#it's actually a very small number of people responding like this but the irony is not lost on me

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Literary Terms & Devices

Literary devices and terms - are the techniques and elements that writers use to create narrative literature, poetry, speeches, or any other form of writing.

Anadiplosis - a figure of speech in which a word or group of words located at the end of one clause or sentence is repeated at or near the beginning of the following clause or sentence. This line from the novelist Henry James is an example of anadiplosis: "Our doubt is our passion, and our passion is our task."

Bildungsroman - a genre of novel that shows a young protagonist's journey from childhood to adulthood (or immaturity to maturity), with a focus on the trials and misfortunes that affect the character's growth.

Chiasmus - a figure of speech in which the grammar of one phrase is inverted in the following phrase, such that two key concepts from the original phrase reappear in the second phrase in inverted order. The sentence "She has all my love; my heart belongs to her," is an example of chiasmus.

Diacope - a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is repeated with a small number of intervening words. The first line of Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, "Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way," is an example of diacope.

Epizeuxis - a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is repeated in immediate succession, with no intervening words. In the play Hamlet, when Hamlet responds to a question about what he's reading by saying "Words, words, words," that's an example of epizeuxis.

Foreshadowing - a literary device in which authors hint at plot developments that don't actually occur until later in the story. Foreshadowing can be achieved directly or indirectly, by making explicit statements or leaving subtle clues about what will happen later in the text. The Russian author Anton Chekhov summarized foreshadowing when he wrote, "If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it absolutely must go off." The description of the gun on the wall, in other words, should foreshadow its later use.

Hubris - excessive pride or overconfidence, which drives a person to overstep limits in a way that leads to their downfall. In Greek mythology, the legend of Icarus involves an iconic case of hubris: Icarus is given artificial wings made of wax and feathers so that he can fly (a superhuman feat), but he ignores his father's warnings and flies too close to the sun, melting his wings and drowning in the ocean.

Irony - a literary device or event in which how things seem to be is in fact very different from how they actually are. If this seems like a loose definition, don't worry—it is. Irony is a broad term that encompasses three different types of irony, each with their own specific definition: verbal irony, dramatic irony, and situational irony. Most of the time when people use the word irony, they're actually referring to one of these specific types of irony.

Juxtaposition - occurs when an author places two things side by side as a way of highlighting their differences. Ideas, images, characters, and actions are all things that can be juxtaposed with one another. For example, it's a common plot device in fairy tales such as Cinderella to juxtapose the good-natured main character with a cruel step-sibling. The differences between the characters, as well as their close relation to one another, serve to highlight the main character's good qualities.

Kenning - a figure of speech in which two words are combined in order to form a poetic expression that refers to a person or a thing. For example, "whale-road" is a kenning for the sea. Kennings are most commonly found in Old Norse and Old English poetry.

Litotes - a figure of speech and a form of understatement in which a sentiment is expressed ironically by negating its contrary. For example, saying "It's not the best weather today" during a hurricane would be an example of litotes, implying through ironic understatement that the weather is, in fact, horrible.

Metonymy - a type of figurative language in which an object or concept is referred to not by its own name, but instead by the name of something closely associated with it. For example, in "Wall Street prefers lower taxes," the New York City street that was the original home of the New York Stock Exchange stands in for (or is a "metonym" for) the entire American financial industry.

Narrative - an account of connected events. Two writers describing the same set of events might craft very different narratives, depending on how they use different narrative elements, such as tone or point of view. For example, an account of the American Civil War written from the perspective of a white slaveowner would make for a very different narrative than if it were written from the perspective of a historian, or a former slave.

Onomatopoeia - a figure of speech in which words evoke the actual sound of the thing they refer to or describe. The “boom” of a firework exploding, the “tick tock” of a clock, and the “ding dong” of a doorbell are all examples of onomatopoeia.

Polyptoton - a figure of speech that involves the repetition of words derived from the same root (such as "blood" and "bleed"). For instance, the question, "Who shall watch the watchmen?" is an example of polyptoton because it includes both "watch" and "watchmen."

Quatrain - a four-line stanza of poetry. It can be a single four-line stanza, meaning that it is a stand-alone poem of four lines, or it can be a four-line stanza that makes up part of a longer poem.

Red herring - a piece of information in a story that distracts readers from an important truth, or leads them to mistakenly expect a particular outcome. Most often, the term red herring is used to refer to a "false clue"—a piece of evidence that misleads readers to believe that a crime (or other action) was committed by someone other than the actual culprit.

Sibilance - a figure of speech in which a hissing sound is created within a group of words through the repetition of "s" sounds. An example of sibilance is: "Sadly, Sam sold seven venomous serpents to Sally and Cyrus in San Francisco."

Theme - a universal idea, lesson, or message explored throughout a work of literature. One key characteristic of literary themes is their universality, which is to say that themes are ideas that not only apply to the specific characters and events of a book or play, but also express broader truths about human experience that readers can apply to their own lives. For instance, John Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath (about a family of tenant farmers who are displaced from their land in Oklahoma) is a book whose themes might be said to include the inhumanity of capitalism, as well as the vitality and necessity of family and friendship.

Understatement - a figure of speech in which something is expressed less strongly than would be expected, or in which something is presented as being smaller, worse, or lesser than it really is. Typically, understatement is used to call attention to the very quality it pretends to downplay. For instance, if you had just eaten the most delicious meal of your life and licked the plate clean, you might jokingly tell the chef that "It was edible," making use of understatement to humorously express how much you appreciated the meal.

Verbal irony - occurs when the literal meaning of what someone says is different from—and often opposite to—what they actually mean. When there's a hurricane raging outside and someone remarks "what lovely weather we're having," this is an example of verbal irony.

Zeugma - a figure of speech in which one "governing" word or phrase modifies two distinct parts of a sentence. Often, the governing word will mean something different when applied to each part, as in the sentence, "He took his coat and his vacation." The verb "to take" makes sense with and governs both "coat" and "vacation," but is appropriate to each in a different way.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

[noelle-holi-gay]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

heyyyy I was tagged by @snarky-wallflower for this thingy, and I don't typically do stuff like this but what the heck! This one looks fun, and I need a small break from finals.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Sixty-six! Nice round satanic number.

2. What’s your total word count?

Uhhh... 1,164,238. I think I broke a million back with Dream Come True. Wild stuff! Guess that's what happens when you do this nonstop for like four years.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly Deltarune these days, obviously, but I also had a wonderful time in the Splatoon and DuckTales fandoms, as well as Miraculous Ladybug, My Little Pony, and a ton of smaller ones here and there.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos

Dare to Dream (Deltarune): A fun little Susie x Noelle romcom that takes place in a divergent chapter 2 timeline where Susie kisseed Noelle on the Ferris Wheel. Also the first fic in my mega-series Dream Come True, a 300,000 word epic that really kind of went off the rails. But don't worry about that! It's just a funny little romcom! Come closer!

F@#!, Marry, or Kill (Miraculous Ladybug): I am so mad that this is up here. This fic sucks. I wrote it when I was fourteen (hence my reluctance to say "fuck" in the title) and it's just the main characters of the show getting caught up in a game of Fuck-Marry-Kill that involves their own superhero identites, but nobody else knows that. It's a good way to leverage the dramatic irony of Miraculous Ladybug, I guess, but I hate that this was my most-kudoed fic for so long. I wrote it over SEVEN years ago. The only reason it got so popular is because back in 2016, the Miraculous Ladybug fandom was a sea of piranhas starved by the seemingly endless will-they won't-they of the show, ravenous for whatever scraps they could get their grimy little teeth on. Perfect example of why popularity doesn't always equate with quality.

People Write Fanfiction About Me? (Miraculous Ladybug): This one is actually good, even if it's also incredibly old. Basically, Marinette finds online RPF of her and her superhero partner that was obviously written by her superhero partner, and they get into a whole meta fanfiction war, and it gets worse from there. I like this one a lot even if it's in an outdated style: I think it's a good take on the identity reveal genre for the ML fandom.

Stealing Kisses (Deltarune): Not much to say on this one! It's a direct continuation of Dare to Dream, still part of the Dream Come True series, though it functions more as a drama than a straight romcom, which is only one of many tone shifts that this series eventually takes. It also contains Locker Biting Challenge (if you know you know), which I think is, to date, one of the funniest bits of situational comedy I've ever written, so it gets special notes for that.

Crossing the Streams (DuckTales): And this is my most popular DuckTales fic, to round out the set! It's a low-stakes / no-magic AU, where instead of going on daring adventures, the DuckTales kids stream FPS video games online, and are, like, famous streamers. I think its popularity was artificially boosted just a tad due to being in-progress when the series finale dropped, but I think it holds up! I had some good fun playing with identity, fame, and hidden relationships.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I--sometimes! Just not very often... Look, if someone asks me a question, or if I have something to actually say in response, or if the comment is particularly touching, I'll reply, but I'm just really bad at taking compliments! It feels very awkward to me to reply to every comment when I would basically just be going "Thanks so much, I'm glad you liked it!" ten times in a row. That's the only reason (<-Definitely doesn't have anxiety)

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't tend to do unhappy endings. Cold Case for sure, if it were finished, lmao. Although--I guess you could argue Stealing Kisses has a very angsty ending, though it isn't actually an ending since it's just a sequel-bait cliffhanger. But yeah, I'm going to cheat a little and say Cold Case. It should be finished soon, anyway! Hopefully!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

That's hard to say considering the amount of romcoms I've written, but I think I'd actually have to go with the final mainline entry in my Splatoon series, Operation 24, which was The Wedding. It ends on a really sweet and poignant rooftop scene that I think is particularly uplifting, even compared to the endings of my other long-form romance fics.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Very rarely. I've gotten my share of transphobic comments -- welcome to the Internet! -- but thankfully they've been few and far between. I just delete them when they show up.

9. Do you write smut?

Yes, I have; no, you can't see it :p

10. Do you write crossovers?

I have written at least two crossover fics, so yes! I wouldn't exactly call it my genre, though. They're a little too niche and I like attention.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Oh boy. Yes, twice; the first was my Fuck Marry Kill fic for miraculous ladybug, which was ripped off and horribly butchered into a terrible version of the story by someone who IMMEDIATELY abandoned it to Orphan Account. Which is wild to me.

But the real creme of the crop was some kid on WattPad who copied large portions of my Operation 24 series, and then changed small and seemingly arbitrary details throughout to be more...train-centric? Like, all the characters would have strange and OOC dialog about trains in the middle of the romance. And then after a few chapters of that it did a total left-hand veer into a Thomas the Tank Engine / Harry Potter crossover that was utterly wild to behold. This whole saga is probably one of the weirdest things that has ever happened to me in my life and I'm honestly more bewildered than mad about it.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Wow, wouldn't that be cool! But no, along with getting a podfic this is one of those big fic-writer experiences that has elude me thusfar.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope! I don't really know how to co-write outside of RP, and I haven't ever really done RP. I'm not opposed to the concept of co-writing, but I think it's sort of difficult to make work with my writing style.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

While I'd love to give the PR-friendly answer of Suselle, I think it's gotta go to Miraculous Ladybug's Love Square. That show has haunted me for seven years and is showing no sign of stopping, and the fuckery it does with its main relationship is some utterly unrivaled Shakespearian nonsense. The way the fandom has built around the relationship is also very interesting, especially the way the fanfic scene has shifted as the show develops and its audience grows up.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

If I want to finish a WIP, I will finish that WIP. The only ones that don't get finished are the ones I don't want to finish. This is the power of believing in yourself!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialog for sure--always has been--and also just, like, grammar? I do words good, as they say. I like to think I have a pretty well-rounded writing skillset at this point, though.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Definitely descriptive stuff like setting the scene. I have to really work to make sure my scenes are embodied in physical reality, and sometimes I just forget to describe new locations. It's just a fairly boring part of writing for me, so I don't like doing it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language?

I took six years of Spanish and have forgotten all of it, so this is unlikely at best. Spanish also uses em dashes instead of quotation marks to denote speaker changes, and while that is very linguistically interesting, it is also very confusing to me, specifically.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Uhhh... the first fandom I published was Miraculous Ladybug, but I think the first fandom I wrote for was My Little Pony. My MLP stuff is on a different site, and also pretty freaking bad, but it was my first large-scale fic and it really helped me develop my skills and voice.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Easy: Dream Come True. That was a monumental journey to go on, and seeing my readerbase follow along as that story morphed and twisted and just kept going and going was such a unique and satisfying experience as a writer. It truly feels unreplicable.

I'm not going to tag anyone because I am a coward, and get horribly anxious at the prospect of @ing people. But if you see this and you wanna do it, use me as an excuse! Say I atted you! Live freely!

Okay good bye. I must return to my endless studies...

[depressing-debbie]

A Latte For Erwin Pt 3

Summary: Erwin and Levi wait out the storm together, 1.7k words

Here I am with yet ANOTHER chapter :)

This is like SO different from what I usually write, I’m a teensy bit worried but I’m trying to remind myself that you can’t get better at writing without just getting started and allowing yourself to produce some shitty writing at first, so uhh yeah on that note, enjoy

Part 1   Part 2

Levi set the stack of papers down on a coffee table, flicking on a lamp, and Erwin was finally able to get a good look at the house. Even from their few interactions so far, he could tell that the house was so very fitting for Levi. It was somewhat small, barely decorated yet very cozy, and impeccably clean. There wasn’t a single item that seemed out of place, and the few decorations that could be seen were sophisticated and neat: clearly, he put care into his home.

“Sorry, I know it’s a bit of a mess. I was planning on taking my day off to clean the carpets, they’re filthy.” Levi frowned as they walked towards the kitchen, and Erwin had to hold in a laugh.

“Levi, this is the opposite of messy, it’s completely- wait, you were going to deep clean your house on your day off?” Erwin stared in a sort of impressed shock, and Levi shot him a look of confusion.

“... yes? I already said, the carpets are filthy, and I never have the time to clean them properly. Except for a day like today.” They reached the kitchen, and Levi gestured for Erwin to sit at the small wooden table in the corner. He then began opening cabinets and gathering what Erwin quickly assumed were coffee ingredients. Fitting.

“I suppose that’s fair. I just can’t imagine it being very relaxing.” Levi rolled his eyes in response.

“I’d rather relax once I know my house is taken care of. Besides, what else would you suggest I do with a day off?”

Erwin smiled slightly. “I mean, I had a nice evening planned out for the two of us before I knew your coworker was messing with us. Doesn’t that sound like more fun than cleaning?” Levi froze for a moment, thankful to be facing the wall so Erwin couldn’t see the slight panic in his expression.

“I don’t know, when’s the last time you cleaned carpets? Kind of hard to beat.” Erwin laughed at the sarcasm and Levi relaxed a bit, finishing up with the drinks and sitting down at the table. Erwin accepted the cup and went to take a sip, but he noticed something off. It didn’t quite smell like coffee, more like-

“Tea?” Erwin looked up at Levi in surprise, and once again, Levi stared blankly back. 

“Do you not like tea?”

“No, no, I do! I guess I just figured you would make coffee at home, considering you have such skills with coffee.” 

Levi felt his face burning once again and lifted the cup to cover it. “I don’t really like coffee. I like tea.” Erwin leaned back in his chair and flashed a confused grin.

“You- you don’t like coffee? You work at a coffee shop!” 

“I know, I know, but that doesn’t mean I have to drink it.” Levi caught himself smiling, partially at the irony being pointed, but also at Erwin’s expression of awe. Against his will, he noticed the beginnings of butterflies in his stomach, and quickly shoved the feeling away. 

Erwin finally took a sip of the tea, and his eyes went wide, making Levi laugh quietly. “THAT’S AMAZING, LEVI. How do you manage to be this good at making coffee AND tea?”

“I’m glad you like it.” Levi’s eyes wandered away and he stared out the window, unsure of why he couldn’t make eye contact. He cleared his throat and hastily redirected the conversation. “The weather doesn’t seem to be clearing up at all.”

“You’re right. I guess I won’t need to cancel the reservations I made for tonight, they wouldn’t be open in a storm like this anyway.” Both men fell silent, reminded of the awkward situation. “Levi, I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable, but I think I should at least ask. Were you planning on calling? Should I find new reservations for another day? Because if not, then that’s fine, not a problem at all, but, you know, it’s better to know, and I just want to clear it up-” Erwin started out calmly, but it quickly became a nervous ramble, one which Levi had to note was endearing.

Levi sighed and composed himself before responding. “If I’m being honest, Erwin, no. I wasn’t going to call.” He saw the embarrassed expression on Erwin’s face and quickly elaborated. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to!” It came out a bit louder than he had meant, and he blushed. “I just mean... well, that’s not me. That’s not my role, it never really has been, and that’s fine with me.” Erwin watched as Levi shrunk into his chair, unused to having actual discussions with anyone but Hange.

“What role? I don’t understand.”

“You know, I’m just a coffee guy. I make coffee, and I clean my house, and I try to stop Hange from letting the shop explode. That’s me, that’s what I do. I don’t do... this.” Levi gestured in between the two of them, and Erwin did his best to connect the dots.

“I see. So, you’re saying... you don’t date?”

“I don’t date.” Levi crossed his arms in front of him and did his best to maintain his unbothered expression, but screaming internally for allowing himself to share personal information with essentially a stranger.

“But, you want to? I mean, you wanted to call me?” 

“It’s complicated... but, yes. I just can’t.” This time it was Erwin who rolled his eyes, and Levi was taken aback.

“I’m sorry, Levi, but that’s bullshit. I like you! I think you’re a really interesting person, and I would love to get to know you. And from what I’m hearing, it sounds like you feel the same way. So if there really is something stopping you here, then of course I respect that. But don’t limit yourself for no reason.”

At this point, Levi could no longer control the redness crawling across his face, but he finally forced himself to look up and make eye contact. Erwin’s expression was genuine and concerned, and Levi hated to admit how comforting it was.

He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right. You’re right, I know! I just don’t know where to go from here.”

Erwin grinned. “Well, luckily, that I can help you with. Levi. Do you want to go on a date with me?” Levi didn’t even bother concealing his smile this time.

“Yes. Yes, I would like that.” He glanced out the window, and his face fell a bit. “If this weather ever clears up, that is.” Erwin shrugged, still smiling.

“I don’t think that’s an issue. I mean, we went for a walk together, we’re sitting in your kitchen having tea... why can’t we consider this our first date?” Levi really thought about it for a moment, and agreed.

“We should do something. You know, like watch a movie or something, that’s what people do on dates, right?” Levi asked, and Erwin tried not to laugh. “What? What’s so funny?” He grinned, blushing.

“You really don’t date, do you?” Erwin gave in and laughed, and Levi shot him a look of fake hurt, still smiling.

“We already knew that, jerk. You didn’t answer the question, what do people do on dates?” 

“Whatever they want! Here, do you have any puzzles? We could do a puzzle.” This time it was Levi’s turn to hold in a laugh, trying not to spit out his tea.

“A puzzle? Alright, old man. Or is this just part of the Sophisticated Professor thing?” He teased. 

“Oh, I’m old? Do you want to count the number of antique lamps in here?” Erwin teased right back, and Levi gave in. 

“Alright, alright, that’s fair. I do have some puzzles, actually. Hange got them for me last year, said I needed a new hobby. Apparently they don’t think coffee should be someone’s entire personality.” Levi went into the adjacent room and rummaged around in the cabinet.

“Oh yeah, and how’d that new hobby go?” 

He returned with two puzzle boxes, both still wrapped in plastic. “I decided to stick with the coffee afterall.” Levi was just about to sit down when his phone rang, back with the pile of paperwork by the door, so he set down the puzzles and went after it. 

He snorted when he saw Hange’s name as the caller. Of all people to interrupt, of course it was them.

“What do you need Hange?” 

“Geez Levi, you don’t have to be so aggressive, I just wanted to make sure you got home alright. I feel bad, tricking you guys like that, it was a dirty move, I just couldn’t watch you miss out on an opportunity, and I know you wouldn’t have gotten in contact if I didn’t take initiative, so I just decided-” Levi was getting restless listening to them ramble.

“Stop, you don’t need to explain, listen, it’s fine.” 

“Really? Because I figured you’d be pissed! I know how serious you are about your privacy and not wanting to talk to other people, and I know I messed up-”

“HANGE. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still mad, but you don’t have to explain, not right now. I have to go.”

“Oh... oh? Go where? Are you still planning to clean the carpets? I’ll come over after we close and help, it’s the least I can do, do you think we could close early? I could be there in an hour-”

“No, no, don’t come here.” Levi could feel Hange’s intrigue, especially since he’d never stopped them from coming to visit him randomly before. It would probably be easier to just come clean... “I mean, unless you want to interrupt and ruin my first date. Goodbye, Hange.” Levi hung up just as he heard them start to freak out. He would have to deal with that later, but as he hurried back to Erwin in the kitchen, he couldn’t care less. 

First date... sounded nice.

[whathebash]

date:  february 3-5, 2021

tl;dr:  bash finds out who’s blackmailing him, as well as some information about his parents’ murder.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 3:  BASH’S DORM ROOM

THE RESULTS FROM OPHELIA’S INVESTIGATION HAD COME BACK LAST MONDAY.  bash had been dreading it for weeks, and the irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. after all, he had been the one to ask her to look into who had been sending him the blackmail messages, after mary had referred ophelia to him. he had immediately felt RELIEF when she had told him it would take about a week to get the results, but that feeling hadn’t lasted long. what do you plan to do after everything is out ?   ophelia had asked him, to which bash hadn’t known how to respond. it’s a question that would continue to haunt him for the entire week, the only thing he could think of before going to bed every night. he didn’t know what he was going to do with the information -- go to president sutton ?   approach the person ?   get revenge ?   it would all come down to whoever the person is, bash reasoned with himself.

bootcamp was on its very last week when ophelia had texted him to say she had located the person, and it took hearing those words for bash to realize that he wasn’t yet ready to find out. everybody knows that the final week of bootcamp is the most important, so why would he do something to potentially ruin his final scores ?   no, it made far more sense to wait until the whole thing was over. he had arranged for ophelia to put all the information she found in an envelope, handing it to him before practice  ( and him making her promise not to tell anyone about this, because he didn’t want mary knowing the results were in yet ) .  his focus wasn’t at its best knowing the information was at the tips of his fingers, but bash found that for once, the fear of the unknown wasn’t as scary as whatever could be in that envelope. he’s been used to the feeling of looking over his shoulder, not knowing who was watching him, so what was one more week ? 

there’s no excuse as to why he didn’t open the envelope as soon as bootcamp was over ;   in reality, bash was just afraid. he hadn’t wanted to do it on his weekend of rest, and then he didn’t want to do it on his first day of classes, and before he knew it the envelope was staring him down on his bed, as he packed his things for a weekend trip to washington dc. he could argue that he shouldn’t ruin the trip with bad news, but… if he doesn’t read it now, when will he ever ?   he had made ophelia and mary go through the trouble of finding this, and when it came down to it, it was time.

bash uses the rare opportunity of having the dorm to himself to take a seat on his bed, taking the envelope in his hands. he sits like that for a few minutes, doing nothing but turning it over in his fingers, waiting for them to finally get the courage to break it open. when they do, his hands shake as he brings the papers up to eye level, reading them slowly. there’s a few pages with what bash can only consider proof, but there’s far too much encryption jargon for him to make sense of it. but on a small piece of paper, ophelia's made it far too easy for him, putting out the name and underlining it thrice :    JULIAN EATON.

 the papers drop from his hand, scattering all over the floor. bash doesn’t bother to pick them up.

at first he assumes it must be some kind of mistake. maybe ophelia had tracked it to his room, and just guessed him out of all his other roommates who it could’ve been ?   who are his roommates again ?   surely it has to be one of them. julian and him are FRIENDS ;   they go to the gym together, they hung out in berlin together, they studied together for their mutual class last semester. they’re not the closest friends, but he’s always been a solid presence during bash’s time at gallagher. bash’s problems this year had been a little too hard to talk about with just anyone, but he could’ve confided in julian, knowing the kind of guy he is. he trusts him. bash had visited him in the infirmary when he had gotten into his car accident.

bash had visited him in the infirmary when he had gotten into his car accident. not long after that, he had received the text message from his blackmailer, telling him that it was going to stop. that has to be a coincidence… right ? 

worried that his roommates may come in any minute, bash gets up from his bed and picks up the papers one by one. adrenaline is pumping through his veins and bash doesn’t know what to do with it right now. maybe he should’ve opened the envelope with mary or hazel, someone who could ground him, because right now bash doesn’t know what to do with himself. he’s not an aggressive man, but right now he feels the need to PUNCH something, or maybe go for a run, one that’ll get him far away enough from gallagher and his problems that he doesn’t have to deal with them. he doesn’t even register that he’s ripped the papers in his hands until he’s holding nothing but confetti, which he shoves into the nearest garbage. 

