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cruisingthedemimonde · 3 years

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America’s Gay Men in WW2

World War Two was a “National Coming Out” for queer Americans.

I don’t think any other event in history changed the lives of so many of us since Rome became Christian.

For European queers the war brought tragedy.

The queer movement began in Germany in the 1860s when trans activist Karl Ulrichs spoke before the courts to repeal Anti-Sodomy laws. From his first act of bravery the movement grew and by the 1920s Berlin had more gay bars than Manhattan did in the 1980s. Magnus Hirschfeld’s “Scientific Humanitarian Committee” fought valiantly in politics for LGBT rights and performed the first gender affirmation surgeries. They were a century ahead of the rest of the world.

The Nazis made Hirschfeld - Socialist, Homosexual and Jew - public enemy number one.

The famous image of the Nazis burning books? Those were the books of the Scientific Humanitarian Committee. Case studies of the first openly queer Europeans, histories, diaries - the first treasure trove of our history was destroyed that day.

100,000 of us were charged with felonies. As many as 15,000 were sent to the camps, about 60% were murdered.

But in America the war brought liberation.

In a country where most people never even heard the word “homosexual” , historian John D’emilio wrote the war was “conducive both to the articulation of a homosexual identity and to the more rapid evolution of a gay subculture. (24)” The war years were “a Watershed (Eaklor 68)”

Now before we begin I need to give a caveat. The focus of this first post is not lesbians, transfolk or others in our community. Those stories have additional complexity the story of cisgender homosexual men does not. Starting with gay men lets me begin in the simplest way I can, in subsequent posts I’ll look at the rest of our community.

Twilight Aristocracy: Being Queer Before the War

I want us to go back in time and imagine the life of the typical queer American before the war. Odds are you lived on a farm and simply accepted the basic fact that you would marry and raise children as surely as you were born or would die. You would have never seen someone Out or Proud. If you did see your sexuality or gender in contrary ways you had no words to express it, odds are even your doctor had never heard the term “Homosexual. In your mind it was just a quirk, without a name or possible expression.

In the city the “Twilight Aristocracy” lived hidden, on the margins and exposed their queerness only in the most coded ways. Gay men “Dropping pins” with a handkerchief in a specific pocket. Butch women with key chains heavy enough to show she didn’t need a man to carry anything for her. A secret language of “Jockers” and “Nances” “Playing Checkers” during a night out. There is a really good article on the queer vernacular here

And these were “Lovers in a Dangerous Time.”

In public one must act as straight as possible. Two people of the same gender dancing could be prosecuted. Cross dressing, even with something as trivial as a woman wearing pants, would run afoul of obscenity laws.

The only spaces we had for ourselves were dive bars, run by organized crime. But even then one must be sure to be circumspect, and act straight. Anyone could be an undercover cop. If a gaze was held to long, or lovers kissed in a corner the bar would be raided. Police saw us as worthy candidates for abuse so beatings were common and the judge would do all he could to humiliate you.

Now Michael Foucault, the big swinging french dick of queer theory, laid out this whole theory about how the real policing in a society happens inside our heads. Ideas about sin, shame, normalcy, mental illness can all be made to control people, and the Twilight Aristocracy was no different.

While cruising a park at night, or settled on the sofa with a lifelong lover, the thoughts of Priests and Doctors haunted them. “Am I living in Sin? Am I someone God could love?” “Is this healthy? Have I gone mad? Is this a true love or a medical condition which requires cure?”

There was no voice in America yet healing our self doubt, or demanding the world accept us as we are. And that voice, the socialist Harry Hay, did not come during the war, but it would come shortly after directly because of it.

Johnny Get Your Gun… And are you now or ever been a Homosexual?

For the first time in their lives millions of young men crossed thousands of miles from their home to the front.

But before they made that brave journey they had another, unexpected and often torturous journey. The one across the doctor’s office at a recruiting station.

In the nineteenth century queerness moved from an act, “Forgive me Father I have sinned, I kissed another man” to something you are, “The homosexual subspecies can be identified by certain physical and psychological signs.”

These were the glory days of patriarchy and white supremacy, those who transgressed the line between masculine and feminine called the whole culture into question. So doctors obsessed themselves with queerness, its origins, its signs, its so called catastrophic racial consequences and its cure.

“Are you a homosexual?” doctors asked stunned recruits.

If you were closeted but patriotic, you would of course deny the accusation. But the doctor would continue his examination by checking if you were a “Real Man.”

“Do you have a girlfriend? Did you like playing sports as a kid?”

If you passed that, the doctor would often try and trip you up by asking about your culture.

“Do you ever go basketeering?” he would ask, remembering to check if there was any lisp or effeminacy in your voice.

Finally if the doctor felt like it he could examine your body to see if you were a member of the homosexual subspecies.

Your gag reflex would be tested with a tongue depressor. Another hole could be carefully examined as well.

Humiliating enough for a straight man. But for a gay recruit the consequences could be life threatening.

Medical authorities knew homosexuals were weak, criminal and mad. To place them among the troops would weaken unit cohesion at the very least, result in treachery at the worst. In civilian life doctors had much the same thing to say.

The recruit needed a cure. And a doctor was always ready. With talk therapy, hypnosis, drugs, electroshock and forced surgeries of the worst kinds there was always a cure ready at hand.

Thankfully the doctors were not successful in their task, one doctor wrote “for every homosexual who was referred or came to the Medical Department, there were five or ten who never were detected. (d’Emilio 25)”

Here’s the irony though, by asking such pointed and direct questions to people closeted to themselves it forced them to confront their sexuality for the first time.

Hegarty writes, “As a result of the screening policies, homosexuality became part of wartime discourse. Questions about homosexual desire and behavior ensured that every man inducted into the armed forces had to confront the possibility of homosexual feelings or experiences. This was a kind of massive public education about homosexuality. Despite—and be-cause of—the attempts to eliminate homosexuals from the military, men with same-sex desires learned that there were many people like themselves (Hegarty 180)”

And then it gave them a golden opportunity to have fun.

The 101st Airborn - Homosocial and Homosexual

“Homosocial” refers to a gender segregated space. And they were often havens for gay men. The YMCA for example really was a place for young gay men to meet.

Now the government was already aware of the kind of scandalous sexual behaviour young men can get up to when left to themselves. Two major government programs before the war, the Federal Transient Program and the Civilian Conservation Corps focused on unattached young men, but over time these spaces became highly suspect and the focus shifted to helping family men so as to avoid giving government aid to ‘sexual perversion’ in these homosocial spaces.

But with the war on there was no choice but to put hundreds of thousands of young men in their own world. All male boot camps, all male bases, all male front lines.

The emotional intensity broke down the barriers between men and the strict enforcement of gendered norms.

On the front the men had no girlfriend, wife or mother to confide in. The soldier’s body was strong and heroic but also fragile. Straight men held each other in foxholes and shared their emotional vulnerability to each other. Gender lines began to blur as straight men danced together in bars an action that would result in arrest in many American cities.

Bronski writes, “Men were now more able to be emotional, express their feelings, and even cry. The stereotypical “strong, silent type,” quintessentially heterosexual, that had characterized the American Man had been replaced with a new, sensitive man who had many of the qualities of the homosexual male. (Bronski 152)”

Homosexual men discovered in this environment new freedoms to get close to one another without arousing suspicion.

“Though the military officially maintained an anti-homosexual stance, wartime conditions nonetheless offered a protective covering that facilitated interaction among gay men (d’Emilio 26)”

Bob Ruffing, a chief petty officer in the Navy described this freedom as follows, ‘When I first got into the navy—in the recreation hall, for instance— there’d be eye contact, and pretty soon you’d get to know one or two people and kept branching out. All of a sudden you had a vast network of friends, usually through this eye contact thing, some through outright cruising. They could get away with it in that atmosphere. (d’Emilio 26) ”

Another wrote about their experience serving in the navy in San Diego, “‘Oh, these are more my kind of people.’ We became very chummy, quite close, very fraternal, very protective of each other. (Hegarty 180)”

Some spaces within the army became queer as well. The USO put on shows for soldiers, and since they could not find women to play parts, the men often dressed in drag. “impersonation. For actors and audiences, these performances were a needed relief from the stress of war. For men who identified as homosexual, these shows were a place where they could, in coded terms, express their sexual desires, be visible, and build a community. (Bronski 148)”

“Here you see three lovely “girls”

With their plastic shapes and curls.

Isn’t it campy? Isn’t it campy?

We’ve got glamour and that’s no lie;

Can’t you tell when we swish by?

Isn’t it campy? Isn’t it campy?”

The words camp and swish being used in the gay subculture and connected to effeminate gay men.

I would have to assume, more than a few transwomen gravitated to these spaces as well.

Even the battlefield itself provided opportunities for gay fraternization. A beach in Guam for example became a secret just for the gay troops, they called it Purple Beach Number 2, after a perfume brand.

This homoerotic space was not confined to the military, but spilled out into civilian life as well.

Donald Vining was a pacifist who stated bluntly his homosexuality to the recruitment board as his mother needed his work earnings, and if you wanted be a conscientious objector you had to apply to go to an objector’s camp. He became something of a soldier chaser, working in the local YMCA and volunteering at the soldier’s canteen in New York he hooked up with soldiers still closeted for a night of passion but many more who were open about who they were.

After the war he was left with a network of gay friends and a strong sense of belonging to a community. It was dangerous tho, he was victim of robberies he could not report because they happened during hook ups, but police were always ready to raid gay bars when they were bored. “It was obvious that [the police] just had to make a few arrests to look busy,” he protested in his diary. “It was a travesty of justice and the workings of the police department (d’Emilio 30).״

Now it might seem odd he was able to plug into a community like that, but over the war underground gay bars appeared across the country for their new clientele. Even the isolated Worcester Mass got a gay bar.

African American men, barred from combat on the front lines, were not entirely barred from the gay subculture in the cities. For example in Harlem the jazz bar Lucky Rendevous was reported in Ebony as whites and blacks “steeped in the swish jargon of its many lavender costumers. (Bronski 149)”

The Other War: Facing Homophobia

“For homosexual soldiers, induction into the military forced a sudden confrontation with their sexuality that highlighted the stigma attached to it and kept it a matter of special concern (d’Emilio 25)”

“They were fighting two wars: one for America, democracy, and freedom; the other for their own survival as homosexuals within the military organization. (Eaklor 68)”

Once they were in, they fell under Article 125 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice: “Any person subject to this chapter who engages in unnatural carnal copulation with another person of the same or opposite sex or with an animal is guilty of sodomy. Penetration, however slight, is sufficient to complete the offense.”

Penalties could include five years hard labour, forced institutionalization or fall under the dreaded Section 8 discharge, a stamp of mental instability that would prevent you from finding meaningful employment in civilian life.

Even if one wanted nothing to do with fulfilling their desires it was still essential to become hyper aware of your presentation and behaviour in order to avoid suspicion.

Coming Home to Gay Ghettos

“The veterans of World War II were the first generation of gay men and women to experience such rapid, dramatic, and widespread changes in their lives as homosexuals. Bronski 154”

After the war many queer servicemen went on to live conventionally heterosexual lives. But many more returned to a much queerer life stateside.

Bob Ruffing would settle down in San Francisco. The city has always been a safe harbour for queer Americans, made more so as ex servicemen gravitated to its liberated atmosphere. The port cities of New York, San Francisco and Los Angeles became the prime destinations to settle. Vining’s partner joined him in New York, where they both immersed themselves in the gay culture.

Other soldiers moved to specific neighborhoods known for having small gay communities. San Francisco’s North Beach, the west side of Boston’s Beacon Hill, or New York’s Greenwich Village. Following the war the gay populations of these cities increased dramatically.

The cities offered parks, coffee houses and bars which became queer spaces. And drag performance, music and comedy became features of this culture.

These veterans also founded organizations just for the queer soldiers. In Los Angeles the Knights of the Clock provided a space for same sex inter racial couples. In New York the Veterans Benevolent Association would often see 400-500 homosexuals appear at its events.

A number of books bluntly explored homosexuality following the war, such as The Invisible Glass which tells the story of an inter racial couple in Italy,

“With a slight moan Chick rolled onto his left side, toward the Lieutenant. His finger sought those of the officer’s as they entwined their legs. Their faces met. The breaths, smelling sweet from wine, came in heavy drawn sighs. La Cava grasped the soldier by his waist and drew him tightly to his body. His mouth pressed down until he felt Chick’s lips part. For a moment they lay quietly, holding one another with strained arms.”

Others like Gore Vidal’s The City and the Pillar (1948), Fritz Peters’s The World Next Door (1949), and James Barr’s Quatrefoil (1950) explored similar themes.

In 1948 the Kinsey Report would create a public firestorm by arguing that homosexuality is shockingly common. In 1950 The Mattachine Society, a secretive group of homosexual Stalinists launched America’s LGBT movement.

References:

Michael Bronski “A Queer History of the United States”

John D’emilio “Coming Out Under Fire”

Vivki L Eaklor “Queer America: A GLBT History of America”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Lesbians

In 1947 General Eisenhower told a purple heart winning Sargeant Johhnie Phelps, “It's come to my attention that there are lesbians in the WACs, we need to ferret them out”.

Phelps replied, “"If the General pleases, sir, I'll be happy to do that, but the first name on the list will be mine."

Eisenhower’s secretary added “"If the General pleases, sir, my name will be first and hers will be second."

Join me again May 17 to hear the story of America’s Lesbians during the war.

#gay history #world war two #queer history #gay #lgbt

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girlsgonemildblog · 4 years

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There Was So Much Crying - The Bachelor, Season 25, Week 11 & After The Final Rose Recap

Image from abc.com

We made it. We finally arrived at the finale of what may have been the longest season of The Bachelor ever. Perhaps not in weeks and episodes, but definitely in years it took off my life. The episode opens with shots of Matt and the two remaining ladies, Michelle and Rachael, all looking very serious. Rachael was even staring pensively off in the distance while writing in her journal. Every season there’s a shot of one of the final girls journaling, and I refuse to believe that that many people keep a journal. I try to journal, and I am good for like two entries a month, and that’s only until I completely forget about journaling for half a year until I find the notebook in a drawer I never open.

Matt then goes and sees his mom, Patty, and older brother, John, who looked so much like him it was actually distracting.

Matt’s family first meets Michelle, and Patty starts crying almost immediately. Michelle and John then go off to speak privately, and it was clear that John prepped for this conversation. He had a line of questioning memorized, and they were personal, such as “When was your last relationship?” and “Why did it end?” I think John would get along well with Michelle’s kindergarteners.

Patty then gets a chance to talk with Michelle, and the two of them had an instant connection. Serious bonding happened. Patty starts crying (again) because she is so happy that Matt has found love. I would be remiss if I did not say that if my boyfriend’s mom were crying like this, it would be a red flag for me. Like, why are you this grateful that someone is willing to be with your son? What is wrong with him that you’re not telling me?

The next day it is Rachael’s turn with the Jameses, and John lays into her just as much as he did Michelle. He hits her with questions like “How many relationships have you been in?” and “Have you ever been in love?” It did not seem like he was as satisfied with her answers as he was with Michelle’s. When Rachael talks to Matt’s mom, they discuss the importance of religion in both of theirs, and Matt’s, lives. Patty cries, and Rachael says that the show is “God’s way of bringing her and Matt together.” God, Chris Harrison, same difference.

After Rachael leaves, Matt gets a chance to debrief with his mom and brother. His mother seems to like both girls, which was probably quite unhelpful for Matt, who needed to decide between the two. She also says that she does not think Matt is ready to get engaged, which was pretty evident at this point. She then goes into quite a speech about how “love ends,” and it’s “not the end all be all.” Patty’s clearly been through a lot, and desperately needs to go to therapy. John counters by telling his brother that he supports him no matter what, but he also shouldn’t jump into a decision if he is not ready.

This whole conversation (understandably) confuses Matt, and he asks to speak with Chris Harrison. He tells Chris that he’s unsure if he’s ready to get married and fills him in on the conversation with his mom. Chris simply replies, “that’s a lot to unpack,” which is a very fitting response. He then tries to talk Matt into it in an attempt to salvage what has ultimately been a complete shit-show of a season. My personal opinion is that if you’re not sure if you’re ready to get engaged, you’re not ready to get engaged. You need to be 100% confident before you get down on one knee. (I also think you need to be 100% confident the other person will say yes, but I won’t get into that right now.)

The next day, Matt takes Michelle to the top of a building and brings her dangerously close to the edge with her eyes closed. When she does open her eyes, he announces that they will be repelling down the side, and that would be the point where I would break up with him. If he really loved her, he wouldn’t ask her to risk her life. Matt was really bad at the repelling but still took it upon himself to explain how to do it to Michelle, who was having no issues. That night, Matt goes over to Michelle’s hotel room. She gives him a gift; matching “World Changing Warriors” basketball jerseys with “Mr. James” and “Mrs. James” on the backs and he then breaks up with her. She says to him, “just tell me where you’re at,” and he responds, “I don’t think I can get there with you.” Harsh, to say the least.

The following day, we see Rachael getting ready for her own date with Matt. Chris Harrison then knocks on her door, and she is delighted to see him, unfortunately not realizing what is happening. Chris Harrison does not show up with good news. Chris tells Rachael that Matt’s going through some things and doesn’t want to see her today (imagine getting stood up on The Bachelor), but conveniently omits that Michelle was sent home the previous night.

Matt meets with Neil Lane, the official diamond provider of Bachelor Nation. Neil asks Matt if Rachael is expecting a proposal, and he says, “she’s expecting honesty.” Uh, no, Matt. She is definitely expecting a proposal.

Rachael gets a date card asking her to “meet me by the lake,” which is extremely ominous. Rachael does meet him and gives her pre-proposal speech, which is filled with clichés like, “I’m not gonna run when it gets tough,” and “when you’re hurting, I’m hurting.” Matt then tells her that he can’t propose to her (then why the hell did he get that ring?), but he still wants to “commit” to her. Then they all lived happily ever after. Just kidding, she got exposed on the internet, and the whole show exploded.

