a change that makes him a lot less tolerable to be around, for many more reasons than one. The staff of the Hotel are about to learn that the hard way, none more so than Alastor.

Personal thoughts: Okay so, slight dubcon, would recommend checking the tags before going into it. Though I love how it tackles on the story of Alastor being a deer which is technically a prey animal and Angel being the predator for once. Absolutely love it.

18.) Good Tidings 

Rating: T

Summary: A Christmas party in Hell isn't the big selling point for the Happy Hotel (For Hazbins), but Charlie feels that the holiday season is just what her friends need to open up to and help one another.

So what better way to do it than with a Secret Santa?

When Angel Dust draws none other than his crush, the Radio Demon, he knows he has one shot to not eff it up.

Personal thoughts: Really fluffy, a good read. Highly recommend it.

19.) Vanilla Bean

Rating: T

Summary: Alastor decides to try his hand at pet names and inadvertently offends Angel Dust. Rated T for swearing and there's suggestive content if you close one eye, tilt your head, and squint.

Personal thoughts: Okay so i loved this one because of how badly these two handle communication.

20.) For Auld Lang Syne, My Dear

Rating: M

Summary: Alastor's solitude is interrupted by Angel Dust who has just escaped a rough client and the two spend the last moments of 2019 together.

Personal thoughts: Love love love this. I just love Angel and Alastor dancing together okay.

21.) I Like It Better When I'm With You 

 Rating: M

Summary: Angel deals with feelings. Alastor deals with feelings. Just a whole lot of pining.

Personal thoughts: Summary says it all.

22.) Technical Difficulties

Rating: M

Summary: The hotel is running relatively well. Relationships between Alastor and the rest of the staff are budding surprisingly smoothly. And then the rainfall starts up, threatening all of it.

Alastor's out of tune.

Personal thoughts: I love how this is written. Slowburn but worth it.

23.) Lurking in the Shadows 

Rated M

Summary: 5 instances where a curious and head-over-heels shadow follows Angel Dust around and 1 time where Angel decides to follow it instead.

Personal thoughts: It’s very cute how Alastor’s shadow pines after Angel.

24.) Crossroads

Rating: M

Summary: A mafioso’s and a murderous radio star’s paths collide in New Orleans in the winter of 1933.

Personal thoughts: OKAY SO I REALLY LOVE THIS BECAUSE HUMAN AUS ARE MY JAM AND THEN ALASTOR AND ANGEL BEING TERRIBLE HUMANS TOGETHER IS EVEN BETTER.

25.) Needle Through a Bug

Rating: E

Summary: Angel wakes up in a hospital after a party. His doctor is very strange, worryingly so. Still, he can't help but be intrigued.

Personal thoughts: Doctor AU. Alastor is insane. I love it because Alastor manages to be as creepy as possible while saving lives.

26.) My Roommate's a Demonic Deer 

 Rating: M

Summary: Don't you hate it when you "accidentally" summon a demon to fix a problem within your home, only to find out that they don't do that, so now you're stuck with a cannibalistic demon that constantly tracks blood onto the floor, brings other unholy beings into your apartment, and makes amazing jambalaya? It's amazing insanity!

Personal thoughts: Lmao I love demon summoning gone wrong so this was really an amazing read. Angel being a true himbo is always the best.

27.) Human Hazbin Roommates AU series

Rating: E, M

Summary: A series of porny RadioDust one-shots depicting modern human AU roommate life.

Notes:

Glimpses into the human lives of insufferable roommates.

(AKA This was supposed to be a practice at writing present tense smut and it devolved into sex and feelings)

Personal thoughts: Dive in for the smut, come out with the feels.

28: Darker Side of Hell series

Rating: E

Summary: Follow Charlie and later Alastor as part of my Story for the Hazbin hotel... It ain't pretty, so enjoy!

Personal thoughts: Not everyone’s cup of tea so i suggest reading the tags but I really love this series a lot. Angel being awkward and in love is the best shit ever. Its an amazing series.

29.) Scorched, Uninhabited, Rejected

Rating: M

Summary: When Hell suddenly loses all working functions, and angels start dropping from their overhead perches to attack the underworlds population, Charlie has no idea what to do before she's suddenly face to face with a Archangel. Though something, clearly, isn't right about the air the angel assures her to keep those who are dear tucked tightly by her side as the disaster struggles to fix itself.

But nothing is as it seems, Overlords' powers are dwindling and even her own is becoming strained as she struggles to protect her beloved hotel and friends from the Exterminators outside.

Personal thoughts: *vibrates* Can’t say much without spoilers so I’m just gonna beg ya all to read this.

30.) The Thin Line

Rating: None

Summary: Studies say it takes fifty hours of interaction before you consider someone a casual friend and two hundred to be a close friend. Alastor and Angel Dust manage to skip right past close friends to something more without either even noticing they've crossed the line.

31.) La Vie En Rose

Rating: G

Summary: Alastor learns that Angel is afraid of thunderstorms, and Angel in turn learns about the Radio Demon.

32.) falling 

Rating: M

Summary: "You're hot as fuck, be my boyfriend."

That was perhaps the worst thing he could've possibly said from that standpoint.

A college setting where Angel gets suddenly awful at flirting when it comes to the face of his crush, a cute library assistant that goes by Alastor.

Personal thoughts: COLLEGE AU COLLEGE AU. 

33.) Old Habits Die Hard

Rating: G

Summary: Angel decides to bring back a little habit of his after having a rough time.

Personal thoughts: Hella soft, please read.

34.) Handwritten 

Rating: None

Summary: Alastor imagines Angel must be lonely in heaven, he writes to keep him company.

 A series of letters addressed to Angel.

Personal thoughts: Hi, do you like crying into your pillow at 2 AM? You do? The look no further, this is the fic for you! Now, with extra heart wrenching feels!

35.) Relapse and Recovery

Rating: T

Summary: Going clean was never going to be easy, but easy was something Angel Dust never expected going into this anyway. At least he has a good support system to help him along the way.

Personal thoughts: I just really like AngeliaDark’s fics okay.

36.) Catalyst

Rating: T

Summary: All couples have their downfalls, and an event that should have been celebrated only drives Alastor and Angel Dust apart.

Personal thoughts: Love love love this. It’s very well written, reads easy and you’ll feel fluffy for days.

37.) Dinner Date: A RadioDust Tale

Rating: E

Summary: Angel Dust finally finds a way to get Alastor to agree to a 'date'. After all, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

Sometimes literally.

Personal thoughts: One of my favourite stories about RadioDust.

38.) This One's Dedicated to [static interruption]

Rating: M

Summary: A couple of years since the hotel's opening, the residents have settled down into a fairly tolerable routine. Recently, some of them have begun experiencing peculiar symptoms which become more noticeable as time passes. To his dismay, the Radio Demon finds that he is not immune.

A chance encounter with Angel Dust propels the two demons together as they attempt to answer what's behind the unusual phenomena, while rediscovering all the things they thought dead and buried along the way.

Personal thoughts: Slowburn but definitely worth it. I love the story and how it’s progressing with a certain mystery surrounding the whole plot.

Also slight self plug I guess:

39.) 14 ways to say “I Love You”

Rating: T

Summary: Just a collection of small drabbles I’m writing on based on single word prompts.

Please check it out if you’re a fan of odd AUs.

Wowee, that’s a lot. I’m gonna call it a night and say that’s all for today. I hope you enjoy these! 

[theficplug]

l Next Lifetime l Erik Killmonger l

previous chapters: l part 1 l  part 2 

erik kilmonger x black reader

warnings: none, but the usual 18+ for the eventual smut and a possible tw for grief but i promise it gets better and its a romcom

synopsis: reader grieves Erik until she doesn’t (i’m trying not give too much away). This one is a long filler sort of chapter before it really starts to pick up in part 4 and onward. So, grab you a snack and something to drink! I hope y’all like it. 

l part 3 l 

It’s been a few days and a few more hangovers than you’d care to count later and you were back in Oakland debating whether or not you should meet N’Jadaka later this afternoon. 

 In two weeks you and N’Jadaka had a thread of about 300 messages talking about everything from the political state of the country, which aisle you shop on first,  and if you want children down the line. 

The only time you two stopped talking is when he said that Death Note was the best anime and you had to agree to disagree. The silent treatment only lasted 15 minutes before he called and said he already missed the sound of your voice and the ding of the alarm from your messages.

There was something in the nuance of getting to know him this time that made everything seem so bittersweet. 

You sit at your desk in your office tapping the pen rapidly while searching stories and videos of reincarnation and the spirit.

According to Google you were either losing your mind or either really blessed/lucky. 

It'd be like dating someone new and starting all over but not? Because he's your Erik but he's not your Erik. 

According to West Hylan an author who swears up and down that he's on his second life. There would be pieces of their past life that they will find in the things that they do or how they feel. But for the most part their past life/lives will feel like a distant dream.

You closed the tabs and rubbed at your temples trying to make sense of it all.

"Alright, Alright . It's just a walk around the park eating $2 hot dogs.  It can't be that hard. " you say to yourself before looking up at your work wife Marley coming in with a huge smile watched across her face. 

Marley had bushy eyebrows, a giant crown of 4c hair framing her face, beautiful hazel doe eyes, and striking cheekbones. She modeled part time but recently took a step back to work with you to tackle the encouragement of cosmetic work and disordered eating within the "influencer" industry. 

 She sparked a new wing in your center that runs seminars and self love summer camps for any girl/young woman that wants to attend. Free of charge with food and activities.

"Guess who just passed her final exam? You're looking at a licensed counselor baaabbyyy! 5 ½ shitty years of University and it's finally a wrap." She announces as her heels click on the floor on her way to your desk. 

She stops in her tracks as she sees the look on your face and raises her brows.

"Uh- uh, I know that look, what's up boss lady?" She asks and you shake your head.

"Nothing. Literally nothing, just me being overly anxious because I have...a date. Congratulations! I am so proud of you. You're so multi-talented and smart. This is only the beginning!" You congratulate her and she beams with happiness and pride before sitting down at the desk. 

"First off , thank you, it really does mean a lot coming from you. Secondly, it's normal to be nervous for a first date. Especially considering all that you've gone through in the last year. But if you like him, you owe it to yourself to at least give it a shot. Do I know him? Is he new ?" She asks inquisitively as she grabs a handful of the jellybeans from your desk.

"He, he's an old friend. And I'm just-things are different now and I'm feeling like maybe there will be some sort of disconnect there." You admit, worried that even though by some magical occurrence happening you had him back in your life but he was still a relatively brand new person with free will. 

What if the vibe just isn't there.

"That's just it. He's an old friend and this is new. You've probably got some old memories and moments but the time that you've both spent apart means that you're both different. Sure we value old experiences because nostalgia makes us see everything through rose colored glasses. We can be thankful for those times but it's time to make new memories. Time waits for no one. Hell, as much as you do around here you deserve some time to be all loved on." She says laughing softly and walks around your desk to pull you into a hug.

"I'm honestly so thankful for you Marley."

--------------------------------------------------------

"Be open to new experiences. Be open to new experiences" you repeat the mantra to yourself when your phone dings.

Daka-Stevens: I got us a spot for the fireworks and lantern festival🎆🏮

You smile softly at the text before remembering that the fireworks might be a trigger for him like before.

Sounds good… Do you think fireworks are too loud?👋🏾

Daka-Stevens: no not really but if u r  sound sensitive. aint no problem. We can find sumn else to get into.👍🏾

No no. It's perfect.. see you in 20 ♥️

"I'm trying a new recipe and I need you to be honest on how this tastes. Cause I'm trying this at the restaurant tomorrow and Kathy be on my ass about creating the same foods. Gumbo. Try. Please?" Tika asks while walking into your room

"Just in time . Right before I put on my lipstick. I'm feeling like this top and skirt is clashing. I'm gonna go look on Iri's rack." You say after tasting her Gumbo. "It tastes good to me! Add a lil crab boil for a kick."

"Crab boil, of course. Also I'm sure she has a red dress with this billowy kinda sleeve. That would look mad cute on you." She advised and you nod before heading over to her rack in the living room.

"I'm gonna pretend like you're not going through my Fall 2020 collection. Good afternoon to you all. I am in a fabulous mood. Guess who's microaggressive ass editor got fiiirreed." Iri announces walking through the door and snatching off her heels 

"And I'm gonna pretend that you and Tika are moving the furniture around in your room at 2 am…. What happened?" You ask laughing and Tika drops her spoon on the floor before she turns around fast enough to give herself whiplash.

"How do you know about that? Look, I don't want things to be weird. Its gonna throw off the dynamic of our friendship . Like we're the 3 musketeers if the 3 becomes 2 then the 1 feels left out and you're our 1. You know we love you right?" Tika babbles and you shake your head while throwing up your hands

"Teeks , I know, and honestly I've been waiting for this for about a year. You two are the cutest and my best friends. And I want the best for both of you. You are the best for each other." You say to them and Iri calls for a group hug 

“Now let’s get you sorted because hun cause I know Iri has something cute somewhere on this thing.” Tika says as she puts the turns off the stove. 

“Fine. FINE. But you can NOT damage this outfit in any way. I haven’t even shown it to the team yet.” Iri says before helping you both.

20 minutes later and your girls are giving you the once over before N’Jadaka/Erik arrives.

“Teeth check. Pit check , Location tracker on. Breath check . She has gumbo breath. We can't send her out with gumbo breath. Iri, spearmint me. Whew okay. She's ready." Tika says right on time as N’Jadaka knocks at the door. 

“Hey , damn I'm lucky. You look beautiful! These are for you.” N’Jadaka says leaning in to kiss your cheek.

Why does this man smell so goddamn good ? That’s a man. Oh, shit. Is that Chrysanthemums? You think to yourself as you sneeze loudly

“You know that I’m aller-. Thank you, I’ll just put these over there.” you say sneezing again and quickly sitting them on the table. 

“Okay, ready to go. Have fun y’all. Don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.” Iri calls after you.

“So everything then?” you retort playfully before blowing her a kiss and she teasingly gives you the middle finger. 

---------------------------------------------------

“So Pen thought it was “cute” but Khalil roasted the fuck outta me. “Talking bout some “she don’t live on a prairie nigga take her somewhere special.” I wanted to surprise you with a picnic. Lina helped me put it together and stuff. I got fruits, we got surf and turf with the lobster tails and steak, and we have German chocolate cake. Mike wanted to talk shit and then tried to ask Lina to help him make one for a damn tinder date.” he says nervously rambling on the way to the festival. 

“I really like it. I think it’s so thought out and who doesn’t love a good surf and turf? Khalil's just hating cause he aint think of it first. I think it’s kinda cute that you ramble when you’re nervous , Mr. Calm , Cool, and Collected.” you say to him as he parks the car and starts your things.

“Who wouldn’t be nervous around somebody that looked like you?” he asks leaning against his cherry red car with the wicker basket in his hand.

“Alright, Alright Mr. Casanova. Let’s go in before the fireworks start.” you say taking the large blanket out of his hands and leaning up again to thank him and kiss his cheek this time. 

You walked hand in hand with him through the park after giving your tickets at the booth and grabbing two lanterns for the both of you. 

This section of  park was already riddled with couples and friends scattered about laughing, talking, swapping stories, and listening to the soft music being played over the speakers as the sun started to set. 

You walk past a park bench riddled with graffiti art and you stop for a moment to stare at it. Kind of like your town’s own “lovers lock bridge”. 

Almost instantly you are taken back to the moment that you and Erik shared your first kiss and the first time he told you that he loved you all those years back. 

N’Jadaka looks back at you for a moment after noticing you’re no longer walking beside him. 

“Does this bench make you feel something? Anything?” you ask as you walk over to it.

“Nah, I haven’t seen it before but it got some dope ass art on it. Like this lil robot man over here. I think i got a marker in my back pocket from work earlier.” he says fishing around while balancing the basket in his other hand. 

He opens the marker with his teeth and crouches down to write your initials while wearing the biggest grin.

“That way when we’re 20 years down the line and you hogging all the blankets and my hairline start hiking to the back like my daddys’. We can come back to this spot and remember the beginning of our lil love story.” he says and you smile at him before nodding and kissing his nose and cheeks. 

As he takes off walking to find your spot. You stand there for a few more moments running your fingers over the carved E+ your initials on the other side of the bench. 

It really was the perfect view of everyone and everything but still being a ways away from others while still being in range to hear the music. 

“Here, it’s perfect.” You declare as you place the blanket and pillows down once you both reach the top of the hill. 

N’Jadaka begins to take out the food and drinks and set it up. “I brought ginger ale for us too if you don’t feel like drinking wine.” 

“That's actually my favourite...Now what in the world does that white boy know about Alicia Keys?” you ask while laughing as he starts playing No One on his guitar and the people in the park began to sing along with him. 

“He tried it . . . But i’mma give him his props. He don’t sound half bad.” N’Jadaka says laughing as he opens the container of strawberries and feeds you one . You lick his fingers softly and he gives you a look. 

You open a frozen fruit cup for him and lean back on your elbows. “So did you always know that you wanted to be an artist/sculptor or is that just something you connected with down the line?” you ask as you stare at the drunken man stumbling around families a few feet away from you. N'Jadaka ponders the question before shaking his head.

“Nah, at first I thought I was gonna be a soldier. I had my mind deadset on joining the military fresh outta high school. That’s how they get you. The recruiters come in making it seem like we gon be doing something patriotic. You know, be a man, defend your country and all that bullshit. They don’t really tell you what they really want you to do and what happens to you, to your mind. It aint right.” he shakes his head at the thought and you had to swallow the lump in your throat knowing that you knew exactly how that route of life played out for him. 

“I’m glad you chose art. You look hot in your lil paint covered overalls. When are you gonna draw me like one of your french girls?” you ask jokingly and he throws his head back in laughter before moving to lean off to the side of the hill with his hand out.

“Don’t let me go.” he calls out dramatically, still laughing and acting like he’s barely holding on.

“I’ll never let go Jack.” you say dramatically holding onto his hand .

He moves back onto the blanket to lay back still laughing as he looks over at you.

“She really had mans hanging off that damn door for hours when there was enough room for both of em.” 

“Wait, stay right there I wanna take a picture to remember this moment. Smile for me Daka.” you call softly to him as you hold up your polaroid camera and press down on the button permanently capturing the serene look on his face as he enjoys the frozen fresh fruit cup. His cherry red stained plump lips gently pulled into a small smile as he stares at the crossed his eyes. He looked cute even while being goofy.

“Gimme kiss?” he asks and you lean down to kiss him as the fireworks light up the sky and he snaps the picture. 

You taste the cherry flavour on his tongue as you continue to kiss him. 

You both look up at the sky in bloom with different hues of white and yellow and reds. 

“Ouch,damn it, you just stepped on my foot.  you could’ve said excuse me!” You yell out to the guy who’s drunkenly stumbling around trying to get higher up.

“You shouldn’t have had them in the fucking way!” he calls back over his shoulder and N’Jadaka immediately gets up from your spot to grab him by his shirt and twists his arm behind his back.

“Fuck is wrong with you? If people aint have their children in here , I would knock your dumb ass out .” he says to the man through gritted teeth and you jump up from your place on the blanket to grab N’Jadaka’s arm and place your hand firmly on his chest.

“Heeeyy Daka, it aint even gotta be all that. He ain’t worth even worth it. C'mon. Come here to me.” you say softly to him knowing how to de-escalate these sort of situations with him all too well.  

“I’m going to have to ask you all to leave the premises for causing a disturbance.” the park attendant says and you try to let her know what was going on but she was already walking away. 

“Come on, we don’t need their lil stank festival anyways.” you say to him and he helps you pack up your stuff before taking your hand and leaving the park. 

Once you’re back in the car you’re both laughing at how stupid the whole situation was and roasting the parking lot attendant to break the slightly awkward silence from when you first entered the car.

You drive around for a while,  listening to old school jams and talking things out about anything and everything. You open up to him a little about Erik and he reveals to you that he used to date Lina for a short time.

But they both knew that it wasn’t right and that Lina was more like a bro to him and vice versa.

After you find an empty parking lot you sit on the hood of his car and stare up at all of the stars showing out tonight. 

“You know we still have our lanterns.” you suggest before grabbing them from the car.

You release your lanterns at the same time before sharing a kiss. You nuzzle his nose for a moment, taking a deep breath and looking right at him. 

“Remember when you asked me if I knew of you before we met at Aloha Oakland?” you ask him.

Once you have it lit you write your message hoping that it comes true and you wait for Daka to finish writing his. 

He leans against the car to listen to you.

"This is gonna sound crazy as hell but roll with it for a moment. I think I knew you in your past life. I know how this sounds but remember when you said that you were drunk for your birthday weekend? You said that you dreamed in hues of red purples and flowers. There were streams of water and butterflies all over. . . You were in the ancestral plane. I'm not exactly sure what happened. I'm still trying to convince myself that I'm not losing it. But, I've technically known you since we were kids. You died back then and somehow, I don't have all the answers. You just promised that you'd come back to me-"

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[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Kiwi 12

Previously on Kiwi

For three days the world was rampant with news of Lexa and Costia. It was a hot topic for speculation and Lexa realized she hadn’t missed that aspect of dating, nor did she truly crave that kind of pressure or notice any longer. It was pure distraction, and it could not end soon enough. 

