#my first address was with a provider that no longer exists

[parfaitblogs]

'tis the damn season ❀ s. reid x reader

in which christmas is the season to crawl back into your ex's life, and you accidentally do so one drunken night. 

pairing: ex!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: flangst tags: still in love exes. alcohol consumption. (sleepy) drunk reader. spencer reid's fear of dementia. word count: 1.3k a/n: obligatory do not contact your exes this holiday season. just fantasise about doing it to spencer reid. it’s opening night for my play so!! here is this while i go off to do that!!! :D

❄︎ advent calendar masterlist

Fourteen missed calls.

Spencer Reid had fourteen missed calls, from a number he did not have saved, but could recognise despite the months that have passed and the seasons that have changed. 

Why did he have fourteen missed calls?

Christmas was always an awful time for him. The striking reminder that he was alone in a big city, for his mother does not remember him this year, his father does not exist in his life, and his friends have families of their own. 

And then there was you. Oh God, there was you. 

He thinks even when he grows old and his brain begins to delete files from his expansive memory, you will stick around forever. He thinks he is physically incapable of forgetting you, even if he tried. Sickeningly so. 

Shaking hands answer the sixteenth call before it can ring through, having watched the fifteenth come and go. He was met with a lot of silence, and he had to question if he even had picked up the call. 

But yes, you were there. Quietly. Breathing into the phone, perhaps surprised by the fact that he had actually answered. Or maybe this wasn't you. Maybe you had changed your number, or gotten your phone stolen, or—

"Spencer?"

If anything were to pierce the silence in his apartment, it might be the shattering of his heart as he listens to you speak his name for the first time in thirteen months. Your voice was so familiar, yet so different, too. You had thirteen months of growth, and yet you sound the same as you had the day he first met you.

"Hey," he finally breathes out, and he hears you shakily exhale. 

"Can you open your door? S'really cold out here."

He freezes. The causality in your tone tells him there's something else motivating your random reappearance in his life, followed closely by the faintest hint of a slur in your words. 

Oh.

He heads to his door, and sure enough, on the other side of it, stands you, in something borderline ridiculous for the December weather. No wonder you were freezing. 

"What're you—why're you—come in—it's freezing," he stammers out, eventually deciding on stepping to the side to let you into his warmer apartment, the visible relaxation of your shoulders providing some comfort to him in light of your state. 

"Your hair," you say, eyes wide as he coaxes you inside and to his kitchen countertop. His fingertips probably burn holes through the fabric of your dress as he guides you. 

"My hair," he replies, and though it isn't posed as a question, he is confused. 

"It's longer," you clarify for him. "I like it."

He provides a weak smile. "Thank you. Are you cold?"

"Not anymore," you shake your head, finding a seat at his island, folding yourself in half over the edge of it, resting your head on the marble. "Your apartment's warm."

He nods his head, walking around to the other side of it, using his hands to lift your head back up. "Don't fall asleep."

"'m not," you mumble in response, though your head growing heavier and lolling into his left palm claimed otherwise. 

"Liar," he muses, and you huff, quietly, but force your eyes open regardless. He ignores the heavy feeling in his chest when the two of you lock eyes. "There she is. Why're you here?"

"I dunno, actually," you say, and his heart sinks. "My friends put me in a taxi an hour ago. Or two hours. I don't really remember," he presumes one hour — you were still so drunk. "And I asked him to drive me around. He said okay, but he needed a final destination too. I guess I gave him your address."

"Why?"

"Habit, maybe," you murmur.

"It's habit to take a taxi back to my apartment?" 

You shrug your shoulders. "'Cause I used to. Back when..."

We were still together, hangs off the end of your sentence. 

"Christmas party?" he then asks you, and your head nods against his palm. 

"For work," you end the word with a yawn. "I wanted to Merry Christmas my way back into your life, I guess."

He knew it was your lowered inhibitions spilling these details out to him, and he should pretend you aren't saying things like this for your own benefit. But he also couldn't stop the visceral reaction he has towards your admission of wanting to reenter his life. 

"You shouldn't," he replies. 

You pause, searching his face all too intently. "D'you not want me to?"