Which brings me to the third hour of the finale, “After the Final Rose”. Because Chris Harrison decided celebrating slavery was defendable, he’s been put in time out, and Emmanuel Acho was asked to step in and host. For those who are not familiar, Acho is a former linebacker for the Philadelphia Eagles (go birds!) and current analyst on Fox. He also wrote a book titled Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Man and hosts a video series on topics involving race.

Emmanuel brings out Michelle first, who looked stunning. She tells Emmanuel that after she was sent home, she asked for two minutes with Matt, not to change his mind but just to get closure, but he refused, which is actually pretty shitty of him. Emmanuel then asks for her thoughts on Rachael’s scandal. Michelle, very tactfully, says that those photos hurt her and that she does believe Rachael has a good heart, but she was just ill-informed and inconsiderate.

Matt then comes out to speak with Michelle. She confronts him over how she was forced to walk away without closure, and he says he wishes he had pushed more for that conversation. This phrasing interested me because it implied that not speaking with her may not have been his choice alone. As Oprah would say, was he silent, or was he silenced? Emmanuel asks Michelle if she still loves him. She says that she still cares for him, and he will always hold a piece of her heart. She also roasts him by saying he needs to come up with more phrases than “thank you for sharing that with me.”

It is then Matt’s turn to speak alone, and oh boy, did he look tired. It was so painfully clear that he just wanted to be done with this whole thing. He and Emmanuel discuss how he was under extra scrutiny because he was the first Black bachelor and how he is the only representation of a Black man in some of the viewers’ homes. Matt speaks about how other leads would only be asked to find love, but he also had to represent all Black men. Emmanuel asks him how much of the pressure may have been internalized, and Matt responds that the pressure comes from the fact that Black people are conditioned to make people comfortable with their Blackness.

Their conversation then shifts to his relationship with Rachael, and Emmanuel asks what made Matt first fall for her. He says her authenticity, which is a bit ironic in hindsight. Matt then breaks down their trajectory after leaving Pennsylvania. At first, they were in a honeymoon phase. When the rumors started bubbling about Rachael’s past, Matt dismissed them as rumors and just tried to be there for her. He said that “you hear things that are heartbreaking and pray that they’re not true.” When he discovered they were true, he was taken back to growing up in the south and the people and places that made him feel unwelcome. Eventually, he broke up with her. He said it was a tough conversation, but “if you don’t understand that that’s problematic in 2018, then there’s a lot of me you won’t understand.”

Emmanuel then spoke to Rachael one-on-one. He shows her the controversial photo, and she says she sees “someone who was living in ignorance without thinking who it would be hurting.” Her use of the phrase “someone who” is important to note because she is separating herself from the actions and thus not actually taking responsibility for them. She also says that she never asked herself about where the tradition comes from because if she had, she would’ve immediately realized it was problematic. Remember she said this, it’ll come up later. Emmanuel asks her who is to blame for her ignorance, and she says there is no excuse. This is the point where it became painfully clear that everything she was saying had been scripted and rehearsed a thousand times. Acho also asked her what steps she was taking to educate herself, which she did not actually answer. She said it wasn’t about reading books and watching documentaries (you know, the tools of education) and even said, “we need to take action.” I’m not sure who the “we” she was referring to is exactly because she was the only one on that stage who was photographed playing Slave-Owner.

Matt joins Emmanuel and Rachael, and calling the situation awkward would be an understatement. Matt clearly didn’t want to have to talk to her anymore, and it was evident that a lot more went on during their break up than either of them were willing to say. Emmanuel asks Matt if there is anything else he has to say to Rachael, and he was silent for a long time. They went to a commercial break, and when they came back, he was still silent for a good 10 seconds. I would’ve taken that as a no, but they just kept on waiting. Eventually, Matt says that the most disappointing thing was having to explain to Rachael why the party was problematic. Remember back when Rachael said, “if I had just asked myself where the tradition came from, I would’ve immediately understood it was problematic”? Well, apparently, that was bullshit because in the year 2021, she didn’t, and she clearly fought with Matt about it and defended herself. In addition, Matt tells her that she doesn’t fully understand his Blackness, and she wouldn’t understand that for their kids. He also points out to Emmanuel that he didn’t sign up for this conversation, which I found such a perfect encapsulation of why this entire situation has been so unfair to Matt. Emmanuel asks Matt if the door is still open for a relationship with Rachael, and Matt says that feelings don’t just go away, but she needs to do the work on her own. I.e., Matt doesn’t want to be her babysitter and shouldn’t have to be held responsible for her actions or inactions.

After a palette cleansing commercial break, we return to a different graphic on the screen, that of The Bachelorette. Michelle and Katie then come out and announce that they will both be the Bachelorette, each with their own season, and Katie going first. Katie’s season will premiere in May, giving us just enough time to recover from this shit show before diving headfirst into the next one.

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teacupfulofstarshine · 5 years

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the crossroad of our destinies book two: fire

CW: mentions of fantasy ableism, character death of minor background OCs, cursing, mentions of war crimes, atla-canon-typical fantasy violence, mild angst, injury, brief blood mention, mentions of murder

word count: 9708

book one: earth // read it on ao3!

“So you really can’t bend at all?” Roman asks.

Virgil stiffens, rolling his shoulders back to try and relax the tension gathering there. He knew this question would come up sooner or later, and he has spent an inordinate amount of time preparing his response. “I don’t bend.”

It’s not a lie. Virgil would lie outright, but Roman had tried that a couple of weeks ago only to have Logan immediately bust him. (As if he needed another reason to be the most terrifying twelve-year-old Virgil has ever met: his earth bending makes him a human lie detector.) Instead, Virgil answers with technical truths. They’re not the answers Roman is looking for, but they’re not going to earn a “Falsehood!” from Logan, either.

“What’s it like?” Roman leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on his hands. “Not being able to bend? I know that every type of bending feels different, but I don’t know what it would feel like to not bend at all.”

“It’s not so bad, not bending,” Virgil says. “I mean, bending might make my life easier, but it also might make my life more difficult.”

“Have you ever seen it? Water bending, I mean?”

A beat of silence. “Yeah. Yeah, I have.”

“What does it look like?”

“It’s . . .” Virgil searches for words that won’t betray his secret. “Have you ever seen dancers?”

“I’m an ex-Fire Nation prince, Virgil. Of course I’ve seen dancers.”

“But have you seen ribbon dancers? The way the silk arcs through the air, rippling and elegant, controlled and powerful . . . that’s what water bending looks like. To me, anyway. Snow and ice bending are different, and of course healing is different, but water bending . . .” Virgil’s throat chokes up. “It’s beautiful.”

Roman is quiet, subdued. “I know my father. I know what he did to the water benders of the Southern Pole. I . . . I’m sorry.”

“They killed my father,” Virgil says softly. “My mother died giving birth to me, and my father . . . he died protecting me. They killed him instead of me.” Roman gently places a hand on Virgil’s knee, all traces of joking gone, and Virgil whines softly.

“I am so sorry,” Roman murmurs, “that my father has destroyed your life.”

“It’s not your fault,” Virgil says. Before starting this journey, he never could have pictured himself saying something like that to a fire bender, much less a former prince. But Roman isn’t just some prince, some foreign enemy. He’s Virgil’s friend. “You didn’t kill my father, and you didn’t give the orders to the general that did. It isn’t your fault, Roman. You’re not responsible for your dad and his tomfuckery.”

Roman snorts a little at the swear. A whip of air smacks Virgil’s arm. “Virgil!” Patton says, scandalized. “Watch your language!” Virgil just laughs, and Roman laughs with him.

*~*~*~*~*

Virgil is hesitant to enter Fire Nation territory, even if it’s just the outlying colonies. Roman assures him that nothing will go wrong, that they’ll be safe, but he isn’t quite sure if he believes him. “My father rarely visits the outlying colonies,” he tells Virgil. “My people are suffering under such a harsh regime. They will not aid him.”

They still force him to stay with Remy and Thomas in the woods when they venture into town for supplies. “I know the Fire Nation better than any of you!” Roman protests.

“And the Fire Nation knows you,” Logan tells him firmly. “Stay with my brother and Remy. If something goes wrong, you’ll have to protect them and get Thomas out of here.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” Thomas says firmly, gripping Logan’s shoulders. Logan reaches up and covers his brother’s hand with his own. “Promise me, Logan.”

“That is not a promise I can realistically make, Thomas. I cannot control the actions of others,” Logan says. “But I can promise you that I will do my best to avoid unnecessary confrontations and keep a low profile.”

“You duelled Roman into the ground, like, two and a half weeks after you met him,” Thomas laughs. “I don’t think subtlety is in your nature.” Logan scoffs at him, but he doesn’t push Thomas’s hand out of his hair when he ruffles it.

Patton ties a strip of fabric around his forehead, obscuring his air bender arrow tattoo. When they first met him, he was bald, but now that he’s been on the run with them for so long, his hair has grown back in. It’s a tousled mess of coppery curls, and they match the bright copper freckles splattered across his nose.

“Do you think you’re going to keep your hair or shave it off again?” Roman asks. Patton reaches up to touch his hair.

“It’s strange to get used to,” he says. “I’m used to feeling the wind on the skin of my head. It’s so weird! But I kinda like the way it looks. Do you think it looks weird?”

“I think it looks nice,” Roman says.

“I think you look fantastic,” Logan says dryly.

“Thank you, Lo!”

“Roman, however, looks like a drowned platypus-bear.”

“Hey!” Roman squawks. “Why does Patton get to look good?”

“Roman,” Logan says, slow and patient like he’s talking to a toddler, “I can’t see either of you. I”m fucking blind.” Roman throws a fireball at him, which Logan easily dodges, laughing. Patton flicks a hand up to extinguish the fireball before Roman can set the forest ablaze.

*~*~*~*~*

The Fire Nation is loud.

It’s much louder than Virgil’s village ever was. The air is sharp and sweet, smelling like spices and sweet incense and wood ash. Virgil sticks close to Logan as Patton bounces happily in front of them. He reaches down and takes Logan’s hand in his.

It’s so small.

“I do not need you to hold my hand,” Logan says testily.

“This isn’t for you,” Virgil hisses, gripping Logan’s hand tightly. “This is for me.” Logan turns to him, face scrunched up in confusion and annoyance, before exhaling softly.

“You’re telling the truth.” He keeps holding Virgil’s hand as they follow Patton through the bazaar, and Virgil exhales in relief.

*~*~*~*~*

Roman squeals in excitement when they bring back the little pastries he had requested. “I love them!” he squeals. “They’re my favorites, I -” His eyes go misty as he unwraps the parcel. “On our birthday, Remus would always get to pick out the cake. I was happy as long as the chef made a tower of these.”

He takes a bite, and the tears spill down his cheeks. “They’re just like I remember.” Before any of them can offer any sort of consolation, Roman is wiping at his eyes and offering his pastries to them.

“We can’t take them,” Patton says gently. “They’re your special piece of home.”

Roman shakes his head and pushes the parcel towards them. “Please, I insist. I want to share with my friends.” Virgil is the one to break the strange, motionless silence, breaking off a corner. The pastry is layered with a thick, syrupy honey that leaves sticky residue on his fingers. When he pops it into his mouth, a sweet spice explodes across his tongue. There’s a slight, residual burn that tingles through his mouth as he swallows.

“I know, right?” Roman says, reading something in Virgil’s facial expression. Virgil nods, licking the honey off his fingers. His obvious enjoyment is enough to encourage the rest of the group to start snacking on pieces of the treats.

*~*~*~*~*

Roman keeps every letter that Dragon brings him tucked against his chest. Under his shirt is a leather pouch that he attaches to his chest by tying it with strings, and inside he keeps the scrolls that he receives. “Remus and Dolos probably can’t keep my letters,” he tells Virgil. “They’ll have to burn them to make sure that no one else sees them.”

“Why?”

“If the crew finds out that the exiled prince is sending messages to them, they’re in danger. Remus is already toeing the line by keeping Dolos aboard the ship. Discovering that they’re in contact with me endangers our lives and theirs.”

Virgil wants to ask why Roman bothers putting so much care and effort into the crafting of his letters if he knows they’re going to get ruined. He spends so much time staring off into space, thinking of the perfect words, and then he sketches out elaborate doodles. Remus’s are always weird and kind of deranged, but Remus sends them back in kind.

Dolos’s letters all have intricate, elaborate borders of twining flowers on them, and more than once Virgil has caught Roman doodling sparrow-snakes onto the letters for his love. “He loves them,” Roman tells him. “I promised him a pet sparrow-snake as a wedding present.”

“Why would you do that?” Virgil asks, pulling one of his knives from his sleeve and examining the blade’s edge for imperfections.

“Because it would make Dolos happy,” Roman says, looking up with an uncharacteristically fond expression. “I love Dolos. I want him to be happy. But I also want him to be alive, so . . . so I have to sacrifice his happiness and mine to keep him that way.”

Virgil sets his knife down and reaches out to touch Roman’s shoulder. “I know that you love him,” he says softly. “And I know that he means so much to you that you would kill to keep him safe. You’d do anything for him.”

“Not anything,” Roman says.

“What, then? What wouldn’t you do?”

“I wouldn’t sacrifice you,” Roman says, eyes burning and serious. “I wouldn’t sell you and the others out to my father, even if it meant he would take me back. I love Remus and Dolos, I do, but you guys are . . . you’re my friends.” The way he says that word, friends, has a heavy finality about it. It carries a gravity that Virgil didn’t expect. “I wouldn’t be worthy of Dolos if I sold my friend out. And anyway, I like you guys too much to let you die.”

“How touching,” Virgil says dryly, smacking Roman’s head with the flat of his blade. The only part of Roman that’s damaged is his pride.

That doesn’t stop him from squawking in rage and chasing Virgil all across their campsite.

*~*~*~*~*

Dragon lands on Roman’s outstretched forearm with ease, even though Remy is still coasting through the air. Roman coos to the bird, stroking his back as he reaches up and nips at Roman’s hair and ear.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Thomas asks, eyeing the bird suspiciously.

“Not that bad,” Roman says. “When he nibbles my hair, it only feels like a light tugging, and he never bites my ear hard enough to hurt or bleed. It’s like a pinching feeling. I’m fine with it. Besides, he’s a good little birdy! Isn’t that right, Dragon? You’re a good little messenger birdy!”

Dragon wraps his massive talons around the reinforced sleeve of Roman’s jacket and coos. Roman unties the scroll from his leg and spreads it out on the back of the saddle. Virgil carefully drops little weights on the corners to keep it spread out without blowing away. “What’s the intel?”

The intel, as it turns out, is a map of the Fire Nation, with a few small islands marked in red and black. “These are all sacred fire bending sites,” Roman muses, slowly tracing his fingers over the map. “And this is the code Re and i used when we were children. We used to write secret messages to each other.”

“What does it say?”

“He’s marking which islands are safe.”

“None of them are safe, because they’re in the middle of the Fire Nation,” Virgil mutters. Roman glares at him. “What? It’s not a comment on you personally, Princey. I know you love the Fire nation, I know it’s home for you. But it’s currently under the thumb of your tyrannical father, who’s a notorious jackass that wants all of us dead.”

Roman lets his fingers skim over the ocean. One of the islands, the only unmarked one, is surrounded by drawings of monsters. There is writing above the island drawing, the only neatly-printed script on the entire map. It looks like Dolos’s handwriting. Roman smiles.

“What does it say?”

“It says ‘Here there be Dragons.’ It’s an old Fire Nation children’s story - that island is, supposedly, where the last of the dragons was slain. The water is so rough and choppy that there’s not a single chance of a ship being pulled into that island.”

“And we’re supposed to be able to get to it?”

“By air, we could,” Roman says. “Remy could fly us in. There are pretty regular storms, but if we go on the heels of one we’ll make it before the next one hits. No Fire Nation battle cruiser is getting to that island - but we will. We can. It’s the safest place in the whole Fire Nation, probably. It would be a good base of operations, at least for a little while.” He splays his fingers over the island.

“You miss home,” Logan says gently. “You want to be back on Fire Nation soil more than anything.”

“Not anything,” Roman says. “Not more than your safety. If I thought it wasn’t safe, I wouldn’t suggest it. But as far as I know, it is safe, and . . . and if we’re there, it’s mostly rock. There’s no chance of us setting fire to a forest and attracting unwanted attention.”

“That sounds like it’ll work,” Patton calls, turning his head around just enough to glimpse them without taking his eyes off the sky. “I’m on board with it.”

“I trust Roman,” Virgil says. “If he thinks that island is safe . . . I’m with him.”

Thomas studies his face. Virgil maintains a calm expression, despite his nerves. “Alright, then. Fire Nation it is.”

“Yip yip!” Patton calls. Remy swishes his tail irritably, but he turns anyway.

*~*~*~*~*

It gets hard to find water in the Fire Nation.

It has to be there, obviously, because sustaining life without water is impossible. But when compared to the flowing rivers of the Earth Kingdom forests and the ever-present oceans and ice of the South Pole, the Fire Nation is practically a desert.

Still, Virgil finds that their group is drawn to the water almost instinctively. Realistically, it’s because Remy needs to drink and to keep himself clean, and while they can all make do with a little waterskins, he needs a large body of water. Virgil still finds it like fate or destiny to be able to find so many little places to connect with his element, given where they are.

The river nearby is smaller than any he’s seen before, full of large, mossy rocks that he can easily fall and hurt himself on. He carefully removes his shoes and steps into the water. It takes a minute to find a spot where he can achieve a normal bending stance, but once he does, he inhales.

“Vee?”

Virgil nearly falls as he whirls around, seeing Logan standing in front of him. “Is - that is Vee, isn’t it?”

“Y - yeah, Lo, it’s me,” he calls. “You weren’t sure?”

“You’re standing in the river,” Logan says. “The water fucks with my earth bending, so it obscures my vision a little bit. I knew someone was there, but I didn’t know who it was . . .”