there’s a million questions moving around his head at once, all far too fast and fragmented for him to even begin to unpack them. there’s only one that’s the most important anyway, one that bash has been thinking about since the end of june, when he had received his first text message from an unknown number on his twenty-third birthday :   WHY ?   he’s not the type to think very highly of himself, but bash KNOWS he hadn’t done anything to julian eaton to warrant this kind of behavior… right ?   is there something he could’ve done differently to make this not happen ?   

how did julian know about his past anyway ?   he’s not a encryption student in the slightest, so bash doubts that julian himself had been able to get his information from the school’s system. was someone working with him ?   how many people knew about this ?   anger and confusion had been expected feelings to come out of this, but the humiliation he feels now is new and unexpected. wiping the corners of his eyes that have begun to spring tears, he forces himself to take a deep breath, and then a second. 

his phone vibrates loudly on his pillow, making him jump. despite receiving a text from the blackmailer  ( julian ?   he still doesn’t know whether to believe it or not )   about how bash would never hear from them again, every text he receives still warrants the same reaction. what was he supposed to do, believe in the kindness of the person who made him steal from one of his roommates and stop talking to all his friends ?   but the text is actually from dimitri, asking if they could meet this weekend while bash is in dc.  i have something you’ll want to see. 

over the summer, bash had found out that dimitri’s father had been the hitman hired to kill his parents, and he had tasked his friend to find out who had hired him. the last thing bash wants right now is another secret to deal with, but he texts dimitri back anyway. right now the prospect of getting out of witness protection and being allowed to leave gallagher -- a place that had once felt like a safe space for bash -- sounds really nice.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 2021:  WASHINGTON DC BAR

IT’S NICE TO SEE DIMITRI AGAIN. bash doesn’t realize how much he’s missed him and alec at gallagher until he gets the chance to spend time with them again. tomorrow he’ll see alec, and he almost wishes it could’ve been the three of them together again, but bash is smart enough to know that his time with dimitri isn’t a completely social call. it’s been two days after finding out the truth about his blackmailer and bash still feels in a daze, not completely accepting it yet. so it’s hard to make small talk about his time at gallagher currently, focusing on bootcamp scores and telling dimitri about his spring semester classes, as well as asking his older friend all he can about his new job. if dimitri notices his uneasy state, he doesn’t ask about it.

when the conversation finally stalls, dimitri takes out a manilla envelope and slides it across the table to him.   “ i don’t know how helpful this is. i tried doing further digging, but couldn’t find very much on them, ”   dimitri admits. 

bash shakes his head, taking the folder and tucking it in his backpack. “ whatever it is, it’s more than we originally had. thank you again for doing this, seriously. this… i needed this. ”

there’s some trace of understanding in dimitri’s eyes that makes bash look away, but out of his peripherals he sees dimitri nod.   “ just be careful. ”   bash doesn’t know what specifically he should be careful about -- and he doubts dimitri himself knows either -- but he gives a small nod in agreement. 

bash doesn’t wait until he’s back in his hotel room to open the folder. reading it on the metro probably isn’t the most secure space, but he’s learned his lesson about holding onto bad information. sliding the papers out of the folder, the first thing he sees makes his breath catch in his throat :   side-by-side mugshots of his parents. it’s not until now that he realizes he hasn’t seen a picture of his parents in over a year, before arriving to gallagher, not long after their death in general. bash has never seen their mugshots before -- he didn’t even know they had them -- but after finding out about julian, bash finds that he’s not even surprised at this revelation. he stares at the pictures longer than necessary, only pulling himself out of the trance when he feels the train come to a stop. bash holds the papers to his chest while people get on and off, and once it’s moving again, he quickly flips the page and resumes his search.

the papers are dimitri’s father’s log of his mission, bash quickly realizes. his parent’s assassination. there are details far too gruesome for a son’s eyes, but he reads them all anyway, until his tears blur his vision too much. pushing them away, bash scans the rest of the pages, looking for the key to the entire investigation. who hired aleksander orlov ? 

and then there it is, at the bottom of the last page, though it’s a name so foreign to bash he doesn’t even notice it at first. he had been expecting the name of a person, an enemy of his parents perhaps, but instead there’s only the name of an entire institution :   THE CALEDONIA INSTITUTE.

[artificialqueens]

The kind of love you don't believe in (Jan x Jackie) - Pinkgrapefruit

[7337 words]

Jackie takes a deep breath and slams her empty glass on the table triumphantly.

“I’m going to make you believe in love.” She says with such conviction it’s impossible not to believe her. Her eyes twinkle. Jan wonders if this might be easier than either of them think.

“Okay.”

[ divorce lawyer/wedding planner au ]

A/N - i love this fic so much that i’ve tried to prolong it several times to no avail. it’s based off a Tumblr prompt me and jazz saw and ran with and honestly i’d make her a coauthor but she wouldn’t be impressed so instead it’s dedicated to her in the hopes that she’ll actually accept that for all her hard work and amazing comments while writing this. couldn’t have done it without her. i hope you fall as in love with it as i am.

*

Jan picks at the edges of her french-tipped manicure. It’s peeling. She stares at it for a second, examining the way the shiny polish reflects the sunlight filtering through the half-closed blinds. If she’s got her timings right, Bob will barrel through her office door in a minute or two and tell her to go home. Or to eat something. Or to do both which is the most probable outcome and Jan’s always been good at finding the most probable outcomes.

She’s a lawyer. It’s her job.

She’d started in family court and it was fun. There was a joy to bringing a child back home to their parents or filing adoptions and the kids’ faces would make Jan light up. She’d appealed for name changes and gender assignments and she was good, no one questioned that. One corner of her office had a neon rainbow sign and a comfy armchair and some books and some toys and it was usually occupied by a little kid who shouldn’t have to spend their afternoon in a lawyers office. But if she could look up from some paperwork to see a calm little kid - she could be calm and happy.

Then she started taking divorce claims.

And she’s a little less vibrant.

(The world feels a little less magical when your job is to help people split their lives in two.)

The problem is, she’s good. She’s really good. She hasn’t lost a divorce case and she gets a name for them. She gets recommended divorce cases until she only has a couple of gay kids and adoptions and custody agreements a month. Trixie takes the rest - nice, warm, motherly Trixie who makes everyone a cup of tea and asks them about their day and wears pastel pinks and yellows. Jan’s not bitter, she’s just jaded. She turns up to work in her charcoal pantsuits and her red heels, makes her coffee in her matte black mug, spends the day in her office with the door closed and leaves in silence. She’s happy, she’s just not what she used to be.

She tried to explain as much in the kitchenette the firm shares. There are only four of them; herself, Katya, Trixie and Bob - the boss lady. Bob does corporate, Katya does criminal, Trixie does the pro bono work and most of the kids’ stuff and Jan slogs away on divorces.

“I want to do something that feels meaningful,” she whined, pulling her turtleneck over her mouth as Bob pointed at the crossword question she couldn’t answer.

“Accumulation,” Katya said with a mouthful of apple that she crunched next to Jan’s ear, taking pleasure in the way the blonde scrunched her face up.

“Doesn’t fit the clue. It says impatience.” Bob reminded her, underlining it with her finger just to make a point.

“Anticipation,” Trixie yelled from the counter where she’d perched with her tea. “Jan use it in a sentence!”

“I anticipate going home.” Jan moaned to a cackle from the pink-clad woman. She stood, checking her turtleneck in the microwave door before leaving the kitchenette with a sigh.

So she’s waiting for Bob to come in and tell her to go home. It’s the middle of summer but it’s nearing seven and it’s a Friday. She’s got the weekend off for a wedding. She’d rather be in small claims court if she’s honest.

The idea of love becomes infinitely less appealing when you are surrounded by its decay at every turn. She’d rather just go home to her cat who she knows will always love her and cannot file a legal document saying it’s got irreconcilable differences and wants the house but none of the furniture.

No, Marceline would never.

*

Jackie opens the shop at six a.m. because she likes the feeling of the streets in the early morning. The sun is already up because it’s the middle of summer but the city still feels barren. It’s so quiet, she can hear her own heart among the calls of the birds. She enters ‘End Of The Aisle Weddings’ with a peppy smile and relaxed confidence and zero caffeine - saving that for her two p.m. pick me up when she and Rock can discuss their clientele over leftover wedding cake and hot drinks served in novelty mugs. It’s her favourite time of the day after opening.

She checks her planner almost immediately, plays her seventeen-ish voicemails while crossing things off the list and tacking on extra items that brides have found in a frenzy. She has one wedding coming up that should be fantastic but is also draining her more than usual with the number of requests the bride has. She gets about three calls a day making amendments and she’s more than happy to agree to them because most of the time she’s just a little drunk on the idea of being in love.

She calls the florist, the caterers and the photographer before Rock will be out of bed, skidding around the backroom’s slick floors in just her socks as she rearranges goodie bags and vases and table decorations organised by date.

Sometimes, she leans on the sage-green wooden table they use for meetings and looks through engagement photoshoots, planning her own. She imagines her hair in pin curls as her fiance dips her - probably in a field.

With their cat.

And some fairy lights.

She’s spent a lot of time hoping and dreaming and praying for her future wife to just walk through the door like they do in the romcoms she’s been born and raised on. She wants her ‘You’ve got Mail’ moment - a book with a rose in it and a woman she thought she hated but also loved. She wants someone to convince her to fall in love. She wants big moments and small gestures and the sweet warmth she sees in so many couples but she’s alone. It’s a cruel irony.

She hadn’t planned to be a wedding planner. She studies interior design and marketing at uni - interning at a wedding planner and never really leaving. She thought she’d do corporate, or events. Turns out, she’s pretty happy where she ended up.

Just a little lonely. Ever so slightly. Sometimes.

She brews another cup of chai and inhales the scent of cardamom pods, watching the business people on their ways to work through the big glass front windows - rain spattering on them like tiny droplets of light.

*

Jackie plans good weddings. She knows it’s not particularly objective but she knows she’s good at her job. By this point in the planning, she’s known the couple for close to a year so she’s pretty comfortable just to chill at the reception. She puts out fires where she’s needed in her white shirt and tailored black trousers - it’s typical attire for her - a black blazer hung on a hook somewhere, waiting for her exit. She’s comfortable, mobile and most importantly, she has pockets.

She knows she plans a good wedding which is why she’s just a little surprised to see (an objectively gorgeous) blonde woman sat at the bar, holding a tumbler of scotch. She’s in an off-the-shoulder yellow dress but somehow the summery look feels a little off-kilter when faced with her expression. It’s like it doesn’t fit her even though it fits her perfectly (objectively of course).

She scowls at the scotch before taking another sip and Jackie decides to approach as even though she’s terminally delightful she is not someone who enjoys the conga and it’s coming dangerously close.

She sidles up to the blonde girl, ordering a ‘sex on the beach’ with a smile to the bartender who she’s known for years. Jaida just winks, sliding over the drink and walking as far away as she can.

Jackie just sips her drink and watches for a minute or so until the girl flips her curls over her shoulder and stares her dead in the eyes. Her eyes are blue. A soul-piercing blue. But they look lost.

“Jan,” she announces, nonchalantly and Jackie has to blink a few times before she realises that the girl - Jan - is saying her name. She gives a frankly stupid little wave before she replies, voice full of amusement at her own stupidity.

“I’m Jackie. It’s lovely to meet you Jan,” she smiles, sipping her drink through the tiny straw Jaida always gives her after she spilt a particularly colourful cosmo down her old favourite shirt.

Jan nods towards her drink, “ Sex on the beach? All I’m getting from this wedding is a handshake in the garden.” She almost manages to maintain her slightly stormy demeanour but she cracks at the last second, blinding white teeth sparkling as Jackie has to hold onto the bar to stop herself falling off her chair in laughter.

“Not a wedding person?” Jackie asks, once she’s settled herself again and Jan tilts her head like she’s wondering why Jackie is bothering.

“I’m alone drinking expensive scotch at a bar,” Jan responds dryly. “I’m a divorce lawyer, I’m not exactly primed for this sort of thing. There is too much hope in this gazebo.”

Jackie feels the twinge of a smile at her cheeks and forces herself to look down for a second. “Fair enough, how do you know Rose and Nicky?”

Jan waves Jaida down and slips a tenner across the counter in exchange for another tumbler. She takes a long sniff and then a sip before she responds. “Rose - Rosé as we’ve called her ever since she chugged a bottle in uni - she was in my Law program - or at least the social work modules.” Jackie hums in approval and also a sort of understanding. She’s very good at putting the pieces together.

“You never planned to do divorces huh?” She asks but this time Jan’s the one to avert her gaze, staring ahead at the bottles of alcohol as Jackie rolls up the sleeves of her shirt  - it’s a warm day and the gazebo holding the bar and the dancefloor isn’t particularly well vented, she’ll bring it up with the company when she gets back to the office.

“Damn Sherlock.” Jan chuckles when she finally comes up with her response, tugging her dress back off the shoulders from where it’s risen up to. “No, I’m trained for family court - name changes, adoptions, custody - the sort of thing with happy children and good, fulfilling life changes. I’m just naturally good at homewrecking.”

“It’s not homewrecking if they ask for it,” Jackie points out, tilting her glass in a way that makes her look a little bit drunker than she is but then again she’s been on the champagne since ten when Rose forced a glass into her hand and the caterers are so well trained they just top you up.

She stands up, wobbling a bit on her heels and the uneven grass. “Wait,” she mutters, Jan placing a guiding hand on her lower back for stability. “You don’t believe in love do you?” It makes Jan snort in a very unladylike way but Jackie is deadly serious. “I’m a wedding planner. I love love. But you don’t.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in it,” Jan sighs dejectedly, helping Jackie back onto her stool and ordering her another drink, handing out tenners like they’re coins. “I just think it’s underwhelming and disappointing and never ends well. Women will disappoint me. My cat won’t.”

“You’ve never sounded gayer.” Jackie deadpans.

They look at each other inquisitively. Eyes drifting, searching.

“Only one of us wore a suit to a wedding.” Jan points out and they both burst into raucous laughter that makes the conga line (somehow still going) look at them a little strangely.

Jackie takes a deep breath and slams her empty glass on the table triumphantly.

“I’m going to make you believe in love.” She says with such conviction it’s impossible not to believe her. Her eyes twinkle. Jan wonders if this might be easier than either of them think.

“Okay.”

*

19:14

Janet are you busy?

19:18

Why.

19:21

I’m taking you to Karaoke.

*

Jan is pleasantly surprised to see Jackie in a mini dress but she’s also not mad about it. The dress is emerald green, hits just above her mid-thigh and is dangerously strappy and the heels Jackie paired with it make her legs look impossibly long. Jan also dressed up - but her purple mini dress feels more normal - less of a statement.

“Janet!” Jackie shouts from the entrance, clearly already tipsy even though it’s barely gone half-nine. She’s waving rather frantically and it takes willpower for Jan to move towards it instead of away but she reaches the girl who is warm and happy and she feels the stress in her shoulders melt away.

“Hi Jackie,” she sighs begrudgingly, holding the door for the brunette who practically skips into the bar that isn’t that empty. It’s a friday night. She should have expected it.

Jackie spins on her heels when they get inside and she gives Jan a once over with her eyes. “You’re not allowed whisky,” she decides after a little thought and Jan just stands there a little shellshocked as Jackie orders their drinks, winking at the bartender to get them quicker.

When she comes back to the high table Jan picked for them, she’s holding a glass of red wine and something that smells fruity which she sets in front of the blonde. Jan looks at it in disgust.

“What is that?” She asks, hoping she will like the answer.

“Pomegranate Mojito,” Jackie responds, looking smug and not at all phased by Jan’s death glare. “Drink up,” She says in a faux high-pitched tone and Jan mocks her as she sips the unnervingly pink drink.

She makes a face which makes Jackie almost spit out the wine she’d been drinking.

After about half an hour of watching drunk girls from the city university sing Taylor Swift off-key, Jackie decides they’re going to go up.

“I’m picking the song.” She demands and Jan raises an eyebrow, bemused.

“Okay Princess,” she responds because her drink is full again and it clearly had more alcohol than she’d been expecting. She’s a little disappointed that her whisky tolerance didn’t carry over into her weird cocktail tolerance - standing and immediately wishing she’d been sat down again.

Jackie once again leaves and returns smug, pushing the mojito towards Jan in a motion for the woman to down it which she does so dutifully - feeling it slide down immediately - smoother than the vodka shots she’d do in law school but still not quite her favourite scotch.

Bring it fucking on.

The first notes of ‘Nobody But You’ by Blake Shelton and Gwen Stefani play and all Jan feels is regret.

She should never have let Jackie on her Spotify. That was a secret.

She is, however, pleasantly surprised to hear Jackie nail Blake Shelton.

*

15:07

Janet, I need to make name cards are you busy?

15:12

Fuck no.

Wait sorry, frick no.

15:20

Jannnnnnnn pleaseeeeee

15:34

I can leave at 5. Meet at yours?

15:35

You know where the key is if you beat me there

*

Jan does not beat her there - it would be impossible - she’s a lawyer who hasn’t left the office before six since she was twenty-two and Jackie owns a wedding planning business that despite having a very cute shop - half resides in her living room anyway. They may both be twenty-eight but they are very different.

Jackie does, however, open the door with a mug of coffee already brewed and a dot of ink on her otherwise bare cheek. It’s all Jan can do not to lick her finger and wipe it away, finding it endearing how the girl’s organised behaviour could turn chaotic on a moment’s notice.

She enters the apartment and relishes in how homey it feels. Her own isn’t as lived in as it should be after five years but Jackie’s is warm and painted in a sage green tone that highlights the light wood floors. She sees the brunette little set up on the rug and feels glad that she keeps a change of clothes in her office as she’s much better equipped to sit cross-legged on the floor in a sweater and some leggings rather than her usual pantsuit.

The coffee is just how she likes it, warm and sweeter than anyone should know about.

Her hair is still in a low bun so she removes one of the hair ties and lets it fall down her back in a wavy low pony, pulling the bits by her ears out so she feels less like she just came from an office and more like she belongs. The apartment always makes her feel this urge to become comfortable and she spends so much of her time uncomfortable she refuses to fight it.

Jackie just smiles as she watches the blonde adjust - it’s like watching a snake shed its skin and even now she looks a little less like the corporate robot she sometimes meets for coffee and a little more like the woman who fell asleep on the couch during ‘Ten Things I Hate About You’ with her mouth open. It’s cute.

They get to work on the cards pretty quickly or at least they try to. Jackie makes her write on a piece of notepaper before she lets her near the nice pens but they both realise rather quickly that her handwriting is chicken scratch.

“I do a lot of paperwork and I have to write fast to keep up with all the yelling,” she whines as she is relegated to writing little notes for the kids at this particular wedding. “How do you even know how to do this?” She asks, gesturing to the fountain pen and the fancy hand-lettered place cards scattered across the patterned rug.

Jackie sighs as some ink blobs at the end of an otherwise perfectly good name card and throws it into the discard pile with a huff. “My calligrapher fell through one time so I figured I could make extra money by doing them myself.” She admits. “Plus it is fun to use colourful pens.” Jan quirks an eyebrow at the mention of the colourful pens, scanning the rug indiscreetly for anything that isn’t black ink.

Jackie chuckles at her indiscretion and stands up, going to the cupboard by the kettle and, instead of pulling out tea or biscuits like one would usually keep next to a kettle, puls out a caddy of brightly coloured pens. She points vaguely to one. “That one’s purple and glittery.

“Purple and glittery?” Jan repeats back with childlike awe that makes Jackie snort indecently with laughter. Jan scowls. “I’m a lawyer, Jaqueline. My special occasion pen is a red biro,” she rebukes with a huff.

“Gimme that,” Jackie makes a grabby hand towards the pen Jan is now clutching and the woman mocks pulling it closer before handing it over. Jackie scribbles it on one of the discarded cards to check it still works and then takes a fresh new one and writes ‘Janet the Boss-Ass Lawyer’ on it in curly handwriting that makes Jan blush. She then fills the edges with hearts and hands it to Jan with a soft smile.

Jan holds it close to her heart before looking at it with tenderness. She examines it in the light of the industrial lamps Jackie has but she decides that’s not enough so she skitters into Jackie’s west-facing bedroom and lets the glitter sparkle in the golden hour sunshine. Jackie’s always three steps ahead of her so she follows slowly and patiently, listening to the soft mutters of the happy blonde who hugs her ferociously once they’re both looking at the sunset.

“Thank you,” she whispers, half holding her breath and Jackie smiles.

“You deserve to always be as happy as you are with that pen.” She tells her, dead serious and Jan nods slowly.

Jackie did not mean for her to take the pen.

*

12:41

Janet do you have my purple pen?

12:52

I know it’s your lunch break Jan.

13:24

I’m just concerned for the safety of the glitter pen.

*

“Even her handwriting is romantic, that fucking bitch,” Jan laments as she fills out the crossword.

“Ire,” Katya mutters, pointing to three boxes going downwards and Jan puts her hand out for a high five, pleased when Katya agrees. The word is neatly put in in purple, glittery ink and it brings a little something to her day - one could venture to call it joy but Jan’s never been that sort of person.

Katya’s only just come out of the storage cupboard she entered seven minutes ago and if Jan is right with her timings, Trixie will exit in a few minutes looking dishevelled and still with a hint of red lipstick on the outer corner of her mouth. She will eat an apple while sitting on the counter and be absolutely no use to Jan’s crossword.

Jan decides she is done with them for the day and leaves them to their own devices as she slinks back to her office. She places the pen down carefully in the holder full of only back biros because she likes to know where it is and pulls the notecard out of her briefcase just to look at it. Again. She would hesitate to call this emotion joy.

The notecard grounds her mind enough to sort herself out for the last adoption case of the month and Jan lets her mouth twitch into a smile when she thinks of the kid she’ll be fighting for. He is small, sweet and tenacious and reminds her of Jackie in a way she did not expect.

When he runs into her office, he makes a beeline for her desk and she ruffles his hair in a form of greeting. He has been there a few times before so he is comfortable and he collects the puzzle book from her magazine rack and peruses her pens to fill it in before retreating to the armchair in the back. He picks the purple one and she cannot blame him. She would too.

She settles the papers rather quickly getting everything ready for the court date set in a week and a half. All they need is for a judge to stamp them and the boy can go home secure. She relishes in the opportunity to provide that for him and she texts Jackie about how hopeful she is. Jackie responds with a pen emoji and Jan chuckles at her through the phone.

15:12

The pen is safe Jacqueline.

15:15

That’s all I wanted to know Janet.

15:23

Is this our first fight?

15:25

Are you already planning the divorce?

15:27

That was low.

15:30

I’m not sorry. Get back to work pen thief.

*

10:20

Are you using the mug?

10:24

It’s an abomination.

10:26

You didn’t answer my question

*

Jackie makes mugs for all her clients. It’s a personal hobby, decorating them with ‘Mrs and Mrs’ or whatever titles. Sometimes it’s a wedding hashtag. Sometimes it’s for a stubborn lawyer who needs a little more sunshine in her life.

She thinks of it as a joke and it is… to begin with. Then she’s on her iPad making mockups on procreate and it just sort of happens.

It’s a big mug - one of those that carry more coffee than you need with room for whipped cream (there should always be room for whipped cream, says the lactose intolerant wedding planner). It’s a white base with small, bright rainbows that says ‘Girl, you’re testi-fine’ in a graphic nineties font and it makes Jackie want to screech every time she sees it (she keeps it on display for this exact reason because nothing brings more joy than catching it in the corner of her eye during a dull moment).

She wraps it up pretty in silver paper and places it into a nondescript cardboard box for delivery. They meet at a coffee shop one morning when Jan is bored and Jackie has a lull in weddings and she hands it over with a devilish grin that makes Jan squint at her to read between the lines. The lines are not obvious.

Jan does not screech. She stares for a very very long time and then, she lets out a very slow controlled breath. And then she loses it. She cackles loudly and the patrons of the cafe look at the two lesbians in the corner with bemused faces and Jackie doesn’t care because this mug is one of the greatest decisions she’s ever made.

Jan takes it back to the office and fills it with hot coffee - three sugars and almond milk and just sits with it for a second. She almost wants people to see it but it’s so awful she will never admit to it. When Katya walks in, however, she is not angry. The blonde takes one look at the garish print and cheerful message and has to cling to the countertop for support - the mug staring at her until she can breathe again.

“That is the best mug I have ever seen and I demand one.” Katya decides and Jan texts Jackie under the table who immediately responds with a selfie of herself with a plain mug and the caption ‘I am plotting.’

Jackie plots exquisitely and makes three more lawyer-y mugs.

Jan is oddly proud.

*

20:32

Jacks.

Are you busy?

I want you to meet my cat.

*

“That is the single gayest message I have ever received,” Jackie announces, stepping into the house from the rain and shaking her umbrella out of the door decisively. Jan is already there with a novelty mug with the slogan ‘gay and can do maths’ printed across it, filled with hot chocolate and too much whipped cream and Jackie takes it readily - soaking up the heat of the house to replace some the early winter climate stole from her.