It's a loaded question, and he knows the response he wants to say is vastly different to the response he should say. But you're staring at him, albeit inebriated, and he has nothing left to do but curse his impeccable memory for reminding him of everything he hasn't had for thirteen months. He misses you. 

"I don't want you to do something you regret," he settles on saying. 

"Well, 'm already here," you mumble, and his hands soften on your cheeks, before he slips them away. 

"Yes. You are," he nods, standing up straighter. "Do you have a way home?"

"Um, Uber, I guess."

"It's too late and you're too drunk for an Uber alone," he disapproves. 

"I took a Taxi here alone—"

"—I'm not letting you go home — alone —from my apartment in your state," he counters immediately. "I don't really care how you got here."

You relent quite easily though, murmuring a quiet, "Okay," that shocks him. 

"Do you want to shower?"

You nod, your feet slipping from the stool and landing on the floor. He's moving back around to you to help the second he watches your hands brace on the edge of the countertop, an arm looping around your waist that makes your stomach swim. 

"I can walk, y'know."

"Uh-huh," he doesn't believe you fully, and you don't have it in you to fight with him as he leads you to an all too familiar bathroom. As he sits you down on his toilet lid, he says, "Stay there. I'll get you some clothes."

"Yes, Doc."

His cheeks puff as he expels a sigh at the nickname, shaking his head as he disappears back into his bedroom. 

By the time he's returned, your eyes are fluttered shut, your head sitting probably uncomfortably against the wall next to his toilet. But your chest is moving evenly enough for him to conclude that you had fallen asleep that quickly, and he didn't have the heart to wake you back up. He'll take your frustration in the morning.

You barely stir as he carries you into his room again. Instead, he swears you curl further into his bedsheets the second he places you down on his mattress. 

"Spence?"

He's barely two footsteps towards his door when you speak again, and his heart shatters. He turns over his shoulder, and though you're speaking, your eyes are barely cracked open. 

"Where're you goin'?"

"The couch," he says, confused by the frown that tugs your lips down. "What?"

"Come back. This is your bed."

"It is," he nods. "But you're in it."

"'m not gonna bite," you say, your hands weakly stretching out towards him.

He takes a few beats to determine whether or not he'd take up your offer. But he is too weak of a man to not give in, and he doesn't know if he'll ever get you in his bed again. So, he sighs, and begrudgingly climbs back into his bed next to you.

"Hey," he turns his head, a question dancing on his tongue. But when he finds you again, you're fast asleep once more. Habitually, as if it hadn't been thirteen months, he brushes the hair that had fallen out of your face, and he smiles.

And, to no one in particular, he murmurs, "I'm glad you Merry Christmas'd your way back into my life."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[branwinged]

Will you accept a mad dany arc if grrm does it in a different, more sensical way or would that always narratively suck for you?

it has nothing do with my personal feelings regarding the character. i dislike speculation of dany having a downfall arc because it reveals a misreading of the text and the narrative role she plays within it. i don't believe it can be done in a satisfying way because she was always intended to be a heroic character. the 'mad dany' reading relies on certain initial assumptions about her character that are being problematised within the story—which is difficult to discuss because grrm's intent regarding dany is at odds with the orientalist framework he employs in the construction of essos, but i'll try to be comprehensive about it. so dany is an exile, homeless and perpetually seeking a home. she was told by viserys that westeros is "our land" but she's not culturally westerosi the same way the rest of our cast is because she's also never known westeros. all she has are second hand, romanticised accounts from viserys (These places he talked of [...] they were just words to her). dany has lived her entire life in essos and absorbed their cultural norms and slavery is normalised in most of essos (There was no slavery in the free city of Pentos. Nonetheless, they were slaves), it's especially apparent in her first chapter which pointedly draws attention to the various slaves serving at illyrio's manse, something dany doesn't express any moral objection to, because nobody has taught her this is wrong. and that understanding only comes after viserys sells her to drogo and she personally experiences a similar loss of autonomy.

