#mi 11 specification

[vickyvicarious]

Yes while Victor DID dream of kissing his cousin on the lips, when awake he doesn't seem to be maintaining this kind of romantic feelings that much. Maybe partly due to this being said in retrospect, or maybe because he doesn't really see her as a romantic partner. I haven't read many books with romance in them lately to compare (been reading Moby Dick, 20k Leagues, Jekyll And Hyde) but comparing the, contrary to popular belief, evident attraction between Jonathan and Mina, or between Marcus and Cosette (though in a different context) it reads are less romantic to me.

To be honest, I forgot about any such scene. So I looked it up, and, well...

At length lassitude succeeded to the tumult I had before endured; and I threw myself on the bed in my clothes, endeavouring to seek a few moments of forgetfulness. But it was in vain: I slept indeed, but I was disturbed by the wildest dreams. I thought I saw Elizabeth, in the bloom of health, walking in the streets of Ingolstadt. Delighted and surprised, I embraced her; but as I imprinted the first kiss on her lips, they became livid with the hue of death; her features appeared to change, and I thought that I held the corpse of my dead mother in my arms; a shroud enveloped her form, and I saw the grave-worms crawling in the folds of the flannel.

Yeah, there's a reason this scene didn't stick in my memory as 'Victor dreams about kissing Elizabeth' so much as 'Victor has pretty revealing nightmares about the things on his mind'. This kiss doesn't seem romantic to me at all.

Elizabeth is very clearly overlapping his mother here - quite literally, she turns into her. I think that points to a couple things.

First, Elizabeth greeted with a first kiss = Victor meeting his mother's final wishes (on her deathbed some of the final words were that she had always hoped to be made happy by seeing Victor and Elizabeth married).

And yet his kiss is the kiss of death, killing her = reflecting Victor's horror over what he's done, the Creature he created being something monstrous to his eyes (also foreshadowing how his relationship to her will put her in danger along with his other loved ones, but that's meta knowing how things with him and the Creature turn out)

Elizabeth becomes his mother's corpse as she dies = again the preoccupation with his mother. One of his stated goals was to eventually master bringing back the dead, and he embarked on this study not long after her death, so the link there feels pretty easy to make for me. After his 'failure' to make the beautiful human he imagined this now seems out of his reach too, and he's still grieving.

He wakes up shuddering and then Creature is looming over him... it all ties in much more to his feelings about what he has just done than his feelings about/for Elizabeth, in my eyes. The happy impulse doesn't read to me like genuine romantic feelings but more just the idea of a happier reality (the one his mother longed for).

I mean, Frankenstein is definitely not a romance, but neither are Dracula and Les Miserables. But they feature a romantic relationship, whereas in my opinion the role of Elizabeth and Victor's relationship is much more bound up in ideals and expectations and familial love than anything romantic.

[gadgets-ark]

Xiaomi Redmi Note 13 Pro Max 5G

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[apomaro-mellow]

Inspired by this post where the older kids get walkie-talkies

“Hey Birdie, is the Master with you?”

Steve’s call got no response, even though he knew Robin never went far without her walkie-talkie.

“Birdie? Is the Master with you?”

Steve was about to get irate until he realize why she wasn’t responding and let out the biggest sigh and eye roll.

“Is the Master with you? Over.”

Finally a crackle came on. “He is indeed. Over.”

“Can you tell him to bring some chocolate chips when you guys come over? ....Over.”

“Can do! Over.”

“Excuse me”, Eddie’s voice came on the line. “Why doesn’t Birdie get the shopping list? Over.”

“Because she’ll either forget to go to the store, or go and get distracted and buy everything except what I asked for. Over.”

“You know me so well~ Over.”

“This is blatant favoritism. Over.”

“I’ll give you the first pick of cookies for your troubles. Over.”

“Complain rescinded.”

Steve smiled. “What was that?”

“Complaint rescinded. Over.”

---------

It had started with Nancy giving them the walkie-talkies, which seemed out of character for her until she gave the reason. They were only able to save Max because they had instant communication. And when they couldn’t reach the gang in California, it felt hopeless. So it had been a precaution. If anything happened, they’d have these. Spring Break came and went. As did the rest of spring. And their purpose quickly went from emergency communication to anything that came to their minds. The first time the kids found out about it, they decried copying.

Nancy was quick to say theirs was more serious. And it was true to an extent. They had codenames, they had protocols they followed. No one ever said Code Red without meaning it. The one time it had been used, Steve called on it after Robin got hit by a car trying to save a kid. If you asked anyone else, they would’ve said he was hysterical. If you asked Steve, he was appropriately concerned for his friend who was hanging by a thread. She walked away with a bruised rib and a couple of stitches.

“This is Wave Rider, asking for permission to land. Over”, Argyle said.

“This is the Master, you are granted. Over.”

Both boys gave each other goofy grins as they stood across from each other in front of Eddie’s trailer. 

“Nancy would kill you two if she saw you using them in close proximity”, Jonathan said.

“What she won’t know won’t kill her, right?”, Eddie said.

“You don’t need to tell him twice”, Argyle grinned.

Jonathan gave him a good-natured nudge while the three of them went inside.

------

Steve and Robin had left Family Video and now worked at a nearby convenience store. The You Suck/Rule board had returned. Dustin vaguely remembered it. When he saw all the You Suck tallies, he figured Steve was repeatedly striking out with girls again.

“Maybe you should give up on chicks for a while”, he said one day, when he came for a slushie. “Doesn’t seem like it’s your forte nowadays.”

Steve slumping onto the counter made sense. But Robin’s raucous laughter, not so much.

“This is Birdie to Jonner-Than-You, come in. Over.”

“Jonner-Than-You here, Birdie. What’s your status? Over.”

“Apparently Loverboy here needs to give up on women. Dusty Buns says they’re not his forte.”

Dustin was about to argue that call sign when he heard Jonathan laugh the loudest he had ever heard.

Unbeknownst to him, the board wasn’t for whenever Steve struck out with girls. It was specifically when he struck out with Eddie whenever he came into their little corner of 7-11 heaven.

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

“Big Wheel to the Master. Come in. Over.”

“The Master reporting. What’s up? Over.”

“Is Mini Wheels with you? Over?”

There was what could only be described as indignant squawking on the other end of the line. That confirmed her brother was indeed on the other end of the call.

“That’s a roger on that. Over.”

“Tell him that even if he’s in high school, he still has a curfew. And I’m not covering for him again. Over.”

“I’ll make sure he gets the message. Over.” Eddie looked over to Mike. “Hey Mini Wheels!”

“Stop calling me that!”

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

The six of them had gotten together for an afternoon hangout that slowly trickled down. Nancy had to get home, Jonathan left to meet up with a study group, and as day turned to night, Argyle drove Robin to her shift at the store. Which left Eddie and Steve alone at the Harrington Residence to finish off the movie they’d started.

Steve could do this. He could be smooth. He’d been striking out because the fact it was Eddie and not just some random girl made the stakes higher. Made him doubt himself. But the King Steve shit hadn’t been totally a lie. He could bring back just a bit. Enough to get Eddie to melt in his hands. 

It started with playing with his hair and giving him meaningful looks. He’d made out with girls while a movie was on a bunch of times. Depending on how ready they were, it could be easy to pull them out of it.

When Eddie looked for too long at his lips, Steve knew he had him. 

“Can I try something?”, Steve asked while curling a long lock around his finger.

Eddie nodded hesitantly before swallowing. “Y-yeah, go for it, dude.”

Steve leaned in slow, giving Eddie a chance to back out. He didn’t. The kiss was slow and warm and Steve’s hand went deeper into his hair. When he pulled away, Eddie came with him for a second kiss. This one went deeper and had Eddie pushing Steve back against the couch. When they parted this time, Steve felt like he was in a daze, when a realization came to him.

He jolted up, nearly knocking Eddie off the couch as he reached for the walkie-talkie. “This is Loverboy to Birdie. Put a point down for I rule cause Harrington’s still got it baby!”, he said, snapping excitedly.

“Bullshit”, Robin replied.

Eddie took the device from Steve. “This is the Master, confirming the Harrington does in fact, still have it. Over.” He then dropped the walkie-talkie onto the floor and went back to kissing Steve.

Argyle had made the astute observation that Robin had put down a tally right after he’d done a transaction with Steve, but Eddie hadn’t wanted to believe he had anything to do with that scoreboard.

-----------

“This is Jonner-Than-You, confirming the retrieval and delivery of five nuggets and a tall drink. Over.”

“Loverboy responding, it’s supposed to be six nuggets, a tall drink, and three sides. Over.”

“Mad Max went off to have dinner with Lucky Number and the sides are not cooperating. Over.”

“You tell the rest of that club that they better get their asses in that van. Nancy, Argyle, and I didn’t slave over a hot stove just for them to-”

Jonathan held up the walkie to the rest of the Hellfire club to hear all of Steve’s tirade. No one turned down an invitation to Sunday dinner. No one.

----------

The six of them laid out in the middle of a field, blissed out. For once, none of them had anywhere to be or anything to do. A perfect opportunity to waste time by passing a joint and watching the sky.

Jonathan picked up his walkie-talkie. “This is Jonner-Than-You reporting in. I love you guys.”

“Birdie to Jonner-Than-You, I love you too.”

“Um, Loverboy to Birdie. You’re supposed to love me best. Over.”

“Wave Rider responding. There’s enough love to go around. You should know that Loverboy.”

“You guys are high as fuck. Over”, Eddie said.

“Big Wheel to the group. Quit wasting your batteries. Over.”

“Birdie to Big Wheel. Not until you admit you love us. Over.”

That started a chant of “Love us. Love us.” through the walkie-talkies which made it reverberate even more until Nancy was covering her ears and everyone ditched the walkie-talkies to dog pile on top of her. Only then did she admit she loved these idiots.

[lemeute]

with bonus internet points to anyone who actually writes a list:

the definition of A Character is overall yours to determine, within the following parameters:

if a Person is Symbolically Nameless, they must have a known moniker to be considered A Character.

for the purposes of this list, A Concept is not A Character unless this is specifically indicated in the text.

misspellings are accepted and perhaps inevitable.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Tale of the Cursed Raven -- Author’s Notes & Afterthoughts

The full series:

Part 1 I Part 2I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 | Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20

Miss Raven sketch is by shimmeryspark!

Well, it’s been quite the journey but we’ve finally made it to the end of ✨ Raven’s origin saga ✨. It was such a wild experience to write it all and hear your feedback for each installment. I hope that you all enjoyed reading it as much as I loved creating it... and I hope that it sheds more light on why Raven is the way she is.

Now that the series is done, I’m feeling really nostalgic about it (maybe it’s Mis Raven’s enchanted inks working their magic on me)💦 so I wanted to relive the memories a little, and share some of the feelings, insights, and thoughts I had before, during, and after writing the saga.

If you’re interested in reading that, it’ll all be below the cut for your convenience.

“May those who accept their fate be granted happiness, may those who defy their fate be granted glory.” — Edel, Princess Tutu (2002)

The Origins

I’ve always loved stories—more specifically, fairy tales. When I was little, they’d always be on my mind. Actually, they still are to this very day. If I wasn’t reading them, I’d be watching them or thinking about them, making theories and spinning stories of my own.

I loved the fantastical elements, the whimsy of magic and talking animals, the witches and the monsters, the royals and the warriors that protected them... I loved it all. That childhood love of fairy tales followed me into adolescence and adulthood. That’s really where this all began.

Of course, I gravitated towards media that prominently featured elements of, or borrowed from, fairy tales. This would lead me to the rabbit hole that is Twisted Wonderland 😷 (you all knew this was coming). Due to the blank slate nature of the game’s protagonist, Yuu, TWST was ripe for an OC community to crop up.

I saw a lot of unique characters in the fandom, so I wanted to create a character too. However, no matter how hard I tried, I struggled to develop a “Yuu” that I was satisfied with. At times, I even felt uncomfortable because I felt I was either putting too much of myself into “Yuu”, or not enough. It was then that I realized I would have much more fun making a character based on a preexisting story. A theme, a concept—they’d all be pre-set for me, and I could let my imagination run wild from those.

I didn’t want to adapt a character from a Disney movie (say, the Mad Hatter or King Triton). While I had seen many cool interpretations made by other people, I didn’t want to limit myself to personalities and character traits that were already determined by the movies or stories for me. I started looking into fairy tales themselves, looking for a character or a concept vague enough for me to base my OC on—and I found it in the wording of a riddle from Alice in Wonderland.

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

It captured the spirit of whimsy I wanted to evoke in the OC. Ah, but there's also an underlying sadness and dread to her character. It's mostly Alice in Wonderland with a whisper of Edgar Allen Poe.

And thus, Raven was born.

Tsunderes — but why???