“It’s me,” Virgil says.

“Why are you out here in the middle of the river?”

“I miss home,” Virgil says. “We don’t have rivers like this, but we have water everywhere. We’re surrounded by ice and ocean and . . . and there’s just water, no matter where you look. And that’s why I’m here.”

“I understand,” Logan says, sitting at the edge of the river. “There is earth all around me, but all earth feels different. This is nothing like the earth that I knew at home. It’s full of ash and volcanic overflow, which makes for rich soil that nourishes plant life well. But I miss the rocks of my home village.” His voice is quiet. “I do not think my home village exists anymore.”

“Why not?”

“They knew that the Avatar had been born into an earth bending family. They travelled through the Earth Kingdom, searching for the Avatar . . . Thomas and I ran in the middle of the night. I could not let him leave alone. As we ran, I smelled the smoke, but Thomas . . . he must have seen the village go up in flames.”

Virgil hadn’t even considered that as a possibility. “Is he . . . okay?”

“I assume so,” Logan says softly. “He never tells me otherwise. Then again, I doubt he would say anything to me if he was. He doesn’t like to worry me, which is stupid, because he’s my brother. I’m always worried about him. Especially when he goes and hides shit from me.”

“You curse a lot for a twelve year old,” Virgil tells him. Logan throws a rock at him.

*~*~*~*~*

The island is beautiful, Virgil thinks. It’s all tall, imposing mountains with scraggly trees clinging to the cliffs and shining black-sand beaches. As Remy descends, Virgil spies a glimpse of a gleaming golden building hidden in the mountains. “What’s that?” he asks Roman.

“It’s a Fire Nation temple,” Roman tells him. His eyes are wide and shiny as he stares at the island, even as the waves crash down onto the beach. “Fire Sages would study there, calling on the spirits and seeking their advice. This temple’s been abandoned for who knows how long, since it’s virtually inaccessible these days.”

“Is that where we’re going to study?” Thomas asks, leaning over the side of the saddle.

“We can study anywhere on the island,” Roman responds, “but yeah, we probably will spend a fair amount of time there. It’s a traditional place to train in fire bending.”

Remy touches down on the beach, and almost immediately a dark, choppy wave crashes down over his tail. The flying bison snorts loudly, irritated, and lurches forward off the beach. “Easy there, boy,” Patton soothes, reaching to pat at his head.

“Where are we going to camp?” Logan asks.

“We’re on the beach right now,” Thomas says, “but I don’t think we can stay here. The ocean is too unpredictable, not to mention ships could spot us. I think it’s best if we move inland, try to camp out somewhere in there.”

“That sounds good,” Roman says. He jumps off of Remy’s back and sinks to his knees, digging his hands into the black sand. “Oh, I’ve missed this . . .”

“What is it?”

“Volcanic sand. It’s formed from lava, there’s no feeling like it!” Roman happily begins to roll around in the sand, laughing like a little kid. Virgil watches him indulgently for a couple minutes before he starts harassing him to lead them inland.

*~*~*~*~*

They set up camp at the base of one of the large mountains. Logan and Thomas earth bend some shelter structures out of the rock, and Logan hollows out a campfire pit. Roman goes and finds good firewood, easily bending a campfire to life. Virgil settles down next to Logan as Roman begins to talk about fire bending to Thomas.

“You know how to do this,” he says. “Not consciously, of course, but you’re the Avatar. You were a fire bender in some of your previous lives. The memory of bending is somewhere inside you. We just have to unlock it.”

“And how do we do that?” Thomas asks.

“We start with the bending stances,” Roman says, “and we work our way up from there. A word of caution - I can only teach you some of fire bending.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t bend lightning.”

“Fire benders can bend lightning?!” Thomas gasps.

“Not all of us,” Roman says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Remus and I had training in lightning bending, since we’re princes, but neither of us mastered it. To the best of my knowledge, anyway . . .”

“That’s really cool, though,” Thomas says.

“You know what’s really cool?” Roman says. “Redirecting lightning. If bending lightning is rare, redirecting lightning is crazy rare. It’s not really a fire bending technique, I don’t think, cause Uncle Emile’s the one who pioneered it. He told me he used water bending techniques to develop it.”

That perks Virgil’s interest. “Water bending?”

Roman nods, explaining the way his uncle had developed the redirection technique in between instructing Thomas and adjusting his bending stances. Virgil listens, quietly taking mental notes in case he can use any of these stances in his own bending practices.

*~*~*~*~*

The ocean is so different to the one at the South Pole.

Virgil creeps away at night, after they’re all asleep. Patton is snuggled up to Remy, tugging the flying bison’s tail over himself like a blanket. Logan and Thomas are pressed close together, Logan’s quiet breaths obscured by Thomas’s snores. Roman is sprawled out on his stomach like a starfish, face totally obscured by his growing mop of wild curls. It’s warm enough in the Fire Nation that no one feels the need to huddle up to him for warmth, letting him spread out the way he apparently normally does.

As he makes his way to the ocean, Virgil hums to himself, an old lullaby that he remembers from his childhood. It’s an old tale about spirits and balance and the moon, and it comforts him. The Fire Nation island is dark, but the moon overhead is bright and full. Virgil can feel it pulling on him as he creeps ever closer to the ocean. He steps out from the shadow of the sparse forest lining the coast onto the black sand of the beach just as a massive wave breaks against the shore. The water is black as pitch, and the moon gleams overhead like a jewel, reflecting beautifully on the water.

“Hello,” Virgil whispers. The black sand is unlike anything he’s ever felt; it glides smoothly over the skin of his bare feet, slipping between his toes as he digs them in for balance. He understands why Roman missed a beach like this.

Virgil knows that he isn’t strong enough to bend the ocean. Water is one thing, but the ocean is under the control of the spirit La, and Virgil doesn’t want to mess with spirits. For once, he isn’t out here to practice his bending.

“Tui, Spirit of the Moon,” he says softly, “you gave me the gift of water bending, and taught me to wield it for defense. From your example, I take my lead. I thank and honor you.” Reaching into the small bag tied at his hip, he pulls out a piece of fruit he’d saved from their dinner, one of the two finest. “I offer you this sacrifice in thanks and adoration.” A wave rolls in, and he carefully sets the fruit down on a large, broad leaf. It’s carried out to sea, like a tiny boat, and Virgil quickly loses sight of it. He doesn’t bother to try and keep track of it; he has another sacrifice to make.

“La, Spirit of the Ocean, you gave me the gift of the water I bend, and taught me to wield it for healing. From your example, I take my lead. I thank and honor you.” He produces the second piece of fruit he’d saved. “I offer you this sacrifice in thanks and adoration.” Another wave rolls in, and Virgil watches another leaf-boat disappear into the ocean.

He’s done this spirit sacrifice every full moon that he can remember. Even on this journey, he’s done it, setting the sacrifices of the nicest parts of dinner he can save into the nearest body of water. He hopes that the rivers will carry his sacrifices out to La.

Traditionally, the spirit prayers are meant to be said in the plural. Virgil’s father had told him stories of the past, when all the water benders of the tribe would gather and sacrifice and pray together, thanking Tui and La for their gifts. Once the Fire Nation raids had begun, they had stopped.

Virgil makes a point to do it every single full moon. Bending is a precious gift, and deserves to be treated as such. He steps closer to the ocean, bending down to dip his fingers into the waves. The water is chilly, but it’s nothing compared to the burning cold of his home ocean. He lifts his hand to his mouth and gently licks his fingers, grinning.

He’s missed the taste of salt water.

*~*~*~*~*

It takes Thomas almost a week to be able to produce fire.

At first, all he can produce are puffs of dark smoke and the occasional spark. Roman seems ecstatic with this progress. “It’s good!”

“It’s not fire,” Thomas says dejectedly. “It’s not anything.”

“Most firebenders start out with smoke,” Roman says. “At least it’s dark! That’s a good sign! Dark smoke is always better than pale smoke. Remus’s smoke was pale for the first two months that we practiced.”

“So . . . I’m not a failure?”

“Of course you are not a failure,” Logan says, smacking his brother’s shoulder. “Do not say stupid things. It is beneath you.”

Virgil snorts, laying out his array of knives. They gleam in the strong Fire Nation sunlight, and the edges are freshly sharpened. “You’re the fuckin’ Avatar, Thomas. You’re not a failure.”

“Yeah!” Roman says, trying to be helpful. “Hey, at least you can bend!”

“Roman!” Patton hisses. Logan glares at him disapprovingly, and Thomas frowns. Virgil is confused for a second, until he sees Patton glance at him sympathetically.

Oh.

They think Roman was making a dig at him, because they think that he can’t bend.

Roman looks at him in confusion, and then immediately claps his hands over his mouth. “Oh - shit - fuck, Virgil, I didn’t - I wasn’t trying to - I’m so sorry -”

“Don’t apologize,” Virgil says, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s all good.”

“It’s not all good, though,” Roman says. “I never meant to imply that you’re not as important as us just because you can’t bend, I -”

“It’s all good, Ro, I mean that,” Virgil says. “I don’t bend, but that doesn’t mean I’m defenseless. I have all of these to keep me safe, and that’s not the only trick I have up my sleeve.”

“What do you have up your sleeve?” Logan asks him. “Besides many, many knives, anyway.”

“Water bending can be used for healing,” Virgil says. “There are plenty of scrolls about it in my home village. Different types of bending use different energy pathways, and if you know where those pathways flow, you can cut them off.”

“You can take away someone’s bending?” Roman whispers.

“Not permanently,” Virgil says, picking up one of his knives and fiddling with it so that he doesn’t have to look at anyone. “It’s only temporary. It leaves them weak and semi-paralyzed, and unable to bend, but they recover after half an hour or so. I try not to use it unless I have to, cause I know how much benders rely on their abilities.”

“That’s a pretty powerful skill,” Thomas says quietly.

“I guess. But you’re the Avatar, so you’d know all about power, wouldn’t you?”

Thomas nods, but there’s still something strange in his eyes.

Virgil goes for a walk by the ocean. When he comes back, the strangeness is gone.

*~*~*~*~*

“Why am I the one who has to go get firewood?” Virgil complains.

“Because I did it last time, and Patton did it the time before that, and Thomas and Roman are off doing fire bending practice somewhere,” Logan says. “It’s your turn.”

“I can go,” Patton offers. “It’s not that big of a deal!”

“No, Logan is right,” Virgil sighs, rolling to his feet. “It’s my turn to go get the firewood, so I’ll go get it. It’s not really that big of an imposition.” He pats his tunic, boots, sleeves down to make sure that he’s fully stocked with knives in case something happens. “I’ll meet you all back here, alright?”

He tightens the straps of his boots and heads off inland in search of firewood.

The island is very pretty, Virgil will give it that. The forest is almost non-existent this far inland, but there are plenty of small, woody plants and shrubs that he can gather wood from. He has an armful tucked against his side when he hears the noise. It’s a pained cry, and for a moment he thinks it’s Roman or Thomas.

Quickly, he shakes his head to clear it and refocus. Thomas and Roman are training closer to the shoreline today, so they wouldn’t be this far inland. And the cry he’d heard . . . it wasn’t quite human.

The cry echoes again, but there’s something different about it. Virgil ties the firewood together and throws it over his shoulder, scrambling off towards the cry. “I’m coming!”

He realizes that this is kind of a stupid move. He realizes that he could be running straight into danger. What if it’s a trap? What if he gets himself killed? Despite his fear, there’s something in him pulling him forward. The cry sounds real, and it sounds pained. Who or whatever is making it needs help, and Virgil will not stand idly by and let someone suffer because of his fear.

He makes his way to a cliff, and he can hear whoever’s crying on the other side. The cliff is tall, but not unscalable. Virgil’s used to climbing glaciers back home, and while ice is slippery and more perilous than rock, he can rely on his bending to keep himself steady. Here, he’s climbing with no support.

Virgil pulls off his boots and knots the laces together, slinging them around his shoulders. Going barefoot will ensure that he has a better grip on the cliff as he climbs. The sun gleams sharply on the dark rocks, and Virgil goes slowly to make sure he doesn’t accidentally grab a sharp rock and slice his hands open. He hasn’t had to climb like this in quite a while, but he enjoys it, despite the reason for his climb.

When he finally pushes himself up to the top of the cliff, he gasps. He’s found a small valley, hidden in the large, dark mountains, and tucked inside is a building. It’s built almost into the shadow of the mountain from dark brick, with a dark red tiled roof and gleaming golden accents. This must be the Fire Nation temple he’d spotted when they flew in, he realizes.

The cry echoes again, and Virgil realizes that it’s coming from the temple. He quickly pulls his boots off from around his neck and tugs them on, knotting the laces securely. The cliff slopes much more smoothly on this side, like the curve of a bowl. Virgil backs up and then leaps over the side, pulling water out of the waterskin hanging at his side with his hand. He bends it and freezes it beneath him, creating a flat board that he can surf down the hill on.

Virgil makes it to the bottom of the hill in record time, leaping off and bending his ice board back to regular water, which he quickly bends back into his waterskin. The temple hadn’t looked huge from the top of the cliff, but up close and in person it’s enormous. It’s clearly suffered from neglect; the door hangs ajar from the hinges, the gold is flaking off of the roof and the statues, some of which are missing arms and legs and noses and ears and even heads. Still, the temple is undeniably beautiful.

A pitiful whimper sounds from the temple, and Virgil exhales softly. “I’m coming,” he says softly. “I’m coming.”

The temple is dark inside, but Virgil can see rows of torches on the walls. He assumes they’re meant to be lit with fire bending, probably meant to be eternally burning, but he’ll have to make do. He carries flints with him in his shoulder bag, and he quickly pulls a torch off the wall and lights it. As he progresses slowly through the temple, he lights the other torches, and they cast a warm, ambient glow over the whole room. There are pictures decorating the entire length of the hallway, telling stories of the Fire Nation. They tell how the dragons taught the people of the Fire Nation to bend, to harness the warmth and strength of fire.

Looking at these pictures, Virgil can’t fear fire bending. It looks peaceful; there’s strength and power there, but there’s also love and light and warmth.

The hallway narrows and narrows and narrows, and then it widens abruptly into a large central chamber. This is the most intricately decorated room Virgil has ever seen - the walls, the roof, the floor, the pillars, everything is absolutely covered in decoration, but he can’t focus on any of it.

All he can focus on is the dragon in the middle of the room.

It’s enormous , a long, serpentine body winding around the columns. It’s a brilliant red, scales flecked with gold, and a row of orange gold-tipped spines running down its back. Its wings are spread out over the floor, and its head has golden horns and spines and whiskers. The dragon lets out another pitiful cry, and as Virgil inches closer he sees it - a massive wound in the dragon’s side.

It looks like an old wound, one that hasn’t healed properly. Even from afar, Virgil can tell that it might be infected, and the dragon’s breathing is heavy and labored. He creeps closer, and the dragon’s head snaps around to stare at him. Its eyes are a bright, unnatural blue, with slitted golden pupils, and when it stares at him it feels like it’s staring directly into his soul.

WHY HAVE YOU COME, CHILD? Virgil nearly drops the torch to cower and cover his ears. The voice is only in his head, and the dragon’s mouth does not move to speak, but he can feel it resonate against his sternum. HAVE YOU COME TO KILL ME, FINALLY?

“N - no,” Virgil manages, voice catching in his throat. “I heard you crying out.”

I AM IN PAIN. I HAVE BEEN IN PAIN FOR QUITE SOME TIME. I FEAR I AM NOT LONG FOR THIS WORLD.

“I - I might be able to help you,” Virgil says.

WILL YOU KILL ME, CHILD? PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY?

“No,” Virgil says. “I - no ! I will not kill you! I want to try and heal you.”

YOU THINK THAT YOU CAN DO THIS, CHILD?

“I’ve never tried to heal a creature this big or a wound this serious,” Virgil admits honestly. “But I’m going to try. I won’t just let you suffer without trying.”

THAT IS ADMIRABLE.

“Can I come a little closer?” Virgil asks. The dragon rests its large head on its forepaws.

YOU MAY.

Virgil slowly climbs over the coils of the dragon’s body, settling himself down cross-legged next to the massive wound on the dragon’s side. It looks like an old burn wound, and the dragon’s flank rises and falls shallowly as it breathes. He gently lays a hand next to the dragon’s wound.

“Oh . . . what happened?”

IT WAS DRAGONS WHO TAUGHT THE FIRE NATION TO BEND. WE GAVE THEM THE GIFT OF FIRE. THE FIRE LORD TURNED IT ON US. HE SLEW ALL THE DRAGONS THAT I KNEW. I AM THE ONLY ONE LEFT. I AM THE LAST OF MY KIND.

Virgil presses his free hand over his mouth. “That’s . . . that’s so horrible . . .”

I AM NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO HAS HAD THEIR LIFE DESTROYED, I SENSE.

Virgil winces. “My . . . my dad. They killed him because they thought he was the last water bender of our tribe. He died lying to protect me.”

I AM SORRY, CHILD. THAT IS A FATE NO ONE SHOULD SUFFER.

Virgil exhales shakily. “No one should suffer your fate, either. I will do my best to heal you.” He pops the cap off of his waterskin and bends the water around his hands like a protective covering. The water begins to glow as he places his hands just above the dragon’s wound, letting his water bending give him information. What it tells him isn’t good; the wound is old, and it’s infected as he’d thought, and he suspects that the dragon has some form of blood poisoning.

He’s never tried to heal something this big, or this serious. But he promised he would try, and try he will. He’s lucky that the full moon was the other night; that’s when water benders are at the height of their power. With luck, he’ll be strong enough for this task.

IF IT IS TOO MUCH FOR YOU, CHILD, DO NOT PUSH YOURSELF. I HAVE SURVIVED THIS LONG. I WILL ENDURE.