Do you know what it is like to be sold, squire? I do. My brother sold me to Khal Drogo for the promise of a golden crown. Well, Drogo crowned him in gold, though not as he had wished, and I . . . my sun-and-stars made a queen of me, but if he had been a different man, it might have been much otherwise. Do you think I have forgotten how it felt to be afraid? DAENERYS II, A Storm of Swords

and when mirri reveals to dany that her act of 'saving' her was no saving at all. rescuing her through the offer of a place in drogo's khalasar is a meaningless gesture since it does nothing to address the systems that have enabled mirri's enslavement in the first place. yeah, she's fourteen and possesses no power in her own right and is not complicit in drogo's crimes but mirri's presence in the story is meant to teach her that lesson. dany does not arrive already possessed with a political consciousness that opposes slavery, she learns and reorients her worldview just as jon did once he became familiar with the free folk. this is an important detail because without it her crusade in slaver's bay is no longer a story about a former enslaved and sexually abused girl being provided the means to begin a revolutionary counter-struggle against a culture of dehumanisation, but about a civilising mission where a culturally westerosi (westeros, where slavery is outlawed. westeros which is clearly imagined as the occident to essos's orient) character with superior ideals travels to foreign lands to educate the barbarians—which would've made her a straightforward white saviour figure. this IS undermined by the way her storyline is rife with orientalist tropes and i'm getting to that, but my main point is that dany's character is very deliberately written to be someone who is stateless and doesn't belong anywhere. she is an other. which is compounded by her targaryen heritage—the targaryens are narratively imagined as white enough to co-exist with the rest of westeros but they're also being othered because they're a family originating from the east with 'depraved' inbreeding and blood magic practices (practices that are reviled throughout the whole continent), which simultaneously makes them too other to ever fully assimilate despite the family being culturally westerosi in all the ways that matter. this especially comes through in the coin quote, every house has had occasional despots for rulers but people only bother to pathologise the targaryens and that's because they're foreigners. "the gods flip a coin" is presenting this dichotomy of targaryens as either mad - violent barbarians from the east, or great, in which case they're exoticised as otherworldly, above the laws of gods and men. and the final thing that serves to other her is her association with the dothraki. the dothraki are initially introduced as violent savages, but that view has been challenged since then as dany adopts dothraki customs and comes to love their people as her own and even sees herself as more of a khaleesi than a queen. and i must emphasise that this is no way done well because a) the dothraki are constructed out of offensive stereotypes about steppe cultures b) five books later grrm hasn't bothered to give any of them interiority because he clearly doesn't care about the dothraki, they're an afterthought in his narrative about dany and c) i think the subversion of their introduction as the inferior racial other basically amounts to "they're noble savages".

so you see all this at work when in-universe those who revile her speak of alleged violent tendencies, that she's coming to burn the continent down, that she hatched her dragons through foul blood magic and that she tricked her khal husband into murdering her brother and has acquired an army of savages, that her court is made up of foreigners and 'honourless' westerosi men (jorah, barristan, and soon tyrion), while others talk of her supposed otherworldly beauty ("The last of her line. They say she is the fairest woman in the world.")—the mad dany reading of her is taking all this at face value, it's falling for that in-universe narrative her enemies have come up with, which associates her and her allies' foreignness with moral depravity. (this is also what the show did, which i said "achieved her s8 ending by fully leaning into the horror of the savage oriental horde come to oppress the civilised westerosi landowning class" and that hysterical randyll tarly speech "at least cersei wasn't a FOREIGNER"). a very early example of this is in the first book. robert wanted a teenager dead because she was a targaryen: aerys's daughter, rhaegar's sister, because she married a khal and adopted dothraki customs as her own. and it was ned who put up a fight against this. ned is flawed in my ways but do you suppose the narrative will diminish ned's legacy in this, in his stance against dehumanisation. and asoiaf is primarily about that, every major character has had experience with being othered (cripples, bastards, and broken things is about this) and within this narrative dany is meant to be The Other who is working to end institutions of otherisation. her upcoming invasion of westeros is not playing into the the threat of the foreign invader but raising questions of whether westeros is also in need of some reform (at one point tyrion directly compares a serf to a slave, something that might be narratively painting westeros as not culturally superior at all for having outlawed slavery). the problem, of course, being that the way grrm subverts the image of essos as the inferior racial other is by first populating it with orientalist stereotypes. he parallels some of the violence found in ghiscari culture and the dothraki raid of the lhazareen village with ramsay and amory lorch and gregor clegane et al operating in the riverlands in acok but the ghiscari are also portrayed almost as a monolith, as uniformly morally suspect individuals because our only introduction to them is through the slavers. it's the way dany is the only active abolitionist with a narrative voice in essos (there's the shavepate. but he's also a scheming violent extremist so), i said her story is not a civilising mission but when you fail to give any of the ghiscari oppressed a voice it doesn't result in great optics. and it is undeniable that the story is About Westeros, dany's great narrative destiny lies over there, when the long night arrives—an apocalyptic threat meant to affect the entire world—the battle for the dawn will also take place over there, i doubt the essosi will play a role in that.