The reunion had its desired effect on the world. There were pictures that rolled all over the universe, or so it seemed, with headlines proclaiming all sorts of wild stories and theories as to the reason the bad girl model turned actress was seen paling around, post-show, with reformed and enjoying a successful third album world tour rock star. They hypothesized about the lost love and the rekindling, the cheating that might have happened, the whole entire thing. Two very distinct sections of the internet went bonkers for the pictures and news and fourth-hand accounts of their five minutes together in public since the break up. 

Lexa hated all of it, but bore it because she was now someone who did good things or at least tried to do good things, even if she didn’t like those things. Costia needed it, Indra asked her, and so Lexa stuck to the line that they were just friends and didn’t answer any other questions. It was easier that way. 

None of it mattered Lexa was too happy, feeling too good despite the normal trials and tribulations of the tour, and counting down the days until she would get unrestricted access to her girlfriend, her real girlfriend, her true and honest girlfriend who was currently squatting in her apartment back home. 

So she ignored the tabloids and tried to focus, ticking off the days and existing as far away from Costia as she humanly could. 

Even though there was a lot to get done for the show, even though there was a lot to run through and she should have hung around and helped her sister, Lexa was basically useless and dismissed relatively early in the day. She’d warned Clarke that she would have to send a car to get her, but there was suddenly free time. 

Practically vibrating, Lexa tugged her baseball cap lower and adjusted her glasses. Nervously, she looked around and tried to blend in as much as possible as she anxiously awaited her girlfriend’s arrival. As far as she was concerned, she was absolutely being an amazing girlfriend. The best perhaps. And everything was falling into place in a way that she hadn’t expected or ever truly experienced. 

Lexa saw Clarke before Clarke saw her, and she felt her heart sip a little. It wasn’t supposed to do things like that, and for an instant she was slightly annoyed that she was falling. It was a rare thing to have a moment to look at the girl with pretty lips without her knowing, but Lexa gave herself a few moments. And Clarke looked at her phone and smiled before Lexa felt her own vibrate. 

I made it! I’m going to see you soon! Prepare yourself.

From a reasonable distance, Lexa followed along as Clarke moved to pick up her luggage, carefully apologizing for pumping into someone, smiling warmly at someone else. 

And what should I prepare for?

It might have been slightly voyeuristic, but Lexa didn’t care. She was so used to being the one who was watched, that this felt rewarding in many ways. She would have never gotten to see the view of her girlfriend grinning at her phone and debating what to write, the casual glance around, as if someone was going to know or read it over her shoulder. 

Me, your exceptionally horny and understanding and downright magical girlfriend. 

When she got her bag and moved toward the exit, looking around for the ride that was promised, Lexa finally gave up her watching. 

Bring it on, Griffin. Look at the car rental place behind you.

It took a few seconds for it to register, but Clarke turned around and searched before meeting Lexa’s eyes, hidden as they were behind glasses and beneath a ball cap. And though she felt her, the pull and the need to close the gap as quickly as possible, Clarke stared at her girlfriend and smiled, relieved and surprised and happy. 

XXXXXXXXXX

“I missed you,” Lexa whispered. 

“Did you?” 

There wasn’t a wasted moment or movement. Lexa pushed forward until Clarke was pressed against the wall in the hotel room. She smiled, hovering near her lips, hesitating, teasing, waiting until she couldn’t wait again. Hands moved up from hips and Clarke moaned at the contact of lips on neck. 

It was the closeness that did it-- the unwavering feeling of another body and hands gripping into muscles despite already being closer than close. Lexa liked that Clarke clung, that she grabbed and dug her nails into skin and her legs wrapped around hips. She was unable to lie with her movements. She liked the feeling of being needed so innately. 

“You just popped into my life with a swipe and now I think about you a lot,” Lexa explained. “You made me someone who misses someone.” 

“I’m a terrible influence.” 

“You really are,” she agreed eagerly, kissing the girl in her arms once again before stumbling them toward the bed. 

With a flop, they landed and Lexa made quick work of pressing into Clarke’s hips, spreading her legs even more. 

“Can we do the slow and intimate after. I just--”

Hips canted and Lexa smiled down at the girl wiggling beneath her, cheeks flushed and hands gripping and pulling and tugging. 

“What do you need?” she murmured, dipping her head to kiss her jaw and neck again. 

“Lexa... “ It was somewhere between a whine and a command. 

“Tell me.” 

“Please.” 

“Since you asked so nicely.” 

XXXXXXXXXXX

Spent and sweaty, sprawled across the bed with arms wide and sheets tangled, Lexa sighed and ran her hand along her stomach. Clarke was in love with her knees and the point of her ankles. She was in love with the way her gangly limbs seemed to stretch and tangle themselves everywhere. And sometimes, without even meaning to, Clarke fell in love with all of those parts at one time and it was simultaneously soothing and overwhelming, leaving her startled and warm. 

All within one body, she saw so many contradictions and in that, an overwhelming kind of affection that Clarke hadn’t experienced before with anyone. From her spot between Lexa’s legs, her ear pressed against her thigh, Clarke thought about it more than she ever had before, because she was across the world and it’d been nearly a year, and there was nothing more terrifying than realizing you were in love with something like the wind. With a sigh, Clarke kissed Lexa’s thigh before lifting her head and slouching her way toward her hip. Lexa took a deep breath and held it as she shifted, stretching and adjusting, compensating for Clarke’s movement. The ink on her ribs moved and shifted on the skin there. Clarke kissed her stomach, kissed the giggle that came at the base of her rib cage an instant later. 

With a tiny smile, Clarke pressed her face into Lexa’s stomach and blanketed her hip. She ran her fingertips along the soft skin of her breast, over her nipple. Clarke fell in love with the sound of her lungs when she breathed and she fell in love with the piano keys of her ribs and she was surely in love with the slant of her wrist and elbow and shoulders. 

Not one thing existed-- the world was not at all composed at all of anything other than the bed and the night and the two bodies. Lexa’s fingers slowly tapped a rhythm on her own chest while her other hand swirled through Clarke’s messy hair. 

Sometimes it was too much; all of the feelings and such, and Clarke didn’t know how to explain or feel them or say anything. Words didn’t seem needed in the moment. And so she lifted herself once again and slithered lower until she could taste Lexa again, because she desperately needed to communicate and she needed to express, and she had no way to do it other than to make Lexa arch and grip the sheets and swear. It only made it worse, that Lexa gave all of herself over. But Clarke was in love with a live wire, and she knew that sometimes. 

When all tension that had been worked into her muscles left in an instant despite Clarke’s desire to prolong it, and the body in the sheets was once again pliant and spent, Clarke laid once more on her thigh and kissed her there before closing her eyes and listening to Lexa catch her breath. 

It was possible to fall in love with a moment, and it was possible to fall in love with a dream-- what Clarke wasn’t sure of, was if it was possible to fall in love with a person who navigated through those moments and those dreams. She wanted to reason her way out of whatever it was that was plaguing her, but deep down she knew that it wasn’t something she could do, and she was presently stuck with it. The only choices left were to nurture it and let it grow or ignore it and let it strangle her. 

“I missed you, too,” Clarke whispered. 

XXXXXXXXXX

“Wake up please. I want to go look at castles.” 

Clarke groaned in complaint before yawning into the pillow. A body settled near her, sitting on the edge of the bed as it rustled this way and that. The sleeping girl pushed the hair out of her face and watched as the rockstar typed on her phone before tossing it on the desk and pulling her shirt over her head. 

There was a tray of fruit, coffee, and scones on the table, and lit in the morning sun from the window, a shirtless girl ate a strawberry and surveyed the land outside before turning back toward the bed. 

Clarke just smiled and grabbed her phone before groaning once again at the time, enjoying the smile it garnered from her girlfriend. It was still early. Too early. 

“Did you already work out?” 

“Sure did. Ordered us breakfast, too. Already checked in with Anya and Indra for the day, and returned a few emails.” 

“Are you always like this?” 

“What?” Lexa asked, flexing slightly in the mirror before taking a sip of her coffee. 

“So perky in the morning?” 

“Honestly, just when you’re here. You’re a good reason to want to get stuff done. I want to waste a whole day with you.” 

“You left me alone in bed though.” 

“Yeah, or else I wouldn’t have gotten anything done. Can we go see some castles now? I’m very excited. I’ve been waiting til you got here.” 

“Can we shower first?” 

“I guess. If we must.” But Lexa didn’t move. She sat and began her breakfast. “I got your coffee ready, darling.”

Only then did Clarke find it incentive enough to heave herself out of bed. She wrapped the sheet around herself and moved toward the table, careful to lean down to kiss her girlfriend’s cheek then neck then shoulder as she did. 

“Are we going to grab dinner before your show tonight?” 

“Definitely. Anya has already picked out a spot. I thought tomorrow we could grab something just us. I mean… the weather is going to be nice. I found a place-- It’s already set. You’re fed for the next two days at least.” 

“Good. Because I broke down and bought very unhealthy food to contaminate your kitchen and I need proper sustenance.”

“You’re a growing girl.” 

“Exactly.” 

XXXXXXXXXX

“You really like castles.” 

“They’re so cool. I feel a bit like I’m in a Jane Austen book or something.” 

There was always a surprise with Lexa, and Clarke wished she could predict it, or at least figure out a way to be less blown over when Lexa said things like enjoying Jane Austen books and still, as a full adult, dreaming about owning a castle.

“I can barely fathom squatting in your loft let alone, so please don’t go buying a castle anytime soon.” 

Goofy and happy, Lexa smiled and shook her head, carefully slinging her arm over Clarke’s shoulder as they perused. 

“I try to read a book by an author from every country I visit. I made myself read Emma, and I’ve been a bit of a castle fan ever since. It was genuinely the funniest thing I’ve read in a long time.” 

“And what are you reading now?” Clarke asked as they walked along a rather drizzly path along the grounds with the other tourists. 

“I went with something called The Guts, about rock music and junk. I’m a cliché.” 

“You never told me you were a big reader.” 

“I don’t like to advertise it too much.” 

“God forbid people think you’re clever,” Clarke rolled her eyes and teased, earning a kiss on her temple. 

“I don’t know if you know this or not,” Lexa chuckled. “But I’m a high school drop out.” 

“You’re--”

Aimlessly walking and enjoying the mildly warm day despite the spitting rain, the pair was interrupted by the growing murmurs of people noticing. Clarke felt Lexa’s arm tighten slightly on her shoulders, guiding her away from someone else. 

“This is going to happen, huh?” Clarke sighed. “And we were having such a good time.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“If you weren’t so damn good looking and you know, sang those songs, and gyrated your hips a little less…” 

Lexa burst out into a laugh, unable to contain it. The cameras caught it, snapping pictures and documenting every move. For most of it, Clarke forgot to be too nervous. She couldn’t be completely distracted from the people following and stealing their moment, but Lexa did her best and it worked in its own way. 

On the way back to the hotel to get ready for dinner, Clarke scrolled through her phone while Lexa chatted with some friends on a scheduled call. She paused when she recognized herself and Lexa from just a few hours ago, paired with the picture Lexa posted of the two of them on her account. There were a lot of comments about them, speculation about who she was, linking to the previous pictures. 

For the moment, Clarke felt her heart race and her cheeks blush. She wasn’t sure what to say, or what to do or what to feel about it all. Suddenly, the privacy of a castle didn’t seem like a terrible life. 

XXXXXXXXX

There was something fantastic about a concert behind the scenes. There was something absolutely magical about watching Lexa onstage that simultaneously made the incident with the cameras seem better and worse. 

But for a while, it was gone and Clarke was infatuated with the girl on stage who had twenty thousand people hanging on her every word and song. During a song, Lexa looked over and winked and Clarke was certain that there was nothing better. 

Fingers moving up and down the guitar frets, Lexa leaned into the microphone and sang to her heart's content. She turned and looked at Anya and smiled. She moved and danced with the rest of the band. She chatted up the crowd, holding them in the palm of her hand, keeping them hooked. An entire stadium sang back her own words to her, and Clarke was in awe of the whole display. She wondered if the amazement would ever go away, or if she was doomed to be bowled over by Lexa every other night. 

Slightly sweaty and still high from her show, the lights went black and Lexa appeared close to Clarke, earning a hug. 

“You looked good out there, Woods.” 

“She never does this well,” Anya teased. “We should bring you along more often.” 

“I didn’t do anything special,” Lexa disagreed, enjoying the kisses she received. 

The crowd chanted and begged for more and Clarke knew what was going to happen. She saw Lexa soak it up a little bit more. She enjoyed the mood and the contagious feeling of it all. 

“I have to go back out there for a bit longer. You good?” 

Earnest and eager, Lexa waited for Clarke’s answer and nod. If Clarke would have said no, she knew that Lexa wouldn’t have gone back out, and that was something. So Clarke hugged her once more. 

“I guess I’ll chant your name later,” she whispered. 

She expected a smile or maybe a moan, or something inherently Lexa as a reaction to a comment like that-- something cocky and interested all at once. Instad, Clarke earned Lexa’s eyes and a very set jaw. 

“I need you to understand what I mean when I say this,” Lexa insisted, her forehead pressed against Clarke’s, the rest of the band already taking the stage for the encore. “I've come here to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is, and always will be, yours.”

She hadn’t meant to hear the words, and she certainly hadn’t expected such brutal honesty in such a sweaty and loud and public moment. Still pressed together tightly, Clarke felt a tear roll down her cheek because she was completely blindsided by such a confession. 

“I understand,” Clarke nodded. 

Lexa smiled and Clarke knew only because her cheeks crinkled near her eyes. The music started, but Lexa wouldn’t move. Clarke tapped her thumbs against her girlfriend’s chest. 

“You should go finish work.” 

“I should. Chanting my name, huh?” 

Lexa kissed Clarke quickly and disappeared back on stage before she could answer. 

NEXT

[tigerdovefan34-realone]

So here's a fic idea I posted on Reddit. I want to see if anyone would be down to read it. Enough likes/reblogs and I'll start working on it ASAP :

At the very start of the story, we have Toga and Saito walking home from graduation and Saito is noticeably blushing (I personally hc that he had a massive crush on Toga and maybe fought those kids to impress her as Teenage Boys are want to do) before Toga indicates that she wants them both to stop. Saito is nervous but is ready to confess, thinking only about how Adorable Himiko looks before she attacks him. However, Saito is able to dodge and outmaneuver here. He then notices that she's crying and instantly feels his heart nearly break at the sight of her eyes filled with tears. Soon, he's able to disarm and pin her and interrogates her, though she escapes after muttering "Mama...Papa...Normal...Onii-chan...Imoutosan...Otoutosan...Deviant..." before she makes a run for it, confusing Saito and leading him to investigate Himiko and her family, meeting her little sisters, little brother, elder brother, and parents for the first time and while the parents and elder brother are asses and very cold when it comes to Himiko, and the sister younger than her by a year is nervous to speak up along with one of the twins (the brother), who are the youngest in the family. The youngest daughter spills everything.

The Toga family, being extremely wealthy and influential is able to sweep the mess under the rug in a few days and Saito is discredited as a liar. Meanwhile, Toga on the run meets with someone by the name of Jin who becomes a father figure to her, helping her come to turns with herself and her quirk without killing people and she convinces him to talk to people who might actually care about helping him.

A week after Graduation, Saito finally tracks down both Himiko and Jin, who are being harassed by a gang of villains with steel quirks. After knocking out and beating up Jin and brushing Saito aside before going after Himiko to do certain things with her (Imagine what you'd like) only for Saito's quirk to awaken, along with Himiko as both of them are in a highly stressful situation.

Saito's full name is Ichidan Saito, which translates to (could be wrong here so feel free to correct me) To Use Pure Wisteria or better, To Use Pure Poison, given Wisteria being a toxic plant. His quirk is him being able to secrete wisteria poison from his fingernails, but he's able to control it and able to give out specific dosages depending on how much he wants to secrete. If he wants to kill, large amounts will come from his fingernails and instantly kill the person he scratches. If he's looking to knock out or paralyze, a more regulated dosage will come out. However, the only thing is, he needs to land a scratch on soft flesh for it to work.

Well, the evolved version of Wisteria Nails (Quirk name) is him being able to use his fingers and the palms of his hand to secrete the poison while at the same time the poison becomes very Acid like and thus far more dangerous to those with metallic quirks depending on the dosage. Soon the gang is beaten back and while Jin takes therapy, eventually becoming the head of his own hero agency and reaching #6 relatively quickly after awakening his quirk, Saito and Toga attend UA's hero course in 1A and reaching the Sports Festival, where they both place 3rd (all while a certain green haired boy takes notes on them, calling their quirks "So Amazing!") before being the first interns to be taken in by Jin's agency. The three are seen as a rather strange but effective trio, with Jin being Xeroxer, the Duplication Hero, Saito being Rancor, the Poison Hero, and Toga being Selene, The Blood Heroine.

They do encounter Midoriya once or twice but by the end of the year, they have been proven to be extremely effective in what they do and none can deny their abilities. And Saito and Toga eventually get together, to Jin's delight, making Toga swear to name their first son after him. Meanwhile, Toga's parents and elder brother refuse to acknowledge her existence, calling her a blight on the family that doesn't deserve to be an heir to the family's fortune and influence. One Saturday, when on Patrol, they get a call about something strange happening at Graves after Dark and after a stakeout, they see and confront a villain only for them to escape without using their quirk. After a Week's worth of encounters, they finally confront the Villain, who reveals themselves as Godan Mouja (from what I see, means To Control The Dead)

Their Quirk basically allows them to reanimate the dead, recently deceased, half decomposed, fully decomposed, just skeleton, it doesn't matter. However, they aren't Zombies, as hitting they're will cause the corpses to disintegrate into dust if they're knocked out/paralyzed. After a long, brutal, and exhausting fight, Toga is told to run for it while Saito and Jin hold off Mouja. Jin says that she's always been his daughter through spirit if not blood and makes sure she sticks to her promise to name her first born son after him. Meanwhile, Saito and Toga have a brief argument before he kisses her and forces her to run, saying he always loved her and will always watch over her.

The poor girl is barely able to escape and All Might is able to convince her family to take her in as with Jin and Saito dead, the agency is now defunct and incorporated into another hero agency. She becomes nothing more than an emotionless robot who shows no happiness, no sadness, nothing, bit whenever Mouja is mentioned, she has a psychotic break, swearing up and done she'll tear them apart when waving a knife around. Meanwhile, Mouja, realizing they can break a hero mentally before taking their corpse to add to their collection (which is the equivalent of putting maple syrup on pancakes for them) decides to ensure Saito and Jin can't decompose and has many skeletons take on their skins as well to torment her in a fight without risking the real ones being destroyed so he can break her and take in her delicious meltdown at her dead father figure and lover calling her a monster, murderer, coward, traitor, and freak again and again while fighting her whenever they do meet again.

Eventually, it's year 2 and Toga, now in Class 2A, goes to the new UA Sports Festival with people being interested in taking either out of pity or wanting to use her looks to help their agency prosper. And in this Sports Festival, she goes up against a familiar green haired boy that looks like Saito.

The story will be about Toga living past Saito and Jin's deaths, her conflict with Mouja, Midoriya opening her up and their eventual first kiss, and the two going through the trials and tribulations of the series as a couple with Toga as a Hero and MC. So what's the general thought on the Prologue of the story? Or do you think it should be it's own story as a prequel? (Didn't mean to reveal so much if the latter is decided. Might delete this post if people agree this should entirely be it's own story as a prequel)

By the way, I have no ideas for Toga's family names, hero names, and quirks, so if you have any ideas, feel free to reccomend them and I'll consider them.

Would anyone be interested in helping me keep the characters consistent, editing, and helping me with creating a proper storyline for this

[buckstaposition]

I cling to your lips like gloss (1)

a Javier Peña x OFC story 

now also on AO3

author: @youhavereachedtheendofpie (if u wanna come say hello on main)

rating/warnings: swearing, mentions of character death

words: 5521

Author’s note: dude this chapter fought me every step of the way but it’s here now so suck it, muses or whatever

---

Tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @dindjarindiaries (thank you sweeties whom I will hold forever in my heart)

(message me if you want to be added to the list)

Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1 - The Informant

'Liliana' the file said. I was tucked away in the locked bottom drawer of his old desk, the one he hadn't even had time to clear out when they'd sent him away. To be fair, Javier had only known to look because Murphy had called him to tell him about this informant. It sounded too good to be true. An informant coming to them of their own accord, ready to spill valuable inside secrets of the Calí cartel, and they didn't even want payment? One would be forgiven, in their line of work, to smell a trap. But Murphy had vouched for this one, and he trusted Murphy, knew that his partner (former partner) did his homework with due diligence. That, and the first batch of intel Murphy had brought back from their first few meetings had already proven invaluable. 