At first glance, you might look at Raven and label her personality as “tsundere”. It’s a popular trope in Japanese media where a character that is initially cold and harsh shows or develops a warm, friendlier side over time. One problem that I’ve always had with the tsundere archetype is that the media that employ it rarely, if ever, explain the reasoning for why a character is a tsundere. More often than not, tsunderes are used to comedic effect nowadays, with the tsundere characters acting violent towards their supposed love interests—and that’s something that has never really sat well with me. I don’t think that’s necessarily good writing, but I won’t fault the people who do enjoy that kind of thing. I personally prefer it when we get to know the characters and the reasoning behind their personalities and decisions more. Character-driven storytelling is my jam.

Familiar of Zero’s Louise lacks the magical power to back up her noble lineage, and she has an inferiority complex as a result of that. Toradora’s Taiga has a complex family situation which has left her distrustful of others. When writing Raven, I didn’t want her to fall into the trap of “no explanation” tsundere. I wanted to outline a clear reason for why her personality is “hot and cold”, like Louise and Taiga. Even more than that, I wanted Raven’s reason to line up with the concepts of “freedom” and “expression” that tie with her bird and storytelling motifs.

And so, her story started taking shape in my head. (If you want to read more specifics on my thought process, I’d check out this post. I also talk more about the concepts behind her there.)

Her Magic

I wanted to tie in her personality and philosophy into her unique magic too. After all, it's a spell that defines who she is as an individual. In the beginning, Raven was excited about the prospect of writing, as it would help her comes to understand others--however, she struggles to come to grips with their emotions and keeps holding herself at a distance. Only when she empathizes with her characters and with the people around her does her unique magic come into fruition. With it, she can see into others' hearts and rewrite their feelings--that is, if her willpower and coaxing can convince them to.

I didn't want Raven to be a particularly gifted magic user; she's someone that had to work hard to come into her own. I think of her humanoid form as something still awkward and developing, which sometimes interferes with her spellcasting. What really makes Raven shine is her determination, and the strong imagination that pairs with it. All she truly lacks is the ambition and the confidence, things that I hoped would be honed at Night Raven College.

The Characters for the Series

Initially, I wanted to feature a much larger cast of characters. At some point, I was ambitious enough to think I could somehow include every NRC student in the plot... but thank goodness I realized that just wasn’t feasible. I saw the narrative mess that happened whenever a creative piece tried to get too many characters involved. It just made it hard to keep track of and care about anyone on an individual level. Sometimes, it also distracted from the central themes and conflict. Now, that’s not to say that Raven has never canonically engaged with other characters (because she definitely has)! It’s just that those interactions aren’t as important to this story, so I left them out of it.

In hindsight, I’m so glad that I kept the core cast (up to a certain point) small. That way, I could dedicate more of my time writing each of their individual thoughts and emotions. Raven remains the main character throughout, while Rook, Crowley, Jade, and, to some extent, Azul, Floyd, and Octa A, are secondary characters. Idia, Vil, Epel, the Fates, etc., are very much tertiary characters that showed up a few times total 😂 but they all played their parts and still contributed the overall story.

A character that was introduced in part 6 was the timid but well-meaning Octavinelle A-kun (whose name is Kon, like konbu, or Japense kelp). He was actually included as a gag character because I couldn’t think of someone from the main cast for the role he ended up filling. I unintentionally got attached to Kon and decided to bring him back later in the story, because I guess I like the irony of a mob character that lacks eyes having more screen time than two Dorm Leaders (Vil and Idia). I think the inclusion of Kon also really helped the themes of the story, because, in a meta way, he’s like Raven. He’s a “background character” who ended up having time in the spotlight (and even earned himself a small but dedicated fan following), which proves that it’s possible for Raven, who also sees herself as a “background character”, to ascend and become a “main character”.

Speaking of semi-original characters, I also had fun doing my interpretation of the Fates in part 10. I doubt that’s what they’re like in canon and watch TWST prove me wrong, but it was super fun to write regardless of that. I think my favorite thing about them was how they bicker when they’re out of the public eye, but it was also interesting to come up with their idol poses and phrases.

The cast noticeably expands around part 15, and that was a very purposeful move on my end. Raven has had her revelation then, as well as a stronger understanding of how her unique magic works. Art that point, the story shifts from Raven being on the outside looking in to the characters witnessing her tale unfold. It's to indicate that Raven has finally properly begun integrating herself with the stories that she has always isolated herself from. Characters that have previously had smaller roles before (Vil, Idia, Azul) return for a reprise and to add their own context to what's happening now, and the characters never previously mentioned (Lilia, Riddle, Kalim, Leona) give their perspectives as people who had no direct involvement. I wanted to show the shades of familiarity that they have with what Raven's been up to on her lonesome, and how these different kinds of relationships and points of view are all important when looking at a story.

I was very excited to introduce the Enchantress (Estella) as an onlooker that has a tenacious history with Lilia; she's an original character I've been working on and hiding in the shadows until her first appearance late in this saga. Estella is a very complex person, whom I would describe as a mix of the Enchantress (Beauty and the Beast), Giselle (in both Enchanted and Disenchanted), Isabela (Encanto), Frollo (The Hunchback of Notre Dame), Mother Gothel (Tangled) and Fairy Godmother (Shrek 2). She gives... "tough love", but often acts in morally self-righteous and self-important ways, believing that it is for the "own good" of the people she becomes entangled with. Sadly, I was not able to go into her own background and motives, but someday I'd really like to!

The Plot of the Series

There’s a lot that you don’t see that goes into writing. I went through several iterations of Tale of the Cursed Raven, especially with the rising action and climax. You should see my writing drafts--there’s no rhyme or reason to them! You might see some bullet points to show a sequence of events, but the rest of the document is just random lines or ideas I think would “sound cool” that I just scribbled down while on the bus or something.

When I write a story, I usually know how I want things to begin and how I want them to end, and I have trouble filling in everything that’s in between. I usually took large chunks of time between the release of each installment to review information from the previous part and make sure the continuity carried over to the part I was currently writing.

It was also common for me to write, rewrite, and rewrite the parts again several times over before I actually put it to the public. Sometimes I would almost be done with an installment, and I’d delete it all and start over because I thought of something much better. I’d be irritated with myself in the moment for wasting all that time and hard work, but I think it ended up working out.

sadibasudbad Okay, I want to talk about some of the plot points that I scrapped, because some of them were actually interesting... They just took the story nowhere or caused issues with other things I had planned, so I had to drop them 😅

After Jade’s betrayal is revealed in part 3, I was going to have Raven become Azul’s business rival. Not in the restaurant sense, but more like she would offer similar “wish fulfillment” services as Azul, mostly because she needs something to do to keep herself positive. Her services were going to be called “Fairy Godmothering” and involved sending wishes on slips of paper in little black boxes she placed all over campus. However, she’d probably need a lot of help or strong magic to make that happen, neither of which really applies to her. I guess the tradeoff would have been that Azul offers more but asks for a price, whereas Raven offers less but works for free. She’d write stories as kind of a “road map” or “plan” for how she would personally fulfill her a wish, as opposed to Azul’s contracts, and which required a mutual agreement to the terms. I also didn’t know where to take the story after this point was introduced, so it had to go.

Part 8 was originally going to open with Raven and Riddle having a tea party and catching up. Floyd was going to emerge from some rose bushes with Cater and Trey chasing after him 😂 and Floyd was going to kidnap Raven from there for the boat scene with Jade. Like I mentioned before, I decided to cut this out to keep the number of characters the story had relatively short. (Plus, I guess Floyd would have had to run a shorter distance to the lake if Raven was already in the forest area than if she were all the way in Heartslabyul?)

There was a large hiatus between part 10 and part 11, because a lot of rewrites had to happen for the latter half of the series. Part 11 in particular went through several different versions—one of which would involve Prince Rielle visiting NRC for a magift game and knocking Raven out cold with the frisbee. Because Raven didn’t remember the face of the “prince” that saved her from drowning when she was a bird, I was going to have her mistake Rielle as that “prince” (similar to how Eric mistook Ursula/Vanessa for Ariel). Djsbsjsbshs But I already took a huge chance by writing my interpretation of the Fates, so I didn’t want to also do my interpretation of Rielle in case TWST gives us more details about him later. Rielle is based on a Disney princess, so I thought it was more likely that he got more details revealed about him over of the Fates, and I didn’t want to make my series too reliant on headcanons or unconfirmed information about a character we haven’t even seen yet.

Finally (and this is the biggest change of all), parts 10 through 20 were originally going to be heavily focused on action and adventure. Raven was going leave NRC in search of the Enchantress (who originally cursed the Storyteller several years go) and ask her to lift the curse, and the Enchantress was going to send her on a series of heroic quests to prove that she is “worthy”. But the more I thought about it, the more I thought the scale was too grand 💦 At the end of the day, Raven is just a bird trying to be a normal human girl... and I wanted her development to be more of a traditional coming of age story instead of a literal hero’s journey where she confronts dragons and saves villages. Something more down-to-earth makes her more relatable, so I went with that route instead of the action-adventure one.

I don’t know if you noticed, but the saga happens alongside the events of the main story (as some main story events, such as Overblots, are referenced). The last 5ish parts happen around the transition from the Ignihyde arc to the Diasomnia arc, sooo... :)) You can think what you like about whether Raven’s happy ending is reality or a dream conjured up by Malleus~

I argued with myself a lot while writing the series, especially about the ending. I had a lot of my friends (and readers, too) telling me “you’d better not kill Raven” and “Raven and Jade should kiss and make up/date each other at the end” (some of which came true, some of which didn’t). I was so conflicted at the time because while I never intended to kill Raven, it was clear that my audience was expecting a perfect “happily ever after”... and I didn’t know if such a conclusion would fit the overall tone of the series. I think what I ended up doing was satisfactory, though. It’s happy, but not overly so, and it keeps the door open for future shenanigans in a light-hearted and hopeful way. I think leaving it open-ended like this suits the theme of the saga and Miss Raven's struggle to find her freedom.

Raven’s Growth and Development

Raven has come so far.

The saga here is written kind of like “oh, this is her main story”, but it’s meant to be supplemented by “vignettes” and “event stories” (ie all the side content of Raven which fleshes out her relationships with other characters). The idea is that all her experiences at NRC helped her to develop her own sense of self, and granted her the confidence to fly in the face of her own fate, which she was once so hopeless about. When I look back on the last few years, I’m amazed at how much of it there is, whether produced by myself, by friends, or by fans. It’s really humbling that I get to share this journey with you all.

Raven used to be scared and shy, a timid bird with little to no understanding of the world, or of the creatures in it. Then she picked up a quill, ink, and paper—and a whole new world opened up to her. Her story is one of how freedom of self expression and creative works can connect us not only with others, but with ourselves. Because of that, Raven was able to grow and become a much more mature person (with the support of her friends and family, of course)!

Just because the saga is over doesn’t mean Raven is suddenly perfect, though. She still very much struggles to be emotionally expressive and honest with her feelings of affection (since she has gone so long burying those), so she’s still got a long way to go in that regard 💦 She also has some lingering self-esteem issues that she’s got to work on. Raven’s always changing...! Always willing to learn! Jade and Rook, please help her—

When people read Tale of the Cursed Raven, I don’t want them to “just see it as a love story” or “TWST OC x TWST Boy” fanfiction 💦 because the focus isn’t just on romance, but on Raven discovering herself, and her voice, in a world that once confused and scared her. It’s not just a story about finding love, it’s also about a girl growing up, gaining confidence, finding new family and friends to support her... It’s a lot of things, and I feel that it’s doing the saga a disservice by calling it just a love story.

I’ve mentioned this a few times before, but while Raven is not meant to be a self-insert character, I feel that her struggles are very relatable and I hope that you, too, can see some part of yourself in her and her journey. A lot of the writing process involved me analyzing and coming to terms with difficult feelings, particularly ones of self-loathing, self-acceptance, coming to terms with emotions, and trying to find one’s place in a world that can be confusing and scary to navigate. I feel that writing Raven’s tale was able to help me through those tough times in my life. For that reason, this saga will always hold a lot of sentimental value to me.

So... What’s next?

There were originally plans for me to make a follow up/spin-off series where Octa A/Kon was the main character. The theme of that series was “even the unnoticed and ordinary can be noticed and extraordinary!” It was going to focus on Kon and his mob student friends (one from each dormitory), along with their struggles of being “noticed” (as they are often just one face in a sea of mob students) and “fitting in” with their respective dorm’s ideals. I think it would have been a series that resonated a lot with introverts and people who see themselves as “less than” others or as “not fitting in” with others’ expectations. I might still do this, but it would probably be another huge project that would take months of planning and revision.