[revoleotion]

As I was ranting to Milena, I did realize something that probably has already been said by people more eloquent than me but I have to get it off my chest here.

DATVG does spend a lot of time trying to get us to forget the problems the world of Thedas was facing, so it can spend its entire runtime bashing the solution a very desperate (and misguided) person proposes. When I played Trespasser, I didn't think that the Veil was about to come down in the next game, but I did believe that it was going to deal with addressing the problems the Veil evidently causes and how to deal with them.

I don't think any DA fan, even Solas' biggest haters, will argue that the blight or spirits being twisted into demons (and becoming a threat in the process) are a great and wonderful thing we want to keep, actually. But even his biggest fans might argue that tearing the Veil down without any preparation or care for the world as it exists now is maybe not an ideal way to deal with all of that?

VG wants us to believe that tearing down the Veil is somehow a personal goal that Solas has that is purely fueled by his own guilt and regrets. But that is not the case. He wants to solve the problem he created (well. as of trespasser, anyway, but it wasn't his fault in the first place uwu), but that is not because his loyalty to Mythal forces him to do it but because he SAW how badly he fucked up. We can only trust him when he claims that any alternative would've been worse... but even if it weren't. Even if this was just one guy fucking up on such a giant cosmic scale that it's almost hilarious if it weren't so bad. The motivation we are getting from him in Trespasser is one of trying to fix what he perceives to be a broken world.

(That is not to say that ALL problems in Thedas are created by the Veil, but interestingly enough those are the issues Solas does react to in Inquisition as well. He is passionate about mage rights and ending slavery and the systematic oppression elves face. And he does try to help with that, even if his priority is more on the cosmic fuck up side.)

VG tries to link the entirety of the Veil (and all problems it causes) to your personal opinion about Solas, and then tries its damn hardest to make him as unsympathetic as possible so that there can never be any doubt that he is an asshole who is wrong about his stupid plan.

Funnily enough, when we meet him for the first time in VG, in the middle of his ritual, it doesn't look all that much like ending the entire world to me. Yes, there is collateral, but he's clearly been adapting his plans, and I would've expected the game to expand on that. Maybe there IS a way to approach things in a better way, after all, and maybe Solas can understand that.

But no. Because that approach would require for the game to address issues instead of bashing one guy's approach to solving them. So what it does is make all issues miraculously disappear, so that Solas is no longer providing a solution but instead just wants to do evil shit for... (checks notes) situationship reasons. Right.

And as I was ranting about that, it came to me.

Maybe, VG never could've been anything different. Because remember another game in this series? A game that spent far too much of its third act discussing the action one very desperate person took after every other option was taken away from him and he feared that every single member of the oppressed group he was in would be eliminated? Remember how the game following that one will only ever speak of this person as a monster - even in the most sympathetic world state - because maybe the DA writers are just afraid of what they had set up.

And maybe VG is a perfect example of a game written by people who are terrified of anything but the status quo.

[haveyoutriedrebootingit]

Friendly neighborhood tech support cryptid here with today's advice:

Do not use your school or work email to sign up for things, unless they are specifically school or work related.

This is not a "they are watching you" thing, although with your work email there's an element of that, it's a "you might not have access to this email later" thing.

Your best bet is to open two gmail (or any other long-standing free email) accounts. One, you use to sign up for stuff. The other you use to talk to people. You may occasionally use the first to talk to companies, but it's going to fill up with spam soooo goddamn fast-- even just from the people you signed up for.