There was apparently only one hiccup, and it was that the informant refused to talk to any agents other than him or Murphy. It had even led to Steve having to postpone his return to the States for almost two months, until it was clear that Javier would return to Colombia. Fair enough, he'd need to make up his own mind about them anyway. He collected the file and tucked it into the box that held all the stuff he'd cleared out of the desk, since he would now officially be moving a an office of his own.

Upon arriving in said office, he kicked the door closed and sat, lighting a cigarette and reaching for the file. As thin as it was, it still took him almost an hour to work through it, though half of the time was spent deciphering Murphy's chicken scratch mess of annotations. The rest was spent on making his own. After checking the time, Javier fetched himself a cup of the same old tar brew that passed for coffee here, lit another cigarette, and dialled Steve's new office number in Miami. 

"Murphy."

"Alright, I've read the file." Javier started without preamble. Perhaps that was a bit short. He grimaced, then added, "About the informant. Liliana."

"Yeah, I figured." Steve exhaled probably puffing away at his own nicotine habit. Javier meant to quit, but kept pushing it off. The intent was all there was to it, at this stage. "So what're you calling me for, big boss?"

Javier elected to ignore the taunt, knowing it was friendly. 

"You've met her. Is she legit?"

"Why, you smelling a trap?"

Pathological mistrust was a feature one acquired while on this job. Those who didn't ended up dead. Those who did would still end up dead, just later and more jaded. Either way you'd get a lot of other people killed on the way. "Just making sure." 

They spent the next half hour and a bit going over the file together, comparing notes, catching up, thinking aloud - all of which were much easier to do when they had each other to bounce off of. It felt good, almost like old times. Javier went through close to a third of his pack of cigarettes, the air growing heavy in the windowless room. Just as well that it was almost time to wrap this up. A look at his watch told him that it was getting late in the day, and that Steve would want to get home to his family. All Javier could hope for at this point was avoiding resident CIA-asshole Bill Stechner on his way out, at least on this day. 

"You won't be able to pull your usual shit with this one." Steve remarked, accompanied by the sound of shuffling papers. Javier bristled, even though he knew the things people said about him, both behind his back and to his face. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Knowing didn't mean it didn't, occasionally, sting, but he'd given up on trying to influence other people's minds long ago. A reputation once acquired was not easily shed, not that he'd made much of an effort to. 

"It means that you shouldn't. Pull your usual crap with this one. For one I hardly think it'll be necessary."

"That would be new." Javier snorted. He could hear Steve's eyeroll through the phone. 

"Still the same asshole-" Steve snarked. "I'm just saying be nice for once, especially since that woman's intel is the only reason you still have a job. She's a nice lady, so with a bit of luck some of that might even rub off on you." 

"And I'm the asshole..." 

"So everyone keeps saying." 

"Fuck you, Steve."

"Go fuck yourself, Javi." Steve's chuckle told him it was all in good humor. "And don't fuck this informant."

"Yeah, yeah," Javier waved it off. The woman was an accountant, for fuck's sake. Note exactly his usual type. Or the type he usually attracted. 

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- 

They were meeting at one of the small restaurants lining the edge of Parque Sabaneta in Medellín. Over the phone her voice had sounded... hesitant, above all else. Tinny, too, but he blamed the connection for that. And he'd brought her a satellite phone for future contacts; her driving out to remote phone cells and him waiting for calls after hours in his office just didn't cut it. 

There hadn't been a picture in the file, but Steve's description had been quite accurate and Javier was able to pick her out at the table she'd chosen before making himself known. Dark hair and darker eyes behind large, slightly old-fashioned glasses. She was almost tall and hid her figure underneath loose-fitted clothing; today a flowy blouse and high-waisted dress pants, and a bulky cardigan against the spring chill that lingered even into the late morning. Her hair was pulled back into a low bun that reminded him of his fifth grade math teacher, Ms Jenkins. Javier approached the table. 

"Diana Rivas?" She froze for a split-second before relaxing again, returning his greeting softly. In real life her voice was deeper than he would have anticipated, raspier too, but not unpleasant - the kind of voice one would expect first thing in the morning, just after waking up. 

"I do hope your drive was not too tiring, Agent Peña." she said as he sat. He grimaced slightly. The drive had been long, above all else. Not his first choice of how to spend a Friday morning. Well, he'd endured worse for this job. But next time he'd definitely travel by plane.

"Do they serve decent coffee here?" Javier scrubbed a hand over his burning eyes and settled, resuming his assessment. She squirmed slightly under his unrelenting gaze, but squared her shoulders after a moment, meeting his gaze head-on and motioning a waiter over with a flick of her delicate wrist. 

"Of course they do, this is Medellín!" She sounded mildly offended, then ignored him in favor of telling the waiter their order. Javier took the time to observe her further. 

No make-up, no jewellery, save for a simple, functional watch and a small silver locket on a long, thin chain. No wedding band either, but the paleness and indentation around her ring finger still indicated that she'd worn one in the recent past. Her features were soft and feminine, with high cheekbones and a pointed chin, all making her look younger than she purportedly was. His gaze caught on her defined cupid's bow just a second too long. Her complexion seemed far too sunkissed for someone who spent most of their time indoors, in air-conditioned office spaces. In conclusion, undeniably lovely to anyone with eyes who cared to look, but obviously taking great pains to discourage closer scrutiny, to look as mousy and plain as possible. It worked, to a degree. 

It occurred to Javier that maybe he should actually talk to her, since that's what he'd come here for. 

"Do you always begin your interrogations with the silent treatment? I can see how that might be effective." She beat him to it, just before the coffee cups were set on the table in front of them. 

"This isn't an interrogation." he groused, taking a tentative sip of the coffee. The scent of it alone was enough to wake the dead; it was heavenly. He'd have to see if he could weasel some halfway decent coffee out of his budget at the office. 

"Regardless, I only have until noon today. We can meet again tomorrow; I can make myself available all afternoon for you, Agent Peña." 

Javier huffed out a breath before taking another sip. "Why can you suddenly do Medellín anyway? You had Murphy travel across half the country to meet you." 

She made a face at that, something between annoyed and apologetic. "My aunt, she... she's sick and been getting worse. I make the time to come down here every other weekend now to help her."

"And your employers are alright with that?" He hadn't exactly pegged the Calí cartel for employers of the year. Or to pioneer part-time models so their employees could care for sick relatives.

"As long as the work gets done, yes. It means I work ten to eleven hour days Monday to Thursday, but I am the only one left in this family..." She sniffled a little and swept the tips of her fingers under the plastic rim of her glasses, wiping at her eyes. Javier looked away, pretending it was to give her privacy. He imagined this unusually forthright woman walking up to Pacho Herrera to ask for reduced work hours so she could care for her aunt- That could really have gone either way, but somehow he thought that was probably not how it happened, or whom she'd asked. He just couldn't picture it. Maybe one of the brothers; they liked to style themselves as charitable family men, to a degree.

"Anyway, Medellín's closer for you, and we're less likely to be found out here. They like to keep security pretty tight in Calí. My friend Angelika calls it the Calí Stasi, and she's from the former East Germany, so she'd know." 

He hummed in acknowledgement, his coffee almost gone and him almost feeling like a living human being again. He flagged the waiter down for another. 

"In any case, I am glad that we can keep this to Spanish now. My English is not very ...confident." She prattled on, sipping from her own cup. Murphy had told him that she'd brought a dictionary to their first meeting, and apparently, with his former partner's dismal language skills, they'd actually needed it. 

"I'm sure your English is better than Murphy's Spanish." Steve had told him as much, but then again, Steve's Spanish was shit, so it really wasn't saying much. There was something else niggling at the back of his mind. 

"Why me?" 

Her glasses slid down her nose half an inch or so in surprise at his -admittedly abrupt- question. "I'm sorry?"

"Murphy said you wanted to speak to me specifically when you first called. Why?" 

She hesitated a moment, squirmed a little and averted her eyes, then pushed her glasses back up her nose before answering, softer than before. "Gabriela said you could be trusted."

"...Gabriela?" He said sharply, neck flushing at the thought of the beautiful redhead. 

She shrunk in on herself, hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. Perhaps his voice had come out a little bit harsher than intended. He hadn't even thought that she'd actually tell him her real name. He'd just been a client after all. 

"Yes," Miss Rivas breathed out, her voice so soft now that he had to lean halfway across the table to even catch it. "She's my best friend. We've been inseparable since the firts day of school. We tell each other everything. She told me she knew a DEA agent; that's why I told my cousin to go to her when she ran into trouble with Pablo Escobar-"

"Your cousin???" He almost roared. It came out as more of a whisper-yell, but she still flinched, eyes going wide behind the lenses. 

"Yes, my cousin," she said carefully, "Maritza Rincón." 

"Maritza–" he patted his pocket for a smoke and swore under his breath when he remembered how he'd left them in the car with the intention of advancing his 'quit smoking'-idea beyond idle talk. "What is this, a fucking trap? Very elaborate setup just to yell at me, missy. Unless you've got some buddies of yours here to–"

"What- what are you *talking* about? I don't blame you for Maritza's death!" By now people were staring. Not a lot of them, since it wasn't really the time yet for the midday crowd and too late for the morning rush, but the few pensioners and whatnot were definitely sensing the tension at their table. Javier gave up on his cigarette search and took a deliberate breath, willing himself to calm down. 

"Maritza is dead?" He hadn't known that. He wasn't sure how he would have learned of it, but it still shocked him regardless. He looked over to see her fidget with her locket, lips pressed tight and trembling. Shit. Another informant on his conscience, fucking great. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't-" he started, his voice catching. He bought himself time with his now lukewarm coffee, "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know that. I-"

"It's alright." She whispered, in a tone of voice that clearly indicated it wasn't. She swept her glasses off with trembling fingers and pressed beneath her eyes, as if to restrain the tears that pooled in her lashes. 

"I'm sorry." Javier said again, insistent, soft, sincere. "What happened?" 

"We- I don't know. She called me to say she was in trouble with Escobar, and I helped her set up the meeting with Gabi."

"With me." He remembered that evening, that young girl sitting in Gabriela's apartment, ready to be sprung on him. Part of him had resented it; Gabriela had been someone he'd sought out to get away from the damn narcos and their dealings. Miss Rivas nodded. 

"Yes. It was that idiot Jhon. He was one of the neighborhood kids. Growing up he'd always had a crush on her..." She talked a lot, he found. It should irritate him more, the way she'd throw in seemingly irrelevant asides without explaining further. Instead he only found himself worrying that someone so pathologically honest could not possibly keep the Gentlemen of Calí off her tracks, at least not if she kept spilling her life story so eagerly. 

" ...and then she hid out on her uncle's farm again, where my auntie - her mom - grew up and went back to after my uncle - that's Maritza's dad - died of a heart attack. Auntie had been out for the day and when she came back- "

He can't bear to listen to it, but forces himself to anyway. In the sea of his regrets, what's one more? Besides, there's nothing else he can do for the girl now; the least he can do is witness how he failed her. 

For all her unassuming bluntness, Diana Rivas is not one to hold back, even on unsavoury details. At least he doesn't get the sense that she does it to torment when she tells him how they found Maritza's lifeless body with her young daughter next to her.  

By the end of that sorry tale, he has his head in his hands, Miss Rivas is still just this side of openly weeping, and all the other patrons have demonstratively averted their attention so as not to impose on what must, on the outside, look like an urgent case for a damned good couples' counselor. 

"I'm sorry, I know this is a lot." And why in the hell is she apologizing?

"No shit." And yeah, he has to digest this before he can even think of making any attempt at non-destructive human interaction. "You couldn't tell Murphy any of this?"

She gave him a look. 

"Yeah, alright. Sorry." More than just a language barrier, got it. 

"I didn't come here today with the intention to relive this, you know?" She said archly. He supposed she had all the right to be upset. And he'd never had a meeting with an informant turn this harrowing, which was really saying something. 

"I'm sorry." He said again, putting the weight of sincerity behind the words. Her hands were in the table now, fidgeting again as she sat slightly hunched over, staring into her coffee cup.

"Unless your government has a time machine to spare, I would prefer not talking about it again. At least not more than necessary." She replaced her glasses and checked her watch. "1 pm tomorrow?"

Javier nodded dumbly, already plucking a few bills out of his wallet to pay for the coffee. "Yeah, 1 pm is okay. Where?"

"Meet me at the church. Santa Ana. You know it?" He didn't particularly, as in he didn't know its name before now, but he could see the building's tall white facade from where they were sitting. 

"Iglesia de Santa Ana, 1 pm tomorrow." Javier confirmed, rising as she did. The stared at each other for a moment, unsure of how to conclude this meeting, until she stuck her hand out for him to shake. He took her smaller, slender hand in his, squeezing it wordlessly. 

"Until tomorrow, Agent Peña." She said, managing a sad little smile. "I hope you'll get some rest. You look like shit." 

Javier bit down every one of the snarky replies that sprung to mind, not least because he knew it was true. His bags had bags and he itched for a smoke.

And to think, this was Murphy's 'nice lady'. 

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Somehow it hadn't occurred to him that at the church meant inside the church. Not until a very miffed face peered out between the heavy doors, giving him a look as he stood there smoking. 

"It's barely been five minutes!" Javier defended himself, stubbing out the cigarette beneath his heel. 

"It's 1:07pm." She informed him matter-of-factly, pushing the glasses back up her nose pointedly as she made to turn back inside. Javier caught the door, crowding perhaps a bit too close, but the damned thing was heavy. 

"Sorry." He said simply, seeing no point in making a scene out of it. She had to crane her neck just the slightest bit to meet his gaze. 

"Wait here, I'll be out in a minute." And with that she stalked off. Javi watched her sweep down the aisle, her hair and skirt fluttering behind her. She wore her hair loose today, the ends of it curling around her shoulders, and a simple off-white shirt dress that reached down to mid-calf. He let his eyes trail after her, leaning his weight more fully against the heavy wood of the door to lever it open. She walked around two thirds of the way down the pews before stopping by a... baby carriage? 

She bent over it before carefully wheeling it around and starting back towards the door. Javier racked his tired brain. The file hadn't said anything about a kid. Married five years but no children. That didn't seem like the kind of thing one would easily miss, and he knew Murphy to be thorough in his inquiries. 

"Who's this then?" He peered inside the carriage -more of a buggy really now that he got a closer look- and barely caught a glance of a dozing toddler with soft brown curls, while hoisting the door open wider to let her pass more easily. "Didn't know you had a kid."

"I don't." The buggy caught on the threshold and jolted, and a displeased cry came from inside it, making her curse under her breath. "This is Maritza's daughter, Salome. I've got it! Just- the door, just get the door!"

The last part of that came out high and sharp, much like the crack of a whip, and in direct response to Javier's attempt to swoop in and help heave the buggy over the worn-down threshold. He jolted back on instinct, grunting when the door swung squarely into his spine. Who the hell was responsible for all these old-ass church doors being solid enough to squash an actual living human between them?

After some fumbling they managed to make it out with most of their dignity still intact. Javier bent down and quickly shoved the bag he'd brought into the wire basket underneath the buggy's seat, next to her purse. 

"Where to?" He asked, straightening up again. Miss Rivas still looked cross, her lips pressed together.

"Follow along. There are some secluded benches a little walk away." And off she was, leavin him to catch up.

"If your intention is to disguise this meeting as just another family enjoying the sun I suggest you slow down a little." Javier hissed under his breath. He'd actually had to jog a bit to keep up with her steamroller pace. She looked even more annoyed and declined to grace him with an answer, but slowed with a sigh that told him that this was indeed her intention. It was a smart enough plan, he wouldn't dispute that. 

At least the kid seemed to have calmed from her little jostle-startle, seeing as she was now quietly babbling away as if narrating the sights. Javier tried to loosen his tense shoulders and to look like he was enjoying himself as they fell into step ambling along the walkways between the lush greenery. 

"How old is she?" he asked, thinking that perhaps some small talk would ease the woman's sullen mood. 

"Almost two and a half." Or not. Well, he tried. Javier wasn't exactly an expert with kids and none of his previous informants had ever shown up with theirs. Not that that would have been appropriate considering the circumstances. They walked for about a quarter of an hour, which Javier spent agonizing about how to smooth over the sudden mood change Miss Rivas was displaying compared to the day before. By the time they'd made it to their destination he was no closer to that goal. 

She sat with a weary sigh, shaking out her flowy skirt before sitting and rolling her sleeves up to her elbows. It was much warmer today than when they'd met previously, only in part due to the later hour. Stiffly, Javier sat down next to her at a distance that instantly belied their 'family outing' cover. She turned to him after checking on the baby, peeling back the sunshade of the buggy to allow her to look around. 

"You can smoke if you want to." Miss Rivas said offhandedly, her tone forcedly polite. Javier cleared his throat. 

"I'm actually trying to quit."

Her lips quirked into a pleasant curve. "And how's that going?"

Javier sighed. "I'm thinking I might have chosen the wrong time."

"Or the wrong job."

The laugh that bursts forth from him is short, but not altogether hollow. "Yeah, or that."

"Very well, then you may not smoke even though you might want to." 

Javier smiled. Couldn't help it, really. He had been worried that he'd somehow managed to offend her during their last meeting. He said as much, and she shook her head with a look of remorse.

"No, it's not your fault. It's just..." She pushed her glasses up and rubbed at her eyes, revealing the dark rings that had previously been hidden beneath the plastic rim. "Yesterday dredged up some things, and I didn't sleep well as a consequence. That always makes me snippy. And to top things of, this one," she leaned over to unbuckle the child and heave her into her lap, "was being fussy all morning, which didn't help. Sorry for being so short with you earlier."

"In this job, people usually shoot at me. It's alright, really. You're alright." Truth be told, he was glad she pulled herself out of this funk. Maybe she was as nice as Murphy claimed after all. The kid looked at him with large, round, strangely sage eyes. I got your mommy killed. I got your mommy killed and you had to watch. If he had gotten her that visa- The thought made him gulp, made him dizzy and nauseous and if there was anything to be glad for in this situation it was that he was already sitting down. Miss Rivas replaced her glasses and looked at him with furrowed brows. He felt like he was being read. 

"I already told you that I don't blame you for Maritza." Javier tried his damnedest not to squirm underneath that discerning stare. Screw read, he felt like he was being flayed open. "Obviously you still blame yourself."

"Wouldn't you?" He shot back, defensive. She didn't answer for a moment, gently rocking the kid who had grabbed a hold of her locket and started to play with it. 

"I have enough regrets of my own, Agent Peña." Part of him wants to scoff, even just to dispel the heavy moment, but the severity in her tone nips that impulse in the bud. Instead, he clears his throat and gestures to the buggy where he stored his bag earlier.

"I brought you something." 

Her features soften into not quite a smile, but something close enough. "What a coincidence, so have I."

And then she hands him the toddler, who lets out a displeased cry at having her toy wrenched from her chubby hands in so unceremonious a manner, and Javier freezes as her squirmy weight is settled in his lap, only his hand shooting out to steady her on instinct. Up close her big brown eyes are even more enormous. 

"Um, hi. Nice to meet you, Miss Salome. I'm Javier." He says awkwardly and is met with a pout. This is patently terrible and reminds him of the few times he'd been handed baby Olivia. She'd started crying instantly nine times out of ten. He hopes against hope that today will be a deviation from that norm. Salome considers him a long moment, blinking owlishly and making that certain kind of skeptical face that little kids so often do. He's had less tense moments in interrogations. He might be sweating in a way that has little to do with the midday heat. 

And then Salome blows him a raspberry and dives for his wrist to investigate the shininess of his watch. And when he can breathe again he allows himself a smile. Of relief, mostly. In stark contrast to the smile Miss Rivas wears as she regeards them both, which is pure mischief with a dash of smugness. 

"Well look at that. You passed muster, Agent Peña." Miss Rivas set both their bags down in the space between them, then leaned over to press a quick kiss to little Salome's soft curls. And Javier has been much closer to many women than this; his heart shouldn't lurch at the sudden proximity, the waft of her perfume or the light brush of her soft hair over his bare forearm.

"Ladies first." Javier gestured at the bags between them. She smiled and rummaged through hers, producing two thick stacks of folded papers, either parcel secured with a rubber band. 

"Trade you?" she motioned at the girl, who was now intently examining the fingers of his right hand. Reluctantly, he let Miss Rivas pluck the small child from his lap and stand her next to the bench. Salome frowned adorably for a moment at having been interrupted in pulling his pinky finger off, then realized she was free to roam around and brightened instantly, hitting the bench a few times with chubby palms and babbling. 

"Yes, of course I have your toy, sweetie." Miss Rivas said earnestly, presenting a brightly colored ball. Salome grabbed for it with a squeal, her momentum propelling her straight onto her backside. Miss Rivas turned back to Javier with that soft, fond expression still on her face and handed him one of the parcels. 

"Do... did you want to go over this? While I'm here to explain things?"

"That complex, huh?"

"Well, it's a lot to do with creative book-keeping and tax law loopholes. It's more about how they structure their business to launder their incomes than anything else, but it'll still be helpful in building a case, no?" 