“No,” Virgil says, narrowing his eyes and clenching his jaw. “I’m not giving up. I have to try.” He presses his hands against the wound, and the water begins to glow even brighter. He focuses on the flow of energy moving throughout the dragon’s massive body, pulling out the infection surrounding the wound and trying to push healing energy into the dragon in its place.

The water quickly becomes murky and infected as he heals. Virgil takes breaks to dispose of the tainted water and fetch some more clean water from the stream outside. The more he works, the shakier he gets, and he’s worried that he won’t have the energy to finish healing the dragon.

DO NOT HURT YOURSELF, LITTLE ONE, the dragon rumbles. ALREADY I FEEL MYSELF IMPROVING. YOUR KINDNESS HAS DONE SO MUCH FOR ME.

“I - I can keep goin’,” Virgil slurs. “Almost done . . . one more should do it . . .”

He presses his hands against the wound one last time. It’s shrunk down considerably, all the infection pulled out and purified and disposed of. He’s working on the final part of the healing now, re-growing the torn and burnt muscle and skin and making sure the dragon’s scales grow in properly.

Finally, he pulls his hands away, and the wound on the dragon’s side is no more. It stands up, shaking itself out; all of the scales rattle as they realign, and the dragon roars. THANK YOU, LITTLE ONE. YOU HAVE HELPED ME IMMENSELY. The dragon begins to glow bright blue, and Virgil’s exhausted brain manages to connect the dots: the dragon is a spirit. He’s just healed a spirit.

YOU HAVE EARNED MY GRATITUDE THIS DAY, the dragon spirit tells him. REST NOW, LITTLE ONE. KNOW THAT THE SPIRITS ARE WITH YOU, AND ONE DAY YOUR GOOD DEED WILL COME BACK TO YOU TENFOLD.

Virgil’s vision blacks out and blurs around the edges. The last thing he sees as he falls backwards is the dragon spirit’s head coming forward to catch his body.

*~*~*~*~*

“- isn’t he waking up?!”

“What if he’s dead?”

“He is not dead, I can hear his heartbeat. It is strong and steady. He will survive.”

“But what if he doesn’t wake up?!”

“Geez, Roman,” Virgil groans, lifting a hand to his head. “I never knew you cared.”

“Virgil!” He winces at the shout. “Oh, shit, sorry -” A hand presses against his forehead, warm, and when Virgil opens his eyes (only halfway), Roman is leaning over him, eyes bright with worry.

“What . . . happened?”

“You were taking forever to come back from firewood, so we went looking for you! We thought you had been ambushed and captured!” Patton explains, twisting his hands with worry. “We found you at the foot of a cliff, there was a rock next to you! We think there was some kind of rock fall that caught you unaware, you must have hit your head! We don’t know how long you were unconscious!”

“How long has it been?”

“We found you a few hours ago,” Thomas says. “It’s evening now.” Virgil slowly sits up, wincing when his head pounds. Logan is sitting beside him, and he offers him a waterskin. Virgil takes it and quickly gulps down a few chilly swallows.

“I thought you were dead,” he says softly. “I could feel your heartbeat, I could hear you breathing, I knew you weren’t, but when we found you, I - I was terrified, and I . . . I thought you were - I -”

Virgil gently touches Logan’s shoulder. It’s easy to forget that he’s only twelve and a half, with the mature aura he generally projects, but sometimes it’s painfully obvious that he’s just a child, thrust into a war against his will. Logan will lose what’s left of his childhood to this conflict, and Virgil will be damned if he forces Logan to grow up any faster than he already is.

“I’m sorry, Logan,” he says. Logan turns his face towards Virgil, and his eyes are wet. He hasn’t let any tears fall, but his hand is shaking when he places it over Virgil’s. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I - I didn’t mean to make you think you’d lost someone else. I’m okay.”

Logan is silent for a moment. “You’re not lying,” he whispers. “I’m still mad at you, though.”

“That’s fine,” Virgil says. “I’m sorry that I made you mad.”

“Smart answer,” Logan says, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face. He sniffles once, loudly, wiping at his eyes. “You saw nothing. I was not crying.”

“Of course not,” Virgil teases, gently ruffling Logan’s hair. He squawks loudly, but he makes no attempt to dodge Virgil’s hands. Virgil assumes he’s been forgiven.

*~*~*~*~*

The stars seem a little brighter that night. Virgil is on his back, hands beneath his head, staring up at the stars, when Roman flops down next to him. “What’cha doin’?”

“Looking at the constellations,” Virgil tells him. “They’re nothing like the ones back home, so I’m making up my own.”

“Do you wanna hear about ours?” Roman offers. He seems uncharacteristically shy, but Virgil just smiles at him.

“Sure, Ro. I’d love to hear about Fire Nation constellations.” Suddenly, the stars alight in Roman’s eyes. He lays next to Virgil and starts to trace lines between the stars, telling stories about the pictures he’s creating. At some point, the rest of their group shows up and settles in around them. Thomas lays down next to Virgil, Logan slots up against his brother’s side, and Patton stretches out beside Roman.

It’s good. It’s . . . peaceful.

*~*~*~*~*

The first time Thomas produces a flame on purpose, they all stop and stare.

Roman has arranged the kindling around the firepit, but he’s refusing to light it. “You’re going to light the fire,” he tells Thomas. The Avatar shakes his head.

“Ro, I’ve never made more than plumes of smoke and the occasional spark. I can’t light it.”

“You’re going to have to,” Roman says, “because I won’t. We can’t cook dinner without the fire, so you’re gonna have to figure something out and fast. The sun’s setting.” Thomas huffs.

“Roman, you’re being ridiculous.”

“You’re the Avatar. The fire is in your veins the way it’s in mine. You just have to convince it to come out.” Roman crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow impassively at Thomas. Even though he’s only met the man in passing, Virgil is reminded of Roman’s Uncle Emile.

Thomas drops into a fire bending stance and thrusts his hand forward. A puff of dark smoke appears, but no fire. He growls in frustration and throws his hand forward again, and again, then his foot, then another hand. He’s copying Roman’s bending stances, but no fire appears.

“You have to try harder than that.”

“I’m trying the hardest I can!”

“If that was true, you would have lit the fire five minutes ago.” Roman’s eyes are hard as steel. “Do better.”

“How?!” Thomas pants, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

“Just do it.”

Thomas screams and thrusts his hand forward in frustration. A massive jet of fire roars forward, licking up the sides of the pit and engulfing all of the kindling. Within seconds, it’s reduced to ash. Before anyone else can react, Patton bends a vortex around the fire and siphons out all the air, extinguishing the fire. Thomas stares at the pit in shock, breathing heavily.

“You did a good job,” Roman says, and his eyes are warm again.

“What was that?!”

“Fire benders often have to be pushed to a strong emotional extreme to create their first flame. Once you do it, though, it gets easier. We’ll work on being able to call your fire more reliably, and then we’ll work on tempering your control.” Roman touches Thomas’s shoulder and smiles. “I’m proud of you, Thomas.”

Thomas smiles. Roman sweeps fresh kindling into the firepit. “Again.”

Virgil backs up several feet.

*~*~*~*~*

It takes about ten days for Thomas to be able to call his fire reliably. Roman needles him through the first few attempts, poking and prodding until Thomas screams in frustration and incinerates whatever’s closest to him. Eventually, however, he gains the ability to bend flames without fifteen minutes of Roman’s prompting.

“You did well,” Roman tells him. “Now, we work on training that fire. Producing it is one thing, but controlling it is another. For that, we go inland.”

“What? Why?”

“There’s a Fire Nation temple on this island,” Roman says. “It’s not, like, strictly necessary to go there, but I always found that being connected to the tradition of fire benders before me helped sharpen my focus.”

“Sounds cool,” Thomas says. Virgil thinks back to the temple where he’d found and healed the dragon. He’s glad they won’t be walking in on that fiasco. “Are we the only ones going?”

“I want to go!” Patton says eagerly. “I’ve never seen a Fire Nation temple before!”

“I would also like to visit an example of Fire Nation architecture,” Logan offers. “I am sure it will be fascinating.”

They turn to face Virgil. “Vee? You coming?” Virgil’s already seen the Fire Nation temple, but he’s not too proud to admit that it was beautiful. He wonders if there are other secrets that the temple holds, secrets that will only reveal themselves in the presence of a fire bender.

Plus, he’s not exactly keen on everyone else going off on an adventure without him.

“Yeah, of course I am.” Roman grins.

*~*~*~*~*

The cliff is much easier to scale the second time around. Before any of them can attempt to problem solve, Logan steps forward. Within a minute, he’s earth bended a set of stairs leading up the gleaming cliffside. “Will these suffice?”

“Nicely done, Rocky!” Roman says, ruffling Logan’s hair. Logan hides his pleased smile, but Virgil catches a glimpse as he heads up the stairs.

The temple is just as beautiful the second time around. Logan and Thomas bend a chute in the cliff, allowing them all to slide down to the entrance of the temple. “It’s beautiful,” Roman breathes. “It’s been neglected . . . forgotten about . . . but it��s still beautiful.” He reaches out towards the front door, carefully places his hand on the intricate wooden panelling. “There was one of these in the palace, but it wasn’t so intricately decorated. My father didn’t believe in taking care of temples like this, in honoring tradition. He only believes in power.” His voice is shaking.

“We know not all fire benders are like that,” Virgil says softly. “We know you’re different.”

Roman takes a deep breath. “Let’s go inside.”

Once they step inside, Patton frowns. “It’s pitch black in here!”

“Oh, no,” Logan deadpans. “How terrible, to not be able to see anything. How frightening.” Patton winces guiltily before Logan snorts and socks him in the arm. “Kidding. I do not take offense.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Roman says. Virgil can barely see his silhouette in the dark, but then a flame arcs through the air, following the path of Roman’s foot as he bends. The flame dances along the rows of torches, illuminating the hallway. “Shall we?”

Roman trails his fingertips over the murals carved into the walls as they walk. He’s vibrating like a little kid, but there’s something solemn and reverent in the way he touches things. “These murals tell the history of my people,” he whispers. He doesn’t need to, but Virgil feels the atmosphere of the temple the way he’s sure Roman does. It feels like a place for whispering. “They tell how the dragons taught us to fire bend. I wish I could see one . . .”

Virgil thinks of the last time he was here, and prays that they don’t see another dragon.

When they enter the central chamber, it is empty and darkened. Roman steps into the center, humming softly to himself, before glancing upward. “I think I can open it . . .”

“Open what?”

“All Fire Nation temples have a hatch in the ceiling that opens to let the sunlight in. That’s the source of our bending powers, is the spirit of the sun. There’s an intricate set of bending steps you have to do to open the hatch, it’s considered sacred. Fire Sages are usually the only ones who can do it, but they teach it to royalty as well.” Roman frowns.

“What is it?”

“Typically, you need two fire benders to open the hatch . . .”

“I can help,” Thomas offers.

“No, you’re not skilled enough outside of the Avatar state to do it. I can try and do it on my own, but I’m not super optimistic.”

“You have to try!” Patton cheers. Someone snorts derisively from the darkness of the temple. Roman narrows his eyes, shifting to an attack stance. Virgil lets a knife drop into his hand; Patton and Logan shift into bending stances; Logan steps in front of Thomas, who settles into an earth bending stance of his own.

Something crackles as white lines begin to trace in the dark. Roman’s face shifts from caution to shock. “Get down!” he shouts, moments before a lightning bolt sails over his head and slams into the wall. It fizzles out harmlessly against the stone, and Roman shifts back to a bending stance. “Show yourself!” Virgil’s blood runs cold. Another fire bender. They’ve been found.

Another lightning bolt shoots out of the darkness, heading towards Roman. He doesn’t move, and Virgil is about to shove him out of the way when the lightning bolt strikes the stone right in front of Roman. Virgil frowns; Roman said lightning bending was rare, something only skilled fire benders could do. Whoever’s bending in the dark has missed them, not once but twice. Either they’re a terrible shot, or . . .

They’re missing on purpose.

Roman takes a step towards the darkness, and then another. “Show yourself,” he repeats, voice just a little softer.

“Bad idea,” Virgil warns, voice low. Something shifts in the darkness, snarling, and then a dark blur throws itself onto Roman. It tackles him to the ground, knocking him flat on his back. Roman lets out a winded noise as he rolls with his attacker, trying to pin them down. Virgil slips a throwing knife into his hand, pinning it between his index and middle fingers, but he can’t get a clear shot on Roman’s attacker to throw it.

Finally, they stop moving. Roman is on his back, his attacker perched proudly on his stomach. Virgil is ready to attack, but freezes when he sees that Roman isn’t staring up at his attacker with fear or anger or concern. His face is soft, and open, and looks almost . . . hopeful. Virgil’s eyes slide to Roman’s attacker, and he does a double take.

Roman is being pinned to the ground by . . . himself?

A few more seconds clears his vision; the boy pinning Roman looks very similar to his friend, but there are differences. He has a white streak of hair in his bangs, the wispy beginnings of a mustache, a gap between his front teeth. There’s something slightly unhinged glinting in his eyes as he grins.

“Remus?” Roman breathes. The name rings a bell. Remus. Roman’s twin brother. The one who told them about this island.

“The one and only!” Remus crows. He hops up off of Roman, eyes settling on Virgil and the others. He bows exaggeratedly, crossing one foot behind the other, grinning up at them with something just shy of mania. Roman rolls to his feet and yanks Remus into a hug.

“Rem!” Roman’s fist grips Remus’s shirt so tightly that his knuckles are turning white, and Remus holds his brother just as tightly. “You’re okay! After I left, I was so worried Father would do something to you, are you - are you okay?!”

“I’m okay,” Remus says softly. “I’m okay, Ro, and Deedee is too. He’s safe.”

“Is he here too?!” Roman gasps hopefully. Remus shakes his head.

“He’s not strong enough to leave the ship’s quarters. Father did a number on him. But he’s alive, and he misses you. A lot.”

“I miss him too,” Roman says, eyes watering. He pulls back from the hug just enough to study Remus’s face. “Your hair - what happened?”

“Lightning mishap.”

“You can bend lightning now?! You absolute fucker!” Roman laughs, dragging Remus back into his arms. “I can’t believe you figured it out first!” Remus grins, hugging his twin. “How did you get here? We flew in, but -”

“I took a rowboat.”

“Are you crazy?! You came in by sea? You could have been killed!”

“I know! It would have been so exciting!” Remus chirps, bouncing and flapping his hands. “But I knew you were gonna be here, and I missed you!”

“That was a stupid risk!”

“Saving the Avatar and his baby brother from Father’s wrath was a stupid risk, too. Must run in the family.”

Roman punches his brother in the chest. Remus laughs, rolling with the blow and kicking Roman’s feet out from under him. Roman lands flat on his back, laughing breathlessly. Virgil lets his knife slide back into its sheath. Remus still sets him on edge, but Roman looks more at ease than Virgil’s ever seen him (with the possible exception of when his Uncle Emile tumbled out of those bushes).

It’s nice to see him relax.

*~*~*~*~*

Later, after Remus and Roman have performed and intricate series of dance-like fire bending steps and opened the roof hatch, letting the sun come pouring in, they all sit together. Remus and Roman are pressed close together, literally joined at the hip.

“I can’t stay much longer,” Remus says regretfully. “I’m going to have to head out today if I’m to make it back to the warship before the sea becomes unnavigable.”

“Why risk it at all?” Roman asks.

“We’re checking all the outlying Fire Nation islands for you. Your flying sky beast was spotted by some locals on the shore. I volunteered because I knew it was the most dangerous island to look for. The crew thinks it was a noble gesture, they don’t suspect me.”

“But if they do,” Roman says, “what will they do to you?”

Remus grins, sharp and unhinged. “I can do worse back to them, tenfold. Trust me. And they won’t find anything out.”

“Why come yourself?” Virgil asks. “Why not send your Uncle?”

Remus’s grin fades. “I missed Ro. We’ve never been apart this long, it’s . . . I hate it. It’s like someone ripped my arm and leg out and then beat me over the head with it.”

“I hate it too,” Roman says. He grips Remus’s hand tightly. “I’m so sorry that I left you.”

“Hey, if Dee and I coulda escaped with you, we would have,” Remus shrugs. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Someone has to take care of him until you get back. And Dee’s cool, I don’t mind.” Remus turns to regard Thomas, tilting his head to the side. “So how good of an Avatar are you?”

“I’ve mastered earth bending,” Thomas says. “Roman is teaching me to master fire. Air is next, then water.” Remus winces. “What?”

“You might wanna hurry that time table up a little. There aren’t any water benders left at the South Pole.”

“I know,” Virgil says coolly. “I’m from the South Pole.”

“Father is planning something,” Remus says, gripping Roman’s hand back. “He keeps meeting with dignitaries from the Air Nomads, and I’m not sure why. He told me before I left that he was trying to broker peace, but -”

“But Father has never brokered a peace in his entire life,” Roman finishes. “That’s suspicious.”

“There’s more. I think once he finishes with whatever he’s doing with the Air Nomads, he’s planning an assault on the Northern Water Tribe.”

“How is he going to do that?”

“With the Air Nomads’ help?”

“My people would never aid in something like that,” Patton spits. Remus shrugs.

“I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just saying, you don’t know what Father is capable of the way that Roman and I do. He’s capable of atrocities beyond your comprehension. He took Mother away from us. He took Roman away from me. He’s - he’s taking everyone I’ve ever loved.”

“He won’t take me,” Roman promises. “We might not physically be with each other, but as soon as the war is over I’ll come home.”

“You’ll have to kill Father for that to happen,” Remus says. “You’ll have to win the war.”

“We will.” Roman’s eyes are blazing, and Remus stares into them for a moment before nodding.

“I believe you.”

“Good.” Remus stands up. “Don’t accompany me to the shoreline. The ship’s crew are watching through the onboard telescope, and if they see you they’ll storm the island. Wait until after sundown, we’ll be long gone by then. If plans change, I’ll send Dragon.”

“You better be taking care of him. And Dolos.”