But the point is that this email address will be available if you drop out/quit, get kicked out/fired, or graduate. Yes, I know a lot of colleges give free email for life to alumni. That can change, especially as most of those colleges haven't thought about the server/storage costs of such a promise in perpetuity. If you do have such an email, you'll want to sign into it regularly, if only too see if the school has sent you a notice explaining what you need to do to keep this email, and what date you need to do it by, and how apathetic they're going to be if you didn't read it and lost the email.

You can't reset the password for an email you can't access, so don't provide an email that can be taken away from you with little or no notice. (When I got laid off from my job at a fortune 500 company, I had twenty minutes before they shut off my email.)

I would say 5% of the calls I take are people who desperately need access to an email that no longer exists, because they signed up for something important with it, and now they can't reset their password.

(And don't use your phone number if someone else is paying for the phone. Maaaaybe if it's your parents, and you're really cool with them, and you know they're going to let you take the number if you get your own plan.)

[renhanaschewtoy]

Personal Possession

[[okay first little random bit that popped into my mind, getting the cobwebs off writing. Idk]]

You'd been good.

So good.

Or as good as you figured you could be.

It could be worse, you choose to believe that. Frankly, you need to. You remind yourself that Ren, while occasionally some unpredictable, treated you well. You were fed home cooked meals, something you didn't always even give yourself. He usually tries to accommodate you unless he had a particular rhyme or reason stuck in him that he deemed better. You were clean, you were healthy aside from the occasional zap, the accident with the nail gun seemed so far away but the passage of time was blurry.

Which lead you to where you were currently, settled on the couch with your usual accoutrements of the ankle shackle and collar while Ren was out. To your apartment. He'd taken your keys, asked you for your address, and a list in hand.

He'd seemed so excited, so happy, to do this for you. Asking you to make a list of what you'd like him to bring for you. And you knew better- you knew damn well than to try and pull anything. So you wrote down a few sentimental pieces and where they would be, your favorite personal cafe products, some of your clothes...you don't entirely remember it all. You were too preoccupied conveying how grateful you were to him, how thoughtful and considerate he was being, peppering him with cooed words of praise.

You had learned what he liked, so when Ren would lean in- you would bend. Maybe you were broken, maybe you were conditioned. Did it matter at this point? This was your life now and for better or worse, Ren had sunk his claws in you. In more ways than one, but you loved him.

This was love.

Something something manifesting, something something speak it into existence or whatever.

×××

He wanted to provide for you. That's what men did. What lovers did. But even he had to carve his own way, be it literally or otherwise. Your so soft skin was a beautiful testament to that. But Ren wanted to reward you. Gentle, polite, soft, oh so sweet you. That perhaps some tokens of your own might comfort you more. After all, he had promised that he would adjust the bedroom more to your taste.

The thought of planning and renovating the room together brought a warmth of domestic bliss into Ren's chest. His lips curled into a grin as he twisted the key into your apartment. He was quick but he savored it a little- the smell of you everywhere, the way you decorate, the things you like and collected over the years...but better things now. New things going forward.

Quickly he rummages about your bedroom and bathroom. Taking products from your shower, the same enticing smells that were on your skin when you first met. Your skincare, so he would know what to get for you going forward. Even a couple articles of your clothing and a bottle of your perfume/cologne. He can't help but sniff a little a twitch of his sensitive nose as Ren swoons. Things will be better now, you'll feel more comfortable in your new home.

He takes such good care of you, he's been so sweet on you, and you've responded so good to your training.

Pausing at the door of what used to be your room, he can't help but smirk at the well loved stuffed fox on your bed. "How cute..." He murmurs to himself, striding to stuff it in the bag with the rest of his things. Ren knew he'd gotten so lucky, to say you were a jackpot was underrated with this little token.

This was something written in the stars.

Ren absconds from your apartment, locking the door littered with notices of your pending eviction without so much as a second glance. After all, you wouldn't need it anymore. Not when you had him. He was all you needed now.

×××

You jolted slightly hearing the door unlock, open, then shut. A soft rustling of fur and canvas, signalling Ren being home and no longer needed to hide his ears or tail. You shifted to sit upright at attention as Ren padded into the living room with a wide grin.

"Miss me?" He teases playfully, though he's clearly pleased with himself it's clear he's pleased with you as well.