It is, which is the whole reason he's been sent back here apparently. And while it's nothing the analysts back at the office can't handle (probably), he still likes being in the loop. And also maybe because he enjoys the sound of her voice. In any case he peels off the rubber band and unfolds the stack of papers, keeping a careful hand around it to ensure that nothing blows away in the spring breeze. Miss Rivas pulled out a pencil from her purse and shuffled closer. Close enough that he can smell her perfume again. - - - Over the following hour and a half Javier realized several important things: 

One. Diana Rivas is likely one of the cleverest people he has ever met. By page eight his head is swimming with numbers, but her even explanations make even tiered corporate tax rebate systems sound fascinating. Even in his line of work, he'd never truly considered accounting to be the stuff of suspense, but she makes it sound like a thriller that even the brightest heads in Hollywood would have trouble coming up with. 

Two. Having to do anything while keeping an eye in a rambunctious small child who is still learning to walk is a uniquely stressful experience. Little Salome is bouncing around the small patch of grass in front of the bench much like her ball, endowed with seemingly endless reservoirs of energy. She crashes into his knee a few times while chasing her ball or deciding that playing hide and seek underneath the bench is a better use of her time, and it puts him on edge that he feels responsible at all. 

Three. The Rodríguez brothers make more than enough money from their few legitimate businesses to never have to worry themselves financially. Not that this had been in question, technically, but to see the numbers in black and white is still galling, even if he's not nearly as incensed about it as Miss Rivas seems to be. And while Javier is far from a religious man, he does consider greed that is levered with blood to be at least distateful. 

Four. It's not her perfume he smelled earlier, but her shampoo, bright and fruity, with high notes of citrus. 

Five. As long as this is all they have and all she can get, the DEA cannot make a move against the Calí cartel. His orders had been very clear on that. Nail them down beyond escape and make absolutely sure you get them into custody, in that order. It means that whatever Miss Rivas can reveal about the inner financial working of the cartel is valuable, but on its own won't be enough. As always in this job it's sorting through a haystack with a rake in search of needlepoints. 

Which brings him to the next thing he needs to ask her. Needs to ask her to do for him, and the operation, to be specific, and he can already tell she'll say yes eagerly. Eager informants should be a blessing, but their eagerness seems to directly correlate with their likelihood of getting killed, or close enough. 

"This is for you." He says instead, handing her the satellite phone. There's directions that go with it, but he takes the time to walk her through it nonetheless. Also his numbers, both office and home, just in case. He watched as she carefully tucked everything into her purse.

It's later in the afternoon now - past three - and Salome comes toddling over, handing Javier her ball and sitting down on the grassy ground with a world-weary sigh. 

"Okay, time for your nap I think, young lady." Miss Rivas plucked the child from the ground and stood to deposit her back in the buggy, then holding out her hand to him expectantly. He hands the ball over after a split-second of dumbstruck hesitation. 

"Well, goodbye then, Agent Peña." 

He stood. Offered her his hand to shake, which she took. "I'll call you during the week. What time is good for you?" 

"Any time between seven and ten. I'll probably be in Medellín again in a month. I'll let you know if I have more intel by then." He nodded, finally releasing her hand after realizing he still had her fingers clasped in his. She smiled and turned to leave, wheeling the buggy around from its resting position and onto the footpath. "Oh, and Agent Peña?" She turned halfway, throwing the words over her shoulder with a smirk. "Gabriela won't be available tonight, just so you know. We're meeting for dinner and general catching up."

His neck flushed hotly, both despite and because he'd had no intention of visiting her. 

"Thanks," he said stiffly, "Give her my best."

"Will do!"

Shaking his head, Javier watched her retreat until she disappeared from view behind a bend in the path.

-------------------------------------------------------

Further author’s note bc apparently I have more to say:

I’m gonna play a bit fast and loose with the timeline, because the show makes it look like Javi was sent back pretty much immediately and it only took those ~6 months to take down the cartel bosses, but in reality Escobar died in December of 1993 and the Calí godfathers weren’t arrested until summer of ‘95, so I’m sending Javi back to Colombia in the first half of ‘94 (April to be specific), meaning the time frame for this story is about a year

also I thought Maritza’s daughter in the series was still a baby, but upon rewatch it is actually stated in s2 ep4 that she’s two, and now I had to rewrite those parts. As to why she doesn’t speak, that’s actually something that will come up later and has nothing to do with my bad memory of the series. though tbh I probably assumed that because Olivia was a baby for like three years. (also according to the timeline I determined Maritza’s daugher would actually be between three and four at this point, but I’m going to disregard that. I’ve already had to age her up once and for the purposes of this story I need her to be still this little)

Chapter 2

[fae-fucker]

Review: There's Magic Between Us

by Jillian Maria

A diehard city girl, 16-year-old Lydia Barnes is reluctant to spend a week in her grandma’s small town. But hidden beneath Fairbrooke’s exterior of shoddy diners and empty farms, there’s a forest that calls to her. In it, she meets Eden: blunt, focused, and fascinating. She claims to be hunting fae treasure, and while Lydia laughs it off at first, it quickly becomes obvious that Eden’s not joking—magic is real. Lydia joins the treasure hunt, thrilled by all the things it offers her. Things like endless places in the forest to explore and a friendship with Eden that threatens to blossom into something more. But even as she throws herself into her new adventure, some questions linger. Why did her mom keep magic a secret? Why do most of the townspeople act like the forest is evil? It seems that, as much as Lydia would like to pretend otherwise, not everything in Fairbrooke is as bright and easy as a new crush…

I received a digital copy of the book in exchange for a review.

And here it is! Nearly a month late because I’m bad at time :)

But hey, that means the book is already out and you can go get it! Wee!

Also, here’s my review of Jillian Maria’s other book, The Songbird’s Refrain.

This review contains no spoilers aside from stuff that you can probably assume from the blurb, such as the existence of the fae and magic. Duh. Anyway, onward!

So, I’m gonna be straight with you fam, not that I can be anything else, but to spare any potential author their feelings and maybe prevent them from reading the review, not that that would happen, I hope:

This book was not for me.

Now, that doesn’t mean it was bad. Far from it, I think it’s pretty much exactly what it’s advertised as and anyone who thinks they might enjoy it will defo enjoy it. It’s a polished work of art that’s professionally written and presented, on par with and often above a lot of traditionally published stuff, and if you want a fluffy magical sapphic YA romance, this is for you.

But it wasn’t for me. Or, at least, I don’t think I’m the target audience. I enjoyed reading it, don’t get me wrong, but my enjoyment was always lukewarm, like I wasn’t quite getting the full experience. And that’s more on me than the book.

I won’t structure this review the way I usually do, mainly because I feel like my problems with the book are all intertwined and stem from the same source, which is ... I’m not sure? Genre? Target audience? Intent? All of the above?

The writing still carries the same sort of easy-to-read style that was present in The Songbird’s Refrain, though the main characters’ voices are obviously vastly different.

Overall, I liked the writing on a technical level, and I’m once again impressed with the author’s ability to avoid swear words, though Lydia is a bit more of a potty-mouth than Elizabeth was.

Lydia has a clear personality and voice, and one of my problems is that maybe it was a little too clear at times.

I know how that sounds, but it could be a side-effect of the book’s target audience being teens. Both Lydia and Eden have extremely defined and spelled-out character arcs. Lydia is too reckless and spontaneous and needs to chill, Eden is too chill and calculating and needs to let loose. A fine concept in theory, a good mirroring for a romance, but here, its execution feels a bit like a checklist? It’s basically spelled out for us how one influences the other, the character acknowledge their own flaws and at the end note how the other has changed them for the better, rounded them out. It didn’t feel very natural, and I thought it would’ve been better to leave that stuff implied since it was already pretty obvious.

It doesn’t help that both Lydia and Eden are far, far too mature for any sixteen-year-old I’ve ever met. They both recognize and acknowledge their feelings as irrational and apologize exactly for what they’ve done wrong, which sure, maybe is feel-good and a positive influence upon a teen reading this, but for me just felt a bit unrealistic. My favorite part of the book was when Lydia and Eden had a fight and Lydia stomped off all pissy and Eden refused to apologize later. It showed them being teens, individuals, idiots, flawed people who are growing up and learning to deal with their emotions. And then it’s somewhat undercut by them both having perfect apologies afterward where they know exactly what they did wrong just based on intuition? Like, complete with “here’s what I did wrong and why that was bad of me.” Idk, maybe JM was a better person as a teen than I was.

I really can’t say a lot about the other characters. The heroes of the story were all defined and had motivations and flaws of their own, while the antagonists were either a faceless mob, a faeceless mob (get it?), or just a dude who shows up in the last chapters and then is immediately dealt with. Compared to the antagonists in TSR, these guys felt a little underwhelming. They were set up from earlier in the story, of course, but their inclusion still felt a bit last-minute instead of a natural progression and integration into the fabric of the story.

And, again, I get it. This isn’t about the villains or that conflict. This is about the love story and the familial bonds and everything else comes after. Which is fine, but not something I personally found very compelling.

I think my favorite character was Eden, because she was cranky and awkward and flawed to a degree that felt right. She made mistakes but had her reasons, she was unlikable at times, and she felt grief and remorse.

I also liked Lydia’s mother, who, despite being in fear or pain for a lot of her on-page presence, still loved her daughter fiercely. She felt a lot like a real parent, even if her and Lydia’s relationship was a bit too saccharine for me to fully get behind.

Now let’s talk about the plot, or rather, the pacing, which was my other big problem with the book. The first third is very slow, my dudes. It may have contributed to why it took me so long to finish the book, a lot of it is just Lydia faffing about. The book is very light on magic stuff in the beginning, and it would’ve been fine if it didn’t do a whole 180 at the end and turned into a low-fantasy menacing mystery, complete with the vague threat of a human-fae war. I would’ve liked to have seen less Lydia and Eden faffing about and more of that magic plot, and while I understand that the focus of the first third was character-building, it still could’ve been done with a more balanced spread of plot vs character interaction.

But here’s where my personal tastes cloud my judgment. I’m not a young teen, so maybe I don’t see the value in more compassionate and understanding teen characters who could serve as role models. I’m not a WLW, so maybe I don’t see the value in two girls faffing about looking for a magic stick in the forest. I’m not a fluff-enjoyer (whatever the proper word for that is), so maybe the universally loving and positive characters just don’t land as well for me.

I can’t say that I hated this book, because I didn’t. In fact, I really enjoyed the latter half of it. I thought the fae were cool and interesting and felt disappointed there weren’t more of them in the story. Despite my grumbling, I do still appreciate what the book tried to do with the comfortable and loving family relationships between the characters and their relatives. I can see how this could help other readers and make them feel seen or perhaps soothe them when they don’t have the same thing in their lives.

I can see what this book was going for. I respect it, and I respect the work and effort and love put into it. It oozes from every word like a warm, sweet sludge.

But I’m covered in goop now. And my hands are all sticky.

This wasn’t for me. But maybe it can be for you. If you want to read a sweet, magical and well-written gay YA romance, this is for you. It was specifically made for you, made for someone who craves this but doesn’t see enough of it. This book is important for what it represents and for what it is. And I hope with all my heart you love it as much as it deserves to be loved, as much as it loves you for reading it.

[throwingideasatthewall]

Clone Wars     Shadow      Warriors

            Seas 4

Oh    this-   just    screams      edgy        ...   Whelp

So is Jar      Jar an     adult,       now,?            (Asking because before his    characteri         zation was force of nature to child

Now he    seems to have his own    personality.

Which is fine   if you want to change some details for the sake of a    better story,      (Or to simply      explore         a new       angle,).    Aesthetic

     Just.            need to make sure I’m holding them to the right standard,

    Okay,

   That-         was    relatively     adult,

  Mm

   Um.

   I

 Aight        .           .       Well-

   Wait 

    Did they just call Jar Jar     away from      Cou-ncil-

    .         I mean they are clearly    trying       which          is   some thing       I do       give credit   for-

   Though                The             Tone              Is            Robot-                 Ic-

       (Though that might be int-         entional since it seems to be hinting that this lady is practicing some kind of         mind tricks on him

   (Aka, he’s doing it         under           tox, because we don’t do suspension of choice in     dra-         mat         ic       Me-     -dia,

 S’up

 What?

  I-

  -

   H-elp

Screw my own   accou-   -ntability     -      See that was the correct   -amount of   emotion-

.        Okay        -         Right-

  Sus-       (pic)

    No one noticed the obvious people right there?

  Like not even      Mr. sus         there?

[or are they just so    kind that it’s like   oh yeah we were just talking hate speech     but go right ahead?

Logic?

 There

  Yeah    some shit is definitely going on,

   For sake of argument*     sake, i’m just going to assume that his reaction to      toxic    behavior

*Account     ability-

 Any way

  I-

  I’m still      going to try,

  Despite  you clearly saying you want understood

   Because assumed authority        - and assuming you know better than a person about themselves

     Is totally ok-

     - In this         society

-[Cries        in       sad    “accountability,”     -of-      war,        ]

  Whelp,

  In-    flue-     n      -c      e

 Still an  adult-

  Okay-

 Imagine    it was just a normal necklace     and he pulled that shit-

[Ok for the sake of argument I’m going to assume the necklace is symbolism for toxic influence,

  Being around it         enabling]

  It-         -       His voice voice dropped like         - 6 octaves

     Also I swear if they try to   excuse him      for his actions-

     No

    Mind over matter     -Okay, so they’re not excusing him for his   -actions,

   Me-          an         -       OK so it’s not naturally evil it    just comes down to the users      so that dude was still totally responsible,

  Didn’t    change    - much

    -     Ha-Ha

  Actual     gas     -lighting”

    Also     persuade,            -             Okay,     good not excusing him       from his actions,      -      Thing

The   gaslighting goes deep      -      Also isn’t the Darkside supposed to be      negative over involvement?      -       Aight-         -       -           A-lone

  Oh yeah that’s a great idea let’s just let the  dude that just got gaslighted and completely fell forward go back into the person who did it,

 👍

     Genius     

    (This Jedi Council is fucking                  brilliant)

     Gas-       Light-         Ing

(Note;      Confronting the gas lighter is never the way       to do it       (Inter-             Gen-)          (Excluding accountability of the abuser     (Gen-break           Venting Pro-      Ced- u        re)

 [as you’re usually too angry     to let them get a word in edgewise        And remain;           in control)

  With inter- gen productivity,         They are possibly given       five warnings before         Being          Kick        ed-]

   For the sake of argu-       ment as well       as simplicity-

    We’re stick       -ing with        bas-         ic-

    If someone’s acting toxic        with you, you         reflect and you don’t have to         hang out with anyone         you don’t want to,

    Logic

   This dude      is very clearly making it obvious that    he’s willing to listen to this person,

 And, enabling

“Cl-”

See he’s gaslighting him again      because   he thinks he can get away with it,

With no   accoun-       tability-

 (Or the small bit      this society      believes      in     which is    jail,”

Wr-

Oh!

 Is he a     Gungan      Jedi?

  Also,

  You Don’t  

    SAY!

(The repeated Gaslighter      who has shown multiple times to be     toxic,       Was toxic,    (And prepared to use any means to      subvert the         will? 

Prize  for the  most   in  competent      Je      di

 Like,        Serious-         (Really had to put those two    accoun  t-      ability- cells      to good -    use-”

(For   matting       issue-)

  The writer just saving us the effort of him coming downstairs -all feckin- weird, and the   obvious    “should’ve seen that coming,     “

   ?             ha-ha

    What?

Oh yeah       no the creepy magical stuff wasn’t enough of a      fecking clue in-

  Appar-

   Whelp-

  He   snapped out of that quick-

  Like didn’t even need a      reverse- mind trick

   Good for      him-

   And - actual-     nar-    rative-        -

   Whelp,

   Wreck-ing      -house

       Okay, but how do you think this is going to look to the general public like two Jedi,( very good at persuasion -    mind tricks’ -just showed up, now they’re leader and said Jedi are wreck-ing one of their minster’s houses-  

     One who could’ve     feign-           ed lack of support for the        war

     Like if this is a     set up-  

 the chips-      are about to fall,

 Da-

Okay, seriously how obviously evil,    was this person?

Like we have a weird creepy room,     The robots apparently hanging from the    chandelier    (eck)         And      the knife

   Like if this person      ever-       went-   through a checkpoint

   Also,        Oh-

    That-

   (That     really        does not      look good,)

    Bo-ss

   Yeah,       she clearly has    medical experience,

 (Also yeah    that’s really going to make it    better-”

 Oh yeah the    senator was      seen trying to clean up the      evidence-

    Well the Jedi ran out     full sword’s- a blazing

    (Instead of you know the       Senator chasing after him,         While the peacekeeper stayed behind and tried to        tend to the person,]

   Great     -        -       Or    Not-

Well- tensions    just got raised,

  Of,

 Ai.     Ght, 

 Whelp,

(Okay, no way he’s totally not dead      but sure-)

 A-i-

  -

 Whe-

   That-       sucks-          -         Un-     Con-cious

    That-   doesn’t tell me anything else-

   Like;        Critical      condition?

   D-usk

   Li-terally       no one else?

    (Like don’t get me wrong I’ve been a pretty big Jar-jar fan ever since the change-)

   But really, the Senator, the person that spends the most time away from your - planet

   That’s the person,     they trust the most?

  Ai-

  Hm-

Oh yeah just put on the deadly leaders hat-

   The rese-mblance-

   Not really?

   I mean all humans technically    look the same-

  But-

 Pretty sure Jar jar is a lot      scrawn-         thin        -er

    Also if they’re not going to listen to him as him       they’re not going to listen to him      as he pretends to be their (dead) leader

Also, please don’t go with the      liar revealed plot,

    Yeah no, they have completely different kind of light.   tones,

     The face structure-

    Co-mpletely         different-

     -

   Nope

 -Dead

 Di-ssent

  Agree

   I-

   OK yeah I’m just gonna go over the fact, that as previously state,  I am not a huge fan of the liar revealed plot-

    -or lying

  (No because it’s- unrealistic-    - or there’s anything wrong with it

  -people do lie

     -maybe because of how overdone and             poorly done it’s been,

             -With the liar getting off Scott free without any                  weight

               But I really don’t like this               plot-

-And    the   skip    button    maybe   used     ad-     nausuem-   -

       [Well- shit       [for reference; I was using the skip button ad nausuem when I randomly stopped at the part      with    Greivous

        Things just got a whole lot worse]

         [Tumblr             Refresh]       -

   Any        Way,

   Aww,     That’s kind of nice the    friendship and reliance       the dude has on      Other-        Half            -         Yes        ‘Boss       Leoni’        when someone gets         tox         you leave-        - In a      - relation          ship-  

      Also yeah he’s definitely not       ‘Boss         Leoni’            -            He would’ve stayed and tried to take the    tox

 (Aka Jar-jar is less ena-     bling, les-        tox-     And     Doesn’t       Take        It        For          Much        More.            Than            He            Has               To,

        (He’s   les   -s

      Dyfun.  -c)

      Okay

       Good            Job     -     Also - yeah   how’d you manage that         -         That-

Didn’t get   car   ried up the chain of   com-     mand-        -            Then again Gri-   evous has shown to be a pretty   shit boss.     -      So I can’t blame these guys    for being like yeah compl-      ete stranger     I will totally      take a nap       -right    ,now-         -      You        kinda      have      sticks-        -    [The rain is   really    nice,]

[is this the first time we’ve seen them use active     particle effects      for the camera?

  Either way       it’s really        nice            -

Oh,

They’re    

electric     sticks,

That makes   sense

[- bet     ter      for      Figh     t-      In-       g-

Stop one     1v1     -ing-        It

    I

  W-h

   Again this is what happens when you 1v1 it    and    don’t assume accountability-     - -   

 [Don’t fight a metal cyborg with metal sticks when you’re not prepared to take it, full way,)

   I-

  [I feel like this is supposed to be some    big build up but they only shared like one scene where dude was completely silent,]

  Like,

   Sacr-ifice

    Die to take someone out with you

[Great

  Now

   Ouch]

   Are   they actually going to kill off      grievous because this isn’t look-ing    too    - good      -         Shit-

 Dude-      is still not dead-       -       How?        -          Whelp-           -          Oh,    hey      where the fuck    did you come      from,

 I-           Ack.      Br-u-      Tal

W-el

 -       Un         -         M           -              Plan-

“ damn it        he messed up the       script-,           -Pal   - patine

     Cap-

    Prison   break-

   Also yeah     that’s probably like        a vacation    for him-

 Given     how toxic these assholes     are           -            Ex- change           -           Damn             Ship      per-

      Also screw the 150 or how many other                 sena   -tors        -       Only     Amidala           -      matters          -          A-       ight-     -      Also, dude knows where everyone’s      lair,      Is,

 Like he pissed off Grievous with    -his

 Now he’s just chilling in this      dude’s    sipping earl gray       Or-      Some        Shit-

  Him

  Okay

 Getting a little    ahead of yourself     episode-       -       O k

    I

   Hearing this,  Skywalker doesn’t immediately run back      shout        -ing      nope-        - -       Because, to my knowledge the speaking at      room volume,

  Not    whispering        and the distance        isn’t enough to      -explain it             -            Ai          -   -           Wel-             -      There goes one        min-ion-             -             Droids are apparently    expensive enough to      chastise    Grievous          over-

  But sen-tient - beings are        a dime’     a ‘dozen-

    (Also    gaslighter’s.     don’t give a shit about        you     dear,       God,

  The Painful     dramatic-        irony-

 *tra-      gic-      Wh-      -Oa

 Ai     -     Ri-

  An

  Wh-     -elp,

   You know if it wasn’t for the exposure     earl-        ier   

I would assume they would think that the Jedi was just killing all their Im-por-        tant- elected officials

     Why?