“Please, Roro. I’m not taking care of anyone. Uncle Emile is keeping us all alive.” Roman heaves an exaggerated sigh.

“I don’t know why I expected better.” He stands up as well, gripping Remus’s shoulders. “Promise me that you’ll be careful?”

“I’m never careful, brother,” Remus laughs. They pull into another tight hug before Remus is disappearing down the hallway like a shadow. Roman watches him go with a wistful, hungry expression on his face before turning around to stare at Thomas with renewed fire.

“You heard my brother. We have a lot of work to do.”

#starshinewrites #avatar!au #sanders sides #ts deceit #ts remus #brotherly creativitwins #background romantic roceit #virgil sanders

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crookedbigbang · 4 years

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ARTIST CLAIMS ARE HERE!

TIMELINE:

Artist Sign-Ups: May 22-August 7

Artist Claims Open: August 6

Final Check-In: August 30

Final Drafts Due: Sept 18

Posting Begins: September 21

THE BASICS:

One of the unique aspects of a big bang challenge is the combination of fic and fanart. Artists are welcome to create art in any medium they choose, including but not limited to: mixes, videos, podfics, gifs, drawings, paintings, graphics, edits, comics, physical crafts. Art is impossible to quantify, but we do ask that artists put in a significant effort in recognition of the work that the writers are doing on the fics. Authors will be writing their fics all summer and will be expending significant time on the project. A good benchmark for artists is about 15-20 hours of work, including brainstorming and planning.

The final product should be a collaboration between author and artist. What that collaboration looks like is a highly individual process: if you get a clear artistic vision, run with it; but you should also feel free to ask your author any questions you have along the journey. Artists and authors should share drafts with each other as they go so that when the final products are posted, they complement each other well.

We have 5 wonderful Big Bang fics. Click the Read More for their summaries!

Fic 1: Take Me Out to the Ballgame Tentative Title: (not the title) take me out to the ballgame Pairing(s): Jon Favreau / Tommy Vietor Characters: Jon Favreau, Tommy Vietor Ao3 Rating: E Warnings: No archive warnings apply Additional Tags: Baseball AU ; Coming Out ; Bisexual Characters ; Dating ; Alternate Universe - Different Meeting Summary: Jon and Tommy meet playing baseball in high school and start to fall for each other, then Tommy moves away. Their epic love story continues when they end up on the same Minor League baseball team. The big question is, will they end up with a World Series ring or an engagement ring? Fic 2: Spirits that I’ve Cited Tentative Title: Spirits that I've cited Pairing(s): Tommy/Lovett; background Emily/Jon, Alyssa/Erin Characters: Tommy, Lovett, Favs, Emily, Alyssa, Erin, Dan Ao3 Rating: tentative M (for psychological horror and possible sex) Warnings: a non-consensual kiss under the influence of possession might happen, this scene is not yet written Additional Tags: paranormal investigators, slow burn, reluctant colleagues to friends to lovers, mutual pining, angst, hurt/comfort, accidental internet stars, bed-sharing, coming-out, road trips, witches getting married, demonic possession, ghosts, mythical creatures, Monster of the Week, psychological but non-graphical horror, slightly unreliable narrator, intoxication, magical mind control, themes of bodily and mental autonomy, (past) abusive relationships (not between main characters), possession induced mental health problems, worldbuilding, happy ending Summary: It’s a cold day in November when Tommy meets Lovett and his life turns upside down. Which shouldn’t be the worst thing, looking at it objectively.

Because, objectively, Tommy’s life already sucks. He is lonely, depressed, and Crooked Medium, the agency for paranormal investigations he co-owns with his ex-boyfriend Jared, is falling apart. Besides the shitty fact that he and Jared broke up, they constantly operate in the red, despite their best efforts. And it’s just the garbage cherry on top of the dumpster sundae that Jared and their only other core member, Jon, hate each other’s guts. Jon is Tommy's friend, but more importantly, he is Crooked Medium's exorcist par excellence, and for a former priest Tommy thought he might be better at the whole 'turn the other cheek' thing. He supposes that probably explains the 'former' part. So of course he panics when Jon unexpectedly buys out Jared’s shares in the company and offers Lovett a one-year apprenticeship as a medium and buys Jared shares of the agency. Suddenly Tommy’s faced with training a person who is not familiar with magic in one of the most dangerous jobs in the world, instead of relying on the experience Jared had. Despite the help from magical professors Alyssa and Dan, witch and shop-owner Erin, and their whole team—to Tommy it feels like Lovett’s credentialing next November is ages away. However, after a bonding experience involving ghost mice, Tommy slowly but surely discovers that Lovett isn’t an inconvenience at all. He is charming, attractive, hilarious, and way more talented than Tommy originally anticipated. Even their business improves, especially when they become an overnight internet sensation due to a malfunction. Instead of operating only in Boston, people across the country are now booking them to handle their mystical and paranormal problems. With each new case, Lovett learns more—and Tommy learns more about Lovett. This is unfortunate, given that Lovett is technically Tommy's intern, and the last thing Tommy needs is a harassment scandal. Tommy, naturally good at ignoring things, decides to ignore it. Which works out fine, thank you very much. At least up until Alyssa and Erin’s magical wedding in the woods. Or up until Lovett has a life-changing experience with a mirror. Or maybe even up until Lovett (plus Lovett's friend/household spirit Spencer) moves in. And just when Tommy thinks falling in love with his employee is his biggest problem, it turns out much more nefarious forces are at work. Fic #3: The gentle outline of the country we are building Tentative Title: The gentle outline of the country we are building Pairing(s): Jon Favreau/Jon Lovett/Tommy Vietor, Jon Favreau/Jon Lovett, Jon Favreau/Tommy Vietor, Jon Lovett/Tommy Vietor Characters: Jon Favreau, Jon Lovett, Tommy Vietor, Dan Pfeiffer, Alyssa Mastromonaco, Cody Keenan, Michael O' Neill, Spencer Wong, Andy Favreau, Tanya Somanader, Travis Helwig Ao3 Rating: E Warnings: No archive warnings apply Additional Tags: DC era, LA era, pining, wrong number AU, polyamory, threesomes, jealousy, slow burn, friends with benefits, angst with a happy ending, getting together, smut, fluff, blowjobs, anal sex, rimming, dirty talk, sexting, drinking, marijuana, sex under mild influence of alcohol, friends to lovers. AO3 (working) Summary: It takes spending the night in one room with a king-sized bed for Jon, Lovett, and Tommy to finally get it right after nearly a decade of trying. AKA A story about Jon, Tommy, and Lovett getting together, aided and abetted by Jon’s technological ineptitude, misunderstandings, love, friendship, and longing. Expanded summary: Jon and Lovett embark on a charged, text-based flirtation without knowing the other after Jon texts the wrong number during the 2008 general election campaign. It feels like a summer fling that wouldn’t end, just like those times Jon had slept with Tommy back in Chicago. But both of them do end, but at least Jon’s going to the White House with a new speechwriter and his best friend in tow. Jon thinks, not the right time then with Tommy, not the right time now with you, Lovett. They write speeches and policies and learn lessons on how to build a country and a friendship. The first summer at the White House, Tommy starts taking Lovett to bed almost every night. Two years later, he stops, because Lovett knocks on his door one day and says, “I am leaving.” Not quite the right time for you and me. Lovett spends his days in LA writing things very different from what he used to but thinking thoughts about Jon and Tommy that aren’t all that different. Jon and Tommy skype him from Chicago when his show gets canceled, and Lovett thinks about how right they look together on the screen, like they belong to each other. Jon comes to LA and doesn’t leave. Tommy moves closer, but not close enough. They lose everything when November 2016 dawns and then build an empire from the ruins, and over the next few months, they think, maybe it wasn’t the right time then, and maybe we did not do this before because we were always meant to do this together. All of us. Fic 4: Loving Him was Red - Azure Title: loving him was red - azure Pairing(s): Jon Favreau/Dan Pfeiffer, background Michael/Elijah Characters: Jon, Dan, Tommy, Lovett, Alyssa, Michael, Elijah Rating: E Warnings: No major warnings apply Additional tags: alternate universe, actors, hollywood, tabloids, love at first sight, BDSM, like lots of BDSM, spanking, flogging, humiliation, painplay, safeword use, failed scene, alcohol, alcohol abuse, drug use and abuse, divorce, bad at communication Summary: Rising star Dan Pfeiffer meets grown-up child actor Jon Favreau on the set of the movie that just might be their big break. It's a good old-fashioned Hollywood story. Boy meets Boy. Boy falls head over heels at first sight. Boy marries Boy. Boy ties Boy up and fucks him til he screams. But the Hollywood lights hit every dark shadow too and as the tabloids stir up gossip; as Jon spends more and more time at the club; and as Dan starts to wonder what comes next, the faultlines widen and their marriage falls into the abyss This is the first of a three fic arc chronicling the beginning, end, and re-beginning of an epic love story. Fic 5: Invisible String

Tentative Title: Invisible String Pairing(s): Jon Favreau / Tommy Vietor Characters: Jon Favreau, Tommy Vietor Ao3 Rating: Explicit Warnings: NO WARNINGS Additional Tags: affection, holding hands, chase sequence, shaving (face), mention of pod sponsors, wills & estates, cartoon villains, clothes sharing, Boston, plane flights, current day/LA era,Summary: Human boatshoe Tommy Vietor discovers he can claim a huge inheritance if he can prove he is married. If he does not, the $40 million fortune will go to the National Rifle Association. Best friend Jon Favreau steps up to help Tommy out. The NRA hires investigators to find information in order to break the will, chasing our boys all over Boston at one point.

#come create art for these amazing fic!#crooked big bang

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coffeebased · 5 years

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Would it be terrible if I kept doing this: popping onto WordPress once a year, for a week, just to chirp energetically about the things I’d done the previous year, before disappearing into the aether? Who would sanction me? Other than myself, of course, but I think that I have enough things to distract my conscience. My annually-updated reading blog hardly takes precedence over my other responsibilities and the reparations that have swallowed up my life.

I know that I was due one more blog post in January 2019, about reading stats being compared across the years. How convenient it is that that is exactly what I shall be doing now, here in January 2020.

My ideal posting schedule for 2020 will be as follows:

2019 Books I have read and my 10 favourite ones (right now! Oh, happy day!)

2019 Reading Statistics (1/11)

Reading Statistics: 2013-2019 (1/18)

Goal-setting for 2020 (1/25)

This was the system I tried to implement last year. Two out of three posts completed is still a failing mark. And goodness knows if I will manage to stick to that schedule this year, let alone what happens after those posts. That’s every Saturday for January settled. In previous years I used to do everything in one big post and that was great, like, very cathartic, but posts had gotten more and more unwieldy.

This is such a heartening beginning to a blog post: complete abandonment to the four winds. No commitment! Just my own satisfaction. In 2020, forget overpromising, we are lackadaisically mentioning that we have some ideas that may or may not push through.

I read 126 books in 2019! You can view the complete list: here. It’s the second least number of books I’ve read since I started documenting my reading habits in 2013. I’m not really surprised since I spent most of the year gathering data in the field or studying. More on that in succeeding blog posts.

Previous year-end reading posts are here: 2013 | 2014 | 2015 | 2016 | 2017 | 2018 a b|.

My Ten Favourite Books from Those I Read in 2019

The Sparrow and Children of God by Mary Doria Russell

In 2019, humanity finally finds proof of extraterrestrial life when a listening post in Puerto Rico picks up exquisite singing from a planet that will come to be known as Rakhat. While United Nations diplomats endlessly debate a possible first contact mission, the Society of Jesus quietly organizes an eight-person scientific expedition of its own. What the Jesuits find is a world so beyond comprehension that it will lead them to question what it means to be “human”.

Kid Gloves: Nine Months of Careful Chaos by Lucy Knisley

If you work hard enough, if you want it enough, if you’re smart and talented and “good enough,” you can do anything.Except get pregnant.Her whole life, Lucy Knisley wanted to be a mother. But when it was finally the perfect time, conceiving turned out to be harder than anything she’d ever attempted. Fertility problems were followed by miscarriages, and her eventual successful pregnancy plagued by health issues, up to a dramatic, near-death experience during labor and delivery.This moving, hilarious, and surprisingly informative memoir not only follows Lucy’s personal transition into motherhood but also illustrates the history and science of reproductive health from all angles, including curious facts and inspiring (and notorious) figures in medicine and midwifery. Whether you’ve got kids, want them, or want nothing to do with them, there’s something in this graphic memoir to open your mind and heart.

The Raven Tower by Anne Leckie

For centuries, the kingdom of Iraden has been protected by the god known as the Raven. He watches over his territory from atop a tower in the powerful port of Vastai. His will is enacted through the Raven’s Lease, a human ruler chosen by the god himself. His magic is sustained via the blood sacrifice that every Lease must offer. And under the Raven’s watch, the city flourishes.

But the power of the Raven is weakening. A usurper has claimed the throne. The kingdom borders are tested by invaders who long for the prosperity that Vastai boasts. And they have made their own alliances with other gods.

It is into this unrest that the warrior Eolo–aide to Mawat, the true Lease–arrives. And in seeking to help Mawat reclaim his city, Eolo discovers that the Raven’s Tower holds a secret. Its foundations conceal a dark history that has been waiting to reveal itself…and to set in motion a chain of events that could destroy Iraden forever.

Lent by Jo Walton

Young Girolamo’s life is a series of miracles.

It’s a miracle that he can see demons, plain as day, and that he can cast them out with the force of his will. It’s a miracle that he’s friends with Pico della Mirandola, the Count of Concordia. It’s a miracle that when Girolamo visits the deathbed of Lorenzo “the Magnificent,” the dying Medici is wreathed in celestial light, a surprise to everyone, Lorenzo included. It’s a miracle that when Charles VIII of France invades northern Italy, Girolamo meets him in the field, and convinces him to not only spare Florence but also protect it. It’s a miracle than whenever Girolamo preaches, crowds swoon. It’s a miracle that, despite the Pope’s determination to bring young Girolamo to heel, he’s still on the loose… and, now, running Florence in all but name.

That’s only the beginning. Because Girolamo Savanarola is not who—or what—he thinks he is. He will discover the truth about himself at the most startling possible time. And this will be only the beginning of his many lives.

A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine

Ambassador Mahit Dzmare arrives in the center of the multi-system Teixcalaanli Empire only to discover that her predecessor, the previous ambassador from their small but fiercely independent mining Station, has died. But no one will admit that his death wasn’t an accident—or that Mahit might be next to die, during a time of political instability in the highest echelons of the imperial court.

Now, Mahit must discover who is behind the murder, rescue herself, and save her Station from Teixcalaan’s unceasing expansion—all while navigating an alien culture that is all too seductive, engaging in intrigues of her own, and hiding a deadly technological secret—one that might spell the end of her Station and her way of life—or rescue it from annihilation.

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up with Me by Mariko Tamaki, Rosemary Valero O’Connell

Laura Dean, the most popular girl in high school, was Frederica Riley’s dream girl: charming, confident, and SO cute. There’s just one problem: Laura Dean is maybe not the greatest girlfriend.

Reeling from her latest break up, Freddy’s best friend, Doodle, introduces her to the Seek-Her, a mysterious medium, who leaves Freddy some cryptic parting words: break up with her. But Laura Dean keeps coming back, and as their relationship spirals further out of her control, Freddy has to wonder if it’s really Laura Dean that’s the problem. Maybe it’s Freddy, who is rapidly losing her friends, including Doodle, who needs her now more than ever.

Fortunately for Freddy, there are new friends, and the insight of advice columnists like Anna Vice to help her through being a teenager in love.

Tiempo Muerto by Caroline Hau

Two women meet on the island where they shared a childhood. One is looking for her mother, the other her yaya. One is an Overseas Filipino Worker, the other an heiress. In an old bahay na bato haunted by scandal and tragedy, secrets and ghosts, the women find their lives entangled and face the challenge of refusing their predetermined fates and embracing their open futures.

Gideon the Ninth, The Locked Tomb #1 by Tamsyn Muir

The Emperor needs necromancers.

The Ninth Necromancer needs a swordswoman.

Gideon has a sword, some dirty magazines, and no more time for undead bullshit.

Tamsyn Muir’s Gideon the Ninth unveils a solar system of swordplay, cut-throat politics, and lesbian necromancers. Her characters leap off the page, as skillfully animated as necromantic skeletons. The result is a heart-pounding epic science fantasy.

Brought up by unfriendly, ossifying nuns, ancient retainers, and countless skeletons, Gideon is ready to abandon a life of servitude and an afterlife as a reanimated corpse. She packs up her sword, her shoes, and her dirty magazines, and prepares to launch her daring escape. But her childhood nemesis won’t set her free without a service.

Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Reverend Daughter of the Ninth House and bone witch extraordinaire, has been summoned into action. The Emperor has invited the heirs to each of his loyal Houses to a deadly trial of wits and skill. If Harrowhark succeeds she will become an immortal, all-powerful servant of the Resurrection, but no necromancer can ascend without their cavalier. Without Gideon’s sword, Harrow will fail, and the Ninth House will die.

Of course, some things are better left dead.

Sixteen Ways to Defend a Walled City by K. J. Parker

This is the story of Orhan, son of Siyyah Doctus Felix Praeclarissimus, and his history of the Great Siege, written down so that the deeds and sufferings of great men may never be forgotten.

A siege is approaching, and the city has little time to prepare. The people have no food and no weapons, and the enemy has sworn to slaughter them all.

To save the city will take a miracle, but what it has is Orhan. A colonel of engineers, Orhan has far more experience with bridge-building than battles, is a cheat and a liar, and has a serious problem with authority. He is, in other words, perfect for the job.

Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self-Delusion by Jia Tolentino

Trick Mirror is an enlightening, unforgettable trip through the river of self-delusion that surges just beneath the surface of our lives. This is a book about the incentives that shape us, and about how hard it is to see ourselves clearly in a culture that revolves around the self. In each essay, Jia writes about the cultural prisms that have shaped her: the rise of the nightmare social internet; the American scammer as millennial hero; the literary heroine’s journey from brave to blank to bitter; the mandate that everything, including our bodies, should always be getting more efficient and beautiful until we die.