"Always." The words leave your lips so easily, you barely have to think about it. And really? You did. You'd grown to like the comfort of him curled against you, late night anime marathons, even the sex. Maybe you'd always had a deep chasm of loneliness in you, maybe this was...okay. Things could change, in time. People too. Maybe it wouldn't always be this way. You hoped. But there was always the voice in the back of your head, Ren's voice, purring "If you're good~."

"Mmm...you're so cute." Ren croons in reply, preening as he settles on the couch next to you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck affectionately. A gesture you return as you shift your head to snuggle against him in kind. His hand reaches for your face, tilting your jaw just so that he can slot his lips against yours. You can feel his grin against your lips and he hums approvingly into your mouth as your eyes slip closed. Ren parts from you, thumb brushing over your lower lip in pause, seemingly in thought that you don't interrupt. "Here, I brought you some presents." He withdraws to pull the duffle bag onto your lap.

You bite your tongue for a moment, a witty remark that if they're already yours they aren't really gifts. But you're not there yet. Yet. For now, you are grateful for some of your own creature comforts. Your own belongings. Things you own rather than being a possession yourself. But you chastise yourself for the brief thought. Your eyes glance at Ren as if for permission to open the bag or if he would rather make a show of it himself. You're met with that same warm smile he gives you, the one that lets you know it's okay.

The sound of the zipper seems incredibly loud in the silent house. You peeled back the flap and the reaction was nearly immediate. It was as if you'd been shocked from the collar but different. Ren's brows furrow and his confident smile begins to wane as your breathing becomes shaky and tears begin to head your lashes. His clawed fingers twitched for a moment as you began to hiccup and cry as you slowly pull out each of your things.

Were you ungrateful??

Ren had gotten almost everything that you wanted!

He was rewarding you!

He was-

"...Thank you!" Your sob is soft but your words, god- Ren doesn't know if he's heard that tone from you before but fuck if he doesn't love it. "Thank you so much...thank you...thank you, Ren." And suddenly your arms are around him, shuddering sobs and little sniffles as you bury your face in his shoulder, embracing him. The earlier thoughts melt away almost immediately as his arms encircle your middle and he leans into your affections with an almost dreamy smile over his lips. There you were, his good pet, his sweet darling.

"You're welcome...I wanted to do this for you. Make you feel more...at home." Ren murmurs into your hair, dragging his claws along your back in a soothing manner as he allows you this. "...I didn't know you liked foxes so much...lucky us, huh?" Ren can't help but squeeze you as you give an almost bashful choked laugh. The plush you'd had since you were a kid, looked up at you from the bag through the little beaded eyes.

"Y-Yeah..." You reply, wiping at your eyes with the heels of your hands, not that the action deters Ren any from shifting to lean into you and rest his head on your chest. You move to fall back on the cushions as he gently replaced the bag on the floor to lay atop you in contentment. "Lucky us." You parrot back, with a sniffle and idly stroke his velvety ears the way Ren likes, the telltale purr reverberating in his chest against you.

"But I'm your favorite." It isn't a hopeful, cute ask - it's a statement of fact from Ren.

"Always." Is the same reply as the melodic intro music of Sailor Moon begins to waft through the living room.

[wingdingery]

Hello! I really wanted to say that your writing is amazing, I always look forward to what you upload especially for Brudick, but even just their platonic readings too caught a bit of my interest! I had a question that I felt that you probably could answer. Who do you think is closer to Bruce, Alfred or Dick? I've seen this question pop up, and usually people would say Alfred, but I feel like that's not true, though I could just be biased. So, I was wondering what do you think?

Thank you so much, anon! 💙

There’s a lot of nuance to this but ultimately I would say Dick is closer to Bruce, at least under my definition of “close”. I’m also obviously biased BUT I will try to give some context for why I think so.

(This is under the cut because, as usual, I went much longer than you probably bargained for when you asked this, but hopefully some of it will be interesting to you!)

So, first of all, Dick’s overall existence predates Alfred by a few years (Batman was created in 1939; Dick was introduced in 1940, and Alfred in 1943). Dick was also clearly meant to be Bruce’s close ally and partner from the very beginning, whereas Alfred grew into that role.