Another idea I had was to write a series of stories that are just flashbacks of Raven’s life prior to Night Raven College, whether as a bird or whether as the Storyteller’s apprentice. I also considered writing in-depth about how the Storyteller was originally cursed, and about the Enchantress responsible for it. I would like to get into her backstory and her motivations for spinning the Storyteller’s curse to begin with. (Maybe I’ll do those as blog anniversary or follower milestone specials?) Some friends of mine also jokingly suggested I write a sequel series focused on Raven and her relationship with L*ONA 🤢 dfhlbahefvqoeuq Lots of ideas, lots of possibilities!

As for Raven, she’s definitely not going away just because her origin saga is done. She’s still the beloved poster child of this blog, so of course I want to continue writing about her! It’s just that she’ll be a little freer to speak her mind now that her curse has been lifted. After all, "the end" is just "the beginning" of another story!

I kind of feel like a proud parent, seeing my bird daughter growing up, making friends, finding love, and developing her own sense of agency and independence 😭 I’m excited to see where this next chapter of Raven’s life takes us.

Before I sign off, I’d like to thank you, dear readers, for following Miss Raven’s story until the very end. None of this would be possible without you!

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter One (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Genres: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings here. Please note this series is NSFW / 18+ and minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written. Posting schedule is here. 

Author’s note: (If you read the original one-shot this slightly amended chapter will already be familiar to you, so I'm sorry for the initial lack of surprises. I promise though - there are many surprises from here!) Some of you may remember that this all started as an angsty smutty one shot, way back in 2020. Let’s just say, some of you really liked that story (thank you!) and a “part 2” was requested so that I could “fix” things for these two idiots (affectionate). Well, I guess part 2 took a while, because now it’s four years later, and I have written 87,000 words (ish). Oops. So, as you might infer through the accidental novel length spew, this series means rather a lot to me. It’s the longest piece of writing I have ever seen through to completion, and so, whilst it’s definitely not perfect, I am pretty proud of it! I hope with all of my little orange heart that you enjoy it, and if you do, any RBs, comments - or anything at all really - would mean the world. These two have lived in my head for four years and I will miss them, but I'm so excited to finally share them with you all! Honestly, I could say lots more, but for now I'll leave you with one more thought, which sums up this whole experience quite frankly: the characters made me do it. 

Finally, I have to thank you all, lovely pocket friends, for being so supportive and encouraging the whole way. It means so much to me! Especially, I GOTTA thank the fabulous @astroboots, who has hyped this project from literally before the beginning and been so encouraging, and @foxilayde, who is an incredible cheerleader for all my hare-brained endeavours. ILY!

Word count: 9.7k for this part (it’s broken down into 3 sections, if you prefer to read in stints!). 

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to the taglist if you are 18+ (or removed!). Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :) 

You love your squad. You really do. However, if you are being honest, it can be tough being treated as “one of the boys”. You know it’s a good thing that they don’t treat you any differently - but sometimes, you have to admit you want to be seen as a woman first and a soldier second. Especially on evenings like this when testosterone and drinks are flowing freely. Evenings when you have an ache in between your thighs that, in your case, calls out for a man. Okay - calls out for Santiago “Pope” Garcia, to be specific.

“I hope you can handle something stiff going down your throat,” you announce crudely to the group, arriving to whoops of appreciation as you slide the tray of hard liquor and beers on to the lofty bar table. 

The squad is celebrating a successful bust, and the relief and revelry in the air after the months-long operation is palpable.

“Cheers to that!” Frankie winks with a dumbass grin, rubbing his palms together with glee. “You’re a saviour – Pope’s taking far too long.” 

Will helpfully conveys the shots and beers around the table, glasses and bottles clinking and jovial smiles rippling through the group as a direct result. Ready for a cold one, you bring the rim of your beer to your lips for an immediate swig, condensation pooling on your fingers and making you realise how close the air is in this buzzing but dingy place.

“Bottoms-up, boys,” Tom directs as he passes you a shot, earning a good-natured side-eye from you. “And bottoms-eth up-eth, Mi’ Lady,” he adds, along with a regal hand wave to match his faux Olde English tone.

“To busts!” you ‘cheers’, clinking your glasses in the centre of the table. The innuendo earns a throaty, gruff chuckle from Frankie who bumps shoulders with you, inviting you to share in the camaraderie. You give-in with a broad smile, unable -as ever- to resist Frankie’s tittering. 

“Oh, hang on,” Frankie says, flitting quickly to a now unoccupied bar stool at an adjacent table (seats are in short supply tonight) and dragging it over to you.

“This for me, Catfish? How gallant.”

He grins. He knows you hate gallant. “It’s actually for Pope and his creaky knees… but you may as well make use of it while he’s pre-occupied,” Frankie chortles. You sit gratefully, your decision to wear heels after months in your beloved combat boots feeling like a definite mistake.

Speaking of mistakes...

“You fucking seeing this?” Tom asks, nodding his head over towards your squad mate, apparently simultaneously in awe of and amused by his current interaction at the bar; the very reason the drinks had been failing to materialise.

Twisting on your perch, you follow his gaze towards Santiago, eyes boring into the back of his head and his wash of grizzled curls. Involuntarily, your eyes trail over his form, the midnight blue button-down taut over his muscled shoulders as he casually props himself against the bar, jeans snug over that impossibly shapely rump. He has the barmaid rapt, eating out of his hand, all batting eyelashes and tongue slack in her mouth. Abandoned, a tray of shots sits unnoticed in front of Santiago as he lingers in conversation with her. All you can do is watch as, next, she leans over the bar brazenly, letting her thick, dark mane cascade across her ample, showcased cleavage. You can’t see Santiago’s expression as he -respectfully, you’re sure- admires her, but you can imagine it. 

Occasionally, you are on the receiving end of those expressions too.

Unfortunately, Santiago has a raw talent for making… connections. Besides off-shore bank managers and corrupt lawyers, that also inevitably extends to hook-ups. He is never short of distractions. Or, apparently, you never can hold his attention for long. When you do, though? When he does notice you, he makes you feel like you are the only woman in the world, his focus so intent and unrelenting you feel like he is viewing you through a sniper scope. Like the attention might end you.

You bristle thinking about his selective interest, the dull ache between your legs intensifying. 

“Never mind that deserter. Let’s celebrate without him,” you encourage to a ripple of agreement. You toss your shot back in-time with the boys and screw-up your face, shuddering in response as the spirit burns down your throat. You stick your tongue out with a “bleuch” as the aftertaste lingers.

However, your distraction doesn’t work for long, as your comrades seem determined to continue gossiping about the object of your desire.

“How does he do it?” Tom asks in disbelief, with more than a side of jealousy. He’d always given off the vibe of envying Santiago, you’d thought. “We’re all good-looking guys, man. But that little shit’s rolling in it.”

“I don’t know what it is. He’s not even tall,” Will snickers, knowing that Santiago hates being teased about his height. 

Frankie interjects. “MaybeFrankie interjects. “Maybe it’s the big dick energy.”

No comment. 

You’ve certainly never had any complaints about his stature. He is large enough to feel sturdy and surrounding, and small enough that you can take control of him when the mood strikes you. Oh, and you’ve certainly never had any qualms about his big dick energy… or his big dick for that matter.

Frankie chuckles again at the good-natured teasing and bumps you with his elbow. You are grateful for his easy, infectious laughter, acting like an umbrella against the moody, Santiago-shaped storm cloud which threatens above your head. 

“For real though,” Tom interjects, leaning forward over the table as if he’s sharing classified intel. “Has he been getting frisky with the informant again?” His eyes travel around the table, meeting each squad member’s gaze in turn. “I feel like he’s definitely got something going on there too. Tell me I’m seeing things.”

“Luci?” Will asks, then whistles in surprise at Tom’s accusation, his brows converging. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by Santiago’s potentially compromising choices, or impressed by his unparalleled ability to pull. “That sly dog.” Perhaps it’s a little of both.

You tense. Santiago getting involved with an informant. A beautiful informant. Sounds entirely plausible, although Santiago has neglected to tell you if it is true. Besides building connections, another skillset of Santiago’s is his uncanny aptitude for mixing business with pleasure. Realistically, he can do whatever the hell he wants with whomever he wants - it is no business of yours - but, in truth, you are tired. Tired of being the one he only picks up when he has no-one else. Tired of going unnoticed the rest of the time.

“Actually,” Frankie leans forward to drop this juicy titbit of gossip into the conversation. “Luci broke it off. Requested a new contact.” He taps the side of his nose as if to indicate that he has his sources too, trying to drum up some air of mystery. “Coincidence? I think not,” he adds, tipping his head towards the continued scene at the bar. 

You stiffen then in cold realisation. That’s why. That’s why he was noticing you earlier tonight. It wasn’t that he finally saw you. It wasn’t you in this dress. It wasn’t you. Yet again, he’d simply run out of distractions.

“Huh,” Tom says, looking a little too pleased with Santiago’s misfortune, swilling the dregs of his beer around absent-mindedly. “Well. He doesn’t seem devastated. It took him all of two minutes to get back on the horse.”

“Come on. You know Santi famously doesn’t get attached,” you snipe, partially serving the sentiment up as a reminder to yourself. 

Santiago does have a... reputation. Honestly, you have no problem with that. There is no shame in having casual sex, after all. So long as it is safe and consensual, what does it matter? You’ve even acted as Santi’s “wing-woman” on a number of occasions. It had never been a problem; that is… it hadn’t been a problem until he started having casual sex with you.

Santiago is loyal almost to a fault in many other areas of his life. He is abundantly loyal to you, and there is no doubt in your mind that Santiago sees you as a friend first. As a soldier second. You know he respects you deeply for your sharp-mind, your humour, your straight-talking, and your lethality in equal measure. And, you also know that Santiago desires you. Or, at least, he does when it suits him. When he is paying attention. These various roles never seem to converge, though. As a friend? You and Santiago go way back. As a soldier? You’ve been on his squad longer than anyone has, since decades before you all went freelance. As a lover, though? Well, that is new. And he can’t seem to reconcile this new role with the rest of the ways he knows you. 

Yes. Sure. Sometimes, Santiago desires the soft parts of you. Sees you as something other than a friend or a soldier. But you wish he would notice all of you, all at once. He sees you in fragments, like shrapnel. You wish he would piece things together. You wish he would notice you consistently. Not only when you’ve been out in the field too long, spending days bunched into hot and confined spaces, too close for comfort. Not only when hails of bullets send him reeling, searching for any kind of foothold on feeling alive. Still, over and over, you let him. You let him dip you back, with urgency - on to a mattress or a roll-mat or simply down on to the jungle floor - to thrust himself into you.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia is the man you crave. He gives it to you good. He makes you feel like a woman. Of course, there is no one particular way to be or to feel like a woman. There are infinite ways. For you though, very specifically, it is simple. It feels like Santiago desiring the soft parts of you which lay secreted under your tactical gear and your tough façade. It feels like him kissing you, soft lips and abrasive stubble. Strong hands and that muscled body writhing in a mess of breath and flesh. In those moments, you are a soldier least of all. Free of any mission, you become unadulterated; reckless abandon. You cease to be clipped and tactical, precise and lethal, and instead you become a soft, fluid thing beneath him.

Every time you arrive back in the city though, distractions abound. Santiago apparently ceases to desire you. Notice you. You had wrongly believed that tonight felt different. Something about the cool but heady night air. The way he was looking at you in this dress during your walk to the bar to meet the rest of the group. The way his hand lingered on your back as he guided you over to the table. But it mustn’t have been so. It must have been wishful thinking, that’s all.

You’ve done an increasing amount of wishful thinking, lately, it seems. 

Too much.

You sigh deeply. You don’t even realise you have zoned out from the group’s banter until Santiago arrives back with the tray of drinks -and no doubt one more phone number in his contacts- by which point, you are riled up enough to grab the shot of tequila right off the tray and down it without thinking, salt and lime be damned. 

“Woah, cariño. Feeling spirited tonight? Not wanna wait for the rest of us?” His smile is broad and easy and annoying as hell and suddenly you are adrift. 

“Nah, I’m done waiting, Santi,” you bite. He doesn’t catch the double-meaning in your words, because of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

Your skin flushes with instant heat as a result of his presence- definitely a recently acquired response. And so, you hastily dismiss your leather jacket, revealing a strappy, red, form-fitting dress beneath. Your appearance even earns a low whistle and murmur of approval from your buddies. 

“Someone’s gonna get lucky in that cute little number,” Frankie says pointedly, even as he’s staring curiously at Santiago staring at you. Maybe he’s on to you two. 

You smile, happy -as ever- to take a little flattery. Plus, you do find it hilarious to watch these guys squirm when they remember that you do, in fact, have a body concealed underneath all your tactical gear. 

“Well I won’t get lucky if you chumps keep staring down every man who looks at me,” you complain, already having clocked the defensive perimeter which has formed around you, simply from the way they have positioned themselves.  