Thanks for bearing with me. Keep a weather eye for the next post.

[Reading] My 10 favourite books from 2019 Would it be terrible if I kept doing this: popping onto Wordpress once a year, for a week, just to chirp energetically about the things I'd done the previous year, before disappearing into the aether?

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fmdsuran · 6 years

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✧ *･ﾟ HAVE YOU EVER encountered someone that looked like a goddess or a doll on the outside, but after taking the time to get to know them, you slowly begin to realize that where confidence should exist lies layers of insecurity, self-doubt, and sadness ? that, or have you ever met a person that was so fortunate and lucky in various ways, but can’t help but spiral into bouts of depression due to loneliness, and lack of genuine human connection ? have you ever listened to the iconic hit LUCKY BY BRITNEY SPEARS ? if you answered yes to all, or some, of these q’s, then you’ve already had a glimpse into the life and times of my precious princess, the stunning SEO SURAN —- lipstick’s sub rapper, sub vocal, and child actress turned idol ! if you don’t feel like reading her bio, i 100% feel you, fam, so i’ll do you a favor and provide you some fun facts below the cut that you can read up on ! what’s even better is that i’ll give you some plot ideas, too, to make plotting with me EVEN EASIER. with all that said, feel free to hit the heart in the corner to lmk if you’d like to plot with me, and if you do, i’ll love you foreva and eva ! oh, i almost forgot lmao... you all can call me ryan btw ! i’m 18+ and a self-proclaimed bad bih lol it’s nice to meet’cha 💋

B A C K S T O R Y —-

suran was born to a former screenwriter (current film/tv reviewer) and his wife, a full-time stay at home mother, in seoul, south korea. from a very young age, she was beckoned to be a critical thinker —- her friends often loathed watching cartoons with her as she’d judge them based on their animation, writing, and so on. all of them would say that she doesn’t just sit back and enjoy them because she’s been raised to ask questions and analyze creative work. however, this made her a great student when it came to school, and she developed a love for learning at a young age.

around the age of eight years old, she decided that she wanted to be an actress. after spending long hours studying how it was done by the men and women on tv, she had a hunch that she’d be able to do it with ease. then, not long after, with her father’s connections, she was able to make her acting début in a drama called ‘ballad of seodong’ —- a historical piece where she played the younger version of the drama’s main character, princess seonhwa of silla. after that, she went on to star in another drama, then after, two feature films; one of those being a main role for her!

needless to say, she was a hardworking child; one that made her mom and dad super proud. however, when her contract with the acting agency ended, she was approached by bc entertainment. they discovered a few options for her —- representing her as an actress was mentioned, but the other option they provided seemed slightly better to her. they made a deal with her that they’d give her an easy début in an idol group so she could make a bigger name for herself, and at the time, she didn’t see anything wrong with that and decided to accept, and soon after, in 2010, she became a bc trainee.

while she envisioned this to be a great time of learning and accomplishment, it was anything but —- the trainee lifestyle kind of really destroyed her. body dysmorphia tw there was constant talk about diet and beauty, and whenever she looked around her, she found that everyone else was so graceful and glamorous. she felt like she didn’t meet their standards, and she became anxious about it. she started to look in the mirror and hate her appearance. being that she wasn’t quite talented at singing and dancing, she knew that beauty and personality were going to have to be her tickets to debut, so she spent almost all the money she made as a child actress on cosmetic surgery. within the two year time span that she trained, she got her eyelids, forehead, nose, jawline, and breasts done.

bc entertainment found this brave of her, and after she’d fully recovered, they decided to take a chance on her and put her in the lineup of lipstick. they wanted to use her for visual appeal more than outward talent, and she became a spectacle; an ornament almost. she loved and hated all this attention.

a few years pass and bc helps her land her first acting gig in years, and she couldn’t be more excited. however, when it’s announced, and when it later airs, netizens began to realize that they had seen her name before, and they pulled up old photos of her as a kid in the dramas and movies she starred in. when they put two and two together and saw that she looked like a drastically different person now, they were appalled; calling her a fraud as she’s made comments in the past about natural health and beauty.

due to this, her performance in ‘discovery of love’ wasn’t regarded as anything special and she fell into a deep depression; realizing that her past insecurities only came to ruin her life in present day.

after that, she spent years in a dark depression and became disinterested in being an idol, in being in lipstick. so much pressure was put on her —- be beautiful, be thin, be effervescent on camera, be appealing to the masses... and when she couldn’t fulfill all of those, she felt hopeless; she felt like a failure. everyone seemed to hate her, and she was so regretful of all she’d done leading up to this point.

however, after a few years of suffering, bc finally guided her into another acting opportunity once negative talk of her died down to a slow simmer, and it helped rouse her from this slump for quite awhile. the filming process kept her distracted, and she loved the character she portrayed, and when it was announced to the public, they had mixed reactions. all of them wondered why they’d cast her, but when the show aired, it became a cultural phenomenon in all of korea. ‘goblin’ now sits as one of the nation’s highest rated televised dramas, and after watching her thrilling performance as the leading female role, netizens grew soft for her; their opinions completely changingh

this drastic change has been so good to her that she doesn’t even believe she deserves it. she’s grateful for it though, and would rather be seen as some sort of angel to the nation instead of a fraud. what stresses her out now though is the pressure to keep this image going. she’s terrified of what’d happen if she fell from grace again, so she’s constantly on her best behavior —- not wanting anymore scandals to ruin her.

overall, her personality is really sweet. there’s a coldness to her because she’s afraid of what people think of her initially, but once she warms up to you, she’ll be a great friend. she’s fiercely loyal and really just wants to be loved.

C O N N E C T I O N S —-

another child actress/actor who was friends with suran since they were signed under the same agency when they were little. now that they’re both idols, they’re taking it to mean that fate really wants their friendship to last forever, so they’re doing all they can to make that happen. must’ve been an active actor/actress from 2004-2010.

a person that she trained in bc with (2010-2012) that she was able to share her secrets and insecurities with, and every time she went under the knife, they were there for her. really, they would try to convince her that she was beautiful as is, but she had the worst time believing them due to her dysmorphia. however, they’re still friends to this day, and they’ll forever be confidantes.

someone who has no idea why she’s even in lipstick since she doesn’t have that much talent when it comes to singing and dancing. she doesn’t get a lot of lines in their songs, but somehow, manages to be center a lot and it infuriates them that she’s given any spotlight at all.

an ex-boyfriend of her that really didn’t give a shit about her and only really wanted her as arm candy, and once he realized she had a lot of baggage, broke up w her.

an ex-girlfriend from the rough period of her time as an idol (2014-2016) who she broke up with because she was too insecure, and felt she was undeserving of her love. they’re still lowkey soft for each other, but lord knows if they’ll get back together rip.

a current romantic interest of her’s (male preferred) who, for the first time in forever, is patient enough with her to stick around and helps her feel better about herself. however, he doesn’t want to make things official just yet and it makes her sad because she’s falling deep in love with him.

a girl who had her first lesbian/bi experience with suran that’s a bit obsessed with her because of it, but she doesn’t know how to tell them that she doesn’t feel the same way.

lots and lots of fwb plots, please! men, women, whatever... she likes sex.

someone that’s made her their muse, and often paints pictures of her, writes poetry about her, or whatever, but they’re too scared to tell her or show her what they’ve done.

a man who listed her as his ideal type, but it led to her getting backlash from his fans, so now their relationship is awkward and she’s scared to be seen in public with him lol.

a woman who she said was her ideal type as a joke, but she’s actually not joking at all and she desperately wants to get to know her better —- as friends or as fwbs or wtv.

people that help her with dancing, singing, and rapping! she’s not the worst that there is in the industry, but she still feels as though she’s lacking since she skated through training based on her looks alone. please help her tysm.

a younger man that she’s having a fwb relationship with and she loves spoiling him since he hasn’t paid off his debt from training yet, lol. make her a sugar mama pls.

really... i’m up for anything! so please let me know if none of these appeal to you so we can plot something else! love you all and thanks for reading!

#* / 𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐓. ‹ introduction. ›#* / 𝐎𝐎𝐂. ‹ ryan speaks. ›

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ttime42 · 6 years

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2018 Fic Roundup

This is a list of fics (in no particular order) I read last year. Many of these I finished. Some of them I started and didn't finish because it turned out they weren't for me. Others are rereads. Thanks to all the wonderful authors who fill fandom with life.

Watson's Folly by Diana Williams

John Watson, the new Earl of Saughton, is madly in love with the beautiful Mary Morstan. But he has returned from the Peninsular War to find his family on the brink of ruin and his ancestral home mortgaged to the hilt. He has little choice when he is introduced to Mycroft Holmes, a civil servant of apparently unlimited wealth and no social ambitions for himself - but with his eyes firmly fixed on a suitable match for his only brother, the unorthodox and irascible Omega Sherlock Holmes. Can John forget the woman he loved and find happiness with a man so very different from his lost love?

To the Sticking Place by blueink3

Renowned Shakespearean actor Sherlock Holmes has finally burned all of his bridges in the theatre industry save for his constant director, Greg Lestrade. John Watson has made a name for himself in the musical theatre circuit, but age and injury are working against him. Can they reinvent themselves for an all-male Macbeth without killing one another?

The Yellow Poppies by SilentAuror

Sherlock is threatened and assaulted in the hospital immediately after having been shot in the heart, first by Mary, then by Magnussen. As he recovers at Baker Street with John and plans the attack on Appledore with Mycroft, he fights to work through the trauma caused by these two visits. Set during His Last Vow.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel

They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril.

They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear.

Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”

Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods.

Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

The Sock Index by distantstarlight

John and Sherlock live at 221 B Baker Street. Everything is back to normal with the long-time friends....or is it?

The Shop Boy by EventHorizon

Sometimes, taking care of Sherlock had its benefits...

The School Boy by EventHorizon

As Mycroft and Lestrade pursue their own relationship, Sherlock learns the meaning of friendship with the new boy in his school, John Watson.

The Science of Musicality by circ_bamboo

Classical musician AU: Sherlock is a professional solo violinist, and John is his new accompanist collaborator. They've got a recital in three months, and someone doesn't want them to do it.

The Riven Crown by The_Kingmaker

‘We may have won the battle, but I fear the war with winter is just beginning.’

The aftermath of war is no laughing matter. Those who died must be honoured, those who are wounded must be healed, and those who remain need food and clothing, peace and sanctuary. With Thorin's life hanging in the balance, it is up to Bilbo and the rest of the Company to rule the rag-tag remnants of Erebor in his place.

Then there is the matter of the gold...

Can Bilbo save both king and kingdom, or is Erebor destined to fall deeper into ruin?

The Men Who Talked Between the Words by Odamaki (locked to Ao3)

John expected to be a father some day; he expected to have the house, and the wife and the nice suburban job. Sherlock never expected to have children, in part because he never expected to make it past 30. As it turns out, you don't get a choice. Crammed into Baker Street with a baby, John struggles with single-parenthood and his own fears, while Sherlock treads the fine line between doing too little and saying too much.

The Guarded Secret by mycapeisplaid

After his war injury, John feels broken, small, and useless. On a whim, he takes a position as a security guard of sorts at the gorgeous Holmes Hall in Yorkshire. As it turns out, he is not as broken, small, or useless as he thinks. A story of beauty and blossom, murder and mystery, loss and love.

The Clash of Storm and Sea by QuinnAnderson

Music School AU. The first time John heard Sherlock play, he knew he was done for. Johnlock.

The Burning Heart by May_Shepard

When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men.

Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.

The Bluest of Blue by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John

John Watson's 10th season as a Denali National Park Ranger was shaping up to look like all the years before.

Until a special team from Europe was flown into the Park for a summer-long wolf-tracking research project, and the head of that research team was wearing a perfectly tailored suit.

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John

All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair.

That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition.

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada and ShinySherlock (locked to Ao3)

Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose--is it a pirate's life for him?

The Bells of King’s College by SilentAuror

It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...

Summit Fever by J_Baillier

After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he's a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover's trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I—the most lethal of all the world's highest mountains—shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?

Share the Stars with You by EventHorizon

Set in Victorian times, we find Mycroft as a sedentary man of wealth and power and Greg as an explorer, a true man of action. Given their opposite natures, could it be these two might actually achieve the one thing neither has ever thought possible - finding someone to love?

School for Scandal by rubberbird

Sherlock lusts from afar. John tries to fool himself.

Saving Sherlock Holmes by earlgreytea68

Sherlock Holmes, schoolboy. Yeah, that basically sums it up.

Performance in a Leading Role by Mad_Lori

Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world?

Paradigm Shift by distantstarlight

Sherlock Holmes is the world's only consulting detective. He's also a virgin, and has staunchly remained that way. One night he's on a case like normal but he sees someone who after a single glance turns everything Sherlock thought he knew about himself completely around. Enter one John Watson, doctor, soldier....stripper?

In the Still of the Night by SilentAuror

As locals on the Northeastern coast begin to report UFO sightings, life at Baker Street becomes significantly awkward as John brings up his desire for more than friendship and Sherlock refuses him. They embark on the investigation from the confines of the tiny cottage Mycroft has rented for them, attempting to navigate both the clues of the case as well as their own inability to communicate...

In Search of a Word: A Symphony of First Times by queenfanfiction

There is a new concertmaster at the London Symphony, and John Watson is starting to fall a little bit in love with both the music and the man making it.

How Long? by TheBritishBourbon

Sherlock never got to jump off the roof of St. Barts, he never got the chance. Sherlock was abducted and held for 5 years, but now he has escaped. What awaits him as he returns to reality?

Every Star in the Sky Knows Your Name by Jaune_Chat

Mal's latest pair of passengers slowly reveals they have more of a connection to the crew than anyone would have thought, when Simon discovers that Sherlock and his sister had been in the same government program over a decade and a half apart. Sherlock's friend John, his rescuer and keeper, tells the crew the story of living a life on the run, something that is both less and more familiar than anyone expects.

Enigma by khorazir

It’s the autumn of 1941, war is raging in Europe, German U-boats are raiding Allied convoys in the Atlantic, the Luftwaffe is bombing English cities, and the cryptographers at Bletchley Park are working feverishly to decode their enemies' encrypted communications. One should consider this challenge and distraction enough for capricious codebreaker Sherlock Holmes. But the true enigmas are yet waiting to be deciphered: an unbreakable code, a strange murder, and the arrival of Surgeon Captain John H. Watson of the Royal Navy.

Electric Pink Hand Grenade by BeautifulFiction

"If Sherlock's brain is a hard drive, then these attacks are an electro-magnetic pulse." Sherlock Holmes does not do anything by half, not even a migraine. It falls to John to witness one of the greatest minds he has ever known tear itself apart, and he must do his best to help Sherlock pick up the pieces.

Butterbeer by green_violin_bow

One of very few students left at Hogwarts over the Christmas holiday, final-year Slytherin student Mycroft Holmes finds himself thrown together with Gryffindor Quidditch team captain Greg Lestrade. An unlikely friendship, but one that blossoms in the huge, mostly-empty castle.

Boyfriend Material by PoppyAlexander

Boston Brawlers' team captain John Watson longs for two things: a championship before he retires, and a boyfriend. Assigned to room with goaltender Sherlock Holmes--known around the league as both a genius and a "weird dude"--on Brawlers' roadtrips, John discovers the things they have in common that lead to an easy friendship and a convenient arrangement.

Slow-burn, adversaries-to-friends-to-lovers, romantic comedy.

Alternate Universe - Sports/Ice Hockey

Babylon by BeautifulFiction_FMA

Two years after retrieving his brother's body from the Gate of Truth Edward Elric is still paying the price. Will his debt ever be repaid, or will it finally cost him everything? (Originally published 2007 on fanfiction.net and livejournal)

An improbable love by slowroad

Sherlock is a famous violinist who is going through a bit of a slump. He's lonely and miserable. It has been three years since John was invalided home from Afghanistan. He's slowly getting his life together, but he's lonelier than he's ever been. And then, the the two of them meet…

Albion and the Woodsman by Glenmore

Post Series 3. Sherlock and John are devastated after Mary Morstan makes her final moves. Sherlock relapses at the crack house, John walks around the world ...and a lot happens in between. Parentlock, in the good way.

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee

Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab.

Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters?

{SPOILER: Of course not. That would be boring.}

Guarantee there will be drama. And explosions. And Will is gonna do something cocky and stupid. Really good chance for some zero-gravity boinking (bet ya didn't even know you needed that in your life).

Gonna be a wild ride... prepare for blast off.

A Fold in the Universe by darkest_bird

Alpha Sherlock and Omega John are in a relationship. Prime Sherlock and Prime John are not. So what happens when a freak fold in the universe switches one John for the other?

#fanfic #fanfiction #ficrec #fic rec #bbc sherlock fanfic

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katie-dub · 7 years

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#FrostJones

Ice dancing duo Killian Jones and Elsa Frost barely made the cut for the PyeongChang Olympics after a disaster at the World Championships that left them without a coach. Enter Emma 'The Saviour' Swan, their new coach who might just help to add a little magic to their routines.

AKA a Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir AU, with a twist.

The wonderful @welllpthisishappening Master of the Sports AU told me that she had a prompt for a Virtue and Moir AU and I had the thought "shame they're just great friends". Somehow this idea was born and Laura and @distant-rose told me to "WRITE THE THING" and here we are. Thanks ladies for enabling me and giving this a once over. All mistakes are very much mine.