She sinks onto Jan’s expensive but still plush couch and pulls a blanket over herself like this is a usual occurrence. For all the times Jan has been at hers, Jackie has never ventured into the lawyer’s place and yet despite the blondes complaints about how barren it is - Jackie feels at home.

The walls are a little bare, the colours a little dark and the floor is cold even with the fire lit but she still feels cosy under her blanket, mug held just below her chin. Jan sets her own mug of green tea on the sideboard before she exits the open-plan kitchen-living room, on a mission to find her cat. When she returns she is holding a perfectly happy beige and coffee coloured long-haired cat who snuggles into the blonde’s chest with a purr. She nuzzles her nose into it, a blush spreading across her cheek as she notices Jackie stare.

“Jaqueline, this is Marceline,” she says as she carefully holds out the cat who is perfectly happy to be held. Jackie cradles her carefully.

“Hi Marceline,” she coos and Jan smiles softly as she brushes the light cat hairs off her flannel.

Jackie holds the ragdoll cat with one hand and boops her nose with the other, giggling as she pulls her face back, mewling slightly.

“Oh, what’s Jackie doing to you,” Jan coos in a voice Jackie would usually reserve for babies. “What’s the matter, baby girl?” Jackie just watches as the cat is removed from her arms and burrows back into Jan’s chest as she slides back into the sofa with her. Jackie rests her chin on Jan’s shoulder, peering at the clearly attention-spoiled cat.

“You’re a helicopter parent,” she jibes sweetly and Jan very carefully elbows her.

“You would be the worst helicopter parent,” Jan rebukes but instead of laughing, Jackie gulps and leans back a little bit. Jan puts Marceline down so she can face the brunette. “Hey, what did I say?” She asks, confused.

“Sorry,” Jackie mutters under her breath, “I’ve just always hoped I wouldn’t be my mum if I became a parent.” Jan gets it. Well, she doesn’t really get it but she places her warm, fur-covered hand on Jackie’s bare forearm and leans towards her slightly.

“You would be a fantastic parent Jackie.” She tells her sincerely. “I swear.”

Jackie smiles again and Jan thinks she would do anything for that smile.

*

06:21

Jackie I think I’m sick.

06:23

Temperature?

06:24

Fucking hot.

06:25

I can’t trust you at home by yourself can I?

Screw it I’m coming to pick you up. Wear clothes.

*

Jackie looks at the girl asleep in her passenger seat with a soft but worried smile. She doesn’t look awful - pale and a bit peaky but it’s probably just a fever she tells herself as they drive to the shop. She’s planning to set her up in the back corner on a pile of cushions and blankets scavenged from both of their apartments. Ideally, she’d stay at home with her but winter weddings are just as popular as summer weddings so she’s got a fair few to work on today and she can’t do it from home. Or Jan’s.

She has to wake Jan up when they get there and it pains her a little bit to do so, head lolled against the condensated window - it can’t be comfortable. She rubs a gloved hand up and down Jan’s arm to try and rouse her and she comes around easily but looking sleepy.

“I feel like shit,” she mutters and it makes Jackie laugh because of course, Jan doesn’t become sweeter when she’s sick.

They eventually get her situated with a half-gallon water bottle and a hefty amount of blankets and Jackie will admit it’s adorable to see her cocooned as Jackie sits at the work table with flower arrangements splayed out around her.

It’s just past eleven when Jan rouses from her nap and she squints until her eyes adjust to the relatively bright shop lights.

“What are you doing?” She questions, straining her neck to see what Jackie’s working on. Jackie raises an eyebrow and takes the portfolio over to her, pulling one of the many blankets over her legs and placing a hand on Jan’s forehead as a gauge of illness.

“So,” Jackie starts, flicking open the leather portfolio to the relevant page. “Someone wants a coastal wedding in winter.” She winces in disagreement and Jan lets her head fall onto Jackie’s shoulder.

“Well, love is a beach,” She quips and Jackie rolls her eyes.

“You’re lucky I wouldn’t hit a sick person,” she retorts.

“How do you do this job?” Jan whines after watching Jackie highlight things for ten minutes straight. Admittedly Jan also highlights things but it’s usually in an ugly neon yellow and not pastel blue.

“What do you mean? It’s plan-tastic,” Jackie jokes and Jan looks like she would stab her if she could move her body. “Do you want soup?” She asks trying to change the subject before Jan actually murders her.

“Yes,” Jan harrumphs but she does smile.

While Jackie is making the soup (or warming it up out of the can) Jan flicks through one of the albums Jackie keeps at the back of the shop and finds herself smiling at some of the pictures. She finds the album from Nicky and Rose’s wedding and comes across a picture of her and Jackie at the bar. She’s smiling - they both are. It’s cute.

“She has a heart!” Jackie exclaims when she comes back to the blonde looking at wedding photos and Jan scowls like a petulant child, only taking the soup when Jackie tells her she’ll take it back to the kitchenette and Jan realises she’s not sure she can use her legs at the moment. It’s good soup. It’s good company.

Jackie drives her home at the end of the day, tucking her into bed with a cold compress and when Jan wakes up the next morning she finds the brunette on the couch under ‘her’ blanket with an empty mug of hot chocolate on the sideboard and Marceline curled up by her cheek.

She presses a kiss to her temple and curls up on the other end of the couch with a glass of water, flicking through the channels on the TV until she finds a rerun of Sleepless in Seattle which she watches with the volume on low and subtitles on to let Jackie sleep a little longer.

*

15:34

Jackie?

Are you free tomorrow?

It’s a saturday?

Like 6-12

15:45

Should I ask?

15:47

City LGBT Gala

It’ll be nice I swear

It’s just Trixie’s bringing a date

15:48

Are you asking me on a date Janet?

15:50

Would you say yes?

*

Jan picks Jackie up at six. She stands under the porch of Jackie’s apartment building pressing the buzzer and wondering why you host an LGBT Gala in the middle of January. She leans on the dry wall and watches the spitting rain hit the pavement, grateful for the long black umbrella she’s brought.

She’s in a black blazer with fitted black trousers that end just above the ankles making her short legs look much longer. Under the blazer is a silk camisole in a champagne colour and she’s wearing nude Louboutins to tie it all together. Her long blonde hair is down and she examines herself in the glass door just to reaffirm she looks good. She feels good - better than ever really and as she waits for Jackie she’s pretty sure she knows why.

The Persian is in a floor-length gold dress that fits her just right, her brown hair curled and tumbling down her back.  It all just works and Jan feels like a lucky, lucky woman to be escorting her - she tells her as much.

“God Jackie,” she tells her, eyes wide and honest. “You look… damn.”

Jackie smiles shyly, blushing like she doesn’t believe a word she’s being told. “You don’t scrub up too bad yourself,” She quips back, making a motion for Jan to twirl which the blonde does immediately. “Those trousers are good for your ass.” She doesn’t mean to say it (she does). “Are you sure this isn’t too much?” She gestures to herself this time and Jan shakes her head.

“God no Jacks, you’re gorgeous,” she tells her emphatically and Jackie touches her chin gently in a joking manner to close her gaping mouth. Jan puts up the umbrella and thanks the height of the heels because she’s the almost the same height as Jackie in heels. There’s usually only an inch or two difference but now there’s less than half an inch and she feels powerful.

She helps Jackie into the car and then runs around to clamber in herself - grateful for the taxi.

“So what are we doing?” Jackie asks, nervousness hinting in her voice. She’s playing with the edge of her skirt and Jan takes the hand firmly.

“It should be fun,” she tells her, playing with the ring on Jackie’s thumb. “Me and Trixie are there for our work with trans kids - she’s bringing Katya, you’ll like her. She’s insane but she also does criminal law so it’s to be expected. There’ll be dinner, some activists will do speeches, there’s a queer prom aspect too so we’ll greet some kids and have a chat - you’ll love that. Then we dance and drink heavily.” She takes a deep breath mostly for comedy because Jackie still seems tense and the brunette cracks a smile.

“It sounds fun Janet,” she says, calmer now, intertwining their fingers properly and squeezing.

Jan has to let go of Jackie’s hand to put the umbrella up and they link arms again as they walk into the foyer of the grand looking hotel hosting the gala. They meet Trixie and Katya in the glamorous round-room, Trixie dressed in a rose-pink gown and Katya in a burgundy suit similar to Jans. Jan was right, Katya is insane but she is wonderful and Jackie ends up seated between herself and Jan at the dinner (Jan offered to sit next to the flamboyant charity manager so that Jackie would feel more comfortable and she’s very happy she took the offer).

The first course is Flank steak flatbread with roasted tomato, cilantro, roasted garlic and black cumin mayo. It’s decadent and stupidly delicious and Jackie asks Jan if she can get her the number of the catering company which Jan gladly agrees to, hand on Jackie’s lower back through the opening in the chair. It’s meant as comfort but Katya winks at them both several times and Jackie just blushes until Trixie calls her down. The other people on the table talk to Trixie about her work with LGBT youth and Jackie has to place a hand on Jan’s arm until Trixie points out it’s Jan’s work too and the blonde calms the fuck down. Cocktails are delivered to the table and Jan does not scoff at the fruity beverage. Jackie calls it progress.

For the main, Jan chooses a roasted lamb leg with thyme sauce, ratatouille vegetables and sauté potatoes while Jackie goes for the mixed grill with oriental rice and seasonal vegetables. At some point, Jackie ends up with all Jan’s veg and Jan ends up with half of Jackie’s rice but neither can distinguish when it happened. Nothing much interesting happens in the main course. So far no one has asked why Jackie is here which is a relief to her and no one has openly insulted Jan or said anything particularly incendiary so she feels safe in her peace of mind.

Dessert is cheesecake with berries and it is precisely when Jackie decides she needs to be brought to all future gala events. She whispers this into Jan’s ear and the blonde snorts into a raspberry. Katya watches them both and it makes the brunette feel like she’s done something wrong even when she and Trixie have a perfectly lovely and definitely hypothetical conversation about wedding flowers for people who like pink and red. Jackie assures them that she could do it easily and makes sure to hand over a business card she’s been keeping in the back of her phone for years. As a wedding planner specialising in queer events, she’d figured this could be a good chance for promotion. The whole table ends up discussing Jackie’s business by the coffee and truffles portion of the dinner and Jan just leans back with a proud smile as Jackie hands another business card to the over-eager charity director who wants a ceremony for himself and his longtime boyfriend.

The speeches are good but dull and she drinks her cocktail and then part of Katya’s in waiting for it to be over.

The meeting of the little gay kids in their suits and their dresses and their pronoun pins though is everything Jackie had hoped it would be and more and it makes her heart so happy to watch a teenage non-binary couple slow-dance to Billie Holiday.

Jan hits it off with a six-year-old called Milo who asks her if Jackie is a princess to which Jan replies “yes, she’s the princess of Persia,” and Jackie wants to cry. She takes a photo on her phone of them hugging and texts it straight to Jan because it’s precious.

Somehow, in all the madness, they end up slow-dancing. It’s not really the right song for it and Jackie doesn’t want to get makeup on Jan’s blazer no matter how many times Jan says it’s okay but it’s warm and comfortable and Jackie wonders why she’s spent the better part of eight months not being in Jan’s arms.

They end up on the very edge of the dancefloor because Jackie decides she needs to take her shoes off (she doesn’t) and suddenly it feels more real because Jan is towering above her and she feels like she’s in the rom-com she’s always wanted.

“Jan,” she whispers because the moment feels too important to speak aloud in, “do you believe in love?” She sounds so innocent and she’s looking up at Jan with her brown eyes so fragile that Jan pulls her even closer - the hand on her lower back warm and firm.

“I think we all have a capacity for love,” she muses as they sway out of time with the music. “It’s very human of us. But yes, I believe in love.” Jackie nods slowly, processing what’s being said.

She places her head on Jan’s chest and feels the woman’s shallow breaths in the rise and fall of her chest. She removes her head and looks into the blonde’s ocean blue eyes with a sigh, dropping the hand she’s been holding and wrapping both arms loosely around Jan’s neck.

“Do you know why I believe in love?” Jan asks suddenly. But it’s not sudden, not really, it’s built on layers and layers of coffee dates and mugs and purple glitter pens. Her eyes flick from Jackie’s brown ones down to her lips and back up a couple of times before she answers herself, watching the way Jackie looks completely at ease in her arms.

“You,” she mumbles.

And then they’re kissing and it’s soft but it’s passionate and it tells Jackie everything she needs to know about the way she makes Jan feel. It doesn’t last long, Jackie pulling away before they can scar any small children, but the look in Jan’s eyes is as pure and loving as Jackie has ever seen.

“You did it, Jaqueline,” Jan mutters into her ear, pulling her closer still until they are essentially hugging while moving in a slow circle. “You fucking did it.”

Jackie giggles and presses a kiss to Jan’s nose, having to rise up on her toes to do so, “you planning the divorce yet?” She jokes and Jan rolls her eyes playfully.

“Not a fucking chance.”

*

15:37

What wine did you want again baby?

15:40

Just pick up that red we always get

If you’re late for our own damn engagement party Janet I’m divorcing you.

15:45

I’m on my way babe. I have the wine. Calm down.

*

They’re calling it an engagement party but really it’s their closest friends sitting in their living room petting Marceline and drinking wine. They’re celebrating something everyone knew was coming and eating tortilla chips while they do it.

“Welcome to the engage-Jan-t party!” Jan announces to Jackie, Nicky, Rose and Bob as she walks through the door only five minutes early. They’re very lucky most of the group is usually late and Jackie only reminds her of that by raising both eyebrows at the pun and swiftly opening the wine to try and pretend she’s not stressed.

“What have we got?” Jan asks softly, pressing a chaste kiss to her fiance’s cheek as she peruses the alcohol selection. Nicky turns around on the sofa and winks.

“I’ve brought some rosé,” she jokes and Rose hits her before asking for a glass of wine to take the edge of her wife’s stupidity. Bob calls them all dykes before heading to the bathroom to ask her partner when they’ll get here.

Katya and (a very pregnant) Trixie are the last to show up, Rock and Bob’s partner Jinkx turning up only a few minutes earlier.

“Rosé?” Nicky offers Jinkx and they smirk before shaking their head.

“If it’s your wife, no thank you,” they joke and Jan high fives them with a grin.

They end up spending the evening on Jan’s extortionately large couch eating nachos and questioning how Jackie managed to get Jan to fall in love with her.

Jackie smiles coyly and tilts her head, bumping Jan’s shoulder with her own.

“It all started at a wedding…”

[fanfiction27878]

Blind

Pairing - Harry Hook x Reader

Rating - PG

Warning - None

———Harry POV———

I step out of the limo pushing my hat down so the blinding sun doesn’t get into my eyes. I grip my Hook tighter in my left hand. Uma is quick to climb out after me and Gil practically bounces out last. I look around and all I see is the King, this girl, a dog on a leash held by the girl, and the bright colors of Auradon. King Ben has decided to bring the 3 of us to Auradon even though we kidnapped him not even 2 months ago.

King Ben steps forward towards Uma. He put out his hand that Uma shakes diplomatically. “Thank you for this great opportunity.” Uma says politely. “No problem.” Ben responds with a big smile. “So what no big parades to welcome us?” Uma asks sarcastically. “I can get everyone out here if you want. The band can perform.” Ben says quickly. “She was being sarcastic Ben. You know marked by or given to using irony in order to mock or convey contempt. You should know what it is since you grew up with me.” The girl says with the role of her pale gray eyes.

“This is my younger sister (Y/N).” Ben says introducing everyone. “Please by 3 minutes. We’re twins.” She says with a smile. Ben leans in like he’s telling a secret and whispers in a sad voice. “Shes blind.” This takes me by surprise because although her eyes look like blind peoples they don’t look lifeless and they sparkle with joy as she smiles. (Y/N) leans in much like her brother. “She’s not deaf.” Then she stands upright again laughing at her own joke. I can’t help but smirk.

“Yeah ha ha. Now (Y/N)s going to show you around since she knows this castle better than anyone. Sorry to leave on short notice but I have to be in a meeting 19 minutes ago.” Ben says checking his watch. With a kiss to his sisters cheek he’s off towards the castle. “Hi I’m (Y/N), and this is Beast. He’s a chocolate lab. Don’t worry he doesn’t bite and is very well trained since he’s a service dog.” (Y/N) says taking Beast of his leash. He was at least the size of (Y/N) on two feet.

Beast comes running to me first. He jumps on my chest and licks my face. Good thing I’m so tall or the dog would have definitely made me fall over. Uma and Gil laugh beside me but I ignore them. “Hi Beast.” I say petting him. “You can run with him he’ll follow you.” (Y/N) says turning to me following the sound of my voice. “Ok. Here Gil take these and if you drop my Hook your dead.” I threaten. I give Gil my hook and my coat. “You can take this love.” I say placing my hat on (Y/N)s head. “Why thank you.” She says sarcastically.

I then take of running Beast close on my heels. A few minutes later and Beast has me pinned beneath my paws and me, Gil, and Uma are laughing. “Good job Beast.” (Y/N) says then she whistles and Beast immediately runs to her side. She gives him a small treat in her right hand. She then grabs the leash and puts it on her dog. Beast on whines a little and (Y/N) says, “You can play with Harry later. Right now we need to show them around.”

As (Y/N) was getting Beast ready, I grabbed my Hook, jacket, and plucked my hat off of (Y/N)s head putting it back on mine. “Too bad I liked that hat.” (Y/N) says with a smile. “You can borrow it any time you want, love.” I tell her. “Come on. Lunch should be starting soon and today we have cake.” (Y/M) says with a smile of delight. “I love cake. I mean I don’t really like the lumps.” Gil says happily. “What do you mean lumps?” (Y/N) asks cocking her head in confusion. “The rocks, and dirt, and bugs.” Uma says. “Don’t worry Auradon cake doesn’t have any lumps.” (Y/N) says starting to walk to the castle.

“Where you born blind?” Gil asks while we were walking. “Idiot. You can’t just ask people that.” I tell Gil. “Don’t worry. It’s ok. He’s just curious.” (Y/N) says with a smile. “Remember a few years ago when Maleficent escaped the barrier because she found a weakness. You must have been 8 because me and Ben were. Well she went after the royal family first. Me and Ben were playing in the garden when she showed up. She aimed a spell at Ben but I pushed him aside and I got hit instead. It caused me to fall and my eyes kind of disconnected from my brain. Then they found me and Fairy Godmother strengthens the barrier every year.” (Y/N) says as we walk into the school.

“There’s a girl on the Isle who blind. Freddie Facilier but she uses her friends on the other side to see. Her eyes always glow white and it’s kind of freaky.” Gil continues. “We were thinking of inviting her actually.” (Y/N) adds. “She wouldn’t go. Your better off inviting her little sister Celia.” Uma says. Everyone knows Uma has a soft spot for Celia. “I’ll tell Ben.” (Y/N) says.

“So here’s the cafeteria. The whole schools is here. Over to the right is the lunch line.” She tells us as we walk into a huge room. The whole cafeteria quickly hushes with the arrival of us VKs. “Hey (Y/N).” Evie says blinding up to us. “Hi Evie. We were just going to grab lunch.” (Y/N) says motioning towards us. “Hi guys.” Evie greets us. Gil waves while me and Uma nod. “You want me to help you get lunch.” Evie asks (Y/N). “Yeah if you could.”

“Ok. You guys can sit with us. Bens over there and the other VKs.” Evie says. “Go to Ben.” (Y/N) tells Beast as she takes off his leash. He immediately runs toward Ben and (Y/N) chuckles at the girl screams made by a few princesses when they saw Beast loose. “Let’s go.” (Y/N) says following Evie who’s patched into her arm.

We get on line with Evie telling Gil what all the fruits names were. That and helping (Y/N) get food. I grabbed a few things but I wasn’t really interested until we got to the cake. (Y/N) was right it looked so nice and clean. Of course I then grabbed two pieces. Evie guides (Y/N) to where the other VKs and Ben were sitting.

Evie sat down next to (Y/N) Who was next to me my friends beside me. Gil was sitting next to Ben who was sitting next to the rest of the VKs. Everything was quiet with an awkward atmosphere since we used to be sworn enemies. “Well this food looks delicious.” (Y/N) says trying to diffuse the tension. Then she started to laugh at her own joke. I couldn’t help but smirk at her humor. That was until Uma hit my shoulder giving me the, “Are you serious?” Look. “What it was funny.” I whisper to her in defense she just rolls her eyes before eating her cake.

“This is delicious. Your right (Y/N) there are no lumps.” Gil says happily eating his cake. (Y/N) just laughs. “What are these?” Gil asks holding up a small purple circular fruit. “Those are grapes.” Ben says. Gil then eats it. “I like grapes.” Gil concludes. After lunch that was really just full of (Y/N) and Gil talking about food (Y/N) says she’ll take us to our rooms.

“Ok. Gil and Harry are sharing a room while Uma gets her own.” (Y/N) announces as we walk down a hallway. The hallway is filled with dorms. (Y/N) runs her hand over the numbers as we continue. “Here’s your dorm Uma. And the boys are just 7 doors down.” (Y/N) says holding out a key which Uma gladly takes. “Your luggage should already be in there.” (Y/N) says before we continue to our room.

“Here you go.” (Y/N) says leading us to our dorm. “This is so cool.” Gil says unlocking the door. I walk in and (Y/N) leans on the door frame. “If you really want to see something cool, pull the book on the bookshelf. 2 rows from the top and 3 from the left.” (Y/N) says. I’m closest so I pull the book she says even though I’m confused. That’s when a portion of wall at the end of the room swings open to reveal its really a door.

“Woah!” Gil says in awe. “This secret passage leads directly to Uma’s room. Don’t worry only me and Mrs. Potts known about the secret passages in the school. She showed me them all when I went blind in case I needed to get away.” (Y/N) says with a smile.

She starts walking down the passage her right hand on the wall and we follow. “Shhh! When I open the door scream Uma’s name so we can scare her.” (Y/N) says. That’s when she starts counting down on her fingers. When she puts all of her fingers down she pulls the lever and the wall opens up. “Uma!!!” We all scream at the same time.

Uma who has been reading a book screamed and fell to the floor. “WHAT THE HELL?!?” Uma yells. “Sorry Uma.” (Y/N) says still laughing. As she goes to walk into the room she trips on the uneven floor. I catch her and end up picking her up and throwing her over my shoulder. “Put me down Harry.” (Y/N) says laughing. “How did you know it was me?” I questioned. “You smell like metal and the ocean.” She says easily.

“Metal?” I ask. “I mean yeah you hold a METAL hook everywhere you go.” (Y/N) says. I finally just drop her on Uma’s bed. “How’d you get in here anyway?” Uma questions. “There’s a secret passage connecting our two rooms.” Gil says excitedly.

[nobody-wants-ice-cream]

Everything Wrong With The Umbrella Academy. Episode 4, Man on the Moon.

We Only See Each Other at Weddings and Funerals

Run Boy Run

Extra Ordinary

Disclaimer: This is all in good fun! I wanted to do a really nitpicky re-watch of the series and found some really cool and interesting things I didn’t notice before. This is meant to have a Cinema Sins-esque tone. However, I did take off a lot more sins than Cinema Sins would have because I do genuinely like the series and the people that made it possible. So all of the good things got one sin off and all the bad things got one sin added. This is a really long post, so grab some popcorn. If there’s anything that I missed, feel free to add it!

I would also like to add, that normally you wouldn’t watch a show this way. I am purposefully looking for mistakes, easter eggs, and other things that we’re not supposed to notice. To be honest, I am seeing a lot of the things I’m pointing out for the first time because I am watching not with the goal of entertainment, but for analysis. 