     Wh-at

    He’s right.    -         But dude- that’s pretty      ham fisted-

   I mean-

  How many episodes          (and       possibly        seasons-)      do we have to            go-            - -     Anakin-       is a dick    to lanterns-       -        Also the random theme of the     bots-      coming out of nowhere-    continues-       -     St     -op-          -        Wh-       elp-

    .

    ?         (He          live?)

      I-

      ?

  Good           Play-

     Ah-

    To-

       Oh, yeah,       He’s alive we’re not going to bring that up in any      mention-able way?

      Ike

    Wh     e     l-      p

     Oh           -     That was   -nice-

   You deceived everyone and lied to all          our people,  you’ll make a great      leader,

   Or a great council/    committee leader considering that they do have an open position          ,            Best

I like that they had one bad ass fall and had it replace-d by Dooku being particularly bad-ass       -          In his      place-

In the trade off near the end really speaks to the     frag-ility of war

   I thought-

   It was pretty al-right    Though it really did seem like     - they were trying to build up to something but the structure unfortunately        just didn’t support it,

   Which is unfortunate because they do seem like      bits- that could’ve been nice

   Like Jar-jar being a constant       peacekeeper-

   The underwater        nations-

     Wars be-           tween          - Those               Dude’s

   And that    general guy      -        Who seems to be like he was supposed to be this     - really big deal

 [probably intended to do something      massive in the previous       arcs,]

    But, here,    all he did was that one scene,

    [Would’ve worked better if he was like this Re-       Public Gen-       Er          Al-

    To the      shark guy-

     And Akbar,

     Was just like the resident         enforcer-

     Or something to do with the       prince

    I think it would’ve really worked better with the concept of        ‘being taken’        under,               As well that possibly being a good contrast between     Jar Jar         binks          And        Char-        If Jar- jar got promoted-        With Char being eager at first but then realizing he just         can’t-          And Jar- Jar being reluctant at first but realizing he      can-

   [Note; assumed authority is bad,         Just- some people are better at using it for venting         than others)

   Nope boomers vs throw-         it-back, boom-

       I-

     And it really did feel like this episode       -should’ve been the split one 

   Nearing the end- it started to feel like the 1st-       part of a second ep-

    Which is fine

    Just cut-        of-

   Episode all around being al-right, with just several parts that didn’t make quite sense including the emphasis on the general for that one scene,

[bi-outta-cordonia]

Takeshi and the Five

I got my tin foil hat on backwards and I’m ready to fucking party. This is gonna be a long one so most of it is gonna be stuck under a read more. So let’s begin:

BB today, amirite?? Shit got fucked and got fucked fast but the only person I’m really worried about is Jax and everyone closest to him. And by everyone, I mean there might be some really interesting things that could potentially explain his mentor, Takeshi Watanabe’s backstory. In today’s chapter, Jax reveals a piece of information that Takeshi told him long ago and made him swear not to say anything about: Kano, a 500 year old psychic vampire was in Japan and, despite his efforts to respect his mentor’s wishes, Jax tells the group about Kano hoping he might be able to help unlock MC’s powers to help them stop Rheya. 

What we know about Takeshi is that 700 years ago, he served a powerful woman in the middle of feudal Japan. This woman was Aiko Nakamura:

She was a powerful clan head that somehow came into contact with Gauis and Kamilah during this era. They seemed to provide services to her clan, slaughtering her enemies and helping her clan gain control of various territories. In the midst of this, her father wound up passing away, passing on the title to her and leaving her in control of her clan. She developed a relationship with Kamilah but was able to determine that Gauis and Kamilah were not exactly who they said they were, that they weren't human. 

After a particularly hard fought battle, Aiko summoned her soldiers and had Gaius and Kamilah divulge the truth under threat of death. They revealed to her that they were immortal and only sought to build a home for creatures like them. Sensing an opportunity, the two of them promised Aiko power beyond imagining. She could become immortal, unkillable to her enemies and conquer those that would stand against her. She took that deal. 

And it seems that Takeshi did as well. 

The one thing that seems to be evading us at this moment is how Takeshi went from this:

To this:

He was a samurai that served a distinguished lady and powerful family. More importantly, he was a vampire that was originally from Japan who somehow wound up in America and started a revolution of sorts with the hopes of killing the New York Council. So how did this happen? What led from point A to point B?

My theory is this: Takeshi may have served Aiko for some time but when he accepted the gift of vampirism, later down the road things changed as society changed and he was given power he had not possessed while living in service of Clan Nakamura as a human. He was given power and prestige, control that his mortal self had not known. He was given a spot on that led to him becoming one of the Five of Japan.

What we know of the Big Five comes from Jameson’s notes on them and, what Jameson did know was not a whole lot. The Big Five were secretive and did not find themselves getting involved in global affairs all that much:

They built a vampire kingdom that predates the American kingdom’s level of freedom. They also seem to have relatively powerful vampires within their midst: 

I think Takeshi was given a place amongst these vampires, possessing power as an elder and holding reign over vampires that flocked to the Five and adhered to their demands. Aiko seems a woman who is ambitious and desires power for herself and the Five seemed content with having their kingdom without outside interference messing with their kingdom. I think a big part of how they were able to set up their kingdom came with Kamilah and Gaius’s help. The two of them sought to build homes in places outside of Europe, where vampires were subjected to attacks from the Order of the Dawn on a constant basis. The Five were likely among one of the first shadow kingdoms that were able to establish themselves having power in the same sectors that the Order held power in Europe--politics, infrastructure, and the like. 

I think Takeshi was a part of this. I think he may have been immersed in it for some time. He could partake in the same pleasures that many of the wealthy vampires we’ve come across can. As much blood as he wants, all the flesh he could indulge in but a mere snap of a finger away--I think he may have enjoyed the power he had for some time or at least reveled in it.

But given his personality? The kind of person we come to know him as? I don’t think he’s always seen it as something that should be so easily given. 

I think the Five of Japan could be as terrible as the New York Council. I think that they held power over life and death itself. I think that vampires within their shadow kingdom had to essentially grovel for mercy and prostrate on hands and knees for the right to keep their lives to some of the most powerful creatures in all of Japan. I think it may have disgusted him after a time. I think Takeshi has always been a man that was not afraid of shedding blood and fighting, but the obsession with power? The need for it? It was never in his heart the way it was for the others. 

I think he may have had a falling out with the Five, but most especially Aiko. He likely served her clan out of honor. He likely joined her amongst the Five to honor his bond with her. But I don’t think he was built to be as ruthless as she was. As willing to do what it takes to obtain power of all things. 

He was a man that focused on justice above all. Doing the right thing may not have come easy but he endeavored to do it when he could. 

I think this falling out led to him leaving Japan and leaving the Five. I think he crossed the seas and found himself in New York City. He likely knew of Gaius setting up a shadow kingdom in America. He likely knew of Gaius’s temperament and the kind of person that he was. He would’ve heard about Gaius being killed by his progeny and a council sitting place rather than a king as Gaius intended. 

I think when he arrived, he heard of the New York Council and had hope that things would be better. 

When he arrived he found out that things were not. 

The six clans of New York were divvied up between all of Gaius’s progeny, people who found themselves drowning in wealth beyond imagining and who held control in various sectors of power within America. Priya LaCroix, entertainment head and mistress of the night; Adam Vega, political prodigy; Lester Castellanos, head of industry; Cecil Romano IV, the “Baron,” and king of the criminal element; Adrian Raines, former soldier and technological lifeline of the New York Council; and Kamilah Sayeed, Gaius’s former queen and butcher--

Their rule was tight and their decisions were final. Only a handful of vampires were given the honor of making up their clans, around 30 between each of them. But Takeshi would’ve seen the masses that made up the unaccounted for. The ignored. 

While the Council held reign, their vampires held everything but self-control. Members of their clans would feed on unwilling humans, often times draining them of all their blood and murdering them outright. In the streets, those that survive may find themselves returning to life as Clanless. Vampires with no brand and no one to support them during such a trying time. Worse yet, while these Clanless vampires walked about, their very existence is deemed a threat to the greater community. Takeshi would’ve known about the ferals. He would’ve seen firsthand what happens to vampires who exist without a proper brand and what must be done with them. 

He would’ve come to America and seen the way the New York Council turns a blind eye to the atrocities their branded vampires commit and how they would condemn those that were unfortunate enough to become their victims to brutal deaths. He would’ve been in America during the last clan war that rocked the city. He would’ve seen all the helpless Clanless victims that the Council’s vampires left behind. He would’ve Turned many of them in the hopes of saving their lives. And in the hopes of forcing violent change. 

It was just like with the Five. Power remained everything and those that held it abused it gleefully. Takeshi was a man of honor, a man who valued justice and had seen enough bloodshed in his life that it would’ve boiled his blood to see these things happening and know that the New York Council was fine with doing absolutely nothing. 

He would’ve formulated a plan. He would’ve sought to undo the damage that the pursuit of power had done to those living back home in Japan. 

Along the way, he saved a young man’s life, another victim of the Council’s indifference:

And he finds himself mentoring this young man. He teaches him how to defend himself. He nurtures the man’s background of justice and freedom at any cost. He guides him when he has nothing left. He essentially takes the young man on as a student, as a son. 

Takeshi tells the young man about his past, though not all of it. He talks about a powerful woman he once knew:

And the gift he received for his loyalty. He speaks about the influence of the group that eventually came to be in Japan:

And a psychic with power beyond anything he had ever come to know:

But most importantly, Takeshi tells him that no matter what happens, the young man needs to remember the reason for why they are fighting. For why they are doing this. He tells him it’s because no one deserves to live a life under the boot heel of those that ascribe themselves superficial power. He tells him it’s because everyone deserves the chance to live a life of their own choosing. 

But what he doesn’t say? Is that they do this because he refuses to let his past mistakes reflect in a blossoming kingdom that could truly be a place of complete freedom for vampires.

I think Takeshi was a part of the Five of Japan and I so look forward to seeing his history laid before us. I look forward to seeing Jax tell us about Takeshi and for us to learn the truths that Takeshi could not reveal to Jax. I look forward to seeing the conclusion of Jax’s story and hope that it will be delivered in a manner deserving of him. 

Takeshi Watanabe and the Five of Japan. Jax Matsuo and perhaps the end of his story. I’m terribly excited.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me - Chapter 21

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​

“Hi mommy!” Millie cheerfully greets, as Esme journeys towards where her daughter sits on the shoreline, clad in one of her many bathing suits, head and most of her face covered by an oversized floppy sunhat. She’s the happiest when by –or right in- the water; calm and relaxed, that edge she always seems to carry softened and almost nonexistent.  

The ocean is a powerful antidote for all that ails you. Even Esme finds  that the mere sound of the waves and the smell of the salt that hangs in the air helps in easing the burden of the stress and worries that she often carries. And as beautiful as they are and how majestic the view from her back deck had been, that’s a feat even the mountains had never been able to accomplish.

“What are you doing?” she inquires, as she crouches down beside Millie, the little girl turning her face up for a kiss.

“Just stuff,” Millie replies, and turns a bucket of wet sand upside, adding it to the ‘castle’ that she’s already constructed. “Daddy said to stay here and not to go in the water without him.”

“And you actually listened? I’m impressed.”

“Well I don’t want a shark to eat me,” Millie explains, using the back of her sand covered hand to push wayward strands of hair out of her face.   “Daddy said that sharks like little girls with blue eyes and light brown hair the best. ‘Cause we taste like watermelon and that’s their favorite.”

Her mother smirks. “And you actually believed him?”

“Oh course! Daddy wouldn’t lie. And I’m not taking any chances. I do not want to get eaten by a shark.”

Esme glances over her shoulder, to where her husband is flat on his back, sprawled out in the middle of blanket; arms loose and relaxed at his sides, sunglasses on. “Is he dead?”

“God, I hope not,” Mille moans. “’Cause he’s the good cook and I’m getting hungry.” She wipes the sand from her palms onto her thighs, then cautiously lifts the edge of the receiving blanket that protects her baby sister –laying along her mother’s arm- from the brilliant sunshine.  “Hi Addie,” she presses a kiss to one tiny foot, followed by the other, then fixes the blanket.  “She’s awake. I think she smiled at me.”

“Well she likes you. You’re her big sister. You’re the one that used to talk to her and read her stories all the time when she was still in my belly. She probably recognizes your voice.”

“I hope so. And I hope she knows I’m not annoying like the other ones.”

“Your brothers are not THAT bad.”

“Oh, yes they are, mommy. I mean, I’d miss them if they weren’t here anymore. But they’re little assholes.”

“Amelia...”

“I know,” she sighs dramatically. “Bad language. I’m trying. I really am. It’s so hard though!”

“Especially when you’re around your dad as much as you are and he  has absolutely zero filter left.”

“He is totally a bad influence,” Millie agrees. “We had fun today. We went shopping and had ice cream and daddy made me buy him two blue Gatorades at the dollar store ‘cause we ended up being in there forty minutes instead of twenty. But I had to get glitter and paper so...” she shrugs. “He’s going to help me make birthday invitations.”

“He actually agreed to that?”

“Yup,” she sounds so much like her father, even with that one simple word. “He’ll do anything I want. Anything.”

“Except wear the tiara.”

“Oh, it’ll happen. He will wear the tiara. And I’m going to take a picture when he does and you’re going to put it on your Instagram.”

“I don’t think he’ll like that.”

“Oh well. He put the video of you up when you were sleeping and he gave you the wet willy.”

“That’s right. He did.”

“It’s only fair, mommy. He did you dirty. Now you have to do the same to him. I think you deserve revenge.”

“You know what I think?” Esme reaches under the hat to tuck hair behind Millie’s ears. “I think you’re an evil genius.”

“I don’t know if I’m evil, but I’m definitely a genius. You know,” she appears pensive for a moment. “Now that I think about it, I must be adopted.”

Esme laughs. “You’re a little savage.”

“I learn from the best,” Millie declares, then frowns as she notices her mother’s choice in foot apparel.  “Mommy, what the hell? Why are you wearing socks on the beach?”

“I don’t like the sand between my toes. You know that.”

“That is just weird.”

“I swear, if you start sounding or acting any more like your father...”

“I’m sorry. His DNA was stronger. It’s not my fault. It’s why I’m so awesome.”

“You definitely need to stop listening to him so much,” she lifts the brim of the hat and presses a kiss to her daughter’s cheek before standing up and wandering over to where her husband lies. “Are you alive?” she asks, digging her toes into his side, right between two of his ribs. “You better be because I haven’t gotten the chance to renew your life insurance policy yet.”

“What you would you get?” he responds. “Twenty bucks?”

“Twenty bucks?” she scoffs and settles down on the blanket besides him; placing Addie on his chest and stretching her legs out in front of her. “That’s generous. That’s ten more than what they offered.”

Tyler smirks. “Well one thing’s for sure. I can at least die knowing you didn’t marry me for money.”

“We had like what? A few hundred bucks between the both of us when you got out of the hospital? It’s safe to say neither of us were in it for financial gain.”

It had been incredibly easy to blow through nearly every cent either of them had in the bank, including whatever had been sitting in savings.  The first two weeks after Dhaka had been spent in a hospital in Mumbai, and Nik had refused to cough up the money to even cover a small part of the bill, citing that she couldn’t access private funds within the company, and there simply wasn’t anything left from the first and only payment they’d received from Mahajan Senior. In the end, neither Tyler nor Esme had received a penny from the Dhaka job, adding insult to grievous injury. Even transport to Australia had to be paid for out of pocket, and it had wiped out both of their checking accounts.  

Their start to their new life had been rough; a new apartment with barely any furniture in it, two months of inpatient therapy with only weekend visits home allowed, a baby on the way.  All while still trying to get to know each other outside of those five days in the dirty hotel room in Dhaka. But they’d gotten through it; every fight brought on by frustration, disappointment, and pain. Every harsh word spoken out of guilt and regret. Every time they didn’t know how they’d be able to put food on the table or properly take care of a baby once she arrived. But things slowly started getting better. Her old boss had contacted her saying she was owed a large chunk of money for previous work she’d done for him, even though she’d known full well it was just generous gift on his behalf. Then a check had come in the mail from Saju’s wife. Enough to cover six months' worth of rent and still have some left over. They’d never found out how she even knew who they were, let alone how she tracked them down.  

To this day, they’ve never actually spoken or met face to face. But once every three months an email arrives from Neysa, complete with pictures of her now teenage boy and an update on how they’re doing. No mentions of whereabouts; even behind bars, Mahajan Senior has a lot of pull in not just Mumbai, but all of India. His influences stretch far and wide, and almost seven years later, Saju’s inability to get Ovi away from Tyler and his eventual death is still viewed as a catastrophic failure.  It didn’t matter that his son had been rescued from Asif or brought home safely. Or that lives had been lost and others altered forever. Even Tyler, despite stepping up and giving Ovi a relatively normal life and the family that he both wanted and deserved, is regarded as an enemy. He was the one that stood in Saju’s way, after all, and more than once through the years Mahajan Senior has commented: “you don’t know how to die, do you”.  

****

“I think if we got through that first year intact, we can get through anything,” Esme comments.  

“That was a pretty shitty twelve months,” Tyler agrees, as he lays his palm on Addie’s back and wraps an arm around his wife’s waist, hand coming to rest on her hip. “There was some good stuff too. I mean, we got married and had Millie. But for the most part...”

“It was pure crap,” she finishes for him, and he nods. “But now look!” she cheerfully exclaims. “If anyone had have told you back then that this is where we’d be now, would you have believed them? That we would have gotten this far? Everyone was against us. Everyone. Nik, most of my family. And we’re the ones getting the last laugh. We’re the ones that are still together while their lives are shit. Is it wrong how happy that actually makes me? That we get to sit back and watch their lives fall apart?”

“Maybe a little bit wrong,” he says with a grin. “But I get it. There’s someone I wish was still here so I could rub it in their face.”

“Gaspar?”

He nods.  

“He did not like me for some reason. Kept calling me ‘that girl’ or ‘the girl’ even when I was in the room. What was up with that? I mean, other than the fact he was a complete sociopath.”

Tyler shrugs. “He was just protective I guess.”  

He doesn’t want to talk about it; Gaspar, the ten million dollars offer to give up her and Ovi. It still haunts him; how calm and callous the other man had been about the whole thing. As if it wasn’t two human beings that he was willing to sacrifice for the almighty dollar.  And he knows he’ll never tell her. The whole truth behind what had happened that night. What good would it do? Telling her that she’d come dangerously close to being thrown at Asif’s feet. The outcome would have been horrific; rape, torture, unbelievable abuse and cruelty. It’s bad enough that those thoughts still plague him. She doesn’t need them weighing her down.  And he’s thankful when she changes the subject.

“She wore you out, didn’t she,” Esme comments, a hand over her eyes; sheltering them from the sun as she watches Millie happily playing in the surf.

“She’s like having ten kids rolled into one. I’m starting to understand why her teacher is so tired at the end of the day. Millie plus twenty others?”

“Twenty? There’s thirty kids in her class.”

“What the fuck? Thirty?”

“Look, things have changed since you used to travel by horse and buggy to your one room schoolhouse.”

“You know what...” he slides his hand up to her side, then pinches the sensitive spot below her ribs.

“Ow! You shit head!” Esme cries, and then shrieks when his fingers did in just above the hip. Aggressively tickling her until she’s flat on her back; kicking and squirming and squealing for mercy.  Laughing until she succumbs to loud, painful hiccups. “You’re a dick!” she dramatically pouts and directs an elbow into his side;  still allowing him to draw her tightly against him, a hand coming to rest on the back of her head as he presses a kiss to her temple. “You almost made me pee myself,” she complains, as she rests her head on his shoulder and places her hand over his as its sits on Addie’s back.

“That’s what you get for making an old man joke.”

“I hear that getting extremely sensitive about aging is the first sign of senility,” she teases, and places a kiss just below ear, then to the scar on the side of his neck. And she pulls back to look at it, tracing a finger over the surface.

It’s almost seven years old now but has just begun to appear not as dark or swollen.  It will always be there; no matter much if softens. A lasting reminder of how close to death he’d actually come. Even now there are days where she can barely stand to look at it; filled with either immense sorrow or rage. And others where she feels nothing at all. Where it’s nothing more than one of the various battle wounds that take up residence on his body. She knows every single one and the stories behind them; able to find them with and trace them with her eyes closed.