The squad are protective of you, unnecessarily, and you simultaneously chide and love them for it.

“Big men protec’, chiquita,” Frankie teases, puffing out his biceps and chest like a gorilla. He says it knowing fine well you could take out any one of them if you wanted.

You hear the warm rumble of Santiago’s laugh next to you too, chiming in time with yours, his body closer than you’d realised as he dishes the remaining shots out. “Please!” he scoffs, casually slinging his arm around the back of your bar stool, the shot primed in his other hand. “You know damn well she doesn’t need protection!” 

“She’s gonna need protection when she gets laid,” Will quips, causing Tom to almost snort beer out of his nose in amusement and Frankie to high-five him from across the table. You would scold him but you’re laughing too, even as you roll your eyes good-naturedly at their ‘bro’ humour. 

You drop your head towards Santiago as the others continue snickering like a pack of hyenas, the alcohol clearly having gone to their heads already. That’s what they get for drinking on empty stomachs. You and Santiago’d had the foresight to hit up a first rate food truck on the route across town, like sensible people.

“Dance with me, Pope?” you ask, giving him a subtle yet seductive bat of your eyes.

“For the love of God, Pope. Leave some women for the rest of us,” Tom pleads -partially in jest, you’re sure- as Santiago curtly nods, not knowing quite what you’re up to but taking your hand anyway.

“Ok. I hear you. Let’s ditch these losers,” Santiago joshes, smiling as he gets a predictable rise out of his squad.

It isn’t so unusual for you two to dance together when you visit bars, so it doesn’t earn too much suspicion from the group (plus, you’re military - you two have been pretty damn good at hiding your hook-ups, covering your tracks). Dancing with you might undo the careful ground-work Santiago had laid with the barmaid just a moment ago, however. Even so, Santiago opts to follow you into the sweaty throng of people on the floor all the same, your fingers loosely twined with his as you lead him. You find a relatively private spot, away from the prying eyes of the squad, and come to a standstill. 

You turn into Santiago at the last available moment, meaning he ends up disconcertingly close. Almost chest-to-chest with you.

“Put your hands on me,” you command, a little more throaty than intended. You sling your arms around his shoulders, fingertips brushing at the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. Santiago hesitates, but following a search of your eyes he plants his hands firmly onto the small of your back. You instantly feel the broadness and the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your dress. Those lethal hands. The hands that have pulled triggers and grenade clips. Choked the life out of assailants. Those lethal hands that have traced gently down your back as you laid bare beside him, killing you softly.

You let his hands rove over your body, wherever he wants to put them. Apparently, he wants to put them everywhere he can, like it’s a compulsion to touch you. He trails his hands up and down your back, ghosts them over the globes of your ass, snakes them down to the lip of your dress where his fingertips brush against your bare thighs, tacky with heat. And, after wandering, his hands come to rest low-slung on your hips, exactly where he likes to grab you when he thrusts into you. He gives you a subtle squeeze there, and the feel of him floods back to you. You are reminded of the way, when you’re with him, your own lethal hands are finally occupied by something other than battle. Of the times when you relinquish any preoccupation with victory, in favour of reaching perfect surrender. The times when your heart throbbing in your throat feels like safety instead of danger. 

His hands on you feel... natural. You move together symbiotically. Your bodies are always, easily in sync. On the battlefield, on the dance floor, in the bedroom. Always moving as a team. After so long side-by-side, it would be hard to exist in a manner to the contrary. It would be hard to exist without him at all. 

Will be hard. 

You let Santiago press against you as you sway together on the darkened dancefloor, gyrating and slinking your hips in time with the music. You feel him half-harden against you and his grip on your hips tightens, a feeble but gruff sound involuntarily escaping his lips and causing a coil to tighten in the pit of you. 

You think Santiago looks into your eyes meaningfully then. With something deep and unspeakable. Though that must simply be the wishful thinking you’ve become so practised at, and so, you immediately dismiss the thought, even as you nestle your mouth closer to his ear in order to speak. As your breath fans over the corded column of his neck you could swear he engorges further. And, the ache between your legs becomes almost unbearable at the spike of his cologne in your nostrils, his familiar scent curling within you. 

Santiago doesn’t smell like spice or musk or woodsmoke. Not to you. To you he smells like memories and possibilities - a heady paradox. Like your past and future. His scent inspires a quickening within you. Something under your skin is spurred into motion, tending toward collision. Yet at the same time, his scent curls in you and feels like… a stilling too. Like someone entirely arrived at a place so familiar that they forget ever having arrived at all and can’t imagine leaving. 

You dismiss it. You try. You fracture the moment. You must, before you collide. 

“I hear you’ve had some informant woes? I hope to God we got the intel.” You feel him tense instantly against you.

“Uh-huh. I got it.” Santiago‘s not really listening. Instead, he’s dropping his eyes to your body pressed up against his own, the heels of his hands now kneading into your hips. “You look good.” His voice is a husk in the shell of your ear as he leans into you, ensuring he can be heard over the music.

“Good for Luci, breaking it off though.” You dismiss his compliment, barely able to obscure the animosity in your tone despite all attempts to sound casual. 

He snaps back from you an inch or so, enough to look you directly in the eyes. You think that maybe, he looks almost disappointed. “Jealous?” he probes, ticking-up one eyebrow. 

He knows you far too well. Yet, despite his on-the-mark observation, the question makes you feel called-out and so, your next tack becomes unnecessarily cruel. Vengeful almost. “He’s getting there.” 

“What?” Santiago asks in evident confusion, his hands slipping back-up to the neutral area of your back as the mood slips away too. 

“The tall drink of water at 9 ‘o’ clock. Guy who’s been eyeing me all night. Doesn’t he look like he wants his hands on me instead of yours?” You know that you sound cruel, and petty, and the words feel bitter, like salt and lime in your mouth. You’ve said them all the same though. It’s already done. 

Santiago’s jaw clenches, eyes flicking subtly over as he rotates you to get a better look at your target. 

“He does,” he states, with a thin attempt at neutrality, his neck roped with tension as his eyes skim over the other man. 

“Great. Then thanks for the dance, Wingman. You’re relieved.”

Santiago puffs out air, his jaw clenching and eyes darkening. 

You tick an eyebrow up at him. “What’s wrong? You jealous, Santiago?”

Then, you saunter towards the bar, where the other man is stood. He very blatantly gives you the once over, evidently liking what he sees. You lean in with a flirty smile, letting the image of an aggrieved Santiago dissolve into the throng of people as you allow yourself to be entirely distracted. 

You are done waiting. 

You want to be noticed, and this handsome man in front of you is certainly providing you with his undivided attention. 

***

Later, Santiago watches you prepare to leave with the other man, disgruntled and forlorn. He’s watched you all night via snatched glances through the crowd. Watched the man laugh at your jokes, watched him work up the courage to brush your arm. He watched you eventually move in for the kiss, your eyes turning hungry as you pulled away, teeth biting down on that delicious, pillowy lip of yours. 

The bar having quietened down a little by now, Santiago sits in a booth opposite Tom and Frankie, Will having found his own company for the remainder of the night as well. Santiago’s head is propped on his elbow, a half-empty beer nestled in his other hand. His buddies’ eyes needle him as you toss a casual salute over to the table, your hook-up leading you out by the hand and your eyes shining gleefully. 

“What?” Santiago hisses defensively, as Frankie continues to stare knowingly at him from the opposite side of the table. 

Frankie’s head simply shakes in amusement. “Nothing. Only… when in the hell are you gonna figure out it’s her you really want, huh?”

“She’s just a friend,” Santiago bristles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, hunching in on himself. 

“And a fuck-buddy,” Tom ventures.

Santiago looks down, taking a masking swig of his beer. “You know about that?”

“Didn’t until just now. But thanks a bunch for confirming,” Tom replies in a self-satisfied tone, earning a chuckle and a bump on the shoulder from Frankie. 

“Well… fuck.” Santiago sighs, his face becoming pinched. 

“I already knew,” Frankie states. “Christ. You’re loud enough, man. Hard to keep the secret that you’re nailing one of the squad when we’re camped out in, like, 3ft of jungle.”

Santiago absent-mindedly picks at the label on his bottle with his thumb. “Don’t talk about it like that, man. It’s not… Fuck.” 

Frankie just looks across at him in sympathy, Santiago’s reaction revealing more than he probably cared to about the true extent of his predicament. 

You’d risen through the ranks together. You’d been through a lot. Everyone on the squad knew Santiago was your ride or die and you his. You had each other’s backs. Had tended each other’s bullet wounds for Christ’s sake. Your friendship and the trust between you both -on the battlefield and off it- was deep and unshakeable.

“And you don’t want more than that?” Tom probes.

Despite being indoors, Santiago picks up his baseball cap from the seat and pulls it down over his eyes then, in an attempt to shield himself from this line of questioning. 

“What ‘else’ is there? There’s not much time for romance in between a hail of bullets.”

“Maybe.” Tom tips his head, contemplatively. “But you’re not getting any younger, Pope. How many years do your Goddamn knees have left in them?” He lets that one simmer for a moment, before nodding pointedly towards the door through which you had retreated. “You could do a lot worse, you know.”

“She could do a lot better,” Frankie interjects, earning a snigger from Tom and causing Santiago to huff, expression turning surly. Frankie holds his hands up defensively then. “Look, you do you, man. I’m just saying... I’m sure you’re having a great time getting your dick wet all over the continent… but if you don’t step up soon? You might regret it.”

Santiago whips his eyes towards his buddy, gaze interrogative and piercing. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing in particular,” Frankie shrugs, searching Santiago’s eyes with equal vigour. Santiago drops his gaze first, feeling exposed. 

Frankie kicks his buddy gently under the table. “Come on, hermano. Use your words. Share your feelings.” 

Frankie’s words may sound mildly taunting, as ever, but Santiago recognises the invitation to open up is genuine. He purses his lips, brows knitting together as he resists it, picking through his choice of words carefully before he allows them out of his mouth. He massages his palm over his roughened jaw and it rasps like sandpaper. “I don’t even know if she wants more.” 

“Are you kidding me, man?” Tom responds in amusement. “The guy who can get information out of a freakin’ stone, make any informant sing, ‘doesn’t know’ if she wants more? That’s what’s stopping you? A fucking intel issue?”

Frankie titters again, narrowing his eyes at Santiago and trying to figure him out. “He’s scared,” the man accuses, before his tone softens involuntarily. “That it?” 

Santiago takes an idle swig of his beer, polishing off the dregs before shrugging his jacket on, jaw twitching in irritation. 

“Oh shit, he’s moping! He’s moping now. Can’t handle the truth,” Tom mocks. 

“Come on, Santiago,” Frankie reasons. “We just want things to work out for you. You two are a good match- any chump can see that. Heh. Except maybe you.” 

Santiago doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply continues his silent preparations to leave, stuffing his wallet and keys into his jean pockets. 

“Plus- there are a bunch of reasons we’d like you off the market,” Tom teases. “More women for the rest of us. Golden opportunity to tease you for being so whipped.” Tom flashes a shit-eating grin up at his friend. 

Nodding gently, lips twisted in a pout and refusing to rise to it, Santiago tips his head towards his squad members. “Gentlemen,” he offers by way of farewell, before starting towards the door. 

“Want me to walk you home safe, chiquito?” Frankie calls.

“I’m not going home.” Santiago turns and gives the two men an affectionate middle finger before beelining toward the exit. 

“You’re not going over to her right now, are you? Pope? Santiago? That’s not what we... She’s gonna be pissed, man. Think this through!” Tom shouts after him, but it’s futile. Santiago has already swept out into the night, leaving Tom and Frankie to exchange helpless glances. 

There is a beat. 

Then: “I bet the bastard gets laid as well,” Frankie snorts. 

“Right?” Tom hums softly in agreement. “If anyone can turn up to a girl’s apartment while she’s banging another guy and still end up getting down? It’s that little shit, no word of a lie.”

There is a moment of silence as the pair sip their drinks and contemplate what Santiago has, precisely, which causes women to become so enamoured with him. 

“Maybe it’s his ass?” Tom offers, finally. 

Frankie clicks his fingers. “Ah. You’re probably right. That ass won’t quit.”

Meanwhile, Santiago steps out into the fresh air, the slight bite of it taking the edge off his alcohol buzz. 

His thoughts are overwhelmed with you. Have been overwhelmed with you. In truth, Santiago is finding it harder and harder to keep this up. Especially whenever it is just the two of you, he finds it harder and harder to resist you. 

It is typically easier in the city, where there are plenty of distractions. He is grateful for it - other people he can tangle with to take his mind off of you. In the city, it is easier to push that side of you out of his mind and to fall back into the clear-cut ways. The way it used to be before the lines had become blurred. Easier to compartmentalise his feelings for you. A friend first. A soldier second. A lover, only intermittently. 