#FrostJones

A Song of Fire and Ice: The bumpy road to PyeongChang for America's ice dancing duo Frost and Jones

Eyebrows were raised when fiery Killian Jones, who missed out on the Sochi Olympics due to the infamous attack that left his former partner (both on and off the ice) dead and his hand gravely wounded, teamed up with solo figure skating champion Elsa Frost, whose icy characterisation and flawless technique earned her the title of Ice Queen. The unlikely pairing narrowly qualified for the Olympics after a disastrous performance at the 2017 World Championships left them with barely enough points to make the cut. That event also saw them part ways with their coach, Leroy "Grumpy" Short, following a rumoured face off between him and Jones. With less than a year to go to get medal-ready, in stepped Emma "The Saviour" Swan, who has a reputation for rejuvenating the careers of failing figure skaters. Here's hoping The Saviour has worked her magic on Team USA's ice dance duo, who are merely hoping for a place on the podium, while Virtue and Moir...

Killian flung aside the newspaper, scowling. He really didn't need to read more about the bloody Canadians who were certain to beat them to the gold, not least of all in a piece that was meant to be about his "road to the Olympics".

Elsa raised her eyebrows at him. "Why are you even reading that, Jones? Given that Regina had to issue actual threats to get you to talk to that journalist I'd have thought you'd want to avoid it."

He sighed and dragged his hand across his face wearily. "Yeah, I bloody well should have.”

He had known the piece would be like this, that it would hurt to read, but the events leading up to the last Olympics caused a wound that wouldn't heal. (Or hadn't, until her, The Saviour, his saviour.)

It was their final rehearsal before they at last took to the rink to compete for Team GB. They had knocked it out of the park, scored a touchdown and a variety of other sporting metaphors. He spun Milah around in delight, kissing her passionately. He'd always known they were contenders, but now he was sure that gold medal was theirs. Tessa and Scott couldn't touch their chemistry - they were so beloved that it seemed the whole world was #Team Millian, regardless of nationality.

Then came the blow to his head that sent him crashing to the ice and his whole world along with it. When he awoke everything had changed: Milah was dead. His left hand damaged. Gold, their former coach and her ex, walked free without so much as a slap on the wrist from the Olympics Committee.

So he ran away, defected to the states, determined to get one over on the country that failed him.

And now that time had come.

Well, tomorrow it would, for now he had to rest.

They were minutes away from taking to the ice and Killian was nervous. They weren't even the favourite of the American teams in the running for bloody bronze. The idea of anyone but the Canadian or French winning silver and gold had not even been considered, it was so utterly unlikely.

But they could do it, Killian knew they could.

The world may have been skeptical at the announcement of their partnership, but dancing with Elsa had seemed entirely logical. Her detached demeanour (“Frost by name, frosty by nature” was a joke she'd heard one too many times) suited his need for an entirely platonic relationship. And her looks running in stark contrast to Milah’s didn't hurt either. He was to help Elsa to put her heart into sometimes sterile style, she could improve his precision and refine his technique.

The latter of these worked at least, they could twizzle in perfect unison and they had the required pattern down. But it was the free dance that could earn them the big points and that's where they'd faltered. His spirit had been poisoned such that it was hard to convey deepest devotion when every spin on the ice bore a reminder: love brought nothing but endless torment.

But then came Swan.

It was some kind of romantic ice dancing cliché: falling for your coach - second only to falling for your actual partner. And yet, here he was.

She was just so easy to love, or so he thought. She challenged him and made him better - made both of them better. Elsa’s relentless perfectionism had eased under the coaching of a true friend. She could often be heard reciting the mantra Emma taught her “let it go, let it go.” And as for him? She had helped him to heal and move on. Not that she would ever know.

They'd been working with Emma for weeks and the improvement was significant. It was enough to make Killian wonder if she actually did have magic powers. They were stood in their final pose, having just completed their dance for Emma. They had skated well and he could see the tiny flicker of pride in Elsa’s eyes that he was sure was reflected in his own - they had nailed it for sure.

“Seriously? That's what you call romance?” He turned to her in disbelief.

“What more do you want from us?”

“You have to use your emotion - in a good way. You look like.. like a man who's pissed at his robot for not loving him.”

Elsa huffed, quietly indignant, but outwardly calm as ever while he raged. “Well perhaps you should show us how it's done, almighty Saviour.” He gave her a mocking bow, eyes flashing at her in challenge.

“Please. You couldn't handle it.” His eyebrows shot up in shock, he'd never seen this teasing side to her before.

“Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it?”

She rolled her eyes but skated over to them. She shooed Elsa to the side and guided him to resume the final pose with her wrapped in his arms. She gazed up at him with adoration and it felt incredible. His heart beat faster and his breath quickened - he might have cursed his body for its clichéd reaction to the feel of the warmth of a beautiful woman's body, if he weren't so busy getting lost in her eyes. His own eyes softened and he smiled despite himself, leaning in when she licked her lips. “And that's how it's done,” she said, pushing back from him and turning to Elsa. “Killian’s got a romantic soul, flash him a look of love and he will follow your lead. Now, try that dance again.” Emma skated back to the side and Killian touched his fingers to his lips, startled at his close he'd come to kissing his coach. Sure, he'd always kind of fancied her - when she wasn't yelling at him - but this?

“Come on, Jones!” Elsa called, “enough with the yearning looks, it's time to skate.” She dropped her voice low so that only he could hear. “Something tells me that you'll never look at me the way you look at her.” His jaw dropped open, he wanted to fling a sarcastic remark back at her, but he stopped himself, unwilling to let Swan hear. (And besides, a small voice inside whispered that she was right.)

They'd gone from strength to strength since that day in the rink as they had each grown closer and closer to Emma and now all there was left to do was dance.

Their names were called. Emma reached up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek and whisper “good luck” in his ear. His nerves were soothed and he breathed more easily. He glowed with the joy of that simple kiss. He could do it, he would do it - would do anything - for her.

Killian felt light and joyful as he glided around the ice. The music seeped into his pores, guiding his movements. Elsa and he danced like a dream, every twist, turn and twizzle was in perfect harmony.

Their dance reached its crashing crescendo and they hit their final pose, looking for all the world like a pair of lovers.

The music died and he pulled Elsa into a fierce hug, lifting her off the ice with joy. “We both know I'm not the blonde you've been thinking of,” Elsa whispered into his ear with a giggle. He was so happy he couldn't even been bothered to chastise her.

They won. Of course they won. And no one was talking about their record-breaking score, all anyone could mention was the romance, their chemistry.

He'd turned off his twitter notifications after he received approximately a million mentions in a matter of minutes.

"OMGGGGGGGG @TheKillianJones & @ElsaFrost01 must be in LOVE! #FrostJones"

"I can lip read, she definitely said I love you!!!! @TheKillianJones @ElsaFrost01 #FrostJones #CanYouFeelTheLoveTonight #IShipIt”

“I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE DAMN MEDALS THEY ARE IN LOVE AND MY HEART IS GONNA EXPLODE!!! 😍💖😍💖😍 @TheKillianJones @ElsaFrost01 #FrostJones”

He had to laugh at how far from the truth they were.

And now he was sitting off to one side at their impromptu gold medal celebration taking it all in - most of the rest of the USA figure skating team were there drinking bubbly wine and cheering drunkenly although Neal and Tamara were conspicuous by their absence. He shook his head at their pettiness. Sure their unexpected win had robbed the pair of their own chance at a medal, but he suspected the no show was more a “fuck you” to their former coach, Emma. (He couldn't deny being glad of that, remembering the hint of tears that had glistened in her eyes at revealing how she'd discovered that Neal had been cheating on her with his partner. Not to mention how she'd been dragged into a possible doping scandal when she found herself blamed for a failed test - he still wasn't certain how Neal had weaseled his way out of those allegations. Tonight was Emma's night as much as theirs and she didn't need that dickhead bringing her down.)

“Hey.” Emma bumped his shoulder affectionately, sitting down next to him. “Beware of lurking gold medallists!”

He smiled wryly at her. “Just thinking, love.”

“Lurking and brooding - a classic combination.” He laughed. “Shouldn't you be celebrating?”

He raised his plastic cup to show off his rum then placed it down beside him. “Don't worry, I'm celebrating, I was just thinking how we couldn't have done this without you.”

She blushed, and twisted her mouth into a small smile that he found utterly adorable. “You guys have the talent,” she said with a shrug, “I just helped you to polish your routine.”

“You did more than that, I wasn't sure if I'd ever skate like that again after, well, you know.” He gestured vaguely and she nodded. She did know. He'd told her all about what happened, back in that night when they'd traded tragic backstories and came within inches of kissing. He still remembered how beautiful she'd looked, could feel her breath on his lips and the bitter disappointment welling in his soul. He gathered his courage, spurred on by the high of his win and the rum in his belly. “That is, until I met you.”

Her eyes widened and she looked deeply touched. She leaned closer to him, his breath caught in his chest and he watched as her eyes flicked down to his mouth. He wet his lips instinctively and moved closer to her, breathing in her air and waiting. Waiting.

She took a deep breath and gently touched her lips to his. Soft, that was all he could think. Her lips were so soft. His heart felt full. It was the barest of touches and it had him completely undone.

A part of him wondered if he was having that effect on her - hoped we was. Then she moaned against his lips and deepened the kiss and all thoughts were lost.

He pulled back from her the barest amount when the need for air got too strong, keeping her as close as possible, wanting to stay in this affectionate bubble forever. “That was -” he breathed.

“The reason a thousand hearts broke around the world. At least.” He looked up to see Elsa smirking at the pair of them. “Mine included, according to the interwebs. Don't look so worried, Jones, I think I'll live.” Her last comment was said with a wink before she disappeared back to the crowd of merrymakers.

“We better get back to all the partying and celebrating you and stuff,” Emma said, but her forehead was rested against hers and she showed no sign of moving.

“Do we have to? I'm sure we could just -”

She pushed him backwards with a smile. “Be patient.” He was about to protest, but she silenced him with one last soft kiss. “We can have our own private celebration later.”

“Promise?” He intended to sound flirty, but he sounded far too sincere.

“Yes,” she said, rolling her eyes and dragged him back to the party.

As he held her in his arms later, her hair spilling out over his bare chest, which she was using as a pillow, he wondered how he ever got so lucky. Four years ago he had nothing, but now he had everything.

#cs ff #captain swan #cs fanfics #cs au #cs olympics #katie dub writes

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jerseydeanne · 7 years

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There have been moments, little quiet moments, when I have begun to ask myself, who the heck does Meghan Markle think she is?

Don't all shout at once. Hear me out.

Yes, love her. Yes, adore her. Yes, accept and believe her to be a breath of fresh air blowing through the fusty hallways of Windsoralia.

And yet, after four official public appearances and leaked news of two 'secret' missions of mercy to console victims of the Grenfell fire, one can't help but wonder where all this is going.

It seems far, far too early for Meghan to go into full Diana mode and unfurl any fondly imagined royal superpowers. Or to start believing that she can change the lives of troubled citizens merely by bequeathing a megawatt smile and a consolation hug around their luckless shoulders.

However, that seems to be exactly what is happening.

It is just three months since the American celebrity and Prince Harry announced their engagement. With only one Sandringham royal Christmas under her pencil belt, she is barely a stitch in the tapestry of our nation's history.

Yet, already, she is behaving like a cross between Wilhelmina the Conqueror and Florence Nightingale.

In Edinburgh this week, St Meghan of Markle clasped people to her bosom as if the mere strength of her huggy-wugs could vanquish their problems.

Perhaps she doesn't mean to, but in public she frequently slips into glutinous actress mode, as if she were rather hammily playing herself in some future episode of TV'sThe Crown.

More from Jan Moir for the Daily Mail... McMad, McBad…and a hero who looked like he wouldn’t hurt a fly in his borscht…JAN MOIR reviews the finale of the eight-part BBC series 12/02/18 JAN MOIR: Lay off Trumpy! We’d NEVER mock a female leader about her looks…and women have a sisterly support group to get them through each hot flush 09/02/18 Don't call me an old misogynist - it's wrong and hurtful: John Humphrys tells JAN MOIR about a 'bruising' few weeks after coming under fire for joking about BBC gender pay gap03/02/18 Am I alone in worrying that Kate's clothes are turning Camilla-ish? JAN MOIR says the choices on the royals' tour were a new low 02/02/18 Why the ego got the cha-cha-chop! JAN MOIR on the sacking of Strictly's Brendan Cole and how dumping his fiancée led to the birth of the show's infamous curse31/01/18 Why IS Saturday night TV such a turn-off? As former Spice Girl Geri Horner launches yet another dire singing contest, JAN MOIR is left despairing29/01/18 Yes, men behave badly. But let's not get hysterical: JAN MOIR says she wasn't that outraged or shocked by the Presidents club scandal 26/01/18 JAN MOIR: I would take a statue of Mrs Thatcher over a suffragette any day19/01/18 JAN MOIR: A princess can't be a designer queen AND a woman at Marks & Spencer 12/01/18 VIEW FULL ARCHIVEIf only she could dial down the full beam of worried sympathy that strobes from her lovely eyes at every opportunity and give it a rest with the endless Lady Bountiful arm-pats, I think people would like her more.Let us discover for ourselves how caring and kind she is, instead of her spreading it on so thickly that we can hardly see past the sugary glaze. Too many layers of the custard of compassion on this particular royal trifle is going to make us all feel a little bit sick.It is nice that Meghan wants to 'reach out' to the British charity sector and use her fame to become a full-time philanthropist and concentrate on her humanitarian work.Yet there are people in her own family whom she hasn't reached out to in years, including her own father. With the best will in the world, it does put her one-gal task force for international healing and her undercover visits to mosques to console survivors under a slightly different, less rosy, light.Charity begins at home — or it should, even for putative royals.However, to find meaning and truth in the role of a royal spouse is a mighty and difficult task. Recent history is littered with casualties and examples, both good and bad.Brittle Wallis Simpson was a woman of her time, one who cared for little except her pugs, her prince, her jewels and herself.Prince Albert married not just a royal, but a head of state to boot, and, like Prince Philip a century later, found a way to make a difference through types of energetic philanthropy.Diana set the gold standard for empathetic royal wives who worked with spirit and style for good causes, while Fergie . . . em . . . did not.St Meghan would do well to note that the most successful royals keep their distance and their dignity. They embrace unfashionable causes, as well as headline-grabbing ones.They attend flag-raising ceremonies in freezing South Korea, like Princess Anne. They visit farming communities in Cumbria, like the Countess of Wessex. They don't need to be loved and adored. They just get on with it.The Queen would never hug a stranger, even a needy one. She keeps her gloves on, physically and metaphorically, which is one of the reasons why she has endured.Meghan's biggest gesture to date has been giving up her acting career so that she and her prince can save the planet together — or whatever it is that they want to do.So I don't think that she is a phoney. I do think she is marrying for love. And I believe she has a lot to offer this country.However, the royal kind of fame is like no other. It can easily corrupt and be corrupting, for it is not based on achievement or merit, but upon status alone.And having said previously that Meghan can't wear £56,000 dresses and expect people to love her as she doles out broth in a soup kitchen, I now wonder if she and Harry shouldn't smarten up, just a bit. In her urban-girl uniform of black trousers and coats, straggly-haired Meghan turns up on official royal business as if she were on her way to get coffees for the office. Joined by a tieless Harry, they crash around, high-fiving, cuddling, rapping to order and generally getting down with the kidz. One wonders who is advising this headstrong young couple and where their unconventional approach will lead.In the meantime, lovely St Meghan should put a little starch in her shirt and stop trying to be a legend before her time.Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-5398179/Why-does-Meghan-Markle-need-huggy-wuggy.html#ixzz57ErSurUoFollow us: @MailOnline on Twitter | DailyMail on Facebook

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#why does meghan markle need huggy wuggy

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my-dear-hammy · 7 years

Text

Falling Through Time: Book 2

Masterpost

Jamilton Series Masterpost

Basking in Firelight

Part Fifty-Six

Elections and Side-Effects

----

Warnings: None

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Just as Jefferson predicted, Adams and Burr were both elected.

Not easily though.

The entire nation fought against Hamilton's and Jefferson's resignation, trying to keep them in office for another four years. Hamilton would've stayed if Jefferson hadn't been bent on leaving. So they did. When the ballots came through, they still won the majority even though they weren't even on it. They wrote in Jefferson's and Hamilton's names manually. They refused of course and the people raged that they weren't going to be resuming their presidency. Adams wrote a very strongly worded letter to Hamilton and Jefferson about how they were goading the people to defy Adam's election. Burr, wisely, kept out of it, not wanting to repeat exactly what Hamilton and Jefferson chose to avoid. Burr noticed Hamilton's lack of publishments of slanders against him and kept the peace, though shaky, between them. Burr was closer to Jefferson than Hamilton.

Hamilton was outraged by Adam's letter, he was ready to stomp out and challenge him to a duel or something similar, but Jefferson held him back. The people, however, found out about Adam's letter and were outraged that he dare slander Jefferson and Hamilton, the two leaders of the Revolution, formers of the New Constitution, keepers of the peace, creators of the nation. They kept the nation afloat single-handedly.

For a price. A price Hamilton had yet to discover.

The rumors surrounding Hamilton's and Jefferson's relationship were even thicker than they had imagined. Turns out, only a small portion of the nation claimed them to be involved in a scandal. The majority actually shipped them together, to their shock, and referred to them with a ship name. They didn't understand that at all. Only when Jefferson declared that Adam's letter was only written out of concern for the nation and had no ill intent toward themselves did the people accept him, begrudgingly. Hamilton was not happy with Jefferson's declaration.

Hamilton and Jefferson spent their last few days in the Presidential Manor packing up all their stuff and sealing all the secret passageways, not permanently, but just so it would be nearly impossible for Adams to discover them. Little did they know, Burr had almost every single one discovered. Almost.

"I assume that we'll be moving into your place here in D.C?" Hamilton asked as they shoved the last of their boxes into the back of a van.

"Do you think it's wise for us to move in together right after the presidency? It's rather obvious."

"Thomas, most of the nation wants us to be together anyway. I don't see what the problem there is."

"What about the rest? It's always those people who scream the loudest. We'll be involved in a scandal before you know it. Then you won't be able to use your influence at all."