Man on the Moon

Tom Hopper’s workout routine. -1

What was Luther holding in his hand? A lighter? A toy? I can’t tell. It’s weird that they put something there at all. +1

Klaus knocked down the wall between his and Vanya’s rooms. That was the one thing in the house that said Vanya ever lived there and he destroyed it. +2

However, Klaus’s room looks really, really cool. Set designers, you win this one. -1

The bike. I have questions about that bike. When did Luther get it? Or did it belong to all the children? Sinning because no way Reggie would buy Luther a bike. Or give one to the children. +1

The shot following Luther directly gave me a bit of motion sickness. +1

Netflix subtitles have Reginald saying “Attention, Master Luther” when it is clearly Pogo. +1

“Mission alert” +1

Everyone else is gone! Luther has no backup. Reggie is a dick to Luther. +1

I know I should have mentioned this in the last episode, but Reggie put five young children in leather catsuits. Potentially six, but we never see Five in one. And he still makes Luther wear it as an adult! +6

Luther never leaves the house and keeps going on missions for Reggie because of a sense of responsibility. I can understand that. -1

However, Reggie was the one who fostered that in Luther. He made Luther think that he was responsible for saving the city, when in reality that’s up to law enforcement officers. +3

Why didn’t Luther go to a real hospital? Did Reggie take him home? How did Luther end up back in the Academy after that mission? +1

Was Luther dead? Reggie feels for his pulse and says “dammit”. Did the ape serum bring him back to life? +1

How long was Luther on that table? We see him with a beard in episode one, but it isn’t as crazy as this one. Also, does Luther bleach his hair now, or what? I am confused by Luther now being a brunette with impressive facial hair. +1

Tom Hopper nails ‘dawning horror and shock at now being an ape’. -1

Pop goes the weasel. +1

Who wound that box and placed it there? And why? The only other people there are Reggie, Grace, and Pogo. No way they did something so cruel and juvenile after permanently disfiguring him. +1

The umbrella the monkey-in-the-box suddenly has the title when it didn’t earlier. +1

“There’s something you have to see”. Yes Allison, continue to be vague. I’m sure Luther will appreciate it. Why not “I think the assassins killed Mom. Come take a look.” Is it because that would have been too logical? +1

Luther is still calling her “Grace”. +1

“Poor Diego. I mean this is gonna be so hard on him”. Choke on that irony, everyone. +1

 “I don’t wanna discuss it”. This family. Allison said the same thing about Claire moments before telling Luther everything. Parallels. +1

Vanya spent the night at Leonard’s house. Sigh. +1

“For one day I’ll think you’ll be fine”. What makes you think that, Leonard? +1

Vanya takes one sip of her coffee and never touches it again. Leonard doesn’t even drink his. What is the point of the damn coffee? +1

“When I was a kid I felt like I had to apologize for even breathing.” Reggie is a dick. +7

“I don’t think my Dad ever forgave me for being born” foreshadowing patricide. +1

Vanya and Leonard talk in front of the Icarus Theatre. Comics fans, you know why that’s significant. +1

Helen doesn’t acknowledge Vanya’s greeting like a normal human being. +1

People are already tuning, Vanya! Get your ass in the theatre so you can do the same! +1

Leonard is stupidly charming. I hate that he’s sort of likable, but it makes sense for what they’re using him for. +1

The kidnapping of Klaus Hargreeves. +4

Klaus is too kinky to tourture. -1

Where is that blood on his chest coming from? +1

Ten hours of tourture! Fuck you show for making Klaus go though that. +10

 “He’s a freak like his brother”. Which one? You met Luther and Diego. And they presumably know Five through the Commission. But which one is the freak into kinky shit? Diego? +1

“Remember Trinidad”. Noodle incident. (if you don’t know what that is google Noodle incident TV Tropes)+1

This motel has a surprising amount of towels in the bathroom. Some of the nicer places I’ve stayed don’t have that many. +1

Patch lives in house 204. “2” and “4”. Hmmm. +1

Does Diego show up on Patch’s doorstep being emo often? +1

Why is she still thinking about the 1938 fingerprint? We know that it’s plausible because of Five, but the police department should have thrown that out. It doesn’t make any sense and fingerprints can be alike. +1

She mentions the 30s cold case and Diego starts to look up in recognition. Even if he doesn’t know about the Commission or the Apocalypse, he does know about Five’s ability to time travel. He even mentions “The Boy”. Diego thinks that it was Five based on the fingerprint and his examination of the two crime scenes. -1

“For once, just try things my way”. Foreshadowing. +1

Diego hasn’t bothered to clean up the blood on his face from last night. Weirdo. +1

Allison is already forming a plan to kick Leonard’s ass the moment she sees his silhouette. Good. -1

Also, not the first time the audience has seen Leonard creeping around. Remember when he stole the journal? +1

Allison takes him down easy. Character moment showing that her superhero training hasn’t left her. Also, Allison is a badass. -1

Allison sees right through Leonard. This scene is excellent. -1

Lance has a really cute dog. -1

After seeing the shady deal while tailing Meritech, Five decides to tail Lance instead of just watching the building. Good job, Five. -1

How do you bill insurance companies for fake things? You need an insurance ID or SSN to have a patient. Where does Lance get these fake numbers from? +1

Why are eyeballs such a hot commodity? +1

“Names and numbers and I need it NOW” Five is scary. -1

Five jumped into the seatbelt. Did his powers secure it for him? +1

Five has a really organized desk. I wish I could read what he labeled the binders. +1

Luther decided to search Five’s room for clues. Pogo would be excellent at cinema sins. +1

For all we make fun of Diego’s stupid outfit, just remember, comics Diego has an even stupider one. This is the stupidity turned down. +1

The labels are now upside down on the binders when they were right side up in the last shot. +1

Either Five was a really good artist, or Reggie let Five have a poster above his bed that didn’t feature the academy. No explanation is given. +1

Five’s wallpaper depicts a boy pulling a mannequin in a wagon. -1

Luther punches a hole in Five’s wardrobe. This is never mentioned again. +1 

“When you watch those nature shows does it turn you on?” Diego is a dick. +1

If you look really closely, you can see something that looks suspiciously like the ending to Apocalypse suite in Five’s room as a piece of art taped to the wall. I checked with the comics. It looks very, very similar. -1

There are two cylindrical things on the wall. One on Five’s wall and one we can see through the doorway on the wall across from Five’s room. What is it? Nightlight? Loudspeaker? Alarm? +1

Ben Hargreeves enters the chat. -1

“Stay calm, Klaus” stay calm. +1

Hazel and Cha Cha spent over 10 hours beating the crap out of Klaus but they didn’t think of the training manual, something Cha Cha clearly has memorized, until now. +1

When did they grab his coat? Klaus was wearing nothing but a towel. Did Hazel decide to grab it on a whim? +1

“Asthma medication”. Klaus is still coherent enough to come up with an okay lie after 10 hours of tourture. +1

“Amputee hookers”. Nice call back to the comics. -1

Hazel and Cha Cha don’t hear Klaus say “not until they're high as kites” when responding to Ben. +1

“Klaus, be strong”. Ben’s facial expression was really weird with this line. +1

Klaus cracks after 10 hours of tourture while going through withdrawal. Impressive. -1

The multi-screen effects look really cool. -1

Watching Hazel and Cha Cha burn down Meritech while high as kites amuses me. -1

Watching this later while knowing that Meritech doesn’t really matter means that I don’t really care about this building. I wish there was something to make this more interesting instead of just making the eye a red herring. Leonard hasn’t lost an eye yet, so it doesn’t matter. +1

What were Hazel and Cha Cha dancing to in universe? Was this song playing on the radio or something?? +1

Luther goes through the door that’s too small for him because he’s Number One and Diego goes through the door that would actually accommodate Luther’s size. +1

Vanya’s book should be way more beat up than that if it survived the literal apocalypse with Five for 45 years. The ink looks too fresh, too. Unless this is another, newer copy of Extra Ordinary? Sin for confusion. +1

Five got way too close to that explosion. Five survives this without injury. +1

We see him lying amongst the shrapnel for crying out loud! +1

Gossip magazines. “We’re doing fine!” +1

Tween Hit is still a popular magazine seventeen years later. -1

“Vanya, she’s gone” is the vaguest wording ever. +1

However, Vanya understands this. Sin on the writers. +1

“It was those psychopaths last night” weird delivery. Allison’s tone is off. +1

Does Vanya not have any students other than Leonard? She’s perfectly free on some random afternoon so she can have a drink with Allison. +1

Hazel and Cha Cha coming down from their high. -1

Cha Cha hates doughnuts. +1

Reginald Hargreeves put his eight year old son in what amounted to a tourture chamber so he would stop being afraid. Reggie is a dick. +8

Why is Ben stuck in the closet with Klaus? +1

The cleaning lady (her name is Claudia, according to a card she leaves) has one of her ears uncovered. She totally would have been able to hear him. +1

Callback to the screw Hazel threw away to remind the audience that it’s important. -1

Ben’s whiny bullshit. Now is not the time, asshole. +2

We know why the dog ear is important, but why would Patch? At this point it’s a random piece of fabric that might look like something she saw on surveillance footage (Cha Cha’s mask). Point is, that could be something from Meritech and not necessarily urgent. +1

Patch gets the message intended for Five about Klaus. When Diego thinks that the missing brother is Five and that’s who he meant when he was talking to her. Choke on that irony and miscommunication. +1

This show is shot like a comic book and I love it. -1

“That’s what you do when you’re 17” in this specific circumstance, yes. In others, not so much. You don’t have to leave when you’re 17. +1

Luther calls out Diego for not being a real grown up while also not being a real grown up himself. +1

Diego asks “You ever even been with a girl”. Diego is a dick. +1

“We’re orphans again, dude”. When were you ever orphans? Sin for the writers for writing this or to Reggie for making them believe that they were regular orphans he adopted legitimately instead of buying. +1

“Do you ever stop talking. Wow that was easy.” I wheezed.-1

Five is drunk in the library with Dolores with equations scribbled all over the place. No one stopped him when he started writing on the walls in sharpie. +1

Five has two bottles of hard liquor with him. +2

 “Drunk as a skunk” +1

The comedic timing of Five’s hand letting go of the bottle. -1

“Jerk off on your Mr. Snuggles teddy bear”. First of all, eww. Second of all, yeah, Vanya these are all valid points she’s making. You just met this dude! +1

“But sometimes men are unredeemable shits” yeah. Sin for men and for the fact that Vanya doesn’t know this. +1

“Yay sisters” -1

What are Allison and Vanya drinking? Seriously, what are their drinks of choice? It looks like Vanya has something like a gin and tonic or a vodka soda and Allison has a rum and coke, but I can’t really tell. This is a sin until I know for sure. +1

That is a lot of extra blood on Klaus with no explanation. +1

Draw Ben like one of your French girls, Klaus. -1

“Is your brother here now.” “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific on that” -1

Ben’s wink. -1

Reggie is a dick to his adopted children. +7

Torturing a literal child and calling it training. +4

Reggie, you dramatic bitch. +1

Warrants exist for a reason, Patch. +1

Also, Patch decides to follow Diego’s shitty advice without any backup. +1

Drunk Five being carried bridal style by Luther. Aidan Gallagher being carried bridal style by Tom Hopper. -1

“I’m going through puberty. Twice.” Sucks to be you. +2

You had two bottles, Five. And you somehow didn’t die of alcohol poisoning. +2

Diego’s face. -1

Aidan Gallagher doesn’t play drunk very well. To be fair, he’s never been drunk (or at least I hope he hasn’t), but it’s still a sin. +1

“You know I hate code names”, okay Spaceboy. +1

“I’m the four frickin horsemen” or Gabriel’s horn. -1

“You haven’t been this sober since you were a teenager, since you decided to keep the ghosts at bay”. I hate the delivery on this last line, but to be fair to Justin Min, it was a shitty line in the first place. Sin for delivery and for the writers. Also, gee Ben, I thought he was just doing drugs to be contrary. +2

Zoya Popova is so underrated. I love her. -1

Ben’s lil smile. -1

Vanya’s apartment is so warm and nice with all the lights on, but this is the only time we get to see it that way. When she is on good terms with Allison. Lighting cues. -1

Allison, you’re too tall to fit in Vanya’s sweatpants. They’d be sweat capris. +1

Have I mentioned how much I love Allison’s jacket in this episode yet? Because I really like it. -1

Creepy flowers are creepy. +1

“She knows it was a misunderstanding”  Allison’s face all but says. “Do I?”. Emmy Raver-Lampman rules. -1

Also, Vanya speaks for Allison. +1

This is where they decide to show just how much of a creep Leonard is. Well done, show. -1

Leonard is a creepy, manipulative little bastard. +1

Sin off for the gory sfx makeup in this episode. The ghosts look brutal! -1

Syd the tow truck driver is back. Too bad he’s dead. +1

The dead cheerleader is disturbing. +1

This episode sort of confirms the headcanon that Klaus can speak/understand many languages. -1

The gore on Klaus keeps changing. +1

The switch in camera angles shows the shift in point of views, hence why the ghosts disappear. Clever. -1

Ben voice: Nicely done. -1

Patch waited a pretty long time. How long was the walk from the library to thy gym? +1

Chair scoot. Klaus is smart. -1

Klaus gives himself a concussion. Sinning because he had to give himself more trauma to escape from touture. +1

Claudia gives Patch the key to the room without question and then runs.+1

Klaus is coherent enough to think to hide in the vent. Klaus is a smart cookie. -1

The death of Detective Eudora Patch. +1

The Klaus theme -1

Kenny’s mom appearance! Her hat and jacket have matching flowers that also match her pants. Cute. -1

Klaus’s wink. -1

Kenny’s mom definitely saw a lot more of Klaus than what was already on display. +1

Time traveling briefcase! -1

Kenny’s mom looks for Klaus under the seat. What??? +1

Diego gives Dolores a chair. How nice of him. -1

Diego’s Prime 8s poster. If you know, you know. -1

Aidan Gallager sucks at pretending to sleep. +1

“You throw another one of those goddamn knives at me, I’m pressing charges”. I love Al. -1

It was a half hour walk from the library to the gym. Patch waited a really long time. +1

Now you remember Klaus after you found Five, who wasn’t really in any danger. +1

The little pat Luther gives Dolores. -1

Diego takes his gloves off. It’s like he wants to get framed. +1

This scene is really emotional and made me cry the first time I saw it. +1

David Castaneda is a really good actor. -1

The fridging of Detective Eudora Patch. +100

Overall Review:

This episode starts off on a really high note. I follow Tom Hopper on Instagram. He’s really fit. There is no denying that. I also appreciated the way he played Luther this episode. The scene where Luther realizes what his body looks like was heartbreaking to watch and really well acted. 

Speaking of heartbreaking to watch, the fridging of Detective Patch pisses me off. For those who don’t know, “Fridging” is when a female character is hurt or killed in some way in order to move a man’s story/emotional development forward. Considering that Patch’s death is what starts Diego’s character development, I would say that this applies. I am genuinely disappointed in the writers for doing this to Patch. I think it’s been established that I respect Patch. She doesn’t take any shit and she follows her moral compass. That is her real character. She only screws up when it comes to Diego and this is no different. She decided to be reckless like him and paid the ultimate price. However, this is completely out of character. Based on what we’re shown, Patch should have brought up her suspicions to Beeman (the other detective) and went from there. But instead, she had to die. That injustice done to her character is what deserves 100 sins. The show really dropped the ball with this one. 

Moving on, Vanya and Allison have some really good interaction in this episode. I think it’s a little weird how quickly Vanya forgave Allison after the shit she said last episode. Diego and Allison treated Vanya like a fragile object, which is what led her to Leonard. To be fair, Vanya was pretty stupid that last episode when she didn’t run away, but that doesn’t excuse what Diego said and Allison agreed with. Overall, the yay sisters thing was a good, but sus moment. 

Next, Klaus and Ben. Almost everything Ben said in this episode pissed me off. The “that’s the real tourture” speech was awful. For all the fandom loves him, Ben is a prick. However, Ben was also able to keep Klaus calm and encouraged him to control his power over the many, many ghosts in the room. So it’s kind of a wash for me this episode. I hope season 2 explores more of his character and why he would choose to say something so awful while his brother is being literally tortured. 

As for the main plot, Five’s only lead, not that it really matters yet, has been destroyed. Hazel and Cha Cha realize that they’re going to end the world if they complete their mission. And Leonard has finally been revealed to be a creep who wants something to do with Vanya’s pills. On a rewatch, we know why that’s significant, but a first time viewer would be confused in a good way. The show wants the audience to ask: Why? Vanya’s pills have been there for important moments up until this point. And now there are being forcibly taken out of the equation. Why?

Total: 193

Sentence: Getting drunk in the library with your mannequin wife while trying to do math. 

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend (Geralt x Reader, Part 3.)

Series description: The Butcher of Blaviken has a long and famous past, thanks to his friend Jaskier. Yet, neither of those dies easily and it still lurks behind Geralt like a shadow after all those years. History, neither unfriendly relationships, doesn't die easily.

Part summary: Two witchers in one hall can be a lot. Especially when they are not friends at all and if Jaskier and Dijkstra are present as well. 

A/N: Well, here we go with miss reader being a coronated savage and badass bcs she definitely can kick Geralt's ass in ten seconds precisely and kill Jaskier with one look alone. Her song is kinda maybe New Level by A$AP Ferg I guess?

Tagging:  @osgon-azure​ @davnwillcome @missdictatorme​ @nemodoren​

Word count: 2.2K

Master list: H E R E

It was so boring to stand there and watch these people having... Fun. A big man huffed out ironically, taking another sip of his wine. He already hated all about that convention and may I say, he was there only for half an hour. His friend seemed to be enjoying himself and the ladies if Geralt had to say.

And these clothes. For what on earth he was fucking wearing a robe like this? With a shirt that was ironed? The fuck was going on with Geralt? And on top of that, he was drinking fancy wine in the Vegenbul residence. This whole situation was beyond laughable.

"Ya don't dance, mister Witcher? Are ya the big scary man everyone is telling us about?" - A woman appeared next to him and she was beyond drunk. From what Geralt was able to smell, it was a wonder she was still standing on her feet. All Geralt responded with was a good long hum and a stare into the middle of the dancing crowd.

"Ya not a good company. I wonder what does the bard sees on traveling along with you." - The drunkard told Geralt pretty loudly and stomped a few meters away from him. Geralt thought that maybe, she would fall flat on her smudged and sweaty face, but to his surprise, she walked to another group of guests.

The ball was just boring. Geralt was there only because it was related to business. Otherwise, he wouldn't come. When he watched everyone from the corner of the room, he wondered about his outfit. Yennefer would be happy to see him in the clothes he had on. Naturally, Geralt's attention was drawn when a guest who was running late was being introduced.

No-one dared to come late at events like these. No-one was that rude. Except for two people who were slowly walking the stairs while trumpets were telling everyone that these two have arrived. For a small while, Geralt could see only legs - one of them was limping badly. That was Sigismund. Geralt had personally fucked up that lag, he knew how bad did Dijkstra limped. The other one was female - at least according to the high heels they were wearing and a long robe studded with shiny rocks. After a fairly long observation, the rocks appeared to be diamonds - which was extremely dumb and also extremely expansive.

And when Geralt saw that hair, he didn't even need to see the rest of her face. She was dramatic as always - expansive dress, late arrival, and an emotionless face. He closed his eyes and turned away, knowing she already saw him in that fancy suit.

"Let me introduce lady Y/N of Kaedwen and sir Sigi Reuven of Novigrad as the last guests of this ball." - A man in a uniform said, bowed to these two and left. Geralt was already sick of her. No matter what, Y/N was always acting like a child and a bitch, there were no other words to describe her behavior. There was also nothing that would make Geralt sure that this time, she'll behave like an actual adult.

His eyes shot a quick look at Jaskier. That man, of course, was over his heels for her already. To be honest, there weren't many ladies who were showing their cleavage this blatantly; let alone the dress showing her leg up to her thigh.

Y/N was walking the hall, having elbow entwined with Sigi's, giving a pleasant smile to everyone. If Geralt had to say, you were the most pleasant looking and acting witcher of them all. People would choose you as the nicest, yet they never got to know what's hiding under that mask. It was a killing machine full of small numbers. It was calculating every single move and taking in everything around you.

It was too late to hide already. Dijkstra had seen Geralt and waved at him to join you and young lady Vegelbur. Jaskier almost approached you as well - but just seconds before that, someone tugged his jacket to make him play the lute.

"Geralt." - Was the first word he heard from you. - "What a... A pleasant surprise." - You grinned a bit, taking an elegant cup of wine to at least hold something in your palm. You never drank on events like that since witchers and witchresses got drunk extremely fast. Geralt never drank more than one pint of ale but this time, he was thinking about breaking the rules.

No-one noticed the short pause of disgust when you greeted him. So you two were still on the same page you ended up on the last time you saw each other, that was good to know.

"As always, the pleasure is on my side, Y/N." - Geralt said back as politely as he was capable of. Before you had the chance to say something back, Dijkstra stopped both of you.

"These are the witchers I was able to persuade to take the job, lady Vegelbud. They are the best of the best. I swear on my very own name." - The man pointed at the both of you, making you both grin a bit at lady Vegelbud.

"I've met with sir Geralt a couple of times. He saved my life when the murders in Novigrad were taking place and my gratitude for that is endless." - Lady smiled at the man, bowing to him a bit. Then she turned to you and took in your appearance with her eyes. And let's say, you were a lot to take in.

"As for lady Y/N of Kaedwen, I'm not entirely sure if I've ever heard her name. I can see that you're a witchress, fair lady, but I haven't seen you around here." - Lady Vegelbud tried to smile as nicely as she was capable of. She winked at you, staring the unnerving amount of skin you were showing off.

For an unknown reason, you were eye-catching. It was strange to see a woman who was appearing so thing yet so masculine, so beautiful and dangerously looking. Your golden eyes which were appearing as if they shone... She couldn't look away. Gently, you smiled and winked back at lady Vegelbud.

Yet again, Dijkstra jumped in so you wouldn't say anything back.

"That's because lady Y/N doesn't travel here that much. Mostly, you'd find her on Skellige or Redenia with sir Lambert. But that's how I'm sure that lady Y/N is the right choice to solve your problems." - Dijkstra told her with all of his charms, smiling a bit. You nodded gratefully, pushing your lips together.

"Is that so? So you and sir Geralt know each other from the past, have you met, slaught a monster perhaps?" - Lady Vegelbud asked with a burning passion, awaiting an answer from you. Not from Geralt, not from Dijkstra, but you. There was still the silence where only Jaskier and his band could be heard.

"I know sir Geralt for a long time. We've been raised together on the School of Wolf in my homeland, Kaedwen, but after that, out ways parted. But to answer your question, we did slay some monsters together before sir Geralt here got famous by his party in Blaviken." - You smiled sweetly and even if Geralt did his best to completely ignore you, he had to look at you. You saw Dijskra shifting his position and you knew you had already said too much, so you shut up and smiled even more.

Lady Vegelbud was way too curious. She asked you a million questions - about monsters, about being a witcher and a woman at once, about the dream of having a child which you didn't have... You finally got rid of her shortly after midnight. And that was when you saw Geralt drinking his third ale in the corner of the room. You naturally couldn't let that slip past your attention.

"What a naughty boy you are." - You winked at the man, putting your cup of warm wine aside. - "Look at you drinking the ale as a lemonade. Uh, papa Vesemir would be sooo fucking angry." - You looked around, watching the crowd dancing, talking, drinking, and dancing. They were boring.

"Better making myself drunk than trying to talk to you, eh?" - Geralt finished his third ale and then got into your wine almost immediately. You didn't tell him a word, you just rose your eyebrows.

So you were still on the same page you ended up on all those years ago.

"My approach to the situation will be as follows - we have to get there as quickly as we can, kill the monster, take its head and we need to get back. It's the start of fall now and when we get back, it will already be time to get to Kaer Morhen." - You said sincerely and Geralt nodded immediately.

"You'll be getting back to Kaer Morhen for the winter? Haven't seen you there in years." - Geralt sincerely wondered. While every normal witcher or witchress got there in the winter, you haven't shown up in the last five years. There was no need for witchers in the winter.

Everyone always gathered back in the keep to tell stories, have fun, and to share memories. No-one was hunting in the winter since most of the monsters almost disappeared. Each school always gathered in their keeps as a big family, and School of the Wolf wasn't different - yet you didn't show up for more than ten years. You were always spending the winter in warmer kingdoms than Kaedwen. That year was different. You wanted to tell goodbye to everyone before you'd disappear in the thin air. And this time, you meant to leave the witcher business for good.

"Yes, I feel like I haven't seen my family in years." - You answered with a pinch of irony. And according to swift steps behind your back and Geralt looking all terrified, you knew that soon, your party will have a new member. And it was none other than the man and bard himself, Jaskier. Or as you called him, the jester who was traveling with Geralt.

"I feel like you and I haven't spoken nor dance yet. So to be nice, I decided to join you and my friend, lady, my name’s Julian Alfred Pankratz, but you can call me..." - And that was the exact moment when your fingers caught his jaw in a fast and precise movement. You pushed his cheeks together, making him look like a fish before you slowly looked him in the eyes.

"I don't care." - You said simply, observing him. After looking at Jaskier with disgust, you let his jaw go. - "This is one cute puppy to keep you warm in the cold nights, I tell you, Geralt. Now, gentlemen, excuse me while I’ll join some enlightened company to talk about political bullshit. I expect you to be ready in the morning to look at the maps of attacks and what did the witnesses say." - You bowed so it would still appear somehow decent. When that was said and done, you turned on your heels and left the two men standing alone.

"Jesus, first of all, did she assume you and I having a secret relationship? Secondly, how dare she call me a puppy, and third of all, Geralt, what in the bloody ass is wrong with you?" - Jaskier took the half-empty cup of Geralt’s hand, drinking the rest of the alcoholic drink. Geralt didn't answer, nor cursed or hummed, he just looked at Jaskier, waiting for what Julian had to say.

"What is it with you always picking bloody psychopaths as your romantic interest? First, we had to suffer under Yennefer's reign of terror, then there was this whole bloody thing with Triss Ranuncul, and how gladly I would forget about your fling with Keira Metz?" - Jaskier looked at Geralt offendedly, making the witcher stare him down.