Santiago was determined not to let everything bleed into one, because once those barriers, those delineations fell, he was convinced he would never be able to rebuild them. 

Most of all, he was convinced he wouldn’t want to. 

The thing is... the “distractions”? They never really worked for long. You are the only woman for him, in truth. And for all it might be crazy, he is headed towards your apartment right now to find out if you feel the same way. To find out if you want more. To find out if you see him as more than a friend and a soldier and a lover, or if you see him completely, and all at once. 

To find out if he is everything to you, like you are to him. 

***

There is a loud rap on your door and it tears you, regretfully, from the tangle of limbs you are in. When the knock becomes more insistent, you apologise to the man blissed out beneath you and extricate yourself from his embrace, hastily cloaking yourself in a sheet and traipsing through your temporary apartment – home for the time being. Adrenalin piqued, you peer through the spyhole, relief flooding you when you see who it is. 

“Santi? What the fuck?” you ask, opening the door to him and pressing the sheet to you with your remaining hand.

“Hi,” he says casually, the brim of his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.

“I’m in the middle of something,” you bite, emphatically. “What in the hell do you want?” you hiss at him, keeping your volume low.

“You,” he says plainly.

Santiago looks you over; your flushed face, plumped lips and blatant post-orgasm glow. His jaw visibly clenches.

“What?!” you exclaim in confusion. 

“I want you.”

You tear his blasted hat off to examine his eyes for sincerity, pushing it into his chest all bunched-up. He hastily stuffs it in his jacket pocket. Eyes narrowed, you appraise him a moment longer, clicking your tongue in disbelief at the nerve this man has before abruptly closing the door on him.

“Bye, Santi.” 

“Wait!” he pleads, jamming his foot in the door and muscling through.

“What in the hell are you doing?!” you hiss again, backing-up and almost tripping over your sheet, which Santiago now has his mucky boots all over.

By this time, your hook-up for the night has heard the commotion and blustered through the dark apartment -in the nude- to ward off your supposed intruder. Your companion is bigger, sure, but he certainly shouldn’t mess with Santiago. He wouldn’t fare well at all. 

You raise your hand to diffuse the situation. “It’s ok, he’s a friend. Sometimes,” you add with a tilt of your head.

Your companion’s face flashes with recognition as Santiago emerges from out of the shadows. “Oh. It’s you, from the bar. Here I was thinking we’d gotten rid of you already.”

Santiago simply glowers with bubbling aggravation at the man, who has the cheek to just stand there with his fucking schlong out, entirely undeterred. Santiago puffs his chest out, making himself larger. 

“Please.” Santiago addresses you, tearing his eyes away from the man. “Can we talk?”

You sigh, unable to believe that you’re being stupid enough to agree to his demands. You turn back to the man you were enjoying being on top of until a moment ago. “Can you give us five minutes? I’m so sorry. I’ll be back.”

“Well - she might not be back,” Santiago suggests, and you glare at him, irritated.

The man looks between you and Santiago in disbelief before addressing you only. “Sure,” he says with a languid, sultry smile, ignoring Santiago entirely. “I’m willing to wait if we get to continue the fun we were having.” 

“Oh he’s a cheeky fuck,” Santiago grates, his whole body tense, and you quickly grab his elbow to bundle him into the kitchen before he can do any further damage.

“You’re the cheeky fuck, Santiago.” Apparently that’s your type. You vaguely wonder why you keep subjecting yourself to this, but you certainly don’t wish to pull on that thread too hard. Not right now. 

As you release his elbow, Santiago comes to face you in the narrow slip of a kitchen.

“Well? What in the hell are you doing here?” you rage whisper at him, folding your arms across yourself and tapping your foot impatiently on the tiled floor. 

Santiago simply squares up to you, his expression formidable, unphased. His dark eyes trail over you again, snagging on the places where the sheet drapes over the contours of you. You are suddenly uncomfortably aware of how naked you are beneath it. “Told you. I want you.”

Normally, those words were enough. But not any longer. You scoff. “I know all about how you want me, Pope. Half-heartedly. You want me when it suits you. When you can’t have me. When there’s no-one else around for you to want.”

It is his turn to scoff now. “Casual is what you wanted. You gonna throw that back in my face now?”

You sigh, tiredly, refusing to get embroiled in this. This is all meaningless. He can twist things and make excuses all he likes, but Santiago is a man of action. If he wanted you? Really wanted you? He wouldn’t let a Goddamn technicality stand in the way. 

You don’t have the energy for excuses. For this conversation. You’ve waited too long for Santiago to even realise there is anything worth talking about. So, instead of fighting back, you let it go. 

“I’m done, Santi. I’m out.”

Your words feel like a relief to you, after bottling this up since you came to the decision. The relief extends through your body as you sag backward to lean up against the cold fridge door, that too relieving on your hot, sheening skin.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Santi dismisses your assertion instantly. He tended towards tunnel vision about some things. Just because he didn’t want out, he tended to assume that was true for everyone else. He was a connector, an enabler, and these factors combined meant the squad had stayed together a long time; far longer than it ever should have, like this time. He’d pulled his “retired” buddies back in, yet again. 

“I’m for real, Santi,” you say in a small voice. “It’s already done.”

A veil of shock then betrayal passes over his face as the truth of your words sinks in. He takes a step back from you, as if he’s been sucker punched in the gut. His brows knit together and he looks down at the floor. “When?”

“Three weeks.” You figure you may as well rip the band-aid off in one go.

He turns his mouth down at the corners and slowly nods his head, doing an admirable job of containing whatever it is he is feeling, for the moment, while he gathers his intelligence. Mission above emotion, as ever. Santiago looks at the world through a scope sometimes, and he often forgets about the big picture. It always surprises you how a man so perceptive and attentive to detail -when he chooses to apply it- could fail to notice something right under his nose. 

“Where?”

“Home. Desk-job, by the ocean. Private firm and a nice salary too. What’s not to love?” You add the extra information in an effort to detract from the thing you least wanted to face. Home is far. Far from him. 

“Fuck,” Santiago breathes, finally looking up at you. “Because of me?”

You bristle again. “You arrogant piece of....” you sigh heavily, biting your lip and reminding yourself it isn’t worth it to grow aggravated. Plus, there’s a kernel of truth in his question, after all. You gather yourself before speaking again. “I stayed so long because of you, Santi. But I’m leaving for me. I’m tired of waiting.” Maybe he’ll notice you when you’re gone, you think. Maybe he’ll want you then.  

“You can’t go. Someone with your skillset will be impossible to replace at short notice. How the hell am I supposed to keep the operation afloat without you?” 

You shake your head softly, smiling in disbelief, his response confirming so many of your reasons behind going. Always focussed on the mission.

“Frankie’s looking into someone, actually. He knows a guy. He’s not as good as me, of course, but-”

“-You told Frankie?!” You can hear in his voice that the revelation hurts him. He has always been your confidant. But hey, things change, even if Santiago never does. 

“Yeah, well,” you say thinly, through your teeth. “There’s plenty you don’t tell me, Santi.” You look at him pointedly. “Besides, I think you’ll manage. You always seem to find someone to meet your… needs. Don’t you?”

Santiago brings one arm up beside your head, leaning against the fridge with his palm, his dark eyes turbulent and boring into yours. “You’re the one who’s got some guy in there. What do you want from me, huh?”

He crowds you, but you can’t bring yourself to push him back. Instead, you languish more readily up against the fridge door, your grip on your sheet becoming less and less sure.

“Oh! That’s your fucking grand gesture? You came here to ask me what the hell I want from you?” Your passions rise, heart thrumming in your chest. You try and tell yourself it’s entirely from anger and nothing at all to do with his proximity. That it’s certainly not because of that look he’s giving you. 

Speaking of proximity, Santiago’s now close enough to smell the other man’s scent on you. He’s leaning into you, breath ragged and desire clouding his eyes, even as you still bear the signs of being ravaged by another between your legs. Or perhaps… because of it. 

Even as you stand here, like this, signs of another lover temporarily strewn over your person, it’s ludicrous to think another could claim you. You belong to Santiago. It’s Santiago who is indelibly written onto your body, the map of scars telling the story and you and him. The scar on your shoulder from a bullet wound, the scar on your calf from an off-road collision, the marks all over you serve as a reminder of the times Santiago has been there for you. Pressed his lethal hands to you to keep your lifeforce from ebbing away. He is your ride or die, and your body knows it. 

Equally, as he stands there fully clothed, you know that his body similarly hosts a constellation of scars from all your shared moments; in the field, on missions, over continents. One of you could not hope to be read -to be understood- without the other. Your bodies would forever move through the world as a team, as a pair, even if you left his side. 

You were each the key to cartographing each other’s lives. To imagine that the hickey on your neck or the slick between your legs could begin to compare to the way Santiago had marked you as his was almost comical. 

“You really need a grand gesture to know I care about you?” You know what he’s asking. Is running into a hail of bullets for you not enough? Hasn’t he proven himself to you time and time again? 

“Santi. I don’t doubt you care about me. I could never. I just… I don’t feel like you know yet what you want from me. And I can’t wait anymore for you to make up your mind.” You shrug. “I don’t know. I just feel like… like sometimes you don’t even see me because I’ve always been right in front of you.” 

Santiago looks at you, pained, expression weighted, as if he can’t find the words to tell the story of you. But your bodies are not stories. They are maps, and maps are to be understood through being travelled. That’s why, when his hand slips to you shoulder to slowly trace the scar there, it makes sense. It is understood without words as his fingers journey over your skin, a varied terrain of memories flashing through Santiago’s eyes. His touch retracing years in only moments. 

“I see you,” he insists, his voice a husk, his calloused fingertips trailing over your smooth, delicate skin. Making you feel weak. Making you want to become a soft, fluid thing beneath him. Oh, he’s looking at you now. There’s that attention that feels like it might end you. You commune wordlessly, breath quickening, that pulse of desire tending toward collision, the stillness of having arrived home as he touches you.   

“I see you,” he purrs, his hand moving to your sheet, gently tugging it away from your grasp and giving you ample opportunity to protest. But you don’t. You don’t protest. You are symbiotic with him. You move as a team, and you can’t help but want to merge. Maybe that’s why you let him tug the sheet from your grasp, fabric pooling at your feet. Maybe it’s the ache between your legs. Maybe it’s because you know he gives it to you good. 

Santiago exposes you completely to him, eyes then hands hungrily trailing down over your contours. His fingers grip your hips firmly as his mouth sinks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over you as he speaks. 

“I see you, baby.” 

Your arms are still pinned to your sides as you pretend that somehow you can resist your urges, despite being naked and needy and oh so ready in front of him. 

“Fuck you, Santiago,” you breathe, voice trembling, and you know exactly what he’s doing as his lips and his teeth snag angrily over your skin. Reclaiming you. Marking you as his. And instead of pushing him away, you pull him closer to you. Instead of recoiling you arch your body against him, breasts pushing up against him, the cold metal of his chain harsh against your skin. The sturdy mass and heat of him beneath his clothes only highlighting how exposed and vulnerable you feel, your desire entirely on display like a flare in the dark. 

His mouth has already ravaged your neck, your collarbone, his stubble abrasive against you, leaving a pleasant burn in its wake. His cologne is the only scent enveloping you now. Then, his hands rove over you, everywhere, like he’d wished they could in the bar, your skin still cloying, tacky with sweat. He paws at every bit of you as if to reinstate his claim on you. Your breasts, your ass, your hips, your thighs. He isn’t gentle. His hands showing their strength in a way they haven’t with you before now. He tongues your salty skin and the way his mouth punishes you is bitter like lime, foreshadowing his words. 

“Did he make you come?” he asks into your neck, his hand slipping between your legs and finding you wet and welcoming. “Did he?”

“Yes,” you breathe, his voice commanding enough that you want to answer. Your face contorting as if in pain as Santiago continues to grind two girthy fingers over your folds. Your companion had made you wet, but nothing like this. All he’s doing is feeling you, coating himself, and Santiago has you drenched already; you can feel it slick against your inner thighs as you tremble under the weight of yourself, suddenly so heavy with lust that you can barely stand. 

Your arms wind around his neck to steady yourself and he pins you between him and the fridge, your fingers inching up through the buzzed hair at his neck, nails trailing over his scalp and up into his grizzled curls as you finally become molten against him. Your hands fist in his hair and you tug his head up towards your lips, earning a grunt from him as pain needles across his scalp. The sound is growled into your mouth as his snarled kiss crashes against yours.

He’s frustrated, and he’s jealous, and he wants to show you that you’re his. What’s more, you want him to show you. Oh, how you want him to.