Detective Comics (1937) #38

Batman (1940) #16

These early Golden Age comics have little bearing on modern canon and characterization, but as the “birth” of these characters, I think it still provides important context – particularly regarding their relationships to each other. It’s fairly consistent across retellings that Dick and Bruce are drawn to each other because of their shared grief and trauma, and the ways they help each other work through that. At its core, and from the very beginning, their bond is a highly emotional one.

Bruce and Alfred’s is not. What’s consistent across retellings is that Alfred is the family butler, and a bond doesn’t immediately develop between them once Bruce’s parents die. In some tellings, it’s presented as simple emotional distance that Alfred doesn’t know how to cross, even to comfort a grieving child:

Batman: Dark Victory #9

Sometimes, the emotional connection existed between Alfred and Thomas and Martha. In those cases, Bruce is “Thomas and Martha’s son” who Alfred watches over in their memory, but he (at least initially) cares for Bruce as a way of caring for the Waynes’ legacy, and not for Bruce’s own sake.

Batman: The Knight #1

And this continues into Bruce’s adulthood. Even as they get closer over the years and Alfred helps Bruce with his activities as Batman, he actively maintains the employer-employee relationship between them. You could argue addressing him as “Master Bruce” is habit/formality, but regardless, it creates emotional distance between them, and Alfred consistently refers to their relationship in terms of employment, even when it’s clear they care deeply for each other.

Knightquest (Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #60)

I should caveat here that I haven’t read a ton of solo Bruce content so there may be things I’m missing, but from what I have read, I get the sense Bruce had a lonely childhood due to the lack of emotional connection between him and Alfred. In fact, despite Alfred’s constant presence, Bruce is commonly depicted as lonely/emotionally stunted until Dick comes along.

Batman: Full Circle

Robin Annual #4

This page in Robin Annual #4 also hints at another thing I wanted to mention, which is that Alfred usually disapproves of Dick’s presence at first, and especially disapproves of Dick becoming Robin, but he comes around to it because he sees how good Dick’s presence is for Bruce. Alfred knows that he can’t give Bruce the emotional connection that he’s lacking, but Dick can.

Robin: Year One

In Alfred’s eyes, Dick is the one who Bruce can confide everything to, who can be his light and pull him back from the brink if needed. If something is going on with Bruce and Alfred doesn’t know what to do, Dick is the one he turns to.

(Not to say Alfred and Dick don’t develop their own close relationship over time, because they do! But Alfred puts a lot on Dick’s shoulders and has a lot of expectations for him when it comes to Bruce.)

52 #30

Bruce Wayne: Murderer?

Nightwing (1996) #99

Okay, that was a lot! In summary, I think it’s clear that Alfred is extremely close to Bruce. Even when they have a tense employer-employee relationship (see: the Caped Crusader show where Bruce calls him “Pennyworth” and spends most of the time treating him like an asshole boss would treat an employee) Bruce immediately trusts him with the secret of his identity as Batman. Alfred is undoubtedly loyal, and Bruce undoubtedly cares for him on some level.

But because of the origins of their relationship, their emotional connection takes time to develop, whereas Dick and Bruce’s is immediate and visceral. I really think you can argue that Bruce’s emotional connection with Dick is the first one Bruce really experiences since his parents’ death, and it’s also what actually allows his emotional connection with Alfred to develop.

I want to end with something Scott Snyder said in a 2011 interview with Comic Vine:

To me, one of the things that's really interesting about Dick Grayson […] is that relationship is pathological at times and completely endearing at others. Dick always wears his heart on his sleeve, he cares about Bruce openly. He's compassionate and empathetic. Bruce is just a darker character, and for me, he's someone who needs that connection but won't admit it. […] The idea is that Dick Grayson is also the person who is his greatest tether to humanity. When I think about the future for Bruce, I think about him either very very lonely […] or dying in the line of duty as Batman or…you know, there aren't a lot of good endings. Dick's the person that would pull him back from the edge, or even bring him down, honestly if he needed to if Bruce really went too far in some way and bring him in.

If you want to talk about who’s been physically at Bruce’s side for longer, then sure, that’s Alfred. But that doesn’t necessarily mean