"This woman isn't near being my romantic interest. I'm surprised she hadn't tried killing me yet." - Geralt answered honestly, watching you talk to a local alcohol merchant. You were overreacting a serious lot, but you indeed had something Geralt was painfully lacking - charm.  

"So she’s not taken yet is what my ears hear." - Jaskier whispered with a growing smile, but Geralt punched his shoulder rather harshly to get him out of the trance.

"Don't try your tricks on that woman, I beg you. I don't want to scrape you off the ceiling when she gets pissed. I'm going to bed and you should do the same." - He gave his friend one last piece of advice before he left the room to have a good rest.

[wholesome-revelry]

fic: “Long-Term,” Aziraphale/Crowley, outsider POV | 1.6K, G

(Nominally a sequel to this)

Officiating weddings has got to be one of Dr. Blackwell’s favorite parts of ministry, and although she’s probably not supposed to have preferences, if she looks deep into her jaded lesbian heart with any degree of honesty, queer weddings are by far the best. 

Take, for instance, the couple she’s consulting with this afternoon, for their upcoming October ceremony. Seemingly mismatched in every respect. The plump, fair-haired one looks like a parody of an absent-minded professor, as sketched by someone who didn’t bother to do much actual research; his clothes are so outdated it teeters on costume. He’s wearing a bowtie, and not in that reinvented hipster way. This is a bowtie unacquainted with the cycles of fashion, a bowtie that has never heard the word irony. 

His partner is a rangy, black-clad ginger in snakeskin boots. He has the look of a hungover rocker about him, and would somehow, even without the sunglasses he has fully committed to wearing indoors on a cloudy afternoon. He’s sprawled almost defiantly in his chair and keeps throwing dubious glances around Dr. Blackwell’s office, as though expecting a lightning bolt to strike him down for merely daring to be within spitting distance of a church. 

Everything about his posture screams ‘Extremely complicated feelings about religion ahoy!’

Ex-Catholic, Dr. Blackwell thinks sagely. 

Something funny about their names, too. Their names are--

They’re--

(She knows they both gave her their names, but as she looks at their faces, there is a curiously name-shaped hole where the sounds should go. Every time she approaches the edges of this thought, it ripples and changes shapes, and whispers, ‘Don’t worry now, it’s really of no consequence, is it?’ 

Dr. Blackwell didn’t get a degree in Unitarian Universalist theology by looking away from paradoxes. ‘Curiosity is earthly and holy and wonderful,’ she tries to tell the thought, pushing forward, ‘even to question truly is an answer--’ 

‘Ah yes,’ the thought says after her third attempt, ‘very nice, but in this particular case--’ and the absence where their names should be yawns, stretches, and swallows down all of her related concerns with a shrug.)

She blinks. She watches as Bowtie casually takes Sunglasses’ hand, as Sunglasses responds with a look so gooey and sweet and private that she feels a bit weird for intruding. How, she thinks, the fuck did you two meet?

The only thing they seem to have in common, beyond their feelings for each other, is a certain aura of personal disaster. Still, let she whose outfit doesn’t heavily feature Birkenstocks and cat hair throw the first stone. So to speak. 

“So,” says Dr. Blackwell, “anything in particular I should know first? Any thoughts, or concerns?”

“The hymns,” says Bowtie, “or. Uh. The songs, I suppose?” He coughs. “Any chance we could stick with ones that don’t, you know, prominently feature--?” He pointedly casts his eyes towards the ceiling and almost seems to mutter, “No point in asking for trouble.”

“Oh, of course,” she says, shaking off the flash of weirdness like an errant cobweb. “We have plenty of non-denominational hymns.”

“About what,” Sunglasses says with a slight sneer. “Tax forms? Penguins? Automotive repair?”

Oof. Definitely an ex-Catholic, she thinks. You can smell the baggage from here.

“Mostly about the inherent holiness in doing good, or the beauty of nature?” says Dr. Blackwell. “Sometimes, someone will sort of retrofit a classical melody to Transcendentalist poetry, but those tend not to scan so well, in my opinion.”

Somehow, without any eye contact, Sunglasses manages to give her a wary look.

“You can borrow a hymnal if you’d like,” she continues. “We tend to edit out the G-word anyway. Makes the atheists and the agnostics a bit jumpy, me included.” Bowtie starts.

“You don’t,” says Sunglasses, “believe in--?”

“Not really,” says Dr. Blackwell. “Suppose I’ll allow for the possibility, but in my mind, the existence of some divine Heavenly will is just not as important as other questions. Like ‘How do I do what’s right for the planet and everything on it?’”

“How do I avert the apocalypse,” Sunglasses murmurs.

“Exactly,” she says with a laugh, “although I’d settle for doing something about Brexit.” 

Neither of them laugh, and after an awkward pause, she adds,

“As far as music goes, for the ceremony. If you’ve got a song that really resonates with you, no matter what it is, let me know and we can work that in.”

“No Queen,” says Sunglasses immediately. 

It feels like there should be a story here, but Bowtie only turns to him and says, “What was that band you liked? Velveteen--”

“We’re not playing Velvet Underground at our wedding,” Sunglasses says.

“Same thing goes for readings, too,” says Dr. Blackwell. “If there’s a text that holds special meaning--”

“Hm,” says Bowtie, “yes, about that--” He reaches to his side and heaves an antique leather briefcase onto her desk. “May I?” 

“Of course.”

Bowtie fiddles with the latch, which clicks open to reveal a mountain of papers: wine-stained cocktail napkins and looseleaf notebook pages, parchment-looking stuff, and everything in between. It’s a veritable avalanche of love poems, as well as quotations from various plays and books, all laboriously hand-copied in the same tidy penmanship.

“Angel,” says Sunglasses slowly. “What is this.”

Pink-cheeked, Bowtie flutters his hands. “Just--some things I’d been setting aside!”

“For how long,” Sunglasses says, leaning forward. He sounds delighted but also deeply confused.

“So sorry,” Bowtie tells Dr. Blackwell, “I really should’ve organized these better! Even a rudimentary system--”

“It’s fine,” she says, blankly. She really hopes it isn’t going to be her job to narrow down the options. There are literally hundreds.

“How long,” Sunglasses repeats.

��You know how long!” hisses Bowtie.

Sunglasses plucks a sheet off the pile, rubs it between his thumb and finger. “They stopped making paper like this in the nineteenth century,” he says, sounding strangely triumphant about it.

Dr. Blackwell furrows her forehead, where a number of facts are colliding uncomfortably inside, like how some of these specimens are clearly very new, some are so old she’d be uncomfortable touching them with her bare hands, and the handwriting on every one of them is identical.

“Oh!” she says with sudden bright clarity. “Are you two vintage paper enthusiasts?”

“Yes,” says Bowtie. “Love it, love the stuff, simply cannot get enough.” And then, to Sunglasses, with a pointed look in Dr. Blackwell’s direction, “We’ll talk about it later.”

Maybe they met at a convention, she thinks. That’s nice.

“How about you pick out your top five first?” she suggests. “Or ten.” She glances down at the mound of text. “Also, we might need to get some volunteer readers for some of these, because my French isn’t exactly up to par. Or my--is that Middle English?”

“Haha, how did that get in there, couldn’t even begin to guess,” Bowtie babbles. He has to brace most of his weight on the briefcase lid to wrench it closed again. Sunglasses watches with interest, chin resting in his hands. “Yes, I will, I will absolutely weed some of these out, not to worry--”

The rest of the conversation is standard, for the most part. It’s going to be a relatively small ceremony, no child ring bearers and thankfully no animal ones either. (They have a whiff of eccentricity that had made Dr. Blackwell nervous one of them might suddenly produce a cat on a leash, insisting it was trained. In her experience, granting your beloved calico or tabby custodianship of the rings was a quick recipe for a ringless, catless wedding.) Only a shared stricken look at the possibility of involving any parents in the proceedings. 

This, sadly, is also quite standard with older queer couples.

“Between you and me,” says Dr. Blackwell, “and I know this isn’t very ministerial of me. But if the people who raised you don’t support what you have together, which is clearly a wonderful and beautiful and life-affirming thing, I say to Hell with ‘em, you know?”

Bowtie chuckles unsteadily. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

“How long have you two been together?” she asks.

Bowtie and Sunglasses stare at each other. There is a long beat of silence. This is normally, she thinks, not a very hard question.

“How long have we been together?” says Sunglasses at last. The shades may hide his eyes but every molecule of his being is oriented at his fiance. “Hm?”

“Six thousand--” Bowtie starts, resolute.

“What,” says Dr. Blackwell.

“Days!” Bowtie finishes. “Six thousand days!”

“So,” she does some fast mental math, “about sixteen years, then?”

“Yes,” says Bowtie decisively.

“That’s great,” says Dr. Blackwell. “I’ve been with my wife for almost six years, I hope we’re still this much in love a decade from now.” There’s just something so reassuring about meeting older queer couples, she thinks. Bowtie and Sunglasses must be at least forty. Maybe fifty? 

(It’s odd; they’re clearly solid, clearly sitting in front of her, but every time she tries to clue into any specific detail about either of them, her mind sort of skitters away from it--

Her head hurts.)

“Guessing you want a short service,” she says, rubbing at her forehead. “I’ll just write out a few remarks for you two to look over first, if that’s alright? I can email something to you by the end of the week.”

“Sounds perfect!” says Bowtie.

They shake hands. She watches them leave, watches Sunglasses mutter something in Bowtie’s ear that makes him smile on the way out the door.

Pair of oddballs, but in a nice way, she thinks. You can’t always tell, as a minster, which couples are going to make it in the long run, but she hopes this all works out for them. Maybe it will. They’ve already stood the test of time, it seems.

Sixteen years--they’ve been together since early 2000. 

Imagine, she thinks. Just imagine.

[asoftervirge]

Of “Love” & Murder (7/13)

CHAPTER TITLE: Logan Oxford: Esteemed Novelist

RATING: PG PAIRINGS: P. Sanders/V. Sanders (main/one-sided); R. Sanders/V. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/L. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/D. Sanders (former); Remy/E. Picani (side); T. Sanders/OMC (mentioned)

CHAPTER WARNINGS/KINKS: mentions of Anxiety, Logan being A Nerd, Philosophy Jargon, mentions of a previous Murder, mentions of Poisoning CHAPTER SUMMARY:  Logan tell Patton how he met Virgil.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: And we’re introduced to Logan! :D This chapter is shorter than the Roman introduction, but it should still bring excitement for people to want to learn how xe died. That’s a weird sentence. lol And yes, xe not he. Logan has had a number of changes with this update and I’m very pleased with them, so I hope everyone else is too. Also, this chapter is PG, so that’s good! Have fun reading everyone! xx Virge

INSPIRATION: This post by @phantomofthesanderssides

AO3 || Buy Me a Ko-Fi!

Patton squeaked and stood up straighter. For some reason, this person gave off a cold and aloof aura. Much different from the warmth and passion that radiated from Roman.

“You— You must be the second of Virgil’s husbands?”

“Spouses,” the second ghost immediately corrected. His lips curled into a slight scowl. It was pretty intimidating to say the least, especially with how tall he seemed to be. “While I do not completely mind being considered his…’husband,’ I would prefer to be called his spouse. Also my pronouns call be he/him, but I would prefer xe/xyr.”

“O-Oh!” Patton blushed, feeling bad he accidentally misgendered another person. “I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t mean—”

“Since this is our first encounter and it was merely an accident, I’ll let it slide.” xe told the confectioner while marching toward him, maintaining a good distance. “However, should we encounter each other again multiple times after this, and you still continue to misuse my pronouns, I can guarantee I will not be so friendly.”

Patton gulped. “Got it.”

Xe held out a hand for him. “Logan Oxford. Esteemed novelist and self-admitted astrophile.”

The confectioner didn’t know what half of those words meant. “U-Uhm,” he shakes Logan’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mx. Oxford.”

“Logan, please. No need for formalities.”

He nodded. Now that he thinks about it, Patton has heard the name Logan Oxford before. His cousin Emile brought xem up a couple of times when he talked about therapy (while still keeping patient confidentiality, obviously). He mentioned how xyr essays were really good, but they seemed a little too…stuffy, for his personal tastes (like most scientists/doctors/philosophers/etc).

Now meeting xem for the first time, he can understand why Emile said that.

While Roman had on very bold, fancy colors: reds and whites and golds, Logan was a stark contrast to that. Similar to his own palette but not quite. Xe had on a dark blue dress coat with a white button-up underneath it, along with black suit pants and dark brown dress shoes. A little bit of gold was on his buttons and cuff links, but other than that, the colors xe wore were predominantly dark.

Come to think of it, there were a lot of differences between he and Logan. The novelist had dark eyes while he had baby blue. Logan had straight, gelled black hair while he had strawberry blonde curls. A medium build with a good amount of muscle as opposed to a soft curvy build with a bit of chub. A sharp face as opposed to a rounded one. Square glasses as opposed to rounded lenses.

Regardless, xe were a very clean-looking individual. Perhaps even handsome in xyr own right, much like Virgil was.

“I suppose you’re wanting to warn me about Virgil too?” he asks.

“Is that not why you’re here?” Logan responds. “Or were you just wanting to put your nose into the affairs of a relatively wealthy man?”

Patton pouted. He didn’t have to be rude about it!

“But yes,” the novelist says immediately after. “I am here to also warn you about the dangers of Mr. Virgil Nyx of 613 Rue Morgue.”

“Well take your time. I’m not here to rush you.”

“I appreciate your concerns, but my past before Mr. Nyx is easy to discuss,” Logan tells him.

The confectioner nods, listening to him attentively.

“Growing up as a child, my father was a firm believer of knowledge,” Xe began. “He always believed that it was an incomparably valuable, multipurpose tool, instrumental in identifying and solving any of the world’s problems.” Dark blue eyes casted themselves over to the books. “One of the things he used to tell me was, “If you are ever worried about getting hurt, then seek knowledge. It is our greatest weapon, and our greatest defense.” And so, with that, my ever-growing thirst began.”

Xe went on, “I scoured for any form of knowledge, be that books or even educative television, wherever I could find it, I absorbed it entirely. I read every book from both my father and Ye Ye, every book from the libraries— primary school, the public one, university— etcetera. All of it was not enough for me. I eventually received my Master’s in Philosophy and a Doctorate in Physics, wishing to expand my love of all things intellect and share it with the world.” He turns back to Patton. “Before my graduation, I had published a few theses that were eventually used at other prestigious universities; and afterward, I had written a book or two, which resulted in my rise to celebrity.”

Patton nodded. Then he asked, “Had you known about Virgil before you met him?”

“I was aware of him, yes.” the novelist’s lips thinned into a firm line. “I had heard about the…supposed suicide of Roman Scarlet, famed Broadway actor and beloved performer of the Storytime lounge. I had also heard of his brother’s desire to take Virgil to court without any proof of murderous intent, I believe he was even in contact with a lawyer despite this.”

The confectioner looked at xem in surprise. “Even when he didn’t have evidence, his brother had contact with a lawyer about wanting to see if Virgil could be charged with murder?”

“Indeed.” Logan nodded. “At first, I read it off as some silly story for revenge, not exactly understanding how that was actually the truth.”

Patton nodded. “So…Did you meet him at a book signing or…?”

Logan didn’t say anything of the longest time. When xe did, it was very vague-sounding. “When I met Virgil…well, let’s just say it was…a strange sense of irony.”

…

If he could, Virgil would have openly spat about how much he did not want to be here. When he became as wealthy as he is, he swore up and down that he would never return to this place, return to the old life he lived before he knew what it was like to have money.

And yet, here he was, walking into a familiar-looking bookstore. The name re-entering his mind like he hadn’t shoved it out oh so many years ago.

Catching his eye was the small clump of beings standing outside its old, paint-chipped door; maybe the line won’t be as long as he thought. However, he quickly (and unfortunately) realized that the clump of people outside stood at the end of a line that snaked through the entire store.

Everyone and their mother apparently wanted to meet Logan Oxford today of all days.

He should’ve expected this, and yet, he didn’t. Idiot.

Actual anxiety slowly began to seize his being as he continued to approach. Everyone seemed to have a book clutched in their hands. Most were the newest release that came just before the holidays, while some seemed to be personally chosen titles by the older audience, and then there were even books of essays that were held and gossiped about by students (or who Virgil assumed to be university students).

By the time the line actually started moving, Virgil felt sweat starting to coat his palms. He let out a noise of annoyance and shoved them into his pockets.

He was not going to let his stupid anxiety ruin this chance for him. He wasn’t!

Walking in, the little jingle of the bell above sounded like the heavy dong of a church one.

Virgil forced himself to look around. This cozy little hellhole remained the same even after almost a decade. (He even forced himself to wonder if the old owner was still here. Probably not. Maybe retired. Or dead.)

The lighting was still bad, but it gave the small interior of the store its warm glow; the carpeting was still old fashioned and had that untraceable smell to it; the chairs scattered about the store were all patchy and worn-down; the wooden tables had scratch marks and random-ass messages that people carved in with pencil; and there were still crazy knickknacks and antiques hanging from the walls or seen from the shelves.

For the widower, this place was a walk-in nightmare, like walking into someone’s grandmother’s house. But for the many customers who come and go daily, it was a little spot of comfort.

Silver-grey eyes eventually found the prize he was looking for.

Logan Oxford sat at a small table with a pen in xyr hand. The writer smiled very thinly up at an admirer as xe handed back their book from across the table.

A thousand little details flooded Virgil’s mind all at once. A full mouth that could be expressive if it wasn’t so clearly behind a reserved wall. A face that was as sharp as Roman’s but it was much more angular. Rich, dark eyes that almost seemed black: dark and mysterious, they looked like they were pulled from the night sky. Slicked back hair that would still be considered neat without all that damn hair gel.

Xe were more than attractive than the widower realized. Perfect for being his next target.

Just before it was his turn, he saw a stand full of Logan’s books, all new and old alike. Making sure no one was looking, he snagged a copy before making his way towards the novelist.

The novelist took the book without even saying anything, not even so much as a polite hello. Xe flipped it open to the first page and started to scribble on the first page with blue ink.

Virgil looked down at the book he grabbed and an idea sparked in his mind. He cleared his throat, but not loud enough to cause a scene. “Mx. Oxford?” he pretended to sound eager. “I know you’ve probably heard this before, but your philosophy essays are so fascinating.”

“You are correct, I have heard it before.” xe said. Dark eyes flashed up at him, a brow quirked and his expression monotone. “Do you have a particular question you’d like to ask me?”

He nodded. “Actually, I do…Do you believe that your field of study has been hindered by the teachings of Aristotle, or are you one of those science-y people who just nod and continuously say he’s right without any substantial proof?”

At that, Logan’s head shot up. “…beg pardon?” Xe were a little stunned by the question being asked of him.

“Do you agree with Aristotle’s teachings, yes or no?” Virgil asked again, a tiny bit amused as he made the novelist react in such a way.

Xe cleared xyr throat, trying to regain some composure. “W-Well,” he stammered. “In the case of Aristotle…the man was usually wrong. A lot. Most of his descriptions of the natural world are some variety of incorrect,” xe tell him. “Looking past his blatant sexism, his understanding of motion and forces is wrong, is astronomy is wrong, a good portion of his biology is busted, and science has in fact suffered for it. For almost 2,000 years to be specific.”

The widower hummed. (Truth be told, he hated philosophy. It was basically a bunch of old guys trying to preach certain ethics and ideologies that would eventually become outdated and criticized.) Nevertheless, he wanted to know what Logan thought about it.

“However,” Logan continued, a glimmer of something sparkling in his eyes. “It wasn’t until the 1800s when the atom was officially declared A Thing, that people began to believe his contemporary, Democritus, as opposed to himself.” Xe snort. “Not to mention, according to Cicero, his prose was apparently a flowing river of gold…when it actually was not. And it was because of him that we not only lost science but also a catastrophic amount of classical literature.”

“So in actuality, his works are basically glorified lecture-notes from his students?” Virgil smirks faintly. “I guess you know now why we should’ve listened to Gorgias instead.”

“Gorgias?” Xe ask, looking at him incredulously. “The man was, excuse my Greek, a pathological pain the ass. He didn’t care for objective truth and stated that everything was a matter of opinion, which was always bendable.”

“Exactly!” Virgil smirks more. “Everything is a construct, therefore we tried and failed. So now all we need to do is to hide under the covers until the sun goes away.” With that, the widower takes his autographed book and begins to leave the store.

“Falsehood!” A screech came from behind him, making him jump. He turns around to see the novelist get up and stride over to him, a sharp look in his eyes. The widower immediately stood straighter. Damn…that glare reminds him of a certain someone that he does not wish to remember right now. “Just because Gorgias was able to obliterate Stephanos of Thebes with straw-man arguments and casual fallacies, does not mean you can, Diogenes the Cynic.”

Virgil blinked. “…Diogenes the Cynic?” he echoed.

“Yes,” Logan says. “A philosopher who believed that all Sophists were liars, the Philosophers were too pretentious, therefore taking immense pleasure in poking fun at their logic.”

The widower pondered thoughtfully. “…yep. That sounds like us just now.” A glint of wicked humor shone in his eyes as Logan just looked done with him. “But in all seriousness, Mx. Oxford. You have to realize that philosophy can be a bit asinine, right?”

Logan stayed silent for a moment before breathing out. “I suppose so,” xe states. “All of the big, complex ideas simply come from those who are fallible and prone to…ridiculousness. For every Plato’s Republic, there is a Diogenes urinating at a banquet table.”

“There you go,” Virgil laughs. “I hope you really didn’t get offended by what I said. I like presenting counterarguments just to see how people react.”

“No harm done. Although I must admit, while I don’t particularly enjoy socializing with others all that much,” Hard same. “I would like to talk to you more. Maybe about science-based media— or whatever it is you’re a fan of?”

Virgil nodded, smirking internally. “I don’t mind at all. In fact, I would like to challenge your claims on what you call cognitive distortions. As someone who has generalized anxiety, I wanna know what your psychology thinks about my over-reactionary mind.”

Logan hummed in interest. “Oh? I look forward to it then, Mr…?”

“Nyx. Virgil Nyx.”

“Mr. Nyx.” Named after the Roman Goddess of the Night, the novelist mused. Xe liked it. Xe scribbled something onto the back of a bookmark, handing it to Virgil. “Again, thank you very much for coming and I hope to communicate with you again soon.”

“See ya.”

With a finger salute, Virgil left the bookstore with a sigh of relief. He was quite glad that his anxiety didn’t make him look the a fool and that he was out of that atrocious place. He opened the book and saw the fancy penmanship of the novelist.

On the bookmark, was his phone number.

He smirked. Maybe he did succeed after all…

…

Patton listed as Logan finished telling him about xyr first meeting with Virgil. He had to admit, it was rather nice to not listen to any…graphic details about things he didn’t want to know, even if Roman told him in a vague manner.

“So how did you stay close with Virgil?” he asked, remembering the questions he presented Roman. “You gave him your number; did you call each other on the phone? Or did you both kept meeting at the bookstore.”

Logan shook xyrs head. “No. However, I would invite him out for some coffee if I was in the area. And every time we did so, we would always have little discussions that would turn into…not-so-little discussions after a period of time…”

Patton raised an eyebrow, smiling knowingly.

The novelist scowled. “We did not argue, if that is what you’re thinking! We…debated, that’s much more civil.” The confectioner giggled but allowed him to continue. “And, while I’m not a traditionally…emotional person…it was quite nice to have someone debate on certain subjects with me, even if they tended to hiss at me from time to time.”

Despite this slowly becoming a sad tale, Patton giggled again. He won’t lie, Virgil did act like a cat every once in a while. It was actually kinda cute (you know…despite the fact he murdered three people…).

“I would also take him to any conferences or panels that I would be invited to attend or speak at,” xe told him. “He would act as my plus one, if you will. I must admit, even if I could manage them on my own, it was…almost beneficial for me to have him around during those events.” Xe chuckled. “I say this despite the fact that he detested such things, as they tended to prompt his anxiety and cause him to rudely hiss whenever someone— and I quote— “reached his limits with stupid questions.” Not only that, he was not primarily invested in the actual subjects of said discussions and was more interested in the catering they served.”

That caused Patton to actually laugh. That also seems like something that Virgil would do, though he doesn’t blame him at all. In fact, if he were in his shoes, he would be a bit more curious in the food too.

Logan couldn’t help xyr lips from twitching upwards. “I shall confess, there were times where I myself have agreed with his sentiments.”

Unfortunately, the smiles and laughter had to end at some point.

“But what happened afterward?” Patton eventually asked. “What caused everything to go downhill?”

The little twitch of a smile instantly when back to a frown. The confectioner sees xem turn to grab a book that was suddenly on the table (when did that get there anyhow?). It was a very beautiful looking book: dark indigo in color with a title that he couldn’t quite make out, but he could see Logan’s name at the very top. Xe opened the book, flipping it to the very last pages before handing it to Patton.