You shudder against the sudden blunt pressure of two of Santiago’s fingers at your entrance, your need urgent and a tightness building so immediately in your core. He pushes himself more firmly up against you, pinning you between his taut body and the fridge. His tongue ravages your mouth and your pleas for him to touch you become incoherent sounds that you work into him in return. His kiss is rough, his teeth scathing you, lips on yours in a crush, stubble grating at your chin and cheeks as he opens himself up as if to devour you. Then, he sucks your bottom lip in between his own and clamps his teeth down until you howl against the sting of it, bucking your body against the pain as you cry into his mouth. 

With the bucking of your hips, you grind yourself against his hand, and Santiago barely needs to move as you willingly spear yourself on his fingers. He leaves you wanting though, allowing you just an inch of him when he has so much more to give. Already, the ridges of him against you are providing divine friction, his fingers curling and scissoring inside you, but he leaves you begging for more. Begging him to plunge himself all the way in. 

“Did you think about me when you took him? Did you use him and wish it was me between your legs?” Santiago’s voice is like gravel in the shell of your ear, and his words curl into the depths of you. With them, he thrusts his fingers angrily into your heat, driving himself in all the way to the knuckle. Your eyes practically roll back into your head as he thrusts harshly and asks you again, even more insistent. “Did you?”

“Yes,” you admit, in a broken voice, tugging him closer to you, crushing your lips onto the column of his neck, tugging the collar of his shirt aside until you can bite down into the meat of his shoulder, stifling your moans there as his pace intensifies. His fingers are curling relentlessly towards your sweet spot and your walls are already fluttering against him. The heel of his hand is rocking against your excruciatingly sensitive clit, applying steady rolls of pressure as his fingers delve into you. His watch strap digs into your pubic bone but for some reason it only adds to the heightened sensations coursing through you. 

“Do I make you feel good? Do I make you feel better with my fingers than he could with his whole body, huh?” 

His words practically make you sob into him. It’s dirtier than you’ve ever heard him talk. It’s more intimate and further from friendship than anything you’ve done with him so far. Yes, you’ve fucked but this… this is something else. This is you admitting you are entirely his. This feels simultaneously more like battle and more like surrender than it ever has. And you wholly surrender. 

You moan. You moan out loud despite the fact you shouldn’t. Despite the fact there’s still another man in the apartment who you had underneath you only moments ago. 

“Are you gonna come on my fingers – show me who you belong to?” 

You agree. You agree wholeheartedly. 

Santiago pulls back just to watch you. To see the pleasure play over your face, both the overabundance of it and dearth of it as every touch satisfies yet has you craving more. You see a prideful glow in his eyes that he has you this wrecked, mewling and writhing on him as he adds a third finger into your wetness and pumps himself hard in and out of you. 

“Fuck,” he intones, his voice hollowed-out. “You’re fucking drenched. Wettest I’ve ever felt.” God. You can hear how wet you are. 

In dire need of some relief himself, Santiago presses his clothed, hardened length against your hip as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Even through the substantial fabric of his jeans you can feel the thick, hard promise of him as he begins to grind himself against you, low and guttural moans escaping his sweet lips. The fact that he’s so fucking desperate for you, that you have made him hot enough to get off from only this has a knot tightening in the pit of you as you watch him start to unravel alongside you. 

“Fuck, Santi,” you moan into the air, not even caring that there’s someone else in the apartment. Past caring about anything at all except your need for him to keep touching you, his fingers filling you up so well. 

“That’s it, baby. Say my name, say you’re mine.”

Santiago is still grinding his clothed length against you, even as his fingers overflow with your essence. He dips his head into the crook of your neck and the growl he emits fans over your skin. Makes it sound as if he’s about to lose it too, simply from this. His spare hand dips down to collect one of your breasts and he lifts your nipple into his mouth, sucking and tonguing and biting the peak of you, squeezing you -not gently- as you topple towards your end. 

He continues to grind against you, and the thought of him exploding in his pants for you tips you over the edge, his name tumbling from your lips over and over as you flutter and clench around his fingers. The feeling spreading outward through your body like an explosion, leaving you levelled, a resounding buzz reaching all the way to your extremities and whiting out your vision like a flashbang. Your fingers tangle in Santiago’s curls as you spasm against him, his fingers eking every last drop of pleasure from you - as though he knows his way around you better than anyone could. 

At the feel and sound and sight of you coming undone, his hardened length grinds on you with renewed vigour, a wracked and disbelieving moan stuttering through him as he loses it without you having laid a finger on him. His body becomes stiff against you as he pulses his seed out beneath his clothes. Something about him being so lost in desire for you that he’d make a mess of himself like that has you clenching with deep, generous aftershocks, adrift with the thought of his hardened length pearling with his warm release.  

Santiago’s head settles into the crook of your neck as you both come down together, even as his fingers continue to lazily pulse in and out of you - just to feel you. Your arms lovingly cradle his head, fingers tangling in his curls, your lips finding their way to his hairline to plant gentle kisses there. Your Santiago. In your arms. 

You stay there a moment until your jagged breathing and thrumming heart settle, enjoying him languorously touching you. With a shiver of contentment, he withdraws from your heat, wrapping his unsullied hand around your waist to pull you closer. 

For a moment, everything is in soft focus, like the break of day before an alarm.  You close your eyes against his touch and breathe him in as he whispers lovingly into your neck, planting light kisses where a moment ago his puckered lips left angry bruises. 

“Fuck. I love you. I love you. I adore you. I need you.”

When you don’t respond though, Santiago stills against you, lifting his head to look you dead in the eyes. He finds them tearing in the corners. 

Your voice begins weakly. “You love me, Santi. But do you want a life with me? A life outside of the mission, outside of all of this?”

He brushes his thumb softly over your jawline. “I know I haven’t been all in. But I swear it to you, baby... you’re my end game. It’s just, we’re not there yet. We’re too deep in this shit. If we can get one more of Lorea’s deputies then maybe-”

“-Sure,” you say sadly, the word heavy and the intimacy of the moments prior dissipating quickly. You know fine well what “one more” means. You dip to collect your sheet from the floor and tighten it around yourself, using the motion in a vague attempt to distract both Santiago and yourself from the tears threatening more violently in your eyes now. 

The footsteps you hear approaching the kitchen are a further welcome distraction, and you surreptitiously clean off Santiago’s hand on the already soiled sheet before your first companion of the evening (now fully clothed) pops his head around the doorframe. 

“I’m just gonna leave,”  he interjects awkwardly, and your cheeks flush in humiliation. You’re sure one day, far into the future, this may be a funny story you tell, but, right now? It feels more than a little mortifying. 

“I’m so sorry. I…” You reach for a more robust apology but come up with nothing, far too aware that Santiago’s eyes continue to needle you. What are you going to do? Tell him it was fun? And so, since you opt to leave it hanging, your companion simply pumps his eyebrows once before striding smoothly out of your apartment. You jump slightly as you hear the door slamming shut behind him, evidently feeling a little on edge despite being wrung out so recently by bliss.  

Your eyes linger on the doorframe a little too long, staring at nothing except the now vacated space. You’re not ready to turn your attention back to Santiago quite yet, and you’re much less ready to deal with what will follow. 

It turns out, you don’t even have to look back at him, because your cowardice says it all for you. Instead, a small voice escapes him. 

“You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?”

You look at him then, and you see a sadness blooming in his eyes which is so heart-breaking that you're half-glad when tears gather in your own, blurring-out the sight of him. His pain always was too much for you to look at. 

Your gladness is short-lived however, as your own tears begin to spill out of you. You wipe the deluge away with the heel of your hand, but the tears are coming quicker than you can mop them up. Your chest shakes as you speak your next words. 

“I love you, Santi. Believe me. I love you. But it’s always ‘just one more’.” One more woman. One more mission. One more way to break your heart. “You’re living like... like you can get to the end of the line and wish for one more fucking chance.”

“Don’t go. Please,” he pleads, moving close to you and wrapping his arms around you. His broad, warm hands at your back. “Please. I’m putting it on the line here. I want you. I love you.” 

You smile thinly at him. You know he’s trying and God, you love him too. But this? For you, it’s too little, too late. For him, you guess you’re asking for too much, too soon. He’s not ready to leave this life. He’s not even ready to imagine leaving it. But, oh boy, you are. You are. 

You sniffle and take a deep, steadying breath, giving it everything you have to stay firm, despite every fibre in you telling you to surrender. To just stay with him. It would be too easy to do. 

“It’s a hard out, Santi.”

He senses the finality of your words and nods slowly, his eyes shining with tears, his whole face becoming taut with emotion. His silence is prolonged as he draws in ragged breaths. His hands slip away from your back and the moment slips away with them. You miss the warmth of them instantly. 

“Okay,” he says in a small, curt voice. “Okay.”

He about turns, precise and efficient, swivelling towards the door and tracking along the hallway leading out of your apartment.

“Santi, wait!” you call, traipsing along after him, slowed by the material bundling at your feet. “Santiago Garcia, don’t you dare leave it like this,” you plead. “Not after everything.”

He turns his head back towards you as he swings open your front door. His eyes are cold, face set as he looks at you, his voice monotone. “I’m not the one leaving.”

An anger and a sadness erupt in you at the coldness, the cruelness of his words, and, apparently, not even the sight of the fresh batch of tears spilling down your cheeks can slow his retreat from your apartment.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia turns and swiftly walks out without looking back, leaving the door swinging violently on its hinges. The fucking nerve of this man. 

You start after him; but he’s already making his way down the stairwell and you’re in no position to chase him. Your pain boiling over you yell, voice creaking under the weight of your emotion. 

“I hope your fucking knees give out on the way down, you asshole.”

Your cruel, cheap words carry down the stairwell, yet an echo is all the response you get. Santiago is gone. He didn’t stop for a second. 

He doesn’t know how to stop.

He’s mission over emotion. Near-death over living. He’s seemingly in this until it kills him, but you can’t be in it anymore. You have always been his ride or die, but now is the time for you to live, even if that means you can no longer be side-by-side with him. 

He is the other half of you and no matter where you are to go, your bodies will move through the world as a team, one unable to be read without the other. Santiago is written all over you, and nothing can change that. 

Besides, you know if he really wants to, he can always come find you. He has a map for loving you, if he would ever follow the route it was trying to take him. But he’s not there yet. 

He just has one more mission to go.

And then the next.

And the next. 

And the next. 

[gumjrop]

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Recommend COVID vaccines for all ages and health statuses at least twice a year (spring vaccine access for all) AND

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Docket No. CDC-2024-0072-0001 COVID vaccination at least twice a year (at least every six months) must be recommended for people of all ages, regardless of health status. A restrictive approach to eligibility creates undue barriers for vulnerable people and discourages high risk people from getting needed vaccine boosters. People of all ages, including those who are aged 65 and older or immunocompromised, should have the opportunity to receive another COVID vaccine in the spring of 2025. The vaccine schedule should address waning efficacy in the months following vaccination [1-3] as well as emergence of new SARS-CoV-2 strains by recommending updated vaccination for all ages, at least every six months. Waning efficacy is seen with all COVID vaccine types, and recent research into the biological mechanisms of waning [4] supports that this effect occurs regardless of age or immunocompromised status. Recent vaccination is associated with a lower risk of developing Long COVID following a COVID infection [5] as well as a lower risk of Multisystem Inflammatory Syndrome in children (MIS-C) [6].  The CDC’s clear and unequivocal recommendation of COVID vaccination at least twice a year for all ages will influence recommendations by healthcare providers, and coverage by health insurance. Moreover, it will improve public awareness in people of all ages about the importance of recent vaccination (within the last six months) to provide the best protection as part of a multilayered approach to preventing illness. The CDC must ensure equitable and affordable access to updated vaccines and prevent limited access because of financial constraints or demographics. The CDC’s Bridge vaccine access program ended in August 2024 [7], leaving many uninsured and underinsured adults without COVID vaccine access. We ask you to advocate for free COVID vaccine access for all of us to reduce barriers and hesitation to vaccination. References: 1. Link-Gelles R. Effectiveness of COVID-19 (2023-2024 Formula) vaccines. Presented at: FDA VRBPAC Meeting; June 5, 2024. Accessed June 12, 2024. https://www.fda.gov/media/179140/download 2. Wu N, Joyal-Desmarais K, Vieira AM, et al. COVID-19 boosters versus primary series: update to a living review. The Lancet Respiratory Medicine. 2023;11(10):e87-e88. doi:10.1016/S2213-2600(23)00265-5 3. Menegale F, Manica M, Zardini A, et al. Evaluation of Waning of SARS-CoV-2 Vaccine–Induced Immunity: A Systematic Review and Meta-analysis. JAMA Netw Open. 2023;6(5):e2310650. doi:10.1001/jamanetworkopen.2023.10650 4. Nguyen DC, Hentenaar IT, Morrison-Porter A, et al. SARS-CoV-2-specific plasma cells are not durably established in the bone marrow long-lived compartment after mRNA vaccination. Nat Med. Published online September 27, 2024:1-10. doi:10.1038/s41591-024-03278-y 5. Fang Z, Ahrnsbrak R, Rekito A. Evidence Mounts That About 7% of US Adults Have Had Long COVID. JAMA. Published online June 7, 2024. doi:10.1001/jama.2024.11370 6.  Yousaf AR. Notes from the Field: Surveillance for Multisystem Inflammatory Syndrome in Children — United States, 2023. MMWR Morb Mortal Wkly Rep. 2024;73. doi:10.15585/mmwr.mm7310a2 7. https://www.cdc.gov/vaccines/programs/bridge/index.html 

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Recent vaccination is associated with a lower risk of developing Long COVID following a COVID infection as well as a lower risk of Multisystem Inflammatory Syndrome in children (MIS-C). Waning efficacy is seen with all COVID vaccine types, and recent research into the biological mechanisms of waning supports that this effect occurs regardless of age or immunocompromised status. 