“It’s really starting to change,” she comments, and then lays her hand on the side of his face and turns his head towards her, kissing him softly.

“It doesn’t both you are much anymore.” It’s more a statement than a question.  

“It never bothered me because of what it looks like. It’s never been about that. It bothered me because of what it represents.”

“You and I do not like at the same way. It reminds you of the end. Or what was almost the end. It reminds me of the beginning.”

She smiles at that and leans in to nuzzle the tip of his nose against his ear. Closing her eyes as she rests her forehead against his cheek, his hand moving from the small of her back to the nape of her neck and then higher; kissing her as he combs his fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face and off her shoulders.

“You guys aren’t making babies, are you?!” Millie calls, her voice dripping with disgust. “I do not want another brother!”

Tyler chuckles. “This is not how babies are made,” he assures her. “Sometimes it starts out like this and then leads to babies being made.”

His wife scowls. “Don’t touch her things. What’s wrong with you? Amelia, we talked about this. It is not possible to have any more babies. Your dad got neutered.”

“What the fuck?” Tyler mutters. “Don’t tell her that.”

“What do you want me to tell her? You got the snip and had to lie on the couch for two days with a bag of frozen peas on your crotch?”

“You know how you always threaten me with sleeping on the couch? You keep pushing your luck, you’re going to end up there.”

“A full eight hours without you snoring or talking in your sleep? Sign me up. Awww...baby...” she gives a dramatic pout and places a series of kisses along his jaw. “...did I hurt your feelings? Did I upset your delicate sensibilities? I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“I can think of one way that I’ll accept.”

“We only do that once a year. It’s not our anniversary yet. So no, not going to happen. Anything other than THAT.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “Anything?”

“I don’t like that look you get when you ask that.”

“You trust me?” he asks.

“I’m not sure right about now.”

“Just trust me. I’ll go easy on you. I promise.”

She frowns. “You’re not even going to tell me what it is?”

“Nope. You’ll find out. Once the kids go to bed. It’s not that bad, I swear. I wouldn’t do anything that would hurt you or freak you out. It’s tame. For me, anyway.”

“Even at your tamest you’re dirty. With a capital D, so...”

“Trust me,” Tyler implores, then gives her a long, slow kiss before sitting up; one hand on the back of Addie’s head, the other on her bum. Grimacing at the pain that settles in his shoulder and the stiffness in his back. Some days it’s bearable; he can get by without popping any pain meds and time in the water or even standing under a hot shower is all the help her needs. Other days he can barely get out of bed and there isn’t enough medication in the world to even take the edge of. The lasting and crippling souvenir of a hard, punishing life.  

“You need to go and get that checked,” Esme scolds, as she kneels behind him, a palm pressed between his shoulders as she digs the fingers of the other hand into the most troublesome spot: to the right of the spine, on the edge of the shoulder blade. She doesn’t even need to ask anymore. She just knows. Every spot that aches, every trigger point that send pain and numbness shooting his entire arm and settling into his fingers.

“I probably should have gotten it checked when we first moved here.”

“You think, Tyler? You really think? You know what I think? I think we’ve far surpassed it just being a separated shoulder.”

“A fucked up shoulder is more like it,” he says through gritted teeth, then stretches his legs out in front of him and places Addie on his thighs.

“You were supposed to take it easy after the replacement surgery. Not go back to what caused all of the damage in the first place.”

“I don’t need to hear this.”

“Well, you’re going to hear it.”  She wraps her arm around his neck, resting it along his collarbone as she digs her thumb into the most sensitive and painful area of the muscle. Causing a litany of profanities to spill from his mouth; loud enough for Millie to stop what she’s doing and glance over her shoulder, a concerned frown on her face.  “Why did you wait so long?” Esme sighs. “I told you when you got back from New Zealand to go and have it looked at.”

“I just thought it was separated,” he speaks through clenched teeth, his eyes closed. “Then I thought maybe it was just the arthritis flaring up. Now...”

“Something is totally fucked in there. I can feel something moving around. And there’s a lot of clicking and popping going on. You’re probably going to need surgery. Again.”

“Okay Miss Negativity. I don’t need to hear this.”

“You’re going to hear it, you stubborn shit head. What are you going to do if it gives out while you’re training Ovi? Or worse. When you go and rescue his sorry ass. Then what?”

“First, I’m going to dope myself up and hope for the best. Second, there’s no guarantee that I’m going to have go and bail him out of trouble. Let’s just get past the first part, yeah?”

“You’re going to pass the first part because you didn’t go and get your shoulder looked at when you should have. You need to stop worrying about everyone else and take care of yourself for a change.”

“That’s rich. You of all people saying that. Okay....stop...stop...fuck...” he drops his head to his chest; sweat beats across his forehead and trickles down his temples.  

“Are you okay?” She leans in and pecks his cheek. “You look like you’re going to puke.”

“I feel like I’m going to puke.”

“Seriously, Tyler, you need to go and get looked at. I’m not fucking around. Enough is enough. Stop being so...I don’t know...so YOU.”  Heaving a sigh, she sits down beside him one again, one hand rubbing his back comfortingly, the other softly stroking his thigh. “Go and get it check,” she begs. “Please.”

“Nothing can be done about it right now anyway. It would have to wait until the shit with Ovi is done. Then I’ll go. As soon as it’s finished.”

“You better. Because I’m not above being the kind of wife that makes your doctor's appointments for you. You’re worse than the kids sometimes, I swear. They actually listen better than you do.”

“I know. I’m a pain in the ass.”

“Huge. A huge pain in the ass,” she concedes, then tousles his hair. “Did you know Kyle didn’t come home last night?”

He removes the receiving blanket from Addie’s face, smiling down at her as he leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I didn’t know he lived here now.”

“He walked Salena home and never came back. Not until you and Millie left to go into town. You know what that means?”

“He got more action than I did last night?”

“It means that there’s trouble in paradise. Or hell. However you want to look at him and Nik.”

“I don’t look at them at all, so...”

“What is the hold she has on you guys? We’ve established she’s not good in bed. She doesn’t give head so it’s not that either. She doesn’t even have big boobs or a nice ass.”

“First, she doesn’t have a hold on me. She never has. She was there if I wanted it. That’s it. No strings attached. I’d fuck her, she’d leave. That’s as far as it went. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Were your standards that low?”

“I was taking Oxy with booze. What do you think?”

“I think I came along at the right time.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“You have to admit, Kyle is way too good for her.”

“Don’t drag me into this. I don’t care what either of them do. He wants to marry Nik, let him marry Nik. Who gives a shit? Don’t take it so personally. Do I think it’s fucked he’d hook up with someone that cause shit between us? Of course, I do. But if he's that stupid, he deserves to be miserable.”

“We’d be related to her,” Esme points out.

“And? We’d never have to see her. You think they’d come here all the time or something? Nik would never settle down here. Ever. Trust me.”

“Kyle wants to. Settle down here.”

“He’d never win against her. Stop worrying so much her so much. Yeah, she caused a lot of shit. Or tried to. But it didn’t work and us being together and being happy and having a family? That’s the best revenge against her. Your brother’s a big boy. Let him do what he wants. You can’t stop him from fucking up his life.

“He’s my brother.”

“And? Your brother knowingly got with someone who tried to ruin your life. If you ask me, he deserves whatever shit show he gets with Nik.”

“But...” she runs her fingertips along the top of his hand, then along the smooth metal of his wedding band. “...if we could get him hooked up with Salena....”

“I’m not getting him hooked up with anyone. Leave me out of this. You shouldn’t even be involved in this. We’re adults for fuck sake. Can we concentrate on our own relationship and our kids? Because those two things are all that matters to me.”

“I didn’t realize we were having problems to concentrate on.”

“Did I say there were problems? Other than I think you should mind your own business? Stop...” he drapes his arm across her shoulder and pulls her into him, kissing her temple. “...let’s just worry about what us and what goes on in our own house. Who cares what your brother is doing or who he’s doing it with. He can handle his own shit. He does not need you getting involved.”

“I just think...”

“Esme...”

“...that he...”

“Stop,” he gently orders, then tangles his fingers in her hair and draws her into a kiss. Longer time and more intense; closed mouth upon closed mouth. And the tip of his tongue just brushes against her top lip before he pulls away.

“Okay...” she sighs, and grins when she feels him kiss the tip of her nose. “...that was...nice...”

“Nice? Just nice?”

“Well I can’t show you just HOW nice because there’s little people here. But trust me. It was better than nice.”

“Just let it go. This thing with Nik and your brother.  If he fucks up, he fucks up. He’ll learn his lesson. Let’s just concentrate on us.”

“I hate to break it too you, honey, but if we haven’t been able to concentrate on just us in almost six years. Five kids, remember? Do we even exist outside of being parents anymore? Because I don’t remember the last time it was ‘just us’. And I’m not talking about sex, for the record. So let’s not get into that conversation again. When is the last time we actually went somewhere without out kids?”

“Well it was just you and I in the bathroom this morning while I took a leak and you brushed your teeth.”

“That was a really nice three minutes of connecting with you, I must say. I’ll see you again in another what? Five, six years?”

“You wanted a big family. I was fine with three.”

“Pardon me? You’re the one who wanted a fourth and a fifth. You’re the one who talked me into it, remember? You wanted a half dozen kids and a stay at home wife and I was more than willing to give you what you wanted. So don’t start with that.”

“That means there’s one more to go if we agreed to half a dozen.”

“Oh no!” she laughs. “Don’t you even dare. I am done. I am babied out. You want another one, you go find yourself a second wife to give you more kids. Because this wife is done.”

“One more wouldn’t hurt.”

“It would hurt my vagina, okay. It’s seen five kids already. It’s a hot mess down there.”

“A SEXY hot mess,” he grins, and nudges her playfully with his elbow.  

“You are like the most biased husband on the planet and I love you so fucking much for it,” she wraps her arm around his neck and presses a noisy kiss to his cheek. “No wonder I keep you. You do wonders for my ego.”

“So one more?” He hopefully attempts.

“You’re insane. Why would you go and get the operation done and then decide three months later you made a mistake? Why didn’t you just hold off until after Addie and then we had this discussion?”

“I thought we were done. That was it. Five.”

“Because we agreed we were done. And now you’re changing your mind. Just like you did when Declan was supposed to be the last one. What is wrong with you? What is this overwhelming obsession to breed?”

“It’s not an obsession. I just...I don’t know...” he shrugs, fingers fidgeting with the hem on Addie’s sundress. “...I just want to leave something good behind when I go, I guess.”

“And you’ve made five very good things. Five very beautiful and healthy and incredible things. So why...?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats. “I just wouldn’t mind one more. Even it out.”

“She’s only three weeks old,” Esme reminds him.

“I didn’t say I want one right now. I mean eventually. A year from now. Two years from now.”

“That is not what you’re thinking, and I can tell. That is not what’s going on in your head, Tyler.  This started as soon as all this Ovi crap came about. As soon as you agreed to get back into things, you started thinking about this, didn’t you.”

“Maybe...”

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” She combs her fingers through his hair, presses a kiss to his cheek. “That beautiful, troubled mind.”

“I don’t know,” Tyler admits.“I just thinking about if things go wrong...if I have to help Ovi and things just get even worse...what have I left behind? Did I do enough? Did my life mean anything?”

“Your life means so much more than you think. To me. To your kids.  Don’t ever doubt that, please. You will have left so much behind. You helped make five amazing little human beings. Who adore you and worship you and think you’re the most amazing man in the entire world. And you know what?”  She curls both arms around one of his “I think you are most amazing, beautiful man in the world, too. You don’t realize it, but you saved me just as much as I saved you. Don’t ever doubt how important you are to me. Or your kids. Okay?”

He nods and places a kiss to her brow before resting his forehead against hers. Sometimes even the biggest and the strongest need to feel appreciated and validated. Even if they’d never admit it out loud.

“And as far as this sixth kid thing goes, can you give me at least a few months? Because right now I’m worn out and sometimes I don’t even know if I can handle the five I already have.”

“Well for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty fucking amazing.”

“You really are the most biased husband on the planet,” she grins.

“It doesn’t make it less true. And speaking of five kids, where’s The Ginger?”

“He didn’t want to come home from Salena’s and I was not dealing with the tantrum that would have ensued if I’d have forced him. You might be able to carry him all the way from there to here, but he’s damn heavy and I’m not even attempting it.  I told her that you’d come and get him after dinner.”

Tyler groans. “You’re going to send me over there? Do you know what I had to deal with yesterday when she came by here? Twice? Do you know she was checking out my dick?”

“She told me. She’s hardly shy in case you haven’t noticed. She wanted to know how I haven’t been split in two yet.”

“Jesus Christ...”

“What? Sometimes I wonder myself. Are you blushing? Holy shit. Is Tyler Rake blushing? I’ve seen it all now. You’re not usually like this. You usually don’t mind when a woman checks you out.”

“They’re usually not checking out my dick and my wife isn’t usually talking to them about my dick, so...”

“Baby, just so you know, I brag about every part of you. Not just your dick. Did Kyle call?”

“That was a weird transition. Why does he talk about my dick too?”

“I’d be very worried and disturbed if he did. I was wondering where our other children are. If he’s actually surviving out there somewhere with them or if you turned off your cell so he wouldn't call for help...”

“He left a voicemail. Said he’d have them home before bedtime. I said to keep them for a few days but...” he shrugs. “...he didn’t agree to that. Sorry. I tried.”

“You know what means? For the first time since Declan was born, testosterone is not in charge of the house. Now it’s estrogen.  Oh my God, you poor man.”

“You’re not PMS’ing, so I’m okay. I’ve survived almost seven years of that shit every month. I can survive one night.”

“We’ll see about that,” she gives him a wink, then places her hands on his shoulders to help push herself up onto her feet. “I’m getting too old for this shit. You’re going to be picking me up and carrying me to the house one of these days. I think I’m falling apart too.  Millie!” she calls to her daughter. “Let’s go and cleaned up. Daddy’s taking us out on a date.”

Tyler grins. “He is, is he?”

“When you do ever get to go to dinner with two and a quarter beautiful women?”  

“There was this one time in Thailand...”

“No one wants to hear about your conquests, Tyler. And by no one, I mean me.”

“Daddy...” Mille stomps over. “...did you see this shit?” she wildly gestures towards her mother’s feet with the plastic shovel in her hand.

“Millie, just don’t ask. Let your mom be as weird as she wants. I’m used to it.”

“Socks on the beach!” Millie huffs. “What the hell, mom.”

Tyler smirks, and clutches Addie to his chest with one hand, offers the other to Millie and lets her think she’s pulling him to his feet. “I bet you’re extra glad my DNA was stronger the day you were made, aren’t you?”

“So glad,” Millie agrees, and then shrieks when he scoops her effortlessly with one hand, giggling hysterically and her legs kicking as he tucks her under his arm, carrying her ‘football style’.  

“You know...” Esme muses, as she curls an arm around his waist. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe things will go okay. With Ovi.”

“They will,” he promises. And hopes that those words sound more convincing to her ears than they do to his own.

[cincinnatusvirtue]

Owain Glyndwr and the Battle of Bryn Glas (1402): Welsh independence seems a reality...

For a country of small size and population like Wales, its people will punch above their proverbial weight in terms of national pride.  Theirs is an ancient history rife with colorful characters and stories.  To those unfamiliar with Wales and the Welsh people, it is not uncommon to know it is part of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, or part of “England” in common parlance.  Beyond that, Wales is often the unrecognized part of Britain, relatively unknown to England and Scotland and perhaps even Northern Ireland largely due to the politics there.  Yet, while Wales is for statistical and some legal purposes conjoined with England, it would be wrong to assume they are or have always been one and the same.

The vast majority of Wales’s population speak English as their first and only language but in fact Wales and the Welsh people have a unique and separate people and history from England: ethnically, linguistically and culturally and this was true throughout the ages and to more varied degrees true to the present day.

Wales is the peninsula in western Great Britain that juts out from England and towards Ireland and the Irish Sea.  The Welsh people are like their Irish and Scots cousins, a Celtic people (a related cultural and ethnolinguistic group) that settled the British Isles during the so called British Iron Age in the centuries prior to the Roman exploration and conquest of Britain.  Celts may have not been the first people in Britain and Ireland but they became the predominant ones, intermixing and assimilating those who came before.  They had a set of interrelated cultural traits, religion and languages, they would diversify over time due to geography and local circumstances.  The widely recognized Celtic languages that survive today are in fact: Welsh, Irish (Gaelic), Scots-Gaelic, Cornish, Breton and Manx.

Those who became the Welsh prior to Roman conquest inhabited all of modern England, Wales and the most southern reaches of Scotland.  They were a collection of tribes in various parts of the land that collectively spoke a Celtic language known as Common Brittonic and the people were collectively known to foreigners as Britons or the British, hence the modern name.  Following the Roman invasions under Julius Caesar in 1st century BC and the later conquest in 1st century AD which involved a mix of alternating wars or peaceful vassalage depending on the British tribe, the Britons became more or less assimilated to the Roman way of life.  Roman colonists and troops came to garrison the province of Roman Britain or Britannia, but by and large the citizenry remained ethnic Celts.  These Celts carried on their own traditions but also took on Roman ones and vice versa both cultures influenced one another and forged a new group called Romano-Britons.  The Romans built cities such as London in addition to roads and other infrastructure and spread their influence as far north and west as the modern Welsh peninsula and Anglo-Scottish border where famously Hadrian’s Wall was built to keep out the related but distinct Celts and precursors to the Scots known as the Picts who culture and more isolated geography in the Scottish Highlands prevented Roman conquest and assimilation.  The same was true of Ireland, the Romans were aware of it and made limited commercial contact with it but did not settle it or attempt to colonize it for any lasting period of time between the 1st and 5th centuries AD.  Due to the collapse of the Western Roman Empire, the Romans withdrew from Britain altogether in effect granting a de-facto independence.

From this the Romano-Britons split from each other and formed various petty kingdoms, a political system that was to have major implications in the coming centuries.  Romano-Britons had largely converted to Christianity by the time of the Roman withdrawal.  However, the Romano-Britons now had to fend for themselves from raiders from Ireland and Scotland as well as infighting amongst themselves in their various kingdoms.  Though there are chronicles that suggest a high king of the Britons that unified rule, the evidence is conflicted.  What is known is that in the 5th century AD, during the so called Dark Ages of Europe, the very start of the Middle Ages, groups of Germanic warriors various modern Denmark, Germany and the Low Countries arrived on British shores.  Their numbers and exact reasons for being there aren’t known and are controversial in modern debate.  However, the Germans are traditionally told to have been invited by a British king who sought Germanic mercenaries as troops to fend off Pictish and Gaelic raiders and suppress other rivals in Britain.  The story goes that the Germans did just that in exchange for land but gradually overstayed their welcome and gradually more numbers arrived or arose through intermarriage between the Germans and Romano-British giving rise to a community that increasingly was at odds with their Celtic Briton hosts.  Collectively these Germans became known as the Anglo-Saxons and began speaking a Western Germanic language that developed into Old English.  They had their own pagan mythology at odds with the Celtic Christianity they encountered but in time through war and cultural assimilation, they adopted Christianity as well.  While some Romano-Britons and Anglo-Saxons intermarried and became the foundations to the English people and eventual Kingdom of England.  

Many Celtic speaking Britons preferred their own culture and independence and gradually were pushed back by war or other factors to the far western reaches of Great Britain.  Here in isolation they developed into four related but eventually distinct dialects and cultures.  Those Britons in the southwest of England in modern Cornwall, were cut off from other Britons and became the Cornish people with its own isolated dialect and later language developed from Common Brittonic.  Other Britons fled to Western France and formed the Breton people on westernmost peninsula, Brittany.  In the northwest of England and lowlands of Scotland a third group of Britons became known as the Cumbrians and spoke the now extinct Cumbric language  The fourth and most well known of these groups moved into the western peninsula that became Wales and became known as the Welsh people, speaking the dialect of Brittonic that became known as Welsh.  The word Wales or Welsh is in fact an English or Germanic designation for the Britons which meant foreigner or stranger, a bit ironic coming from a non-native people.  The Welsh and indeed the Britons together referred to themselves and their land as Cymru, which means “common people” or “related people” of the British lands.

From here on out, relations between what became the Kingdom of England and Wales to the west were interrelated for better or worse.  Over the centuries both Wales and England remained divided, it wasn’t until the later Viking invasions which affected the Anglo-Saxons and Welsh that a more unified polity came out of them.  Firstly, the Kingdom of England unified in the wake of Anglo-Saxon resistance to the new wave of Germanic invaders called Vikings.  Though there was always opposition to and from the Welsh towards the English during this time too, the Vikings were often seen as the greater threat.  Following the Norman Invasion of 1066, by French descendants of Vikings from Normandy France, the Anglo-Saxon rule of England was overthrown but the Normans likewise found opposition from the Welsh.  It was through the Norman presence in Wales that England tightened its grip to its Celtic neighbor to the west.