‘ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS’ Baby blue eyes skimmed through the short paragraphs of text. Logan gave simple but kind words as xe thanked the people who helped xem achieve such a feat, such as his parents and former professors.

Then he followed to where the novelist had pointed a finger at.

“Lastly, I would like to give acknowledgments to my husband, Virgil Nyx.

While we have not known each other long, and have newly become married, but having your support throughout this journey was momentous for someone like me to complete this project. Your harsh and honest (almost too honest) criticisms of my work were what kept me going to make and achieve better than my means. And while I am not an emotional person, nor do I express my emotions often, I quiet enjoyed having your company while I wrote and rewrote my rough and final drafts… And I must thank you for bring me my favorite green teas and jellied biscuits whenever I hadn’t eaten or drank anything for hours on end.

This is the most I have genuinely praised someone so highly (and also a first), but it cannot be helped. I truly hope you see the appreciation and respect I fester for you.”

Patton couldn’t help but tear up. To Logan, they may appear simple, but they were also so beautiful.

“As you’ve read, by the time I had written my last book, Virgil had become my spouse.” Logan says. “We were married in a simple ceremony. Something that was vastly different from Roman’s grandiose nuptials.”

Patton giggled. It was amusing with how Logan was poking fun at Roman from beyond the grave. (In an almost magical way, he could almost hear an indignant noise in his ear).

“But,” Logan’s face grew sad, almost angry. “That did not last long, unfortunately. I had quickly fallen for Virgil’s rouses like the one before me. And, like him, I was met with an unfortunate end.” A deep, almost tired sigh. “To think, someone like him could have been two steps ahead of me in a metaphorical game of chess…I must say, it was truly a checkmate on his end.”

“Him murdering you, you mean?” Patton asked, fearing the answer Logan will give him. Silence. A very familiar silence.

Then, Logan nodded. “Yes. Although, poisoning is the correct terminology this time around.”

[hannah-deserved-better]

The Deep Woods

(Credit to unknown artist on Google for the Drizzt picture)

Summary: Sam, Dean, and their friends are out enjoying the great outdoors. But, as usual for the hunters, their plans for relaxation are foiled when they team up with a group of campers whose numbers are dwindling as something is hunting them in the woods. Together, they must all try to survive a creature, and eventually, they find themselves at an abandoned cabin and forced to survive there as it seems like the laws of reality in this part of the forest aren’t all they seem and creatures who belong to another world seem to be finding their way in.

This is the first chapter of a fic that is a stand-alone ‘lost in the woods’ Supernatural fic which I am turning into a multi-fandom fic. The other fandoms are The Hobbit, Legends of Drizzt, Rurouni Kenshin.

Warnings: blood and gore, graphic violence, horror, survival in the woods, haunted mansion, Jealous Dean

Tropes: Survival in the woods, haunted cabin, enemies to friends to lovers, strangers to lovers, friends lovers

Pairings: Castiel/Hannah/Meg/Sam, Dean/Rowena, Fili/OC, Kili/OC, Kenshin/Kaoru, Sanosuke/Megumi, Drizzt/Ellifain

OCs: Asphodel and Brenna are OCs that I’ve always used back when I wrote for the Hobbit fandom. They are actually original characters from my novel series that I adapted into the Hobbit Verse. I tend to change their backgrounds from story to story but in general, Asphodel is a hobbit, her face claim is Eleanor Tomlinson, and Brenna is a Gnome. The Gnome culture is also an adaption from my novel, they are female dominated people who live in the polar regions and make a living off of whaling, deep-sea fishing, and caribou hunting.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25363057/chapters/61497556

“Who the hell talked me into this!” Dean exclaimed as they hiked through the trail. They were surrounded all around by thick forests, and the smell of pine hung in the air, as did the heat of an August day. 

“It’s good for you, Dean,” Sam called as he led the group of backpack clad hikers. Dean frowned. He was usually the one in charge of things, and he didn’t appreciate his little brother usurping his authority. 

“Not quite the outdoorsy type, are we?” Rowena teased as she trotted alongside the two Winchesters, easily keeping up with the both of them. 

“Look, do you know how many things live in forests?” Dean reminded her. “We’ve hunted lots of them. And whose bright idea was it to go backcountry camping? I mean seriously? We could have at least stayed at a regular campsite. You know, with toilets and food.”

“We brought enough food to last the trip,” Sam reminded his brother as he trekked along, his large backpack secured to his back, and a hiking stick in one hand. “And we have a witch, a demon, and two angels with us and not to mention two seasoned hunters. What could possibly go wrong out here?”

“Damn it, Sammy, you never say ‘what could possibly go wrong’ haven’t you seen pretty much every horror movie in existence?” Dean knew he was being a little overdramatic, but he also knew he had a point. From Wendigos to werewolves, to a plethora of various monsters, they didn’t have a very good track record when it came to being outdoors.

And Dean didn’t miss the way Sam mentioned the other members of their entourage. He groaned internally as he glanced behind him to Castiel trailing behind them, Meg and Hannah on either side of him, chatting softly to one another. 

“Keep up the pace, Fabio!” Dean demanded hotly at them. Castiel glanced up and scowled in response as the three of them started walking a little faster. He doubted Castiel understood the Fabio reference, but ever since Meg and Hannah had returned from the empty, the three of them had been inseparable, and Dean found it just plain annoying.

“Dean, leave Cas alone,” Sam insisted as Dean faced forward again as he walked. “You’ve been acting like a jealous prom date.”

“Am not,” Dean insisted, though his somewhat childish response was a feigned attempt to hide the fact that Sam’s accusation held more than a little truth to it. Dean was jealous. And he’d never admit it to anyone, including himself. Instead, he kept telling himself that Hannah and Meg were up to no good, that just because they’d randomly returned from the dead, shouldn’t mean anything.

Or maybe it was because they’d had Cas to themselves for so very long that Hannah and Meg were unwanted invaders. They’d been living in his bunker with his angel as if Castiel and Sam were both his possessions. It was just supposed to be the three of them. Forever.

“Alright, I think we should-” just as Sam prepared to announce instructions which Dean had hoped would signal a reprieve from this death march they’d been on, a high pitched shriek cut through the sky, causing Dean to nearly jump out of his skin with alarm as he immediately whirled towards the sound, hand instinctively falling to the holster of the gun fastened at his hip. 

“Help, help!” came a frantic voice as a woman suddenly burst from the trees, standing in their path. 

“What is it?” Sam asked as they all stopped and gathered in close. Dean rolled his eyes when he felt Castiel’s presence beside him. 

“My husband, he’s missing! Please!” the frantic woman begged, trembling in fear as she glanced back the way she had come, her blonde hair blowing in the breeze.

“Slow down, dearie,” Rowena said comfortingly, putting a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Now, what are you doing in the woods all by yourself? Don’t you know there are bears?”

“And who knows what else,” Dean muttered to himself. He met Castiel’s gaze, and the angel shot him a scolding scowl. 

“I’m not alone,” the woman stammered. “I’m camping nearby with a bunch of friends. But when I noticed Herb was missing. Oh god, do you think a bear got him?”

“Show us where you’re camping, and maybe we can try and trace your steps,” Sam said calmly. Dean knew Sam was always the type to try to diffuse the tension. Ever an air of calmness. The two of them were quite used to these types of situations, after all. 

The woman took in a deep breath and hesitantly started back for the trees. Sam and Dean slowly fell in line behind her as she led them through the thick, dense forest of towering conifer trees. 

“We were backcountry camping,” the woman began softly. “We go every year. This year, it’s a group of us: me, my husband, our neighbors, and all the kids. Maggie, my youngest, just turned 16, so we all came out here to celebrate. It’s nice to get away from civilization sometimes, you know? Especially with teenagers. We specifically picked a place like this because there are no cell phone towers.”

Dean caught on that the woman was rambling, probably to distract herself from her fears as she kept walking. But he did feel some sympathy for the woman. He was already mentally listing the monsters that could be lurking in the forest. A bear certainly wasn’t on his list; after all, it was never something natural in their line of work.

“So when did you notice your husband was missing?” Dean asked as he walked along, stepping on twigs as the sunlight got dim the further from the path they went. The creepy, foreboding feeling was beginning to settle into Dean’s mind, and he mentally noted that his shotgun was strapped to his backpack, within easy reach, just in case his trusty pistol wasn’t going to cut it. Not to mention, he was always armed with an angel blade, the demon blade, and a whole array of knives, daggers, and other weapons. 

“This morning,” the woman responded. “He must have gotten up sometime in the night to go to the bathroom. His rifle is still here, and he’s been gone all day.”

“Did you mention your name yet, dearie?” Rowena asked as she made it a point to walk beside the woman. 

“Oh, it’s Leslie,” the woman murmured softly. She appeared to be in her forties or fifties, perhaps, dressed in a pair of shorts and a simple cotton shirt. “Oh, we’re right here.”

The trees parted to reveal a small clearing. In the center was a cluster of tents. Dean counted about a dozen figures as they all glanced in their direction. 

“We found some fellow hikers,” Leslie announces as she rejoined the rest of her party who all stood up to face the newcomers. “They haven’t seen Herb at all.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll try to find him,” Sam announced to all of them. Leslie went through and introduced them. So in addition to Leslie and Herb, they had a daughter named Maggie, a son named Evan. Then there were Tom and Shelly with their son Brayden and son Jess, and lastly, where Kate and Randy with their daughter Stephanie, and daughter Kylie. 

They all reminded Dean of typical suburbanites with their brand name camping equipment, trendy outfits, not all of which seemed particularly appropriate for camping and their well-manicured hair. Dean was sure at least one of them drove a Kia sports utility vehicle. The youngest among them were the two 16-year-old teenagers; the other kids were all in their later teens or early twenties. Many of them donned various insignia of colleges they were attending.

It turns out they all attended the same church together, and the adults all worked in the same office. They all couldn’t be more cookie-cutter, apple pie normal if they tried. Definitely not the type that would likely believe that any of Dean’s usual suspects would be responsible for their husband’s disappearance.

Dean couldn’t help but note the irony of it all. Sam had all but assured them that they wouldn’t run into anything unnatural out here in the wilderness, and yet here they were.

[queenborhapreaderships]

Wherever Loyalty Lies

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Ship: Daryl Dixon/Reader (with a hint of Negan/Reader)

Word Count: 4.9k

AO3 link

Description: “When Rick’s group abandons you after you’re hurt, Negan’s men find you in the woods and take you back to The Sanctuary. Negan takes a very special interest in you. You're more or less his favorite. How do you adapt to this new life while still trying to make sense of your past one? What happens when you come face to face with your family that left you all alone?”

***

“Rick!” you cry out in pain and grasp at your side, trying to find and apply pressure to where the bullet ripped into your skin. “Daryl! Glenn!” You call desperately, crawling towards where you last saw your group disappear into the trees in an attempt to flee the massive herd of walkers right behind you. You finally find the wound and squeeze, flinching at the pain it causes.

Glenn didn’t mean to hit you, he really didn’t. It was a normal supply run. Until it wasn’t. You were all out gathering provisions and trying to find food to supplement Alexandria’s ever-dwindling supply. When you heard the groans, you all thought that you could take them because there weren’t too many walkers. Nothing you hadn’t taken out before. Unfortunately though, those initial walkers were only a small taste of what was to come. Once the real body of the hoard appeared from the trees, it became evident that there was no fighting them, their numbers were overwhelming. Daryl nailed a few in the head while Rick and Glenn shot at anything too close for comfort.

As you were all running away from the growing threat, you tripped on your own feet, stumbling and letting out a yelp in surprise. Glenn could only assume you were being attacked, so he whipped around and fired, striking you right below your ribcage. You were in too much of a daze to see what happened next, beyond your supposed family completely ditching you in favor of the shelter of trees.

A groan snaps you back to reality, although you’re unsure if it came from you or the walker right behind you.

“Shit” You mutter under your breath, attempting to stand up to find safety. After a grueling five seconds, you hobble to the dilapidated gas station that rests beside you. You hope that maybe if you can find the bathrooms, you can wait it out and try to find your way back to Alexandria and ask what the fuck happened. Within seconds, you find them and slam the door shut, collapsing down behind it.

You hiss in pain as you begin to examine the damage done. Realizing the bleeding must be stopped if you want to survive another night, you slowly reach up and start unhooking your arms from your favorite sports bra. You shimmy it down your abdomen, in hopes that the pressure it provides is enough to tide you over until the hoard clears. You remind yourself, your chances of coming out of this alive are highest if you stay awake, but you can’t seem to help your eyelids drifting shut.

You awake suddenly to the sound of voices and heavy footsteps. The hoard must’ve cleared, but how long were you out? You look down at your makeshift bandage, and to be honest, it’s not looking very good. Rick, Glenn, and Daryl must not have come looking for you. You frown and try to stand up to avoid being trapped in, but you’re instantly dizzy and collapse back down in a heap. “Must be the blood loss,” you murmur to yourself. Unfortunately, your failed attempt at a graceful exit brought the attention of the men stomping around over to you.

“Hey, Dwight, did you hear that? Get your ass over here.” a voice calls out. You hold your breath, knowing people these days are rarely a good thing. Especially in groups. The footsteps grow louder and you shrink away into a stall, hoping to avoid being spotted. Your feet disappear from sight just as the door the bathroom is kicked open.

“Probably just a raccoon or something,” a gruff voice replies.

“I don’t know, man, I could’ve sworn I heard something bigger” The men stalk further into the room. Someone begins kicking the stalls open and your heart drops. This is it, this is the end, you think to yourself. After all this time, everything you’ve been through, everyone you’ve met. You’re gonna die, bloody and alone because your family left you for dead. When they reach you, it’ll all be over. Not even taken out by a walker, which is ironic after everything you’ve been through. Eventually, they reach your stall and kick it open, just like the rest.

“Oh, now what do we have here?” one of the men chuckles to himself. He’s got long blonde hair and he looks like something straight out of a Tim Burton movie. The man by his side is shorter but looks just as strange with a bushy mustache resting upon his face. Mustache man reaches to pull out his gun, but Tim Burton character stops him.

“Whoa whoa whoa there, Simon, don’t you think the boss would like to take a look at her?” So mustache man is Simon, which means Tim Burton character must be Dwight.

“Yeah, we need all the brownie points we can get” Simon snorts as he steps forward grabbing your arm roughly and dragging you out of the stall. You bite back a groan as a surge of pain shoots through your side. The men don’t seem to care.

“Oh come on, you pussy, there are doctors where we’re taking you. You’ll be fine,” Dwight says, but for some reason, his words aren’t exactly the most reassuring thing in the world. You stumble along, remaining in Simon’s grip the whole time. Once you get outside, he flings you carelessly into the back of their truck and once again, you can’t help but slip into a blood loss-induced sleep.

~~~

You awake with a start, shooting up in what appears to be a hospital bed? That doesn’t make sense. You look from left to right frantically, trying to gather your bearings. Then the events of the past 5 hours hit you like a load of bricks and you lie back down slowly, pulling at your arms that you now realize are cuffed to the side of the bed.

“Nice of you to finally join the land of the living” calls a voice from the other side of the room. The irony of this statement isn’t lost on you. “Now I’m sure you’re confused as to where you are, what’s going on, so on and so forth. Answers will come soon enough, my dear. All you need to know now is that you are alive and you will continue to be so if we change your bandage routinely” You glance down at where your bra was once your lifeline. It has been replaced with a real bandage and what you assume to be a few stitches underneath.

“I... uh… thank you?” you stutter out, breathlessly, still trying to process what exactly is happening.

“You’re one of the good ones, aren’t you?” he says almost wistfully, coming in closer to inspect your face, brushing a few locks out of your line of vision. “There aren’t many of you left in this world, especially not here”

“Where is here?” you press on cautiously

“Your new home” he answers. Well, that’s not vague, you think to yourself. You shake your arm, rattling the cuffs.

“A little help here, maybe?” you ask, a small shimmer of hope still in your voice despite your meek circumstances.

“I would if I could, but I’m not the one calling the shots”

“Who is?”

“Negan” and with that, the strange man walks out the door.

~~~

After a few weeks, well, to be honest, you weren’t sure how long it had been. After what felt like a few weeks of living out of the hospital room via the doctor, you’ve finally regained almost all functionality the bullet took away from you. The doctor walks in and gives you a smile, that looks partially like a grimace. You wonder what’s up.

“So it seems you've recovered enough to meet the man upstairs,” the doctor says, almost cynically. After all this time, you’d actually grown rather close with him, being your only human interaction and all. Of course, you were annoyed that you were being held against your will, but in all reality, you couldn't complain. You were being fed well and regularly, but you also couldn't help but be extremely curious as to why this group took you under their wing when you had nothing to offer in return. You snort and think to yourself, this must be what Stockholm Syndrome feels like.

All the alone time you had left you only with your thoughts. You couldn’t help the anger, confusion, and hurt bubbling up inside you whenever you thought about how your so-called friends left you for dead. There had to be some kind of misunderstanding, right? Well, whether that be the case or not, it doesn’t change the fact that they left you and didn’t even check back up to see if you survived. If they don’t need you anymore, you don’t need them.

“Ahhh, so I finally get to meet the infamous Negan?” you ask, but before the doctor has a chance to respond, the door flies open and a booming voice echoes throughout the room.

“Now is the (y/n) that I’ve been hearing so much about? Let me tell you, you are, in fact, just as stunning as I’ve heard” you were too flustered to respond. There’s something… off about this guy, you think to yourself. Something that may be contributing to that feeling is the large baseball bat he’s carrying that’s covered in what appears to be… barbed wire? What the fuck? “What? Cat got your tongue?” he asks, encouraging you to speak up. You swallow the lump in your throat and try your best to sound confident.

“No, it’s just finally nice to meet the man behind the madness. I mean that in the best way possible, of course” you laugh, backpedaling from a statement that could be perceived negatively. “I really appreciate you taking me in and all, I don’t know how I could ever make it up to you,” you say, humble in front of this man who basically prevented your death, multiple times. He was intimidating, yes, but that isn’t to say he’s not surprisingly attractive.

“I could think of one or two ways,” he says, raising his eyebrows, leaning in, and winking at you. You can feel a blush rise upon your cheeks. Really? This man is hitting on you? He could have anyone in this camp, being the leader and all, and he’s coming on you? Something doesn’t add up. You really want to know where this is going, so you decide to play along.

“Ohh, and how’s that?” you say, in your best seductive voice, although it might be a little rusty from underuse considering it’s only the motherfucking apocalypse and all. You don’t really know what you’re getting yourself into, but getting in close with the leader is never a bad thing, is it? Negan whips around and points the bat at the doctor.

“Would you give us a minute alone please?” Enunciating every syllable, as if his life depends on it.

While he phrased it as a question, you were getting the vibe that it was more of a direct order. The doctor doesn’t have to be asked twice, he nods to you and removes himself from the room. This man has a clear aura of authority, what he says goes. You make a note of this before speaking to him again. He turns back around and his eyes wander up and down your body.

“Now, by this point, I’m sure you’re aware that I find you exceptionally beautiful, so I have a proposition for you. How would you like to be my wife?” At this incredibly blunt statement, your eyes widen and you choke on your words, the previous confidence you built up completely gone. “Oh, it’s a good deal, I promise. I’m hot shit around here, so I could get you practically anything you want. Plus… you’ve got access to all the alcohol you could ever want” He was right, that’s not exactly a bad deal. I mean, hell, what’s your alternative? You’re not sure, but you’re sure it’s not as pleasant.

“I… I would be honored,” you say, confused and, to be honest, a little awestruck.

“Well that’s just fanfuckingtastic,” Negan says, a shit-eating grin glowing on his face. He steps over to help you up out of the hospital bed. “Now, if you’ll come with me, I can show you around, and we can get you dressed” He walks you out into the hallway and up the stairs. You look over the ledge at the large room below you. There are people who appear to be working, all dressed in rags, looking miserable. Yeah, you definitely picked the long stick.

As Negan walked through the halls people, his men, you assume, would kneel and avert their eyes. That’s when it really set in, how much power this man has. You can’t fuck this up, you don’t get the feeling he’s a very merciful guy. Finally, at the top of a winding staircase, you reach Negan’s room. The minute you step in, you understand. The room is filled with 12ish absolutely stunning women in black, sleek dresses.

“What? You didn’t think you were the only beautiful girl left in this shithole of a world, did you?” Negan asks, wryly. A brunette girl sitting on the couch throws you a sympathetic look. “Follow me, let’s get you into your dress”

~~~

You emerge back into the room with the other girls, looking gorgeous, as Negan has told you. Multiple times. He certainly is quite the flirt, you think to yourself.

“Now ladies, I’d like you all to give your newest sister, (y/n), a warm welcome. I’ll be back tonight” he says and with a wink and a slap of your ass, he’s gone. You stand frozen, like a deer in headlights, extremely confused about the events of the last hour. The girl from the couch seems to catch wind of this and she walks over to you.

“Hey,” she says in a soft voice “Do you wanna come sit with me? My name’s Ariel. I might be able to answer some questions or help you get settled in, whatever you’d like” her eyes are soft and movements gentle. You give a faint nod and follow her back to the couch. She pours you a glass of red wine and takes a seat. “Welcome to Negan’s man cave,” she says, disdain evident in her voice. The two of you chat for a while. She talks you through the ins and outs of being one of Negan’s wives. Sex whenever he wants and you can’t have any sort of relationship with another man, Negan gets very jealous very easily. That’s not a side of him you particularly want to see, so you can live with that. In return, you get food, shelter, and safety. This is the first time you’ve had that since, well, before the apocalypse. To survive in this world, it looks like you’re just gonna have to suck it up because you could be starving to death right now.

~~~

You live on like that for a while. Your weekly…. meetings with Negan have been constantly growing in frequency. From what you can tell, he really really likes you. He’s started bringing you downstairs and out of the mancave to come with him as he strolls around The Sanctuary because he “just likes your company, (y/n)” You’ve gotten used to his authority at this point, and it almost… turns you on? You try not to think about it too much. You’re safe and content with the turn your life has taken and that’s all that matters. Sure, you think about your old group a lot. You miss Tara, Michonne, Maggie, Carl, Carol. You miss everyone. Especially Daryl. You two had shared your first kiss the week prior to your split from the group. It’s something that has been budding since Atlanta, but you had just now gained the confidence necessary in order to make the first move. You loved him, you really did. They were your family for 7 years, but they left you. That was their decision, and if they don’t need you, why burden them with your presence? You groan and roll your eyes. You’ve gotten too far in your own head again. Where’s Negan? He’ll definitely distract you in one way or another. You’ve reached the point of familiarity around The Sanctuary where all of its guards and men know you. They know to give you whatever you want or let you go where ever you want, or there will be hell to pay.

You walk around The Sanctuary for a while, Negan nowhere in sight. Eventually, you decide to check out front. You make your way past the front door guards. With a curt nod, they step back and let you take your leave. Just as you’re walking down the steps you hear a voice and turn around.

“Oh, uh, (y/n), Negan is out by the driveway packing the truck for his next pick up. If that’s who you’re looking for, that is.” the guard offers with a smile.

“It is, thank you so much,” you say “I’ve been looking for him forever, I really appreciate the help” Is he… blushing? Wow, you must have a lot more influence around here than you thought. You continue on your way, smiling softly. You see Negan in the distance, Lucille slung over his shoulder, he saunters around like he owns the place, and well, he does. His eyes eventually drift over to you.

“Ahh, (y/n), my favorite little girl! It is so good to see you right now” he comes over to you, kissing you softly on the cheek. “You know what? I’m sick of dealing with all of these men on my own, how’d you like to come on this run with me? No pressure, but I’d sure love to have you along for the ride” It’s not like you’ve got anything better to do, plus, you’re always curious about that Negan does on all of these mysterious outings. Guess it’s your turn to find out.

~~~

After around an hour-long drive, the trail of trucks finally comes to a halt. You look out the window and see what appears to be a camp, and of decent size too. Why are the saviors here? You’re completely oblivious to the absolute hell that these people have been subjected to by the hands of your people, but you were about to find out.

“Negan, where are we?” You ask, looking around with a curious look in your eyes.

“All in good time, my love,” He says and steps out of the truck, offering you his hand to assist your descent. You take it and follow him through the gates. There’s a group of 5 men out to meet the saviors, but the rest of the streets are completely dead. You furrow your eyebrows and glance up at Negan. He gives you a smile and turns to deal with the men before him.

“Ah, so I see when I say give me half of your shit, you actually expect my men to go in and get it, because sure as fuck don’t see half of your shit waiting for me” He raises his eyebrows expectantly and is met only with silence and averted eyes. “Now that would really be going the extra mile, but if you want these brutes rifling through your shit, fine by me” He throws the five a wicked grin and waves his hand, signaling his men to begin searching. So, Negan’s power extends beyond The Sanctuary, apparently. Negan grabs your hand and pulls you over to the side.

“Any questions?” He asks, voice genuine.

“I just, is this where we get all of our stuff? Just… taking it from other groups?” You ask

“Well of course not, darling. You don’t think we actually need this worthless shit, do you?” you shrug, he chuckles softly. “All I’m really doing here is flexing. Showing these people who’s boss” you hum in understanding and he plants a kiss on your forehead before walking away to check on his men's progress.

You wander back over to the trucks and avoid contact with anyone who isn’t from The Sanctuary. This other camp, The Orchard, you believe it’s called, didn’t do anything to deserve Negan’s wrath. You’re sure of it. Negan is good to you, that’s for certain, but you can’t seem to ditch this feeling in the pit of your stomach that this, all of it, is just wrong. But then again, it’s your life. You don’t really have any choice except to embrace it, and shove down all of your doubts, however reasonable they may be.