The CDC’s Bridge Access Program, which previously provided COVID vaccines to uninsured and underinsured adults free of charge, ended in August 2024. The end of this program without replacement coverage puts people at risk, and public health officials must advocate for free vaccine access for all of us, including those who are uninsured and underinsured.

Submitted written comments or registration to make oral comments at the meeting must be received by the CDC no later than October 18 at 11:59pm Eastern Standard Time

[lalalunel]

Pathetic Leon pt. 4

If Leon had a nickel for every time he was at his wits end about you, he’d have a lot of nickels. 

The week started out fine, you came over at the ripe time of 9 AM on Monday, greeted him with a smile that had his empty stomach turning, got all situated in his guest room, and left for class at 11. He thought, if every day was going to be like that, he could survive this no problem. Only life has a way of shitting on Leon’s plans. 

Tuesday, he wakes up bright and early, grumbling about the sun in his eyes and grumbling his way into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. He grumbles a little less as he sits and sips his coffee in the kitchen, mind blissfully empty. 

Until a door cracks open. Specifically the door to his bathroom. Out walks you, skin glowing and glistening from the early shower you decided to partake in, body wrapped in a towel that Leon swore barely covered anything with how short it was (not that he was complaining, your bare thighs had his heart racing).

“Morning!” you say, as chipper as always when you notice Leon over in the kitchen. Leon has to will the cogs in his mind to start turning, begging the brain cells he had to think of something other than what he would give to strip you out of that towel and make you so dirty you’d have to shower again (which he would join you in, of course). “..Morning,” he mumbles back, turning to look out the window instead as he takes a quick gulp of his coffee, scalding his tongue. Maybe a burnt tongue would distract from his awakening body

As if someone was listening to his thoughts and was against Leon winning in life, you pad over to Leon, the scent of whatever sweet bodywash you used following you and plaguing his senses. “Is it alright if I have some coffee? I’ll make breakfast if you want reimbursement or something,” you offer with a laugh, and so badly does Leon want to blurt out that if you just kissed him, you could have everything in his apartment. 

“Yeah, help yourself, sweetheart. Mi casa es tu casa, or whatever,” he replies quickly, gulping down the rest of his coffee faster than he or his body would’ve liked. He got up fast, needing to put some distance between you and him as he set his mug in the sink, mumbling an excuse about needing to shower. You replied back that you’d get dressed and start breakfast as he shut the door to the bathroom. 

He looks at himself in the mirror for a moment, cursing as he runs a hand down his face and strips out of his clothes, setting the water temperature as cold as it would go before stepping in. 

Two days in and he was already at his wit’s end. Another nickel for him.

---

I want a nickel

[usafphantom2]

Where are the SR 71’s today?

They are all on display in America with one exception. #962 is at Duxford, Great Britain. this SR-71 was the one that was the most frequently stationed in Great Britain It’s a permanent loan from the United States to Great Britain with our thanks.

Arizona

#17951 flew on March 5, 1965, and served as a test bird throughout its career. It is currently displayed at the Pima Air Museum, Tucson, AZ.

California

California is home to more SR-71 aircraft than any other state. It houses six of them, listed below:

•SR-71A #17955 - AFFTC Museum, Edwards AFB, CA.

•SR-71A #17960 - Castle Air Museum near Atwater, CA.

•SR-71A #17963 - Beale AFB, CA.

•SR-71A #17973 - Blackbird Airpark, Palmdale, CA.

•SR-71A #17975 - March Field Museum, March AFB, CA.

•SR-71A #17980 - NASA's Dryden Flight Research Center as #844.

Florida

In Florida, specifically at the USAF Armament Museum, Eglin AFB, FL, the SR-71A #61-7959, also known as the "Big Tail," is on display. This nickname dates to 1975, when it was chosen as the platform for a new series of sensors placed in an extension towards the rear of the aircraft . The last flight of this aircraft took place on October 29, 1976

Georgia

At the Museum of Aviation, Robins AFB, GA, the Blackbird SR-71A #17958 is on display. According to various records, on July 28, 1976, this example facilitated a human being (pilot captain Eldon W. Joersz and major RSO George T. Morgan Jr.) to reach the highest speed ever aboard an aircraft.

Kansas

SR-71A #17961 accumulated 1601 flight hours until February 2, 1977, the date of its last flight. It is currently on display between a Northrop T-38 Talon advanced trainer and a life-size replica of the Space Shuttle at the Kansas Cosmosphere and Space Center, Hutchinson, KS

Louisiana

At the 8th Air Force Museum, Barksdale AFB, LA, the SR-71A #17967 is on display, one of two examples reactivated in 1995 for USAF service before the program was canceled in 1998. Over the years, this aircraft accumulated more than 2700 flight hours.

Texas

At the USAF History and Traditions Museum, Lackland AFB, TX, is SR-71A #17979, which was used as a reconnaissance aircraft during Operation Giant Reach in the Egyptian-Israeli war.

Michigan

Two trainer variants were built, denoted SR-71Bs. One crashed on approach to Beale AFB on January 11, 1968, while the other, SR-71B #17956, is displayed at the Kalamazoo Aviation History Museum in Kalamazoo, MI. This SR-71 has more flight hours than any other Blackbird, nearly 4000, and is believed to have been photographed more times than any other.

Nebraska

At the Strategic Air and Space Museum near Ashland, NE, SR-71A #17964 is on display. Its first flight took place in 1966, and the last in 1990, when it was delivered to Offutt AFB, NE, to be permanently exhibited

Ohio

The first operational ( Jerry O’Malley and Ed Payne) mission of an SR-71 was carried out by SR-71A #17976 before concluding its career with about 3000 flight hours. It is among the first SR-71s to be permanently exhibited and best preserved. It is displayed at the National Museum of the United States Air Force, Wright-Patterson AFB, OH.

Oregon

Below the right wing of Howard Hughes' H-4 Hercules at the Evergreen Aviation Museum in McMinnville, OR, is the most complete and accurate SR-71, SR-71A #17971, which has accumulated over 3500 flight hours.

Utah

As mentioned, after January 11, 1968, when half of the SR-71 trainer fleet was lost due to the crash of #17957, a replacement trainer was built, designated SR-71C #17981. This aircraft is currently on display at the Hill Aerospace Museum, Hill AFB, UT. Irregular maintenance procedures and aftermarket construction caused constant yaw of the aircraft; therefore, the SR-71C was used on a limited basis between 1969-1976.

Virginia

The state of Virginia hosts two SR-71s:

•SR-71A #17968 is displayed at the Science Museum in Richmond, VA. 2. The #972 at Udvar-Hazy

Chantilly,

Linda Sheffield

@Habubrats71 via X

[bonesmakenoise]

Care to tell us more about your tshirt quilt?

Oh, sure!

The "T-Shirt" quilt actually contains t-shirts, two hoodies, a jersey, one pair of pants, and my beloved pink and purple plaid shirt that I wore so much it frayed apart after seven or eight years. It's got two shirts I designed (one of those shirts has both the front and back on the quilt), one shirt I've owned since I was 11, and many shirts with either sentimental value or specific memories attached that I couldn't bear to part with, even as they shrunk in the wash or I outgrew them. I made it in 2021 to celebrate getting my masters after losing my father. This was truly the first quilt I made, and it shows-- the new one is much more technically proficient and about twice or maybe 2.5 times the size. You might be able to see that I had no idea what I was doing with the binding! It's fake silk bias tape that I just sewed over the edges and wadded up in the corners. (I'm all proud of the mitered corners on the new one which don't photograph well.) The new one also had invisible hand-stitched finishing on it for the binding, whereas this one was machine sewed all the way around. It's only quilted horizontally along the lines of the shirts, and has no batting! Even so, as mis-matched as it is, I'm glad I made it so I could keep all of these memories.

[outsideratheart]

Birthday Homage (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: Here’s a little something in honour of Alexia’s birthday. I hope you guys like it.

4th February, the day you get to celebrate the life of your soul mate. If there is one person you are grateful for in this world, it is Alexia. From the day you met her you knew you were meant to have her in your life. Now 10 years later you thank the universe for that day. 

“Feliç Aniversari mi amor” you whisper into Alexia’s ear. 

The Catalonian sun had just started to peak through the blinds in your bedroom but the birthday girl showed no signs of waking up, she was way too comfy in your arms. 

“Alexia” you place a kiss to the soft spot behind her ear “it’s your birthday, time to wake up” 

A small groan let’s you know she is slowly waking up. Her hands move to squeeze yours, which are wrapped around her waist. 

“Bon día” she turns so that she is facing you. 

For a few seconds the two of you stay silent. It is something that happened in specific moments. You took the time to appreciate one another. 

“It’s my birthday” a small grin appears on Alexia’s face “and you have a game” the grin falters slightly. 

For the past couple of years the two of you would spend the day together doing whatever adventure you had planned but this year that couldn’t happen. 

“It is and I do but I still have a a couple of hours before we have to leave. I’m thinking I make you some breakfast then we take Nala for a walk, how does that sound?” It wasn’t what you usually did but it was the best you could offer. 

She hums in response as she buries herself deeper into your arms. 

Alexia watches you get ready for the game and enjoys the show that you playfully put on for her but she notices that you put on a pair of training pants instead of your game day shorts. It was definitely a first. 

“What?” You ask when you see Alexia eyeing you up. 

“Trousers? You always wear shorts no matter where we play in world, never mind Barcelona” Alexia was suspicious and you knew she would be but luckily for you, you had a plan. 

You proceed to pull your trousers down and given the fact that you are yet to put a top on it left you in nothing but your underwear. 

Alexia shakes her head and looks at her watch contemplating whether of not she has time for a little bit of fun. 

“Pull them up Y/N. We don’t have time” Alexia says. 

“There’s plenty of time for that later” you continue getting ready with a smirk on your face knowing that you had gotten away with it. 

A few hours later and the team heads back into the locker room after finishing the warm ups. 

“Does she know?” Mapi asks at she points to your locker. 

“No” you hold your shirt up and admire the changes the the kit man made upon your request. You never thought you would do this but Alexia had a habit of being the reason for you doing things you never imagined. 

When you lead the team out to the field you have the pre match jacket on but your shorts were on show. Alexia sat in the stands with the other injured players and you hoped that she wouldn’t be able to tell from that distance. 

“I think I’ve found one of your birthday presents” Jana nudges Alexia. 

Your girlfriend tries her best to figure out what the younger player is talking about but it isn’t until you finish taking the team photo does she see it. 

There on the back of your shirt was your last name but you didn’t have the number 7 you are known for, instead was the number 11. An homage to her. 

Like every other home match this season you look up at Alexia just before kick off and place your hand over the Barcelona badge. This time though you point to the 11 on your shorts then at her. 

The blush that fills Alexia’s cheeks in uncontrollable. The small act means a lot to Alexia and it does to you too, it’s like you have part of her with you on the pitch. 

When the final whistle blows you shake your opponent’s hands and wait for your girlfriend to come down to the pitch. Bruna is talking to you about the goal she scored which you assisted and you are so focused on her that you forget about Alexia until you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind. Knowing that you will most likely want to have a moment alone with your girlfriend, Bruna leaves and goes to Jana. 

“A goal, an assist and you ditched your 7 for my 11” Alexia recaps the match. 

“Do you like it?” You ask her. In a way it was a public display of affection. The whole world knew the reason why you changed the number and more so because of what today is. 

“I do. Will you be giving it to a fan?” Alexia asks. 

It wasn’t abnormal for you to give your shirts away after matches. Whether it was because you wanted to or because you saw a sign asking for it. 

“Is that your way of asking for my shirt?” You ask Alexia and she nods her head “now?” Again she nods her head. 

You pull the shirt over your head as slowly as possible. It is almost like you are doing a strip tease but you having to keep it PG13 given the people around you. 