"Thomas, I know that's not your real reason. Why don't you want to move in together? We've lived together before and pretty much were for the four years we were presidents."

Jefferson sighed, he wasn't getting out of it. "I was going to sell my house."

"What?! Why?! It's perfectly located. In the capital, close to everything important, not terribly far from the park. We could easily stay involved."

"I was thinking of getting a cabin in the woods instead," Jefferson replied innocently, shoving another box into the van. Most of it was books and clothes.

"No way. We wouldn't be able to keep an eye on Adams and Burr from a cabin in the woods."

"Damn it, fine. I can't afford it anymore, Alexander," Jefferson finally cracked.

"Wait, what?"

"I can't afford to pay for that house. I have to sell it and get something smaller and more removed."

"But, why? How?" Hamilton was super confused. Jefferson was one of the richest people in the country. In the world.

"Money isn't inexhaustible. Not even for me. Government building is expensive. Unimaginably expensive. I rebuilt the infrastructure and paid to keep all the public services to remain running until we got enough income to support ourselves. Not to mention countless other things. So yeah, I'm pretty much broke now. I can't keep the house. Madison's pretty much in the same boat."

"What about your lands in the midwest? The farms? The oil fields? All that stuff you have? Surely that's worth something?"

"Sold it."

"Shit, Thomas, this is something you should've told me about!"

"At the time, it didn't concern you. It's not that big of a deal anyway. We just won't be able to live in luxury and we'll have to get jobs. We both studied law, we can go into that again."

Hamilton's mind was racing. He left the presidency to spend a couple years with Jefferson without a worry in the world. Travel. Explore. Live. Not work. Sure, he'd worked his fair share and wasn't even the money he was upset about. It was that Jefferson hadn't told him until there was no way he could get around it. After Hamilton left the presidency. "What about Congress. They'd be more than willing to pay you back."

"Alexander, the money has never been very important to me. I've always been willing to trade my fortune for freedom and that's exactly what I did and I don't regret it all."

"But you don't have to. Congress will reimburse you for every penny you spent building and upholding the government. We just need to confront them. They'll pay it back and then we can do exactly what we planned to do after we left the presidency."

"Planned? We have plans? What're these plans you're talking about? I haven't heard any of them. And I won't let Congress reimburse me until they've worked on China's debt some. That's more important."

Hamilton threw up his hands in exasperation. Why would Jefferson just write Congress and get his money back? They couldn't even refuse him if they wanted to. If the people found out that Congress refused to repay Jefferson, there'd be riots. "Fine. We'll figure something out."

Jefferson smiled slightly. "We'll be able to stay in my house until it sells. And I do still have a couple investments that will hopefully pull through and not collapse."

***

When Jefferson and Hamilton stepped out of the van and stopped in front of Jefferson's house, there was a sizable crowd gathered, wanting to talk, to meet, to touch the legendary people before them. Hamilton wanted to get inside but Jefferson seemed content with talking with the strangers that surrounded his house.

"Mr. Jefferson, is Hamilton living with you?"

"Hamilton? That bastard is helping me move back in." He said the next part loud enough for everyone to hear, "and I'm afraid if this crowd remains, he might not be able to return home. Dear God, can you imagine?" Jefferson laughed, "Imagine that short-tempered bastard stay the night at my house." Jefferson proceeded to go inside with his boxes and Hamilton with other boxes as the crowd practically made an immediate resolution to force the presidents to fall in love by trapping Hamilton in the house with Jefferson. So none of them budged from his doorstep so that Hamilton would be forced to stay the night.

"You planned that, didn't you?"

Jefferson shrugged, unpacking a box. "I don't think our relationship should be made public yet and the best way for it to happen is for the people to want it badly enough so that when we do make it public, they'll feel like it was them all along."

"Since when did you become so scheming?"

"I'm always scheming, you just never notice."

"So, what's the plan for tomorrow night then?"

Jefferson smiled. "I'll bet the people take shifts as long as we associate with them enough. Open the door, look shocked that they're still there, sign some stuff, talk amiably, and go back inside. Everyone will want to meet us and talk to us. I'll bet it'll last us a couple months and by then, we'll move out of the city anyway."

"$200 says your plan fails," Hamilton said immediately.

"You're on."

----

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expatimes · 4 years

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African genomics: The scientists unlocking cures encoded in DNA

Dr Ambroise Wonkam carries hundreds of thousands of years of history in his blood. The impacts of pathogens, migration, environment and geography are written into the braids of DNA he inherited from tens of thousands of generations of ancestors.

This richness, he remarks, is not unique. It is a shared legacy for more than one billion people: in South Africa, where he works; in Cameroon, where he is from; and across the African continent – the most genetically diverse landmass on earth. With such wealth all around him, how could he not spend his life studying it?

Wonkam is one of several scientists from Africa who made significant gains in 2020 towards understanding diseases that affect millions – and are not novel pandemic viruses. He and others lead large experiments that analyse whole genome data from thousands of African volunteers in South Africa, Ghana, Nigeria and beyond.

The knowledge these scientists are collecting is broadening humanity’s reference genetic archive, the libraries scientists around the world use to identify and compare genomic information. It is filling in blind spots in a field that has been dominated for a generation by institutions in the Global North and in data that has historically not included African participants. Despite lockdowns and working from home, 2020 was a productive year for Wonkam and his peers.

Dr Ambroise Wonkam presenting his work to the 2018 American Society of Human Genetics annual meeting, in San Diego, US

The power of place

Humans diverged from chimpanzees 5 to 6 million years ago in East Africa. Modern humans appeared just 300,000 to 200,000 years ago, and some time after that (about 100,000 years ago, though the evidence is still being interpreted), our species started migrating beyond Africa, probably over several attempts. As we walked, humans homogenised, sharing traits, discarding others and becoming more similar the further we went.

“We are all African,” Wonkam said from Cape Town. “But ancestral Africans, like me, who have stayed on the continent for a very long time, have at least 300,000 years of human genetic history in their blood, which makes the variation in the African population thousands of times higher than in any other populations in the world.”

When presented on a chart, the data shows the exodus effect: a plot of genetic diversity among humans against distance from East Africa looks like a slender, almost 45-degree line sloping downwards, through the Middle East, Europe, Asia and, finally at the tail end, the Americas, where populations tend to be the most genetically similar.

Africa’s rich, varied dataset is attractive to scientists, and also to companies and health institutes abroad. Over the years, several have exploited lax patient privacy laws and left scandal and mistrust in their wake. A drug company settled a high-profile lawsuit after running trials that were poorly explained to its African participants; one health technology company shut down a product after a whistle-blower revealed it would be sold against the agreements of volunteers whose data was used to produce it; and during and after the West Africa Ebola epidemic, certain European governments were accused of “biological colonialism” after allegations that blood samples extracted from survivors could not be requested back by their home countries for research purposes. The legacies of these missteps persist, and investigators today must work hard to instil trust and accountability into their process.

Equipment used inside a DNA lab in China

Solving sickle cell

Dr Wonkam’s lab at the University of Cape Town studies the genetics of people living with sickle cell disease, a congenital misshaping of the blood cells that affects how effectively they transport oxygen. The disease is prevalent in Africans and some people of African ancestry.

Having one of the genes that cause sickle cell disease confers some natural resistance to malaria, a parasite that targets the blood and is also often fatal. This was a nudge by evolution to relieve pressure from the parasite on early humans. But when the gene is inherited from both parents, the resulting condition is brutal. Sickle cell disease can cause anaemia, frequent pain, increased illnesses due to a weakened immune system, and vision and growth problems. It can lead to a life of complications that ends too early, before the age of 50 in developed countries. Across Africa, 2 to 3 percent of babies are born with it, but the mortality rate before the age of five is more than 50 percent.

“ years ago.”

The US is a leader in medical research, but also a place of well-documented racial disparities in access to healthcare. Sickle cell disease, which affects Black Americans almost exclusively, received far lower federal research funding per patient than cystic fibrosis, which mostly affects white children, a 2020 study showed. The study also cited a similar inquiry from 40 years ago, which showed the same disparities.

At the start of his career, Wonkam saw the inequity in medical research and vowed to correct it from within Africa. “There is a lack of interest by researchers, or by funders, and someone had to take the battle somewhere. Fortunately, we have a network on the continent that is getting stronger and stronger.”

A researcher injects DNA material onto a laboratory dish at a genomics lab in Shenzhen, China

Wonkam’s laboratory sequences entire exomes – the parts of DNA that code proteins – from hundreds of Africans who have lived past the age of 50 with sickle cell disease – so-called “long survivors” – and compares the results to those patients who have experienced stroke or shock, as well as a control group. Volunteers in the five-year-long study were mainly from Cameroon and the Democratic Republic of the Congo, where sickle cell is more prevalent – fewer people in South Africa are born with the disease.

Each volunteer signed a consent form that offered options: allow their genetic data to be studied solely within the context of the experiment, for other experiments as well, or more broadly (anonymously) as part of a global dataset. Wonkam’s lab drew blood and extracted the DNA in Africa, sent the condensed samples to a sequencing facility in the US, and returned the data to Cape Town where his team did a sort of mathematical “brute-force analysis”. They looked as wide as they could, without bias, at the activity of every gene on the genome, trying to glimpse unique differences that might be keeping these long survivors alive. They found much more than they were looking for.

The results were curious. Some confirmed pathways that were known to be implicated in sickle cell disease, such as the body’s production lines for Vitamin B, anticoagulants or nitrous oxide. But other findings surprised the researchers. “The pathway we could not anticipate at all was low blood pressure. Most sickle cell disease patients tend to have lower blood pressure already,” Wonkam said, so why would an otherwise unhealthy tendency for lower blood pressure be associated with rare long-term survival? That is a question the researchers are trying to answer. Additionally, some genes associated with insulin, which processes starches in the body, were mutated in the long-term survivor group, meaning that this pathway is connected to their overall longevity. Wonkam’s findings have kicked open the door for future analysis.

“What we found is that if you look at what nature ,” he said.

Dr Ambroise Wonkam and his research team at the Institute of Infectious Disease and Molecular Medicine, University of Cape Town, South Africa

The study, published in June 2020, revealed a dozen mutated genes that were shared across the volunteer group; genes that were different, often by only one letter, from the general population and, as a result, built abnormal proteins. “Basically, every single discovery we found in that paper might be a route for a new treatment for sickle cell disease.”

Wonkam intends to build a cohort of patients and follow them for life. His data will add to large repositories of other human genomic data held in facilities in Europe, the US and, now, in Africa. This, he said, is vital.

“Without an African population database, at least 10 percent of variation is not present,” in global archives. He was referring to a 2018 study carried out with Johns Hopkins University, that showed up to 300 million base pairs – or a tenth of the human genome – appearing in unique forms in Africans compared with the references from the Human Genome Project, which largely excluded Africans. “Every variation discovered in Africa more genomic sequencing in the public database, and that has a value for all studies – not just African studies, but all studies.”

Siren’s call

In 2016, while filming and producing a report on DNA research for Al Jazeera, I visited the stroke clinic at the Korle Bu teaching hospital in Accra, Ghana. At the clinic, a man was learning to move again. Slowly, he pulled himself onto a low rung of a wooden ladder while a physical therapist held his arm. He had lost basic motor skills in an instant when a stroke hit deep in his brain, and his rehabilitation was expected to take weeks or years. He was not yet 50.

Dr Albert Akpalu was doing rounds through the clinic and told us about a future in which this patient’s treatment could be improved by tailoring medications to his genetic profile. Akpalu was running one part of the SIREN stroke study collaboration with colleagues in Nigeria and within a consortium called Human Heredity and Health (H3) Africa that stretches across the continent – and is jointly supported by the UK’s Wellcome Trust and the US’s National Institute of Health.

Were it not for COVID, SIREN might have published its most comprehensive findings yet in 2020. “To make a genetic inference, you need a sample power of more than 3,000 ,” Akpalu explained from Accra in December. “We’re getting close to that.”

Dr Rufus Akinyemi, right, with Samuel Diala, the SIREN biorepository manager, measuring DNA samples

Akpalu works closely with Dr Rufus Akinyemi, a stroke specialist in Ibadan, Nigeria. In addition to running experiments, Akinyemi oversees several biobanks – storage centres that keep hundreds of thousands of samples of patient blood, serum, DNA and tissue at subfreezing temperatures – in Nigeria and Ghana.

A stroke happens when blood flow to the brain is blocked, suddenly choking oxygen to neurons, which often leads to loss of function, dementia or death. Stroke is the leading cause of neurological emergency in Africa, Akinyemi said, though granular detail is not as well recorded as in other regions.

Africa maintains a higher incidence rate of stroke than the US – according to overviews from 2015 and 2016 – and strokes probably kill at least 300,000 people in sub-Saharan Africa every year, according to one review.

Akinyemi began his career studying the cognitive impairments like dementia that so often follow a stroke. “I realised that if I study this, the risk factors and the genomics, I would be tackling one of the greatest disease burdens in Africa,” he said.

Over four years, SIREN colleagues collected samples from stroke survivors and control-group, non-stroke volunteers in West Africa. Now they have nearly 4,000 of each – enough to run a Genome-Wide Association Study (GWAS) to identify genes linked to the condition, its risks and recovery. “The initial findings,” Akinyemi said, “are looking exciting.”

Akinyemi, Akpalu and their colleagues hope to build bedside tools. “We want to develop Afrocentric risk scores that can help us predict stroke. We have these for populations of European descent, but for people of African ancestry, they do not give very accurate results. We need these for populations in Africa to correctly predict the chances of stroke.”

Hundreds of thousands of human biological samples like blood, DNA, serum and tissue must be kept at -80 degrees C, even when the power cuts, necessitating a cold chain that stretches from Ghana to Nigeria

The genomics of stroke have been studied before. Previous analyses have described the genetics of the disease, but are often based on data gathered from mostly caucasian volunteers. A June 2020 study in the US, Canada and Europe looked at the genomes of 22,000 people of African descent, identifying genes implicated in the disease. The SIREN study focuses on Africans in Africa, where it will be the first and the largest yet.

“One thing the consortium has done is develop a very unique chip that is enriched in African content, derived from African populations,” Akinyemi explained. Built by the H3 Africa network in partnership with Illumina, the American genomics company, the card-sized gene chip is an array of tiny wells that hold thousands of genes and genetic variations that are more prevalent in Africa. Introduced just a few years ago as a not-for-profit tool, and developed from early H3 studies, it allows researchers to capture a broad snapshot of the genetics at work in a chosen sample, tailored for populations on the continent.

H3 Africa ensures that genomic data collected will be added to accessible global databases. “We do hope that the findings from this study will unmask some novel variants,” Akinyemi concluded, “perhaps genetic variants that are associated with ischaemic stroke that have not been previously reported in other populations … which will benefit not just African patients, but all global stroke patients in terms of prevention, early detection, treatment and rehabilitation.”

Three million unique variants

Dr Nicola Mulder thumbs through her notes when I ask how many human genome samples from Africa have been added to global databases over recent years. She is a scientist, so it is an unfair prompt on a Zoom call, but she accepts, tabulating aloud “…We put in 348 sequences, additional exome sequences, 10,000 samples on the genotyping array, exomes from Botswana, shotgun metagenomic studies, deep-sequencing of neurological diseases … we’re getting a flood of data…” She makes an estimate: “If I look briefly, I would say maybe 11 or 12 thousand samples for which we have genomic data in the repository, which is significantly different to what we had before. This is probably over the past three years.”

Mulder is the principal investigator for H3ABioNet at the University of Cape Town, a bioinformaticist overseeing a team of 50, working with a network of 28 institutions spread across the continent. “We do all the support: data collection, some analysis, processing, submission, and training to analyse the data,” she said from Cape Town. Although Mulder works with Dr Wonkam, his sickle cell study was conducted independently of H3Africa.

A forensic doctor examines DNA samples in a lab in Bogota, Colombia

In October, Mulder co-authored a paper in the journal, Nature, that combined some of the most intriguing genomic findings from across the continent.

Mulder and colleagues looked for unique single-letter changes in genes and compared these anomalies to public datasets. “In other studies you’re looking for signals that jump from the noise. In this study, we’re looking for something that doesn’t exist elsewhere,” she explained. The work produced 300 terabytes of genetic sequence data, enough to make the problem of sending it all from the US to South Africa a three-month project.

The analysis revealed the undocumented richness of genetics in Africa in one bold headline: three million unique genetic variants, letters along DNA’s thread that had never been seen where they were being seen; each one found, named and recorded. Only more interesting was the small size of the volunteer group they studied. The team had analysed just over 400 people from 13 countries, covering 50 ethnolinguistic groups – Africa is not only the most genetically diverse continent, it also hosts the highest number of languages spoken on earth.

“Three million is a lot,” Mulder said when asked about what that number meant to her as a bioinformaticist, the type of specialist who deals with large datasets. “We never hit a plateau, we just keep finding novel variants. These are variants that have never been seen, but some populations are walking around with many people having it. The number is quite significant.”

Blood samples waiting to be processed

Within the data, more links. Some of the unique variants revealed evidence of the pressures that diseases have exerted on populations since the dawn of the species. Others indicated tendencies towards decreased mortality for certain infectious diseases like flu. There were dozens of genetic locations that were undergoing “strong selection”, areas that are still actively evolving today. A wider look at the dataset showed the history of migration between populations, revealing evidence of movements and geographical stopovers that were lost to archaeology, but etched into the genome.

The study pointed to a wide horizon yet to be explored, and piqued the curiosity of institutions around the world.

Where to now? Some of the genomics hardware these researchers rely on was repurposed during the coronavirus pandemic to identify unique variants of COVID-19 as they appeared. In South Africa, Wonkam’s lab was working from home for several months before instituting an office-return schedule. Patient recruitment was delayed in Ghana but has begun again.

Now colleagues, funders and startup genomics companies are watching closely, designing the experiments they will embark on as the continent opens up again.

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