~~~

It’s been months and you’ve tried to expose yourself to Negan’s excursions as much as possible in an attempt to become numb. Now, you can’t exactly guarantee how successful your efforts have been, but the thought is there. So, when Negan asks you if you want to tag along today, you go willingly, even though it’s practically dusk. After a 30ish minute drive, the trucks pull over and you look out the window, confused. There’s no gate or fence or community anywhere. You step out of the truck and walk around.

The minute your eyes reach the group completely at Negan’s mercy, your heart drops. Suddenly it's hard to breathe. There they are. Your old family. You’re completely frozen. Negan hops out of the truck, as usual. Your palms begin to sweat. He walks around the truck to open the door for you. You still can’t move. You’re just staring at them. All of them. They look… horrible. You’re not used to this. Not at all. They were all so strong. Negan, you think. Negan must have done this to them. Looking at them, with their heads down, completely at the mercy of these tens of men with guns. Lots and lots of guns.

“Come on, hon,” Negan says, offering you his hand. You snap out of your daze and tentatively take his hand. Just like usual. But. This isn’t just like usual.

Members of Rick’s group begin to look up, all seeming to have a similar reaction to you. Utter disbelief. Your eyes skim the row. Carl and Rick and Maggie and… your breath stops in your throat. Daryl. He’s cowering down, shawl wrapped around his shoulders. He is not okay. You swallow down a lump and take a few steps forwards.

“(Y/N)...?” a soft voice calls out. Your eyes shoot to the origin. Glenn. It was Glenn. His eyes are wide, a mixture of relief and betrayal rest clearly upon his face. “You’re… you’re alive?” He asks, incredulously.

“(Y/N)” Negan shouts. “You know these assholes?”

“I… They…” You stutter, mind reeling to find an acceptable answer that won’t piss him off. “Remember when Simon and Dwight found me in that gas station? With the bullet wound? Well. That was courtesy of these guys” You gesture wildly at the line. “I rode with them before ya’ll saved me,” You say, emphasizing the last two words, knowing it had to have stung Rick, Daryl, and Glenn. But, looking back on the past year or so in The Sanctuary, you can’t very much bring yourself to care.

But there it is again. That creeping sensation of… what? Loyalty? You’ve been trying to shove it back into whatever crevice of your mind it crawled out of, but it’s absolutely ruthless. Memories keep unwillingly flooding back to your mind. When you had each other’s backs. When you were a family. Family. You don’t notice you’ve begun to cry until you taste the salt gathering at the corners of your mouth. You’ve known that the power Negan holds is wrong for so long, and you’ve been ignoring it out of self-preservation. But it’s more than that now. It’s them. It’s your family. You snap out of your trance and glance back over to Negan, pacing in front of the line, sadistically twirling Lucille. That’s it. You can’t take it anymore.

“Negan, stop” You shout, the strength in your voice surprising even yourself. His eyebrows shoot up and he turns on his heel. He seems to be taken aback, which, clearly doesn’t happen very often to a man of his standing. You know you can’t show any weakness now. There’s no going back. You look from Negan to those kneeling, looking back up at you with hopeful eyes. That solidifies what you’re about to say. That makes everything worth it. “Negan. This isn’t right. This is… this is…” you struggle to find the right word. “Evil. This is evil. And. I know you. I know you can be gentle. You can be generous. But. You can also be evil. These people,” you say, glancing over at the group. “These people are good. They don’t deserve what you” you stop yourself, “what we are putting on them. We can survive without, whatever this is. This cruelty.” You say, looking him in the eye the entire time. He’s frozen. You’ve never seen him like this before. You understood that you meant something to him, you were his favorite, maybe the best fuck. But, if you had the power to silence him, maybe you had more influence and control than you realized initially. Finally, after a long pause, he speaks up.

“(Y/N), you know how it works. You know I can’t let these people go, what would that say about me? What happened to my badass bitch?” He looks at you, wanting to appear strong in front of his men, but only you can see the uncertainty in his eyes. You walk up to him, only inches apart now.

“Negan. Please. Anyone but them, just, anyone but them” your voice soft but firm. You look up into his eyes, hoping he can see how serious you are. He closes his eyes and swallows. He didn’t reject it immediately, so, that’s a good sign. He looks at his feet. “If you hurt them. I’m leaving. You can kill me, I don’t care, but I cannot be anywhere near the man who killed my friends. The man who killed my family” You make eye contact with Daryl when speaking the last word. His eyes haven’t left you since you began to speak. He still means everything to you, despite how much you tried to deny it. “You do this. You lose me. That’s how it’s gonna be” You’ve never seen Negan look more conflicted in your few years with him than at this moment. You’re hoping that throughout the time you spent together that you got into his head. At least enough to save everyone. Negan regains his composure and turns to his men.

“Hey. Get the hell outta here and give us a minute, will ya?” he orders and nobody has to be asked twice. While everyone gathers behind the trucks, Negan takes your hand and walks you over to the treeline. A part of you is worried, is he going to punish you like you’ve seen him do to so many others? Any sense of fear is immediately gone when he puts his forehead to yours, caressing your cheek. His eyes are shut, and he appears, almost, vulnerable?

“Negan, I…” you start but are cut off by his piercing gaze.

“It’s okay. I… Damn, girl. I really care about you. And ain’t you go around telling nobody I said that. But. If it would make you happy, you can. You can go with them. Now don’t get me wrong, I ain’t gonna be leaving them alone. But. I won’t kill them either” Negan turns away and you’re completely blown away. You were expecting a fight. This man is evil. But. You’re attached. What that says about you, you don’t know. You step forward and hug him from behind, interlocking your fingers and resting your head upon his shoulder.

“Thank you” you whisper, barely audible. “You saved me. And I’ll never forget you” he turns around and falls into your arms, his head burrowed in the crook of your neck.

~~~

The last truck disappears from view and you turn around. You’re alone now. And it’s so much harder than it was before. Before you could hide behind the guns and the men and you could hide behind Negan. But now? Now you’re alone, and you’re looking at your past head-on. You’re terrified. Will they take you back? Or turn their back on you like they did so long ago. You glance from everyone back to the ground.

“Um… well… hi guys?” you stammer out “Long time no see?” you flinch. Long time no see? Really? That’s your opening line? Everyone is frozen. That’s it. You assume it’s over. You close your eyes and clench your fists. You begin to turn around when you hear ruffling to your left. Your eyes shoot to the source. It’s Daryl. He’s grabbing his side in pain, but he’s standing nonetheless. He limps towards you with a sense of urgency and he reaches you with his arms wide open. You embrace, and it’s like everything in the world that was ever wrong is now right. He’s got all of his weight on you, entrusting you with all of his being. Everything isn’t going to be immediately okay again, you know this. But right now? Everything is perfect.

“I fucking missed you, baby girl” he spits out, gruffly. All you can do is hug tighter, amazed that you went so long without the most important thing in your life.

“We all missed you,” Rick says, from the side. You look over and see everyone either nod or hum in agreement. Tears begin to fog your vision. Finally. Finally, you aren’t settling. Finally, you’re happy. Finally, you’re home.

***

This was the first fic I ever wrote back in 2017. God. Wild. Time is absolutely fake. Anyway!

My inbox is open and I’ll write for any fandom I’m in! <3

[bluboothalassophile]

The Wife & Ex-Husband

Jason supposed there were a great many ironies in life, because that was part of life, however this, this was true irony as she stood there across from him. There was a sniffer in her hands, that she was cleaning, and her violet eyes were wide with shock as she stared at him. She stole his breath away, even all these years later.

Her long black hair was braided in complicated styles, braids of braids, with a few stray wisps of hair were fluttering around her face. Her eyes were that beautiful dark violet eyes with those thick lashes stared at him with nothing but shock. Plump lips, her upper fuller than the bottom, sharp cheek bones, squared jaw, with an aristocratic nose. The mesh of features and heritage, then with her ivory pale skin. She was beautiful, ethereal even, in all the years without seeing her and she was still the loveliest creature he had ever seen.

It had been about five years since she had left.

Left him nothing but a note, a ring, with the divorce papers and the memories. The best month and a half of his life had been spent with her, after the worst thing that could happen to him did.

Somehow, either by fluke or intention though he was still her medical contact, and visa versa, husband and wife privileges and all and that had given him a link to her. A small, fragile link which he didn’t know how to break or touch, because he couldn’t sign the divorce papers, or file them.

She had given him all the power, and for the first time since she had left all the power in his hands they were staring at each other. With nothing but a bar between them.

“Ah! Raven,” the suave voice called out, and her head ripped away from him as she turned to address the own of the club. Lucifer Morningstar, owner of the club LUX, and the man whom Jason was meeting because of his brother’s bachelor party.

“Uncle!” she smiled in greeting of the man.

“My darling, Maze is out tonight, so might you assist with the bouncer duties and leave the bar to me,” he purred.

“Of course!” she smiled as she set the glass aside, Lucifer hopped over the bar effortlessly, pecked her on the cheek. She walked out from behind the bar, and he could only stare dumbly after her.

“Drink?” the suave voice asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Bourbon,” he said as he twisted around to watch her. She was wearing a skimpy little red number, which showed off her long, curvy legs, strong thighs, highlighting her ass with each step. He could never forget how great her ass and legs looked; he had dreams about them still.

“Here you go,” Lucifer said handing over the sniffer. He took it absently, never taking his eyes off Raven. There was a fight brewing already, and he watched her saunter towards it. “Admiring the view?” the voice asked dryly.

“About to enjoy the show more,” he smiled over his shoulder at Lucifer then.

“Oh?”

“She’s about to break them,” he giddily remembered. He’d had a barfight or two with Raven, she could decimate people, her small size was not to be underestimated. Sure enough, quick as a whip she had two men on their knees and blocking blows from the third as she hit his body hard.

“You seem acquainted with my niece, and how did that come about?” Lucifer asked leaning on the bar as they watched the slaughtering happening. “NOT THE GOOD STUFF!” Lucifer shouted over the music when a bottle was grabbed by one of the men.

“That’s my wife,” Jason announced proudly just as Raven took the bottle and slammed her knee into the man’s groin, dropping him. She smiled as she served the drinks and two burly men appeared to take the groaning heap of idiots off with them.

“HER WHAT!?” Lucifer bellowed as he took a sip of bourbon.

He didn’t get to respond to that as he put his drink aside and walked towards her. She was tiny, still, he noted that she was a good foot shorter than him, and the heels she was wearing didn’t add to her height. Not really. She was slight, like a ballerina, gracefully and classy. She kind of reminded him of Aubrey Hepburn, stunning.

He stopped right before her, and he couldn’t hear the club, or feel the music vibrating through the air, or even hear the people in the crowd. He only stared at her, her beautiful stunned expression.

Last, he had heard of her was the shark attack, two years ago when he had gotten a call from the hospital in Sydney, Australia, saying she was there. He’d gotten there and she was gone, already discharging herself, rejecting pain medication, and only had stitches. He was forever grateful that being her husband had gotten him that information. And he wondered if she knew he was her contact for emergencies; probably not.

“Hey little bird,” he smiled. She was wearing that necklace he had gotten her in New Zealand.

“Hello Jason,” she said softly. She didn’t look away, and he wondered if he could kiss her. Probably a terrible idea, but damnit. He’d missed her, he had honest to God missed her. Which was odd, because he still had her number in his phone. However, in the past five years of his marriage, he didn’t know what to say or do to go about mending the fences with Raven or even reaching out for her. She was always this independent woman, and he knew, from her note, that even if she hadn’t said anything, somehow she had been hurt by him. He didn’t know what he did wrong or where it went wrong; not really, her note was sort of vague, and that’s why he found it hard to think about reaching out.

Five years of thinking though, and he wanted this to change. But he had never known what to do to make that change happen.

Now she was here and he wasn’t wasting the opportunity.

“Can we talk?” he asked her.

“Yes, let me grab a coat, and tell my uncle,” she said. He nodded as he watched her walk by.

~~~*~*~*~~~

She didn’t know what to think, he had walked into her uncle’s club, and until he was standing right before her, she hadn’t even notice him. He looked great; five years had not dimmed his beauty. Jason Todd, ex-husband, was handsome as a fallen angel; a mop of curly black hair with red undertones in it, a lone white streak of hair which was actually natural and not dyed, aquamarine eyes, square jaw, crooked, blunt nose, dash of freckles, highbrow, and squared cheeks. There were a few new nicks and scars around his face she didn’t remember being there, a nick on his lip from when she had split it. His large, broad frame was still all muscle, even in that leather jacket, and button-down shirt, she knew those muscles. The man looked like a beautiful sin, temptation personified, she’d happily sit there like an idiot and stare at him if her uncle hadn’t broken the spell between them.

Good God he looked amazing, and as stunned to see her as she was to see him.

It’d been five years, at least, since she had left him with the divorce papers and that ring, along with a note.

Now she grabbed her coat, shot her uncle and apologetic look and walked after Jason outside of the rowdy atmosphere of LUX.

“I… I didn’t know you were here,” he said awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Not for long,” she dismissed. She had come to LA for her step-brother’s wedding, and staying with her uncle had been a welcomed reprieve from wedding madness. “What about you?” she asked.

Jason Todd, aside from being her ex-husband; was the son of a multibillionaire, and ran a multibillion dollar industry; Wayne Enterprises. And though she knew her ex had a preference for working with his hands, and doing manual labor, he was a very smart man, and in line with his younger brother; Timothy Drake-Wayne; to run the company. Raven kind of kept tabs on her ex through the tabloids; she felt it to be the best connection despite having his number in her phone.

“Brother’s bachelor party tonight, but I’m in town on business and holiday of sorts,” he answered.

“My brother’s getting married too,” Raven chuckled.

“Really?”

“Yeah, he and his partner have turned into bridezillas though, and I’m eternally thankful my uncle is letting me stay with him,” Raven admitted.

“Lucifer Morningstar is your uncle?”

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“Awesome,” he grimaced then. “What have you been up too? Other than getting mauled by a shark?” he asked.

“How’d you know about that!?” she sputtered.

“Hospital contacted me,” he omitted reluctantly.

“Damn it!” she hissed. “I thought I had changed all my papers, and contact info.”

“I have you on my insurance, so I covered it.”

“Well that explains a lot,” she sighed. “I’m sorry about that, I didn’t… I thought I had changed all my papers, and I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“Whoa, we’re… we’re still friends, I… I want to know when you get into trouble or need help. And did that hurt?” he asked.

“Well, I bet it’s still annoying to have contact with your ex-wife, and no, it didn’t, not really. See,” she paused under a streetlight as she revealed the crescent scar on her left thigh, it was ragged and deep, and the shark could’ve taken a good chunk of her leg, but she’d been lucky. It was a bite test, and the shark swam off when she’d stabbed it with the diving knife she always carried. Jason had gotten her that knife as a wedding joke gift. “Your knife saved my life, so I owe it to you. Shark bit me, I stabbed it when it was dragging me off my board, Garth saved me, pulled me out of the water and to shore, we got to the hospital and all I needed was stitches. Seventy-three of them, but I was lucky. Shark missed my artery by a millimeter, and I got three teeth out of it,” she informed him. His fingers hesitantly reached over and she tensed as he touched them.

His touch was still electric, she fought of shuddering at his touch or letting her breath hitch, though she felt her heart ramming in her chest painfully. She was acutely aware that the attraction hadn’t died.

“I’m glad you’re alright.”

“PT was a bitch,” she informed him as she dropped her dress a bit, he straightened up.

“Still surfing?” he asked.

“Obviously, Garth and I are planning a trip with his wife Dolphin, after the wedding,” she said. He was smiling softly at her as they walked. “

“I… It’s great to see you,” he said.

“I’m surprised, but it’s great to see you too,” she smiled a bit. Honestly she was always happy to see him, it annoyed her; especially when he appeared on the news or tabloids. “I’m glad we’re not like other divorcees who can’t stand each other.”

“About that, why’d you leave?” he asked.

“Seriously?” she blinked.

“Yes.”

“We were drunk when we got married, on a ship, we can’t even remember the actual ceremony or that weekend, but we had the marriage license with witnesses; though I have no idea who Edward Bloomberg or John Constantine are, but they saw us tie the knot. And I… I saw her, Jason,” she admitted. “I saw Donna Troy and you, and I don’t know, it occurred to me that you and I were merely a vacation mix up, like idiots getting hitch in Atlantic City or Vegas, and you and I hadn’t come to a decision and it was time I returned to reality, so I got the papers before you could regret this.”

“And you didn’t think to talk about this?” he asked.

“No, because I had a family emergency and there wasn’t time. I kept meaning to call you, but,” she gestured in frustration.

“Shit happens,” he nodded.

“Exactly. Besides, once I got stateside again and saw who you were, I knew made the right decision. I don’t want you to think we… at least I didn’t, you know, want you for your money.”

“I never thought that,” he pointed out, shoving his hands in his pockets as they walked.

“I’m poor, compared to you, and I know everyone would think I was a gold digger, so breaking the marriage before lawyers came into it to drag us through hell, and ruin our relationship, over money, didn’t seem fair,” she shrugged. “Besides, it’s not like it’d have worked once we came back to reality.”

“Why not?”

“You love your family and what you do, I remember our talks about that, and I couldn’t do that to you,” she shrugged.

“How’d you know about Donna?” he asked. She stopped, blinking rapidly as she stared at him in the city’s light.

“I saw you kissing in the hotel lobby when I was coming to tell you I needed to go home,” she admitted.

“You…?” he paled rapidly then and looked almost sick.

“Hey, it’s not a big deal, when I got stateside and read about you and her, I knew I made the right call, and I couldn’t be upset about it. There’s a lot of history with you and her, and I was the vacation mistake. It’s okay, I’m not hurt or mad about it,” she lied.

“But that doesn’t explain why you ran off,” he shook his head.

“My mom died, I had used everything I had to get a flight home to say goodbye,” she answered softly. “While I arranged my flight, I got the divorce papers, filled them out, and I left as quickly as I could.”

“I’m sorry about your mom, I didn’t know,” he said softly.

“It’s alright, she’s in a better place now,” she said firmly. She was in a place her father couldn’t hurt her, and she was no longer in pain; that’s all that mattered to her now. Though five years ago that had been a different story.

“What happened to her?”

“My biological father, Lucifer’s half-brother, killed her. The way my dad tells it, and evidence supports this, is mom was walking home, he snatched her, and tortured her, in my mom’s home. My dad came home to her near death, called 9-1-1, and she was in the ICU, I came home. My uncle’s wife, Mazikeen actually killed my dad when he attempted to snatch me,” Raven informed him.

“I… I’d have come,” he said.

“It’s okay, I didn’t want to drag you into my craziness,” she shrugged.

“Rae, that’s,” he sighed as he shook his head. “Marriage is a partnership, and I’d have come because we are friends. You were a friend when I needed it most and had none.”

“I know, and I can honestly say the same for you. But at the time, it never even crossed my mind. Plus I figured you were getting back with Donna at the time, and by the time I got everything sorted out I didn’t even know how to reach out to you,” she admitted.

“I’m here now,” he pointed out.

“You are,” she agreed.

“We should…”

“Raven! There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere! You have to come save me!” Raven turned in time to see Rose running towards her. Her step-sister caught her waist, skidding around to stand in front of Raven so they were almost nose to nose. “I swear to God if you do not come right now I will kill Joe and Dad!”

“I have to get back to LUX!” she protested.

“Hell no! Luci already agreed you must help!” Rose snapped.

“Rose!” she whined.

“No! Hot guys later! Hi, I’m Rose, Raven’s sister, I’m abducting her now, so give her your number so we can go! Though I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you, she’s a prudish virgin still!” Rose said.

“ROSE!” Raven squawked. “I am not a prude or a virgin!” she shrieked.

“Doesn’t matter! Come on!” Rose grabbed her arm and started dragging her towards LUX.

“It was nice seeing you Jason!” Raven shouted as she was dragged away from her ex-husband by her sister. She could barely keep up with Rose as she stumbled after her, she didn’t miss Jason’s bemused, and baffled expression as she was dragged off.

“I swear Kyd and Joe are going to kill me! We need you before we kill them,” Rose said. “He was hot, who was he?”

“He was an old friend Rose,” Raven chuckled as they got to Rose’s 1964 Ford Mustang.

“He knows you’re a total prude and he’s never getting any, right? You’re not leading him on like Garfield,” Rose asked.

“I was never leading Gar on, incase you forgot. He only had me to get to you,” Raven pointed out.

“Besides the point,” Rose dismissed.

“He knows me well enough, Rose.” Raven didn’t inform her sister that Jason Todd had taken her virginity, turned her into a lustful, sex crazed woman; who only wanted him, and if Rose hadn’t interrupted, that Raven was likely going to invite him up to her room, in Lucifer’s hotel, and let him screw her brains out until she couldn’t walk right or talk above a whisper; again. The man had introduced her to sex, no other man she had dated came close to being as enticing to her as Jason had; Jason had set impossibly high standards which she feared no one would be able to fulfill for her and her needs.

“Shame,” Rose decided. “You should let him pop your cherry, before you’re a true spinster.”

“Focus on driving, I don’t want to die in a twisted heap of metal!” she grimaced as she clung to her seat while Rose sped down the street.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Jason watched his wife getting dragged off by her sister and he realized how little he knew about his wife. She had an uncle, Lucifer Morningstar, who was married to a Mazikeen, her mother had been murdered by her biological father, and she had a stepfather (he was guessing on that one), plus a sister and a brother. He knew her best friend’s name was Garth; remembering her mentioning it a lot when he’d been with her. But he didn’t know much about her life.

It unnerved him.

Her reasons for leaving were justified, and rationalized, her reasons for leaving the divorce papers were reasonable. Hell, she had even promised to change her emergency contact; which unnerved him greatly. Raven had done her best to erase herself from his life, because she understandably thought she was a mistake in his life.

He despised that realization.

“Yo! Jay! Where’d you go?” a voice bellowed, he turned in time to see Dick, Wally, Kyle, and Tim staggering towards him.

“I ran into an old friend,” he answered levelly.

“OOOO! Keeping secrets from us! Spill!” Dick squealed.

“It’s not a secret, it’s none of your business. Also, you’re drunk, time to get back to the hotel before Kori kills us all,” he decided. Calling an Uber he waited, while corralling a drunk Dick and Wally, who had decided they wanted to sing carols to by passers, and Kyle tried to kiss him while he propped up Tim; who was sound asleep now.

Once he had them loaded into the Uber, who was taking them to the hotel to be greeted by Barbara Gordon and Kori And’r, he walked back to LUX. Jason barely made it through the door before he was grabbed by the owner and shoved into an elevator, a small woman appeared, her dark eyes bright with protective fury as the pair glared at him.

“Who the hell are you and what the hell do you mean you’re my niece’s husband!?” Lucifer growled as the elevator doors slid shut.

“My name is Jason Todd,” he started.

“We know that!” the woman snarled.

“I met Raven five years ago in New Zealand, we got drunk, ended up married after a weekend neither of us remember, then shit happened, she came home, and I did, we went our separate ways and I haven’t seen her until today!” he avowed as he tried not to get nervous. The woman, whom he was assuming to be Mazikeen, was glaring at him like she might eviscerate him, while Lucifer looked ready to tear him limb from limb.

“Raven said she had an ex,” Mazikeen growled.

“I haven’t filed the divorce,” he retorted.

“Does she know?” Lucifer demanded.

“I was trying to tell her tonight!” he defended. “Last I heard of her, not from her, of her, was she was in the hospital after a shark attack. By the time I got to Sydney she was gone.”

“So you’re the mysterious benefactor for covering her hospital bill,” Lucifer relaxed a little then.

“I have her covered under my insurance,” he said.

“What do you want with her?” Mazikeen growled.

“Honestly?” he sputtered.

“Excuse us, Mr. Todd, we are protective of our only niece, she’s been through more than most, and her family is just as protective, be glad it was us, and not her father who discovered you, we at least had pertinent questions to ask,” Lucifer quipped as they walked out of the elevator. Jason hesitantly followed after them. Mazikeen continued glaring at him, he saw a knife in her fingers.