What you don’t expect is for Alexia to remove her coat and put your shirt on. 

“What do you think?” Alexia ask as she twirls around. 

“The 11 suits you” you hold out you hand to lead her back into the tunnel. 

“Anything else?” Alexia asks. 

You knew what she wanted you to say. 

“The last name looks good too” you are shy as you pay her the compliment but it didn’t make what you said any less true. 

[sammygems]

One Piece x Genshin Crossover - Straw Hats

I've been thinking about this idea for like, a hot minute, plus i've talked with a friend about it, and i decided to share it. so Vision elements & weapon types for the Straw Hats, plus what nations they'd be from if they existed in the world of Teyvat (plus some additional little thoughts and headcanons)! all 11 straw hats will be included

Monkey D. Luffy

Element: Anemo

Weapon Type: i wanna say Catalyst maybe?

Nation: Mondstadt or Natlan

Reasoning my friend gave for him being anemo: "freedom and dreams"

Roronoa Zoro

Element: Geo

Weapon Type: Sword

Nation: Inazuma

Additional Thoughts: I imagine his fighting style would be more similar to Chiori's in-game then it would be to other sword fighters from Inazuma. He probably would've left Inazuma before the Vision Hunt Decree, so would've been unaffected by it.

Reasoning my friend gave for Geo for him: "constantly looking to be stronger. Is a rock."

Nami

Element: Electro

Weapon Type: Polearm

Nation: Mondstadt

Additional Thoughts: I think originally my friend suggested Anemo for her, but after i started seeing her using lighting with the clima-tact more, plus i learned that (according to Oda in the SBS from Volume 98) if Nami had a devil fruit, she'd have the goro goro no mi/rumble-rumble fruit, which is the lighting devil fruit that Enel has, i decided that electro would probably fit her better.

Usopp

Element: Dendro

Weapon Type: Bow

Nation: honestly i'm not too sure, originally my friend said Mondstadt, but i could also see maybe Natlan or Sumeru (rainforest) for him

Friend's reasoning for Dendro for him: "I'm told that post timeskip he explores botanical things and it just makes sense" (they hadn't reached the timeskip at the time we talked about this)

Sanji

Element: Pyro

Weapon Type: Catalyst

Nation: Fontaine

Additional Thoughts: I imagine his fighting style would be similar to Heizou's, which is why i thought catalyst as his weapon type.

Friend's reasoning for Pyro for him: "Literally does fire kicks from Enies lobby -> onward"

Nefertari Vivi

Element: Hydro

Weapon Type: honestly not sure

Nation: Sumeru - Desert Region

Additional Thoughts: I originally thought hydro, based on just vibes and my friend agreed, saying "she's got a strong sense of justice"

Tony Tony Chopper

Element: Cryo

Weapon Type: Catalyst maybe?

Nation: Snezhnaya OR Mondstadt, but if from Mondstadt he'd be specifically from Dragonspine

Friend's Reasoning for Cryo for him: "Felt unloved for the longest time, came from drum island"

Nico Robin

Element: Electro (but i could also see Dendro for her)

Weapon Type: Catalyst

Nation: Snezhnaya

Additional Thoughts: I have too many thoughts on Robin in the world of Teyvat. First of all, in Robin's pre-timeskip outfits for Whisky Peak, Skypiea, & Long Ring Long Land (underneath the jacket) she wore an armband/bangle on her left arm that had a gold medal on it that had a BW for Baroque Works on the medal in the Whisky Peak outfit and in the Skypiea & LRLL outfits had a N for "Nico", basically, that would be her vision in genshin. She would probably grow up either in or have some involvement with the Fatui, before somehow ending up in Sumeru where she works with Crocodile for a bit.

Franky

Element: Geo

Weapon Type: Not sure atm

Nation: Fontaine

Friend's reasoning for Geo for him: "Franky gives me geo energy because oh my god he and Itto have a lot in common"

Brook

Element: Anemo

Weapon Type: Sword

Nation: Mondstadt

Friend's reasoning for Anemo: "musician, dead friends"

~ EDIT ~

Element: Cyro

Weapon Type: Sword

Nation: Mondstadt

Reason for Element Change: I was informed that Brook uses ice based attacks post-timeskip.

~ End of Edit ~

Jinbe

Element: Hydro

Weapon Type: Catalyst(??)

Nation: Sumeru

Additional Things: My friend said "obvious reasons" for why he should be hydro, but now i also know that he has a strong sense of justice, so hydro is even more fitting.

[autism-autobot]

Flower of a Poisonous Seed Part 13:

@swkbiggestdefender @starrclown @istopaskingmemate

Part 12:

"I don't like me."

"Why?"

Nezha could think of a billion reasons why Sun Wukong would potentially dislike or even downright hate himself but his own personal speculations wouldn't tell him what Wukong was currently thinking of.

"Well, to be more specific, I don't like the me that I was or, and this is the part that's really been bugging me lately, the me that people assume I am...

I don't like being 'The Monkey King'. The people's perception of me is really skewed in a way...

They think 'The Monkey King' is a guy who's only desire is to fight, kick demon ass, eat peaches, and bask in his own glory all day...

That's not me...

That's not who I want to be...

But that's definitely who I used to be...

But not for the reasons that most people may believe....

I sought other people's praise and attention because I wanted validation. I needed to learn how to fight to protect my people and I became really good at it.

I caught the attention of Azure and the Brotherhood; people who were also great at fighting, and called me better than them by comparison.

They gave me the very thing that I craved from the beginning.

And that's when I spiraled out of control."

Wukong wept as he continued.

"I had become something so awful and I flew too close to the sun in such a way that

I

just

fell...

And I think you know the rest."

"Perhaps I do."

"But who is the real you, the one you want others to know?"

"...

...

...just...

...me..."

Part 14:

Masterpost

[thoughts-of-caly]

ok y’all i’m finally making a pinned about me type post

it’s gonna be a long one so i’ll put it below the cut for those of you who don’t wanna read all that

i’m caly, us-based (virginia), currently a senior in high school

i’m also on ao3 at writings_of_caly, letterboxd at reviewsofcaly, and ellipsus (dm me for sharing). i also have a wattpad. no i will not drop the link. if you find my wattpad good for you i guess

i am a christian, specifically protestant, more specifically reformed baptist.

my asks are always open :)

i am in a ton of fandoms. like a lot. i’ll list the ones i can remember for now here. bear in mind that some will be repeats (if they’re a book & a movie adaptation for example). these are not in any particular order (sorry). dm me if you know i’m in one that’s not on here

books: dracula, kingdom keepers, artemis fowl, alex rider, percy jackson etc., the inheritance cycle, the maze runner, les mis, chronicles of narnia, the hunger games, the hobbit, the lord of the rings, lockwood & co, bartimaeus cycle, the wingfeather saga, the folk of the air, the iliad & the odyssey, cosmere (haven’t read all of them)

movies: the mcu, the maze runner, bond films, star wars, now you see me, ocean’s 11/12/whatever, the godfather, jaws, x-men, the maze runner, the lord of the rings, the hunger games, the chronicles of narnia, jurassic park, the sandlot, les mis, night at the museum, bourne films, dceu

tv shows: psych, the artful dodger, the chosen, hbowar (haven’t seen gen kill yet), percy jackson, miraculous ladybug, mighty med, lab rats, quantum leap (original & reboot), the waltons, fbi, downton abbey, brooklyn 99, the waltons

musicals: hamilton, dear evan hansen, les mis, newsies, wicked, six, the lightning thief, west side story, into the woods, the outsiders

wow that’s a lot. anyway haha i love this webbed site

[fitzrove]

Musical asks! 11, 35, 37?

11. favourite musical on broadway right now

Omg, I had to look up what's even running haha!

As a show, my favourite thing currently running there would be Cabaret, but I don't really like the production design/aesthetic/vibe/directing of that specific production, so that one is out. That leaves Chicago, Hamilton, Six and Wicked, all shows I enjoy or have enjoyed at some point (and have seen somewhere, save for Hamilton!). I should keep up with Broadway more, I've been meaning to look up the new production of Merrily (... I've listened to one old album on spotify but was mostly very confused... :D) and The Great Gatsby. Anyway, out of those I think I might go for Chicago!

I always have a really good time at Six (have seen it twice now in two different countries hehe) and the cast recording was like my most listened album of 2019, so I would otherwise pick that... but there are some pretty terrible jokes in the show that take me out of the experience and put me in a cringe vortex for a solid 2.5 seconds before I can keep enjoying it xD Chicago is more solid in terms of book, THOUGH for that show to work you need to have really good casting (with Six this is never a problem, I don't know where they keep finding crazy amazing triple threats for principals, alts AND swings for literally every production everywhere lol, but I think Broadway Chicago has a pretty extensive history of stunt casting...). Ooh I looked up the current Broadway cast and Jinkx Monsoon is Mama Morton??? Slay... I would definitely go for Chicago then, if I got one free Broadway ticket right now.

35. favourite teenage character from a musical

It's been Éponine since like 2011, when I saw the ÅST production of Les Mis >:)) I don't remember specific stuff about the portrayal because I was quite young, only that I evidently loved it a lot. I was playing my first ever TS2 legacy challenge back then, and when I got home I immediately named the next child born in-game after her xD (One of my favourite sims ever! I played her for like half a year of IRL time before she died of old age. She lived a much happier life than her namesake.)

37. favourite musical you’ve never listened to

Victor/Victoria! I've read the Wikipedia plot summary several times. Omg wait no I checked again just now and that's by Wildhorn?!??!?! I'm scared now....... Well, I guess I already locked in my answer...

[theophagie-remade]

English translation of Questo mondo non mi renderà cattivo/This world can't tear me down's opening song:

Seafarers who go

Wherever they want, but not here¹

To steal my job in this jungle

And crushing my dream, which was to

open a bangla²

A bangla

It's fine if you remain here

But come on, stop talking to me about dignity

We bury waste where flowers grow³

(You're paid) €1.50 an hour and then you die⁴

But (do it) outside

Go die out there, 'cause here you're

You're in a wonderful country

This is a wonderful country

Wonderful

Wonderful

Seafarers who go

Wherever they want, but not here

To steal my job in this jungle

And crushing my dream of opening a bangla

A bangla

It's fine if you remain here

If you're running from a war, sure, but it must be a truly major one⁵

Nobody gives a damn about your shitty degree

It's just that your skin tone's a little too dark⁶

Dark for this place, for you're

You're in a wonderful country

This is a wonderful country

Wonderful

Bridges collapse⁷, ships sink⁸

But come on, it's all wonderful, as long as it doesn't happen to you

Students die, ministers speak⁹

This flavour of evil, can't you taste it too?¹⁰

This flavour of evil, can't you taste it too?

Factories explode¹¹, houses collapse¹²

But come on, it's all wonderful, as long as it doesn't happen to you

Rights die, ministers applaud¹³

This flavour of evil, can't you taste it too?

This flavour of evil, can't you taste it too?

Can't you taste it too?

1: Reference to Umberto Tozzi and Raf's 1987 song Gente di Mare ("Seafarers"). Most "illegal" immigrants reach Italy by sea through boats or rafts

2: Slang term for a mini-market owned by south asian immigrants. Also, "they steal our jobs", opposition to immigration 101 all across the board

3: Illegal waste burial is a really common practice in Italy

4: Exploitation of immigrants and their labour

5: Although anti-refugees sentiment is still strong, undeniably ukrainian refugees are more easily "accepted" than others due to both racism and to how close the russo-ukranian war is to Italy itself

6: Although this happened too recently for it to have been the inspiration for this line (which nevertheless expresses a commonly held belief), it should be known that just last May three ghanaian collaborators of Lesley Lokko who were supposed to be with her for the Venice Biennale cultural exhibition were denied entry into Itay. While details weren't made public, Lokko was allegedly accused of trying to bring "non-essential young men" into the country

7: Reference to the collapse of the Morandi Bridge in 2018. 43 people lost their lives

8: Reference to the Costa Concordia disaster of 2012. 33 people lost their lives

9: Suicides are becoming ever more common for a number of reasons, especially among university students. Giuseppe Valditara, the current Minister of Education, maintains that humiliation is a "factor for growth"

10: Likely a reference to Gino Paoli's 1956 song Sapore di sale ("Flavour of salt / Salty flavour")

11: Possibly a reference to the explosion of the Thyssenkrupp steel mill in Turin, 2007. It may be a broader allusion to workplace accidents and death. 2022 alone saw 1090 victims

12: Illegal construction is extremely common. Just last November 12 people died in Ischia due to a landslide. Hydrogeological instability is overall high in all of Italy

13: Amongst its objectives, the draft bill Ddl Zan aimed to criminalise hate crimes specifically motivated by homotransphobia, misogyny, and ableism. The Senate "killed" it on 27/10/2021, with the cheering and clapping of its detractors