Wales for its part was never unified as one kingdom but instead remained a series of petty kingdoms or principalities most notably Powys, Gwent, Dyfed and Gwynedd.  These kingdoms warred with each other and the English and this disunity allowed for the English to continue their gradual influence over them, being played off of each other as political rivals who sought total power over the whole of Wales.  There was a title of King of the Britons or Prince of Wales, known in Welsh as “Tywysog Cymru” served as a sort of overlord similar to the High King of Ireland which was likewise divided between various petty kingdoms.  The Prince of Wales was variously a ceremonial or nominal role or de-facto ruler of parts of most of Wales at different times, depending on the title holder, typically the King of Gwynedd, the most powerful Welsh kingdom, located in northwestern Wales.  Gwyneed and Powys (eastern and mid-Wales) were the two most powerful Welsh factions and their rivalry often shaped Welsh politics as a whole.  The Prince of Wales and the subordinate kings were to swear fealty to English king even if fealty to the Prince of Wales was relative.

The last native Welshman to hold the title Prince of Wales was Llywelyn ap Gruffudd, from the royal house of Gwynedd.  Llywelyn was killed in battle in 1282 during the English conquest by Edward I, King of England.  Upon his completed conquest the title was given to his son and heir, the future Edward II.  This tradition of naming the English and later British sovereign’s eldest son and heir continues to the modern day as a result.  This tradition went unchallenged throughout history except for a 15 year period at the start of the 15th century when a Welsh aristocrat in what started as a land dispute with his English neighbor would turn into a Welsh rebellion and one last attempt at a native run united Welsh nation, free and independent of England.

The name of that Welsh aristocrat and landholder was Owain Glyndwr (1359-1415?).  Glyndwr had royal ancestry being descended from the royal families of the former Welsh kingdoms of Powys and Deheubarth and was a member of the Anglo-Welsh landed gentry which lived on the Welsh Marches, the borderlands between England and Wales.  This class was descended from Welsh royalty and easily adapted to English rule in time, maintaining land in Wales and able to be at court in London.  Glyndwr studied law in London, served in King Richard II’s army in Scotland and elsewhere and married the daughter of a fellow Anglo-Welsh aristocrat, his wife’s name was Margaret Hanmer.  By most accounts Glyndwr was a loyal subject and not poised for rebellion from the start.  Things changed in the 1390′s when his neighbor the 3rd Baron Grey de Ruthyn annexed land which Owain stated was rightfully of his estate.  Owain petitioned the English Parliament to address the matter, this plea was ignored.  Furthermore, Ruthyn intentionally withheld a royal levy to appear to military service on the Scottish border, by the time Glyndwr found out it was too late and Ruthyn who despised Glyndwr for his claims to the land was able to demonstrate to the king that Glyndwr was AWOL during military service and therefore a traitor to the crown. Meanwhile, Richard II was deposed and Henry IV was placed on the English throne instead, Ruthyn was a personal friend of the new king and placed in his ear evidence “incriminating” Glyndwr not only for his absentee status but of supposed threats to Baron’s life and alleged support for Richard II, of which there was a strong base of support in Wales.  

The aforementioned events convinced the king of Glyndwr’s supposed treachery and in turn convinced Glyndwr that in order to get what he saw as rightfully his, matters would have to be taken into his own hands and that justice for a Welshman could only be found in Welsh courts under Welsh law and not under English law.  In late 1400, he assumed one of his ancestral royal titles and declared himself Prince of Powys, the ancient Welsh kingdom on the Anglo-Welsh border.  Glyndwr and a small band of followers launched an attack on Ruthyn’s lands and did damage to them.  Word of Glyndwr’s uprising quickly spread and went quickly from a man aggrieved of his land and honor to more broadly national cause for independence. The Welsh method of fighting was in line with the traditional Celtic method of hit and run tactics and the geography of Wales played a big role in this guerilla style of warfare.  The later romanticism of Glyndwr as a nationalist figure was in fact linked with his use of Wales’ topography and weather and the romantic reverence the Welsh held for the very soil on which they lived.  The country was a series of mountain ranges, forested valleys and rolling hills and with the infamously rainy weather, it was difficult for the heavily armored columns of English troops to navigate, whereas the more lightly armored Welsh were more mobile and familiar with the territory able to disappear into the valleys and mountaintops with less baggage and greater speed.

Glyndwr’s first months involved hit and run tactics against English manors in the countryside, burning and looting them for supplies and with each victory more Welsh joined in the cause and later taking castles from English garrisons.  Henry IV appointed his field commander in Wales, Henry Percy known as Hotspur.  Percy granted an amnesty to all rebels with the exception of Glyndwr and his cousins the Tudurs (ancestors to the Tudor dynasty) in a ploy to give up Glyndwr, it failed and so the English pressed on with trying to defeat rebels in pitched battle.  June 1401 saw the first major pitched battle, the Battle of Mynydd Hyddgen.  Little is known of the course of the battle other than the Welsh were outnumbered by the English and their Flemish mercenaries from Flanders (modern day Belgium).  The English force was defeated with heavy casualties and inspired Glyndwr’s popularity even more.  Welshmen left studies at Oxford University or from military service in Scotland or France and joined the now nationalist uprising.  Welsh people regardless of socio-economic status or region for the first time since 1282 were uniting under the banner of Glyndwr.  Henry IV himself executed Welsh gentry suspected of aiding or supporting the uprising and them marched an army into Wales to suppress it himself.  Other than burning the Strata Florida Abbey this campaign accomplished nothing, Henry IV was forced to turn back due to incessant rain and making roads and and mountain trails impassable.  Some more mystically inclined English and Welsh started to question whether or not Glyndwr controlled the weather, since it seemed to be an element on his side, drawing out the rebellion.

1402 saw the passing of the Penal Laws Against Wales in Parliament.  These laws forbade Welsh people from obtaining public office, denied the right to bear arms, forbade Welsh the right to own property in English towns (including English settler towns in Wales), forbade Welshmen from marrying Englishwomen and restricted the education Welsh children could receive.  Englishmen who married Welshwomen were also subject to said laws.  All these did was further anger the Welsh.  Finally, that same year Baron Grey de Ruthyn was captured and held hostage by Glyndwr and would remain his hostage until Henry IV could pay for his ransom.  Furthermore, the Welsh were crossing the border and burning English market towns in retaliation.  All of these events lead Henry IV to appoint a new field commander to bring about defeat to the rebels.  Henry IV and the royal treasury were continually short on funds due to ongoing larger warfare against France in the Hundred Years War.   Henry’s new commander was Sir Edmund Mortimer, a nobleman with a greater claim to the throne than Henry IV, a descendant of English and Welsh nobility himself.  Nevertheless, Mortimer did not press for the throne and was by all appearances loyal.  He had an interest in ending the rebellion which affected his business interests in the Welsh Marches.

In June 1402 Mortimer planned to march his force into mid-Wales, force Glyndwr into a pitched battle which surely the English with heavier armor and weapons and greater numbers were certain to win.  His column consisted of mostly English troops and in fact some Welsh contingents that were apparently not supportive of Glyndwr.  They marched slowly and Glyndwr marched out to meet this force. On paper, Henry IV & Mortimer should have been right with 2,000 well armed troops, including Welsh archers Glyndwr was likely beaten before the battle had begun.  They two armies would meet on June 22nd, 1402 at a hill called Bryn Glas near the town of Pilleth, just inside Wales near the English border.  Despite the English confidence they were in fact underestimating their foe.  Glyndwr, was an experienced soldier and this battle more than any other was to prove his tactical prowess.  He had a smaller force made up of the famous Welsh longbowmen, archery being the specialty of the Welsh.  In a culture that hunted and trained to fight in the hills and mountains of Wales, archery leant itself well to hit and run tactics in an era where gunpowder was limited and the norm was still Medieval style melees of heavily armed soldiers as was the English tradition.  The Welsh longbow was large, sturdy and carried great range and the Welsh were perhaps the most accurate archers in Europe.  To maximize their effect, Glyndwr placed his archers at the top of Bryn Glas hill, holding the high ground was textbook advantage in warfare.  Furthermore, Glyndwr used deception to aid in his plan, he split his force, making it appear to only consist of archers atop the hill whom he commanded.  This would entice the English into thinking a quick charge up the hill and melee would defeat the lightly armed archers or force them to scatter and demoralize their efforts.  What the English didn’t realize was the Welsh actually hid a force of more heavily armed men-at-arms/melee infantry armed with swords, spears and other clubbing weapons to the left of the Welsh battle line, hidden in a valley on the hillside, covered by thick forest.  

The battle began with the English spotting the smaller Welsh force atop the hill, the base of the hill had a small church and holy pilgrimage site fed by a spring said to have healing properties.  As expected the English marched up the hill slowly but steadily with their own Welsh archers providing cover support, Glyndwr’s archers did tremendous damage though with them safely out of range from the Welsh archers supporting the English.  At some point in the march up the hill, the Welsh archers in Mortimer’s army turned on the English and joined Glyndwr’s men, shooting down the English who stood by their side or in the back, whether this was predetermined at Glyndwr’s behest or done in a patriotic spur of the moment is unknown.  The shocked English panicked after being hit by archers from the front, within their own ranks and from the rear, this was followed by the hidden Welsh melee force emerging from the forest to the hit the English in the side and rear, surrounded on three sides, the English scurried down the hill, Glyndwr’s men from the hill top then charged down and joined in the fray, hacking the English to death.  Achieving total surprise through ambush, the English force was defeated and decimated, out of 2,000 men roughly 600 were killed, many were taken prisoner including Mortimer and the lucky few fled back to England with their lives.  Local Welshwomen were described by English sources as visiting the battlefield mutilating the dead English as payback for English campaigns and atrocities in years past.  The Welsh left the English bodies unburied and to rot in the sun for months, leaving a stench of death permeating the air over a widespread area for months afterward, an added insult to the English invader.

Bryn Glas clearly demonstrated Glyndwr’s tactical prowess and was probably jis finest battle from a tactical sense, it wasn’t his last by any means. Indeed, in the aftermath support for the Welsh rebellion furthered and the ranks of his army grew.  He now sought to take English castles, no easy task given a lack of proper siege equipment and artillery.  Furthermore, Henry IV was in no hurry to ransom out of fear that Mortimer with a greater claim to the throne might usurp him.  Indeed Mortimer was married to Glyndwr’s daughter Catrin and would betray the English crown by joining the Welsh rebels and fighting for their cause.  In the coming years, the rebellion grew to the point where England lost basic control of the whole of Wales, save for certain garrisoned castles and towns which were now the focus of Welsh sieges.   In this air of de-facto independence, Glyndwr would in 1403-1404 capture Harlech Castle on the Welsh coast and in the town of Machhynlleth be crowned Prince of Wales, being truly the last native Welshmen to have the title declared by the Welsh nobility.  He attempted to run a government though the war was still ongoing.  He declared the restoration of traditional pre-English Welsh law, establishment of two national universities, a separate Welsh Church and Parliament.  He also established foreign relations with the Irish, Scots and the French, hoping to get military aid from all and present a united Celtic front against England with French aid.  Furthermore, he conspired with Mortimer and his other former rival Hotspur Percy and his father, also Henry Percy to divide England and Wales between them.  Southern England would go to Mortimer, the North to the Percys and a greatly enlarged and independent Wales would go to Glyndwr.

 Here Glyndwr was at his zenith, unrecognized as a ruler by the English but in defiance he bested them in battle time and again and ambitiously was ruling his ancestral land in his name and even getting foreign recognition.  He had given hope to his people, Would it last?  Time would have to tell.  The figure of Glyndwr however endures, modern Welsh nationalism was born with him and he appealed to his people’s romantic and even mystical traditions of a singular Welsh figure, like King Arthur of legend who would drive the English from Britain and restore Welsh and indeed Celtic British independence... 

[missjosie27]

Year 3 Part 1- No Cursed Vaults Allowed

Hey everyone! I’m back with Year 3 for the adventures of my MC! This will feature some new characters including an in depth look at his parents. I have a feeling it will be the best year yet! Enjoy! Comments and feedback welcome!

Summertime was an ideal season for many things, muggle and wizardfolk alike: cookouts, nights out at the pub, parties, celebrations, holidays to the beach, picnics, visitations to relatives, etc. It was just too bad David Grant was given no opportunity to enjoy any of it.

The start of the summer break began badly and only got worse from there. Unlike the end of his first year, there was no hiding the truth of what he had been up to. Some junior reporter managed to get wind of the cursed ice story despite all attempts of the school to lessen its impact. Though he wasn’t mentioned by name, his parents had gone through this nightmare once before and it didn’t take a genius to know their second son indulged in the cursed vaults same as their first born. The result was not pretty.

His mother’s reaction was the most severe- she railed for hours about irresponsibility, jeopardizing his education, the fact she told him not to get up to the same type of foolishness as his brother and what that meant to the family. All the while, David winced and tried to resist covering his ears, though a small woman of only 5’4, her presence was no less intimidating by those who knew her. The piercing blue eyes and mother bear persona was enough to make even the largest man quake in their boots. Which meant he received no help from his dad in that regard.

His father, a man of about six feet with still solidly dark brown hair and a goatee, was not the type to scream and yell but he was the kind of man to take a person aside and issue them a soft but stern warning, which in this case meant wagging his finger and telling him to obey his mother’s wishes.

It was a dynamic that had been going on for four years now going on five. Ever since the disappearance of his older brother both parents took a turn for the worse in their behavior and attitude not only towards him but each other. As opposed to long dinner conversations, the family tended to eat in silence, where long walks in the backyard meadow were once common, David was forbidden from venturing even twenty feet outside the house, where affection and love once dwelled was now replaced by tension and distance.

His parents thought him naïve but the thirteen year old wasn’t stupid. One didn’t need to be a full grown adult to see how fragile things had become. To make matters even worse, all of this tension was redirected back on him. Both of his parents worked, his mother at the tea shop in London, his father in the Office of International Cooperation as the envoy to the United States, but when not occupied with these tasks they focused on him. And the summer of 1986 was filled with reminders about the upcoming year and what he was not to do.

If it wasn’t for his grandfather, Thomas Grant, he might have gone crazy.

“Mum and Dad aren’t happy, Grandad. They don’t do much really. Except feed me and occasionally yell.”

The slender, graying haired man gave a sad chuckle as pulled his grandson close to him.

“They’re going through a rough time now, David. Given the circumstances.”

“But I’m not like Jacob. I didn’t purposefully try to get involved in that vault stuff. It just…sucked me in.”

“I’m willing to bet Jake had a similar story,” Thomas laughed, deep and true. His sense of humor was well known among his family and peers.

“Grandad, I’m serious,” David responded though he couldn’t resist a smile himself. “They’re suffocating. How am I supposed to do anything with them always on my back?”

“There’s always Hogwarts,” came the witty response. When his grandson didn’t laugh this time around, the patriarch of the Grant family turned serious, cupping a finger underneath David’s chin.

“David don’t judge your parents too harshly. Just remember that you aren’t the only one who misses Jake. There must be sufficient time to heal. And when that happens, things will turn around. In the meantime, keep your head up and your ear to the ground.”

The young teenager nodded, knowing that if there was anyone he could trust, it was his grandfather, who often spoke plainly about topics such as these.

“I will.”

“There’s a good lad. Now let’s enjoy more of this summer sunshine shall we, David?”

“David?”

The sound of his mother’s voice brought him back to earth.

“David, are you listening?”

Snapping out of the flashback he quickly replied, “Yes mum.”

“You didn’t promise me,” she warned him as they sat at the table eating breakfast. She had made eggs, sausage, and picked an assortment of fruits but on the eve of going back to school, there was one more lecture to be had.

“Promise that I won’t try to touch the giant squid? Yeah, sure, I can promise that.”

But his attempt at humor was mitigated by a stern look from his father, looking down from his Saturday paper.

“We do not need our second son engaging in this dangerous cursebreaking business,” Heather Grant repeated for the umpteenth time. “It leads to nowhere good. Especially with Jacob gone. Please promise me you will not attempt to find more of these cursed vaults.”

“You’re mother is right, son,” the soft voice of his father echoed. “Your job is to further your education at Hogwarts, make some friends, and meet a few girls along the way,” he added with an uptwitch of his mouth.

“This is a time for you to learn and grow. Not put yourself in needless danger. Listen to your teachers. Listen to Dumbledore. Pay no attention to whatever temptations these vaults might have for you.”

If you had bothered to pay attention to my side of it, you’d remember I don’t CARE what’s inside of the vaults, David thought bitterly. I’m trying to find Jacob so we can be a family again. So YOU don’t have to cry every week about losing your son

In the end, the young teen held his tongue, buried his feelings as he always did on the subject and did as he was told. If it would save his mother that much grief to tell her what she wanted to hear, so be it.

“I promise I will, mum. Cross my heart and swear to die.”

“David!”

“Kidding.”

He was enveloped in an enormous hug, almost causing him to choke on his food.

“We love you, sweetie. Always remember that.”

Even as he acknowledged her words and reciprocated that love, David couldn’t help but feel bitter.

“I love you too.”

In a summary, this was why he hated the summer holidays. Hogwarts couldn’t come soon enough.

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The arrival at King’s Crossing couldn’t come soon enough. Using an old Chevrolet that his grandfather collected on his travels in the United States and later passed down to his son, they drove to London on a lovely September day. For David, however, he was just looking forward to getting away from his mother’s smothering influence. Unfortunately, he couldn't get away from her without one last embarrassing hug and kiss on the forehead.

“Stay safe,” she said, as a few sixth years passed by and snickered. David would have hexed them right then and there were his arms not constricted and his wand in his back jeans pocket. “And remember…”

“I know, mum. No cursed vaults.”

“He understands, Heather,” his father spoke up, in a rare moment of support. He also hugged his son and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Be well, David. You know we’re always an owl away if you need us.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

With a last wave and a goodbye, the train whistled, and David hopped on. A sadness permeated through his heart as he looked out of the window one last time at his parents. Their faces were neutral, even distant as they turned and walked away, not even bothering to hold hands or give any sign of affection.

Sighing, the now third year Gryffindor wondered if things would ever return to normal in his family and what it would take to mend the wounds inflicted. In his heart, he already knew the answer. The problem was his parents had already forbidden it.

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It didn’t take long for him to find Rowan and grab a compartment. They were later joined by Charlie and Ben as well as Penny, who decided to spend her train ride with the Gryffindor boys this year.

“It’s great to see you again, David!” the pretty blonde greeted him with her usual hug. She did the same with the rest of the crew, causing Ben and Charlie to blush. “How was your summer?”

“Not good,” came the monotone, blunt response. “Unless you count not being allowed twenty feet outside of the house trapped with overbearing parents to be fun.”

Ben hesitated as he tried to formulate the words.

“Did your mum and dad…you know…”

“Find out about the cursed vault? Yes. And I have the Daily Prophet to thank for that. My parents saw the article and they put two and two together. So they know everything and made me promise a million times I would stop associating myself with the vaults.”

“Sounds rough, mate,” Charlie spoke sympathetically. “My mum saw it too but after I told her everything, she was very understanding.”

“Goddamn it, Charlie you told her what we got up to?”

David hadn’t meant to sound upset, but the last thing he needed was for his friends’ parents to think he was an obsessed nutcase as well.

“Dave, give me more credit than that,” the second eldest Weasley said raising his hands in the air. “I didn’t give her any specific details, just the gist. When Bill told her it was because you were trying to find your brother she immediately melted. I think she’s definitely going to send you a sweater this year.”

Not knowing what a sweater had to do with anything, David nevertheless relented.

“Sorry, Charlie. Didn’t mean to bite your head off. Things are just….tense at home. I’m very glad to be going back to Hogwarts.”

“Hey if anyone understands it’s me and Bill,” Charlie chuckled. “There are seven Weasley children in our humble abode. Family disputes are quite common.”

“Speaking of which, where is the lanky tosser?” David smiled. “He usually joins us by now.”

“Funny you should mention that. He’s out fulfilling his new prefect duties. Got the letter just last month. He’s getting himself acquainted in a fancy compartment as we speak.”

“He’s going to make an excellent prefect,” Rowan blurted out excitedly. “The best ever!”

“I suppose he won’t be able to help us out with the vaults anymore given his new position,” Ben suggested sadly. “Prefects enforce the rules, not break them.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Charlie said while munching through a sandwich. “Bill isn’t above breaking a few rules when it suits him. He’s a leader not a tattle tale.”

“That reminds me,” Penny perked up. “Have you given any thought to the broken wand and the book you found?”

That was an interesting question. David had not told his parents about the treasures that lay within the vault and locked them in his trunk to prevent them from being discovered. As to their true purpose, that was still anyone’s guess.

“Of course, I have. They’ve been stored away ever since I found them. But I can’t figure out what they’re for.”