“Look, I’m not here to cause problems, and I’m not even here for Raven,” he promised. “I didn’t know she’d be here. When she left, she left a note asking me to give her space, and I have. I didn’t mean to run into her here, though I am happy I did, but I’m here because my brother’s bachelor party was here tonight. No other reason. I didn’t even know she was your niece until tonight.”

“You didn’t discuss that with her when you got married?” Lucifer inquired.

“We were together for a month, and we got married drunk off our asses, and while we talked family, it was vague, like ‘my mom’ or ‘my dad’, we didn’t bring up our lives,” he defended.

“That seems monumentally stupid to me,” Mazikeen growled.

“Probably,” he agreed. Especially after he learned that Raven only learned who he really was after she returned stateside.

“So what are you going to do about this?” Mazikeen demanded. “File the papers finally?” she asked it almost hopeful.

“No, I’m going to try to talk to my wife, and unlike last time, work this out like adults,” he said.

“Seems to me as if she’s handled all of it,” Lucifer stated.

“Well, I didn’t get a say. I came back to an empty hotel room, with a neatly written note, and a stack of divorce papers with the ring resting atop all that. I didn’t get to talk to my wife about a decision which would involve both of us,” he stated. “And for five years, I will admit that I’ve chickened out on contacting her, for many reasons. So now that I’ve talked to her, we will sort this out, like adults,” he decided.

“And if she doesn’t want that?”

“I’m more than happy to step back and let her pursue her happiness elsewhere,” he avowed. “But I want a shot with my wife.”

“You intend to court her?” Lucifer deduced.

“I’d like to try it, properly.”

“You sleep with her and I will castrate you and nail you dick on our doorframe,” Mazikeen warned.

“Look, none of this is your business,” he decided.

“It is though, she’s my niece, I raised her with Mazikeen for four years, I protected her, I raised her, she is more than a niece to me, she is like our daughter,” Lucifer snapped. “And I will investigate this as thoroughly and invasively as I feel fit, seeing as how you are the son of America’s darling playboy. I will not let you harm her!”

Jason just sighed. “Fine, but I get to talk to my wife at my own pace without you butting in. She and I have many things to discuss.”

“Very well, but harm her, and Mazikeen will hide your body so well no one will ever find it.”

Jason just nodded as he walked out of the penthouse, wondering how the hell this happened to him. Also, he needed to text his wife and ask her to coffee so they could discuss the fact they were not exes, and were still legally married. Drunken mistake or not.

[intomyarmsmp3]

Top List of Things Small Businesses Should Be Doing

Yes, this is Just Another list of things small businesses should (or should Not ) Do but they are (or are Not ) I know, I know, you can not wait to read still another list detailing what you should do or worse, what you are doing wrong. Please, place your cynicism aside for a minute and leave the sarcasm to me. 

I am not in the fear-mongering business. I am also not at the magic-button business. The fear-mongering business uses scare tactics to inform you about all the things you are doing but should not be doing because if you do them, you are likely killing adorable puppies and kittens.

I have read my fair share of these and some really scared me to the purpose of second guessing daily choice. I'm confident you've read a number of these also. Did they work? Did those fear-mongering posts allow you to take some action? Buy a service or product? It is OK if it worked. It will not make you gullible, or more gullible anyway. 

It is used a lot in marketing and promotion since it works. As psychologists, physicians and advertisers have known for quite a very long time, anxiety is a significant motivator to buy. Fear of the unknown or unpredictable (insurance), fear of being dull (style, automobile, beauty), fear of missing out (think of anything that uses scarcity as a strategy - Only 10 left!). 

Hell, even the fear of fear is promoted by large pharma. Then there is the magic-button business. This thing I'm going to sell for you will change your whole business, your whole life, even your wardrobe and just takes one click. Yeah, this type of marketing sucks and is a low blow, not only to our sensibilities but also to our own delicate marketing egos.

This marketing works because it generally uses fear-mongering and then sweeps in to save the day with the magic-button solution. Some of us are swayed by this not because of fear but because they do not need to set the blood, sweat, and tears into creating a brand or business the same way you have. They need a magic solution. 

By this point you may be asking yourself,"Do you truly have a list or was it just some cleverly worded headline to get readers?" The following list is truly about what the headline says so, the headline composed itself and is not that clever. I attempt to present these topics with no fear-mongering and minus the magic-button technique. I only need to present facts that may (or may not be) related to developing your business. 

1. Know the Benefits of On Page & Off Page Search Engine Optimization (Search Engine Optimization ) There is so much information regarding SEO that it seems like anyone that has read a few books or articles on Search Engine Land is giving you information about SEO. Like with most items that incorporate plenty of knowledge from many diverse sources, there is a great deal of out-of-date information, rumors and myths about proper SEO. I want you to have details: 

* Optimizing the pages of your site for keywords is a factor in ranking in search engine results pages (SERPS) however, it is not the only element. 

* Loading time of your site pages is a factor in rank in SERPS 

* Well written content of a specific length is a factor in position in SERPS 

* There are many factors and variables that make ranking each page unique however, overall there are common rules that can be implemented 

* Bounce Rate (how long people stay on your website ) is a factor in rank in SERPS 

* Optimizing content across the Net that is not on your Website is called Off Page SEO and will help you rank and create traffic 

* There is a lot to understand and test and you've got better things to do. This is the reason it's a fantastic idea to hire someone that does SEO for a living. 

2. Have a Responsive Website You might have seen this expression when constructing your site or when somebody like me approaches one to inform you your website isn't responsive. This simply means mobile friendly. To put it differently, your website will"respond" or adjust to being shown on a larger screen like a desktopcomputer, a smaller display like a tabletcomputer, or a even smaller screen like a smartphone without getting cut off or not loading pictures etc.. Here are a few more facts: 

* It is estimated that by 2020, only 4 years from now, the use of smartphones in America alone will increase by 6 million 

* Over 90 percent of individuals with smartphones use them to hunt and research online before making a purchase

* While many purchases are still made in shop, the tendency for online purchases continues to grow 

* Without using fear-mongering approaches I think you can clearly see that, with the increase in smartphone use and online shopping, it is critically important to make sure your website is responsive- (mobile friendly).

3. Social Media Management I've seen a great deal of small businesses with Facebook webpages, Twitter accounts, Pinterest boards, LinkedIn accounts, Instagram accounts and so forth. This is Wonderful! Except, most small businesses must believe that by simply having the accounts they have done their part. 

So a number of these accounts are such as the Sahara. Dry, nothing actually living there and nobody wants to visit. I did a spot check of several regional businesses and found that a tax business with hardly any social media property. Facebook page? 

CHECK! Last update? Uh... February? Twitter account? Apparently there's a Twitter account since it's on the site, but clicking on the link only takes you to Twitter, not their personal page. A few popular restaurants in the region suffer from precisely the identical issue. Posts are extremely spread out with 3-6 articles a month (at a fantastic month)! More details for you to digest:  

"But Jason, how does that affect me anyplace? There are not that many people in my city." I am glad you asked...

 * 75 percent of people using the internet in your city are using social media

* There are optimal times and days to post to Facebook to reach the most people 

* You will find optimal times and days to post to Twitter to reach the maximum people-and they are different than the times and days for Facebook 

* In fact, each social networking platform has certain times and days that see the most engagement 

* According to elaborate charts, you should be posting to Facebook a few times every DAY, and Tweeting 4-15 times per DAY! 

4. Manage Your Online Reputation There are a lot of stories about people taking to social media to share their love or hate for a provider. Unfortunately, the stories the majority of us recall are the ones that are bad.

The folks expressing their loathing with artistic flair are not necessarily a client or customer. Sometimes they happen to be a worker. Such as the poor sap working for an advertising agency that was hired by General Motors. He had been driving to a meeting at General Motors in Detroit when he chose to converse about the irony of the motor city with terrible traffic. 

Oh, he also used an F* Bomb. Obviously, General Motors watched the tweet, fired the agency and the poor sap was summarily fired also. But, I see a great deal of businesses that don't know whether they are being cited online unless it occurred in their Facebook page. 

[dailyaudiobible]

05/07/2020 DAB Transcript

1 Samuel 1:1-2:21, John 5:1-23, Psalms 105:37-45, Proverbs 14:28-29

Today is the 7th day of May, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it's great to be here with you as we continue the journey that we are on, the voyage that sails us through the entire Bible in a year. Today is…well…I mean it's a special day because we’re moving into a new book in the Old Testament, this is the book of first Samuel, but we’re also kind of migrating into a new era in the story of the ancient Hebrew people found in the Old Testament. So, basically, we’ve…we’ve worked from Moses, right? And then he handed the reins to Joshua, who led the people into the Promised Land and settled the Promised Land. And then when his life was finished, we entered the time of the Judges, which last…which lasted for centuries. And we saw that was a difficult time, a lot of back-and-forth with the people around them, a lot of back-and-forth in their understanding and relationship with God. And then we concluded the book of Judges and moved into the book of Ruth, which is a beautiful story. We just finished it yesterday. So, it's a beautiful story, but it takes place during the time of the Judges. Now we’re moving into first Samuel.

Introduction to the book of first Samuel:

And Samuel, as it turns out, is the final judge of Israel before the time of the Kings, the monarchy. The people demand a king and its Samuel who will bring Israel its first king. So, as we kinda move into first Samuel we’re gonna first learn about Samuel, like his story. We’re gonna kinda get his story even before he's born. And then, like I said, we’ll follow his life all the way…all the way through his death and, ironically, even after his death briefly. Samuel will introduce Kings into…into the story of Israel. The first king's name will be Saul and then later, before we’re done with Samuel, we’ll meet a man named David. Of course, we’ve heard about David…well…we’ve been hearing about David in the Bible tin he Psalms and stuff. But David, kinda entered the scene yesterday in Ruth as we learned of the ancestry. Now, as far scholarship for the books of Samuel…well…I mean more than the book of Samuel…scholars generally…like no biblical scholars agree on everything ever…like this is the way of things, but generally it's believed that the material that’s in the book of books of Samuel were probably the writings of three different prophets – Samuel, Nathan, and God. And originally there wasn't a first and second Samuel. They were separate texts. Actually, there wasn't even just a book of Samuel that included those two texts. It was all grouped together as the books of the Kings or the books of the kingdoms. So, basically when the Old Testament was translated out of Hebrew and into Greek it was called the Septuagint, and this one kind of massive corpus of the kingdoms was…was divided into four different texts known as the books of the kingdoms. And then later, when…when the Old Testament was translated from Greek into Latin, which was called the Vulgate they became the books of the Kings. And the irony is that…like right now in the Scriptures as we know them, we have first and second Samuel and then first and second Kings. At this time when we’re talking about it was first, second, third, and fourth Kings. So, that can get confusing, but this is how we kind of arrive at the books of the Bible that we have today. So, what is now known as first and second Samuel, the books that we’re about to read, at one time those were actually first and second Kings and…and first and second Kings as we know it now was known as third and fourth Kings. We have the books as we understand them now due to the publication of the King James Bible in 1611, which is not that long ago when we’re talking about ancient history. So, that's how we got first and second Samuel. Samuel, as a person, we’ll…we’ll see as…as we move into this new territory, was very influential and very respected for very good reasons and…and he was the final judge of Israel, but he was also a prophet of God and that was a huge difference because he was a prophet of God, a judge of Israel, and a priest of the Lord. So, during the time of Samuel everybody's doing what was right in their own eyes, but Samuel kind of steps into this as a prophet and people that historically understood God using prophets to speak and lead them, for example Moses. So, the people believed that Samuel was…was speaking directly for God and was something that they understood. That's how they had been led out of Egypt. And, so, we’ll watch how this all plays out as we begin. First Samuel chapter 1 verse 1 through 2 verse 21 today.

Prayer:

Father, we take a proverb heart – “people with understanding control their anger; a hot temper shows great foolishness.” And Lord the last thing we want to be right now is foolish. And yet we confess on our own we are very foolish people and we show that foolishness a lot. We just try to mask it a lot, try to hide it a lot. And yet what You're showing us in the Proverbs is that we could stop using all of that energy and actually apply that energy to gaining understanding and control over ourselves, understanding fully that this will never happen in our own strength. We will have to surrender to Your authority in our lives. And, so, we do that. And even as we move into the book of first Samuel, we will begin to see the contrasts of this very proverb played out in vivid color before us in the stories ahead. And, so, come Holy Spirit, give us an understanding heart. Give us the wherewithal to take a deep breath and control ourselves before we react to anything, especially in anger and hot temperedness. Come help us Father. We don't want to be foolish. We want to be wise when looking for wisdom. We’re looking for eyes to see and we can’t do that without You. So, we invite Your Holy Spirit and we open ourselves up to You fully. Come into all of this we have prayed. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

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And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

This is Ray from Northeast Florida. I’m a long-time listener and first-time caller. This is for Summer in Ohio. God has laid this on my heart in response to the text you read from your daughter. I heard your message on May 31st and Psalm 102 was the Psalm that Brian read on that day. “My heart is smashed like dried up grass, I even forget to eat my food because of my intense groans. My bones are protruding from my skin. I’m some wild owl, some screech owl in the desert. I lie awake all night. I’m all alone like a bird on a roof.” It amazed me because the Psalm sounded exactly like the text that your daughter had sent you and I wondered if she knows that found in the Bible is another person that feels the way that she does and is crying out to God for answers. I believe that many of us in this community at some point have called out to God small G, god, asking for Him to talk to us or for a miracle; however the only way that we were able to find Jesus Christ, the one and only true God is through knowing Him through His word. I don’t believe it was a coincidence that the New Testament passage on the day you called was from John. In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God. The Word was with God in the beginning. Everything came into being through the Word and without the Word nothing came into being. What came into being through the Word was Life and the Life was the Light for all people. You said that you didn’t have the right words to respond back. The passage from 10…Psalm 102 might be the right words for her to hear right now to know she’s not alone in her pain and as you continue to show her love, remember it won’t be your words that will help her find Jesus, it will be His words coming from His word. God bless you.

Father, You know everybody who is coming to You seeking their identity, seeking who they are in Your kingdom. You know them all big and small. Father, I pray especially for one who’s looking for life and finding the Son. I pray oh Lord that You would give her her peace and Father open up her eyes so that she can find release. I ask for myself for life on the high and Father that I no longer think of ways that I could die. That is the old self and that’s the old thoughts. The things that are negative Father they’re all of rot. Father, I want to seek Your face complete. Give me a hope so that I know Your rope will carry me out of every well and every depth. Father Your goodness, Your freshness, You are complete Father. And I wish for shalom to know You alone Father. To think of You first and love others as You do. And Father to be with You in spirit and truth. Help me oh Father to find Your way and to love those around me even though there so...sometimes carrying negativity today. Father You know what I’ve climbed out of and up and Father You lift me, You lift my cup. And Father You fill it with the sweetest of wine. How good You are Lord and You love me divine. Help me to understand, no longer to say “I” but to give others place and love and myself to die. Thank You, Father for Your good grace and Father to show us who You are in Your face. Amen.

Hey y’all this is Fred from Austin Texas I’m calling in just to ask for prayer for a special couple in my life. I don’t want to give too many details in case they hear this because they don’t know I’m asking for them, but they are married, little daughter, and they’re on the brink of divorce and I would just love to ask you guys to pray for them to be open to what God’s will is in the situation and just be open for God to move and possibly take, you know, use the situation to bring them closer to Him and make sure that He’s first in their lives and also for me to have wisdom on how to support and counsel them during this time. That said, just to request man. Thank you, guys. My heart is heavy because I love them a lot and I appreciate this community. Thank you, guys. God bless.

Hi Donna, out in California this is Dorothy also from California. I just…I heard your plea and I heard your cry and I understand, and I just want to let you know that you are not alone honey. You are not alone. God loves you so much and I’ve been there. I want to tell you a story. Last year I worked at Ridgecrest and I was told that my job was done and on the drive home I cried and cried and I stopped at a…at red rock where there was this like this I want to save like rock precipice. But anyway, I just…I was crying to God and I felt like He talked to my heart and told me to trust him not just with my finances because I dependent on that job but he was also telling me to leave this boy that I loved, that I cared about so much and I…I had a future and you know __. And when I…when I gave him up, I wasn’t giving him away I was giving him to God. You know what happened? Two days after Ridgecrest there was an earthquake. Yup. And I realized that God wasn’t…I don’t…He…He was showing me that I could trust Him with everything, not just my physical safety but my emotional safety as well. I highly recommend you get in a women’s group and maybe counseling and just and…and ask God maybe just to be willing to be willing. There also could be a familiar spirit of his memories, so really…post…post it on the Prayer Wall. Plug into church...

Every day the news is given earths end is on the way taking with it all unsaved who live for just today the Holy Spirit’s on me strong God is word is in my heart Let us live in such a way that shows God we are smart storing up our treasures where we know it’ll do some good letting love reign within our hearts as every Christian should each day has destruction the news is full of woe lives are being swept away everywhere you go earthquakes and tsunamis things we rarely see are happening now most every day they’re signs for you and me hurricanes and twisters with winds so very strong that nothing made with human hands can stand up to it long mudslides caused by endless rain that sweep away the earth forest fires burn for months deaths been given birth and what about the terrorists and the accepted armies too all of them kill other men because that’s what soldiers do volcanoes are erupting pollutions in the sky those of us who knows God’s word don’t have to wonder why it says in Revelation that a third of all life must die it might sound cold and it might sound cruel but God’s word will never lie Satan’s time is almost done rolling through the earth for those of us that have the seal of God it’s time to prove what you’re really worth not with fear and trembling but with faith and holy power this is what we’ve been waiting for let it be our finest hour gathering up the remnant because there’s many God will save stand firm with head held high let his spirit make you brave

blindtony1016@gmail.com. Once again Brian and the Hardin family thank you for this wonderful podcast for God’s Holy Spirit to flow keep it flowing y’all. All right. Bye-bye.

Hello Daily Audio Bible community and family this is Mike up in Michigan and I’m listening to April 26th  and Will just called in about the death of their 15-year-old, his 15-year-old stepson and Ann Marie there. So, anyway, as a parent with a couple kids in their upper 20s, ouch, ouch ouch. I’ll pray for you. I’m really so sorry to hear that, especially so young. And I know that you said he professed his faith so the good news he is up there with our Lord and Savior way better than being where we’re at here. So, going to miss him. I can totally understand that. So, anyway I just pray for you and I just…I just had to stop pray for you. All right. Have a great day guys.

Hi, I need your help and prayers because I need the man of my life to come back. __ please, he’s my first and everything and that’s why I feel like a part of me is dying and I don’t know how to move on like everybody says. Please help me because I don’t know…

[myhauntedsalem]

The Birdman of Alcatraz

Robert Stroud’s life story was first told in a book in 1955 and then in a movie starring Burt Lancaster in 1962 both entitled “Birdman of Alcatraz.” Both portrayed his life story while he served time for murder first at Leavenworth and then later at Alcatraz. Both portrayed him as a ‘kindly’ reformed prisoner who spent years studying bird diseases and how to cure them. But as usual this Hollywood glossy version reflected only small parts of the real truth.

Robert Stroud was far from a ‘model’ prisoner.

In 1909 Stroud shot and killed a man in Juneau, Alaska. Stroud pimped for a prostitute who was cheated by a “john”. This “john” had paid her $2.00 instead of the expected $10.00. Stroud angry, because he didn’t get his usual cut, went to this man’s residence and shot him five times and then took his wallet. He was tried and convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to serve twelve years at McNeil Island prison in Washington State.

Two years later at McNeil Island he stabbed a fellow inmate for being a ‘snitch’. He was tried for assault and six months were tacked on to his sentence. During this time he also viciously attacked a prison hospital orderly. This man had reported him for using intimidation and threats in an attempt to procure narcotics. In 1912 he was transferred to the U.S. Penitentiary at Leavenworth, Kansas—due partially to his ceaseless threats to other inmates.

At Leavenworth, in the spring of 1916 Stroud refused to give a guard his “number’’ which was a minor infraction. The next day a long awaited visit with his brother was cancelled because of this infraction. Stroud during the noon meal that same day in the prison mess hall asked this guard if he had reported him. When the guard refused to respond, Stroud pulled out a concealed knife and stabbed and killed him in front of hundreds of other inmates.

For this crime, he was convicted of first-degree murder. He was to be hanged in 1918. But his mother who had moved to Kansas to be close to him, desperately pleaded for his life. In 1920 President Woodrow Wilson commuted his death sentence to life in prison. The Leavenworth warden because of Stroud’s unpredictable and violent outbursts ordered that he be permanently placed in a segregation unit.

Stroud was an enigma because he had an IQ of 134, but he ate with his fingers, hunched over like an animal. His horrible personal hygiene presented a problem for fellow inmates and prison officials alike. It wasn’t until 1934 that he was formally diagnosed as a psychopath.

While at Leavenworth, he found an injured sparrow in the yard; he took it back to his cell and nursed it back to health. This started his interest in birds. This interest was his one and only redeeming feature.

The warden at Leavenworth used Stroud’s interest in birds to present a model of “progressive rehabilitation” to the public. Shroud played along because he had found a way to raise some money for his mother who was fighting for his release.

Over the next years he raised over 300 canaries, which he sold to visitors at the prison. Stroud’s scientific observations of the canaries he kept did later benefit the research on the canary species. He wrote two books on this subject. He also made a contribution to avian pathology. All of this endeared him to people in the field.

In contrast to this he allowed his birds to fly freely in his cell, which resulted in quite a mess, which he never cleaned up. The massive correspondence he began to receive also became a burden for the prison for each letter coming in and going out had to be screened—a full-time secretary had to be hired just for this purpose.

Prison officials finally fed up with Stroud’s bird business tried to shut him down. He had Delle Mae Jones, a bird researcher in Indiana, which he had corresponded with alert the newspapers and start a petition drive. A 50,000-signature petition was sent to the President. This worked for the prison even gave Stroud an adjourning cell for his birds and his research.

Jones became so close to Stroud; she moved to Kansas and formed a business in 1931 with him where they sold his bird medicines under the name “Stroud’s Specific.” It was widely debated at the time if these remedies were actually effective.

In 1933 Stroud discovered that there were plans to move him to Alcatraz, he knew he would no longer be permitted to keep birds. Stroud however discovered a Kansas law that forbade the transfer of prisoners if they were married in Kansas. He arranged to marry Delle Mae Jones by proxy, which infuriated the prison officials, who would not let him correspond with his new wife.

The first irony here was Stroud was a violent prisoner —this is one reason that the prison officials kept him from the general prison population.

The second irony was Stroud lost his business and birds when it was discovered that some of the equipment he had requested for his lab he had actually used to build a homemade alcohol still.

The third irony is his mother didn’t like Delle—she believed all women were bad for her son. Where once she had been a strong advocate for him, helping with legal battles etc., she now argued against her son’s application for parole, in fact, she became a major obstacle in his attempts to be released. She moved away from Leavenworth and had no further contact with him.

Stroud was transferred to Alcatraz in December of 1942. When he was transferred this note was placed upon the warden’s notebook page with his mug shot. Reason for transfer:

“In view of this man’s homicidal traits and impulsivity dangerous tendencies, he cannot be released in the general population…they feel that it would be possible to confine this man safely at Alcatraz…also wishes to call attention to need for eliminating the insanitary condition…from this man’s bird breeding activities here…Recommend transfer to Alcatraz.”

At Alcatraz, Stroud spent six years in segregation where he did have some contact with other prisoners, but as things worsened he was placed in solitary confinement in an isolated area of the hospital wing for the last eleven years he was at Alcatraz.

This double cell had no toilet so Stroud used a bedpan. One priest who visited the prison stated he went out of his way to avoid being seen as he passed Stroud’s prison door—even going as far as to duck down. He stated if Stroud spotted him he would endlessly babble on and on.

Stroud having access to the prison library began studying law. He petitioned the government stating that his long prison term amounted to “cruel and unusual punishment”.

Another contrast—Stroud was a fan of child pornography. He received many letters from people who were fans of his bird knowledge. Some of these fans were children. Prison officials confiscated a few letters from Stroud in response to these children that contained suggestive remarks.

In 1959, Stroud in poor health was transferred to the Medical Center for Federal Prisoners in Springfield, Missouri. In 1963 he died at the age of 73, the day before John F. Kennedy was assassinated.

To this day Alcatraz, a very haunted place, has one cell that is more active than all the rest—this is the double cell that Stroud lived in for eleven years in solitary confinement. Full-body apparitions are spotted in this area.

So Robert Stroud was a cold-blooded killer, but the general public because of the book and film “Birdman of Alcatraz” had a totally different picture of him. I remember seeing this film as a child myself and thinking how cruel it was they never released him. The public in general felt the same because after the release of this film, which Burt Lancaster won an Oscar for best actor, many people protested for the release of Robert Stroud.

One fellow prison inmate who heard about the public outcry for Stroud’s release stated: “They want Burt Lancaster to be set free not Robert Stroud.”