“I wish I had been able to come with you into the vault,” Rowan lamented. “If I had, maybe we would have been able to translate more of that ancient Aramaic on the column. I’ve been doing a lot of research over the summer and I have some theories…”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” David assured him. “I’m just not sure we have much to go off of right now.”

“What about Merula?”

He leaned back in his compartment seat, as though wholly unconcerned.

“What about her?”

“You know she’s going to want revenge since you got to the vault before her last year. Not to mention the failed bubotuber prank she tried to pull.”

“Oh yeah, that was funny. Remind me to send her a biting tea cup for her birthday this year.”

“David.”

Rowan’s serious tone forced him to give a serious answer, even though his mind couldn’t be farther from his Slytherin rival.

“She’s going to try and provoke me like she usually does. It’s the best we can hope for. She doesn’t know a damn thing about the vaults and as long as we keep it that way, Merula Snyde won’t be anything more than a minor nuisance in potions class.”

“No offense, David,” Penny warned. “But Merula’s a lot cleverer than you give her credit for. She’s mean, but she isn’t stupid. If any wind of the next vault gets to the Slytherins, she’s going to be the first to jump on it.”

Bollocks, she’s right

David didn’t like to give any credence to any Slytherin, much less Merula but he had to acknowledge that the blonde Hufflepuff brought up a good point. She was not one to give up easily or at all and would not fail to brag about any progress with the vaults or information regarding his brother. He had not taken her up on that offer the previous year but if the flow of intel ran dry, might he have to make a deal with her?

No, never. Merula can piss up a tree for all I care

“I understand your concern, guys. But there’s not a whole lot we can do right now. I don’t even know if I can go after the next vault.

“Can’t? Or won’t?” Ben challenged to his surprise. “Since when does David Grant let rules stop him?”

David didn’t respond, instead choosing to close his eyes and take a small nap before arriving at Hogwarts. Those were questions he preferred not to answer at the moment.

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The rest of the train ride was relatively quiet. Penny had to wake up David and Charlie from their respective naps (Charlie also had a habit of snoring) to put on their robes but that aside, it was a peaceful trip without any hijinx.

Heading up to the massive castle was now a familiar routine. The familiar call of ‘Firs’ years’ could be heard above the chatter of the thousand strong student body as he waved a friendly hello to Hagrid who greeted him back. Invisible carriages carried them and their luggage up to the front hall where Peeves was waiting with an assortment of fanged frisbees and had to be cleared away by Professor McGonagall. Yes, being a third year did have one gigantic perk: routine. Being thirteen meant you were no longer a little kid and people showed you a modicum of respect.

They weren’t the only ones moving up in the world. As the respective houses gathered at their tables in the Great Hall, David spotted a familiar long haired, tall red headed Weasley sporting an impressive red and gold badge. It didn’t take long for them to embrace.

“Bill Weasley, you wanker. Can’t make time for us on the train anymore?”

Bill grinned in response.

“For you lot? As if.”

“Seriously, though. Congratulations on becoming prefect. I know you really wanted it last year.”

“Thanks, David,” the eldest Weasley thanked. “Mum practically died of joy when I got the letter. Really, I’m just glad Dumbledore believed I earned it.”

“Just don’t let it get to your head,” Charlie teased him as the group took their seats besides and across from one another. His brother rolled his eyes.

“You know me better than that. Percy on the other hand, God forbid he ever becomes a prefect…”

“Who’s Percy?” Rowan asked, clearly not aware of the numerous siblings the family possessed.

“He’s our younger brother,” Charlie explained. “Younger than Bill and I, but older than Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny. He’s a bit of a wet blanket.”

“He comes to Hogwarts next year. You’ll understand when you meet him,” Bill said, his smile becoming more of a grimace. “By the way, I wanted to ask you sooner, but I couldn’t get away from the prefect training. Did you find any clue or hint about the next vault?”

“Don’t know anything more than you do, I’m afraid,” David said, shaking his head.

“You’re still interested in the vaults even though you’re a prefect?” Rowan asked Bill.

“Hey, just because I’m a prefect doesn’t mean I’ve lost my appetite for curse breaking. I just have to be more…discreet about it from now on.”

Charlie grinned at the rest of his friends as a way to say ‘I told you so’. Ben looked mildly surprised while Rowan was positively aglow with admiration.

“Do you think Dumbledore is going to punish us for investigating the vaults?” the sandy haired third year asked aloud.

David shrugged. “I don’t think so. He asked me to stay away from them, but he wasn’t upset.”

“No way that he could be. You saved the entire school from being turned into a frozen wasteland,” Rowan pointed out.

But before anyone could say anything more, the enormous oak doors burst open as Professor McGonagall entered the room with this year’s batch of first years in tow. The older students immediately quieted down as the protocol and procedure for the sorting began. Time for chatter on the vaults would have to come later.

In another instance of the inconsistency of time passing, David observed that the sorting always took longer when you were on the outside looking in as opposed to when you were the one being sorted. The hat’s song was entertaining enough as it always was, but just how many first years had last names beginning with the letter ‘D’? He was also quite hungry as evidenced by his stomach growling. The feast couldn’t come soon enough.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the sorting ended, and Dumbledore took center stage.

“Welcome back to Hogwarts!” the white bearded warlock boomed happily. “I’m pleased to have all of you new and returning students here for another year of magical learning and self discovery. To those returning pupils with empty bellies, I apologize for making you suffer through another one of my speeches, but I must address certain concerns before we dig into our sumptuous feast.”

David could have sworn the old man’s eyes twinkled at the sound of the groaning from the student body.

“First, as a reminder: The Forbidden Forest is strictly out of bounds to all students regardless of year. Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has also pressed me to tell you that the list of banned items at Hogwarts has increased to one hundred and fifty seven. A full list can be viewed on his office door. As always, Madam Hooch will announce the dates of coming Quidditch tryouts for your respective house teams.

“I would be remiss, however, if I did not mention the Erumpent in the room. As many of you know, last year, Hogwarts was afflicted with cursed ice caused by one of the long rumored cursed vaults. The curse was released as a result of an outside entity tampering with them. Therefore, I am ordering everyone in this room to stay away from the rest. It is said that each vault unleashes a unique curse and I will not have my students and faculty endangered again. And while it is true that some of our students broke the vault curse and saved the school, it is also true they put themselves and others at great risk by doing so. As such, I am forbidding any student from seeking out the remaining ones. The penalty will be severe, especially for repeat offenders.

“But do not let my warning damper your spirits. Please, enjoy the feast and rest well for your classes tomorrow.”

Dumbledore clapped his hands twice and the usual assortment of foodstuffs and goodies appeared in front of them. But his warning did take away some of David’s appetite and Ben was the first to address the comments as the feast commenced.

“So much for Dumbledore not being upset…”

“Do you think he knows we were all involved? Are we going to get detention?” Rowan said in a panicked whisper.

“Relax, both of you,” Bill lightly chided. “If any of us were getting detention we’d know by now. We just have to decide what to do moving forward. David, what do you think?”

That was the problem, however. He had no idea where to go from here. On the one hand, listening to Dumbledore and his parents did seem to be the wisest course. There was a lot to consider- his schooling, his reputation, not to mention the possibility of having his wand snapped by the Ministry. But deep within the pits of the fun and witty David Grant was a hole that he never let anyone see, not even his own parents. The hole that symbolized the loss of his brother and the burning desire to find him again. He didn’t want to disobey the headmaster or mum and dad, but how could he sit idly by with newfound information on Jacob and not act on it.

“Let’s heed Dumbledore for now,” came the muted response. “I need to think on this.”

Rowan and Ben looked at each other as if unsure what to make of the situation but they didn’t press the issue. Bill nodded, his perception much more adept than the third years also said nothing but nevertheless kept his good cheer.

“Hey David…catch.”

The turkey leg thrown at his plate nearly caused him to jump ten feet in the air, as memories of Merula and bubotuber pus came to the forefront of his mind.

“Wanker,” David laughed as Charlie snickered and Bill winked.

The rest of the evening was much more pleasant as they ate to their hearts content, joked around, discussed their holidays, classes, Quidditch, and various topics. As they were dismissed from the Great Hall and made their way up to bed (Bill had to lead the first years on their annual tour) Jae, ever the smuggler that he was, presented them with a new kind of sweet that Filch had failed to ban: Animal Augments. Basically, they gave one the temporary ability to sound like a random wild animal. Ben’s lion roar woke up the fourth years in the next dorm and David nearly pissed himself laughing at Rowan getting the donkey themed one. As Jae put it- “galleons well spent.” These were the moments that made Hogwarts worthwhile.

Cursed Vaults or not, it was good to be back.

[missmonsters2]

Drive Her Crazy || Part II

PAIRING: Wanda Maximoff x OFC/Reader

Summary: AU. Meet Wanda, the new ‘It’ girl. She’s built her social standing as a social influencer through Instagram and vlogging on Youtube. Queen Bee in her social circle, she’s got everyone wrapped around her finger. She’s perfect, you think. Girls like that require a little finesse, and you’re ready to play the game.

Warnings: Non-healthy relationship, psychological games, smut(?)

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PART I 

PART II of X

Count: 2691

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The sun felt good on your skin. You kind of liked it after living somewhere rainy all the time. You had driven your car to LA and David was able to hook you up with a place to stay since one of his clients was out of town for the next 6 months and didn’t mind having someone there as long as the place wasn’t trashed.

The place was nice and decently sized as you set your equipment down and went back to your car to get your bags.

You had a gig to play at some trust fund kid’s 21st birthday (usually you’d decline these types of requests, but he was paying you enough to buy a liver on the black market), so you needed to drive out to the Palm Desert in two days. 

After you put all your things away, you sat on the bed, pulling out your phone. This was the tricky part. You needed to find an organic way to meet Wanda. You didn’t want to come off as a fan, nor did you want to meet her through work because it would be difficult to discern if she liked you, or if she liked your connections.

You needed to find a way to be in her social circle, without being someone she just networks with.

You were scrolling through her Instagram more in-depth this time, being careful to not like any of the photos.

You discovered that she had a fiancé, some nobody indie singer named Jarvis, but only went by his stage name, Vision (you had to roll your eyes a little at that).

You discovered regular places that she liked to frequent. Book stores, restaurants, bars, beaches, etc.

You tapped your fingers idly at your side. How were you going to bump into her? Her latest Instagram post shared that she had a new partnership with Biologique Recherche and was repping their skincare line, but there wasn’t anything you could really do with that.

You sighed and put your phone away. Closing your eyes, you opted to take a nap, being so tired from the drive.

Maybe you would just have to meet her in a work setting, it would just be harder to move away from just networking friend.

But you weren’t against hard work. 

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By the time you had woken up, it was pretty late. You were a little miffed knowing that it was going to mess with your sleeping schedule, but there wasn’t much that you could do about it now. 

Your stomach growled hungrily, and you got up getting ready to grab a bite to eat since there was no food in the house. You were thinking about heading to that fast food chain that served healthy food bowls. Wanda had posted a photo of it, and you had to admit it looked pretty good.

It was a relatively new chain, so they didn’t have any more than two locations. It was a pretty walkable distance from your place, so you just put on a light cardigan and left.

You were tinkering away on your phone when you walked into the shop, standing in line, not looking up. You shuffled a little as the person in front of you moved up to the counter to put in their order.

“Ah, sorry, hold on. I swear my wallet is in here.” 

The voice makes you look instantly. 

It’s the only voice you’ve been hearing for the past two days.

There she was. Standing in front of you, back turned as she was in yoga pants, a tank top, and a sweater. Probably just coming from a workout. 

You watched as she aggressively looked through her large bag, digging for what you presumed for is a wallet. She sighed disappointedly, letting you know there was no luck in finding the wallet.

This was your organic moment, you thought. It was too good, you were too lucky to get this moment. And you weren’t going to waste it.

Just as she was about to tell the cashier to cancel the order, you stepped up.

“Hey,” you softly greeted, surprising her to look over. You grinned lightly, trying to look a little sheepish and non-threatening. “I couldn’t help but overhear you can’t find your wallet. Happens to me too. If you’re okay with it, you can put your order with mine.”

Wanda eyes you for a moment but then smiles. “Yeah, if you’re okay with that. I can pay you back.”

You chuckle, waving her off and stepping up closer to the cashier to put in your order. “It’s no problem. It’s an $8 bowl, you’re hardly breaking my bank.”

She laughs, bringing you to smile a wider. You pay for the order, and the cashier tells you to grab a seat, and they’ll bring it out to you. 

Wanda turns to you. “Thanks again for that, I swear I brought my wallet with me. Since you don’t want me to pay you back, did you want to eat together? I mean, if you’re not busy and all.”

Your inner voice can’t help but celebrate at how well it’s going, but you put on a happy grin. “Sure.”

You grab a corner table that’s next to the window. Wanda’s hair is in a messy bun before she pulls it out, curls falling over as she pushes her bangs over to one side.

She’s too gorgeous, you think. 

“I’m Wanda,” she introduces herself. 

You introduce yourself back and set your phone facing down on the table. 

“Late night workout?” You ask, eyeing her attire again. She nodded, sipping on her water.

“Yeah, it’s been a crazy hectic day, and I’m trying to be really good about not skipping.” She says with a mischievous smirk making you laugh lightly.

“What about you?” She asks about your day. 

You shake her head, “Nah, I just got in town. I did kind of put some of my things away, but napping kind of put a wrench in getting anything else done and potentially getting any sleep tonight.”

Wanda giggles and you feel like a lovesick puppy trying to get her to laugh again.

The conversation stays polite. You both trade funny stories and anecdotes to get to know each other a little better.

Wanda is trying to not choke on her food as you finish your story.

“No way,” she snorts a little, and you sigh in almost a shameful way.

“Nope, it really happened. I had to scale down her freaking balcony, couldn’t even get my shoes. Guess I was lucky to have my underwear at least.”

Wanda just bursts into a fit of laughter, eyes watering up as she wiped them.

“I can’t believe that happened to you,” she says, still laughing.

You shrug your shoulders, throwing your napkin into your finished bowl. “Me neither. What are the chances of an ex-girlfriend becoming roommates with someone you’re banging?”

Wanda’s laugh has died down, but she grins at you. The night is coming to an end, you’re not really sure how to go from here. You don’t think this warrants asking for her number, and you think she would reject it anyways since she has a fiancé.

You both get up, chatting a little more as you exit. You think you’re about to separate ways, but then you’re both walking in the same direction. You both chuckle, although a little awkwardly.

“Do you live this way?” She asks. You nod.

“Yeah,” you say and then tell her what community you’re living in. Her eyes brighten up happily.

“No way! We live in the same community! Wouldn’t it be crazy if we were neighbors?”

Your eyes widen slightly in surprise. This was insane. This was too coincidental and lucky. You’re starting to get worried you’re going to use up all the luck you have in this lifetime.

You chuckle, almost nervously as you both walk together home. She’s sharing with you about a bookstore she recently went to and loved as it was tiny and unorganized, but every book you pulled out was interesting.

Eventually, you come to her stop. She lived in a nice house as you predicted from getting paid to rep brands. 

“Well, this is my stop. You any further from here?” She says, turning to you. You shake your head. You can’t believe you actually only live a couple blocks from her.

You point down the block and then up the road to where you're staying. “I’m just a couple blocks down and then up that road.”

Wanda’s eyes widened slightly and then her eyebrows furrowed. “Oh, wow, those are the really nice houses. I don’t remember anyone from there put any listings up for sale.”

“Yeah, I’m actually just here for maybe a couple months. I have a friend who knows the owner of a house up there and is letting me stay while they’re in Europe for like, 6 months.”

Wanda nods, understanding more of the situation. With nothing really left to be said, you’re saying goodbye to her, thinking about how you’re going to produce another organic meeting.

At least it would be easier now since you knew where she lived. You could pretend to be on a run and pass by. She said she goes to that new book store on Thursdays, so you could do that.

Just as you’re turning to leave, she calls your name again. You turn back around, wondering if you maybe dropped something. She’s holding her bag strap a little tightly and shifts from one foot to another.

“Did you, um, did you, maybe, want to come inside for a drink?”

You try to make sure you don’t make a surprised face because you think that might put her off and make her backtrack. So, you simply gave her a lopsided smile and nodded. She beamed at you and led you into her house. It’s pretty dark, and you’re wondering where her fiancé is since it’s late.

“Thanks for this, my finacé is out of town visiting a friend, and I hate staying in the house alone.” 

Ah, that explains that. You tell her it’s not a problem. She gets you to sit down on her couch as she turns on a lamp and lights a few candles. Soon the room starts to smell like salted caramel, and you love it. 

Wanda comes back with some wine and hands you a glass as she takes a seat.

“Is this okay? My fiancé hates it when I put on candles, the smell is overwhelming to him.”

You shook your head, taking a sip of the wine. “No, I love the smell. It reminds me of fall.”

“Same!” Wanda grinned.

“So,” Wanda started, swirling around her wine a little. “You haven’t actually moved here then?” 

You shook your head again, leaning back a little more to get comfortable. Wanda is sitting facing towards you, her side leaning against the back of her couch as she has her legs tucked in.

“No, I’m actually just here for work. Though, I suppose if I enjoy it enough, I may decide to move here permanently.”

“What do you do for work?” Wanda asked, eyes piping with curiosity.

“I’m in the music industry,” you say cryptically with a smile. Wanda seemed to take it, though, smiling as her eyes spark.

“Oh! My fiancé, Jarvis, but goes by his stage name, Vision, is also in the music industry. He’s a singer.”

You try to keep your lip from twitching as you ask, “Anything I would’ve heard?”

She pursed her lips, pulling out her phone and loaded SoundCloud on it. 

“Probably not. Vision just likes putting his music out there, he doesn’t really care about making it big.”

Doesn’t care about making it big, or unable to make it big, you wonder.

You hear soft guitar music playing, and you think it’s not bad. Until he sang.

His singing voice itself is pretty good. It’s just his lyrics.

God, you don’t think you’ve written such bad lyrics since you were 13. The song continues to play and you will your face to not cringe. When it finished, you give a smile to Wanda because she’s beaming like she’s so proud.

Your gut clenched because that was so bad and if she’s beaming like that, is she seriously in love with Vision?

“That’s...insane...” you say. 

“I keep telling him to give his demos to agents out there, but he’s not into that. He keeps saying he just likes posting his music and if some hotshot finds him, then it’s meant to be.” Wanda said with a roll of her eyes. 

You chuckled for lack of what to say and then changed the topic. “What do you do for work?”

You already knew, but it would be interesting to see what she would say about it.

“I suppose Vision would say I’m a photographer,” she mused, and you fight the urge to raise your brow. She wasn’t wrong, though, in a way.

“It’s nothing really, I post vlogs and brands pay me to represent their stuff.”

You weren’t really surprised by the humble approach, but you decided to give her what she wanted to hear.

Your eyes widened in surprise, “No way! That’s seriously amazing. So, you’re kind of famous?”

Wanda laughed bashfully, slapping you on your arm a little as she blushed.

“Oh god, no, not like famous, but I’ve got some loyal followers. It’s nothing really, pays good money.”

You take this moment to ask her what her Instagram and Youtube it so you can freely look at it and not worry about accidentally liking anything. You trade social media handles and start chatting again before her phone buzzes multiple times in a row. She gives you an apologetic smile as she checked her phone.

“Oh, man, are you fucking serious?” She groaned, putting her phone back down and throws her head back onto the couch, hand over her eyes.

“Everything okay?” You asked curiously.

Wanda sighed and lifts her head back up, expression dampened by whatever she read. “Yeah, sorry. I have a photoshoot in two days. My friend was supposed to give me a ride since my car is in the shop right now, but she just bailed.”

You watched as she pulled up her phone and scrolled through it, mumbling to see which person might be able to drive her. 

It doesn’t sound promising.

“Where’s your photoshoot?” You ask her. She puts down her phone, looking a little defeated as she looks up at you.

“Palm Desert. Ugh, I think I’m going to have to cab it there.” She winced like she’s thinking about how much it’s going to cost to take a 2-hour taxi ride and you winced too.

You’re going to offer her a ride. It’s a little weird you think since she’s only known you for about 2 hours, but if since the universe keeps giving you these opportunities, you might as well take it.

“I can give you a ride there,” you said, watching her reaction. Her eyes widened, mouth opened a little. 

“What, really? Are you sure?” She asked you, and you’re nearly concerned that Wanda doesn’t seem even slightly worried she’s going to be locked in a car with a person she’s only just met.

You nodded. “Yeah. I actually have to head to Palm Desert for work, so if you don’t mind tagging along, I can give you a lift. What time is your shoot at?”

Wanda looked so grateful as she replied, “It’s at noon.”

You nod, thinking if you have anything to do in the morning, but you don’t.

“Alright, I’ll come get you at 9AM? We can get some breakfast on the way and head out?” You asked, and she nodded her head up and down rapidly, a broad smile on her face.

“Oh my god, you’re a lifesaver! I’m so glad I met you today.” Wanda says, sinking to the couch a little more, drinking her wine leisurely now that her problem was solved.

You tilted your head to the side and smiled.

“Yeah, what a coincidence.”

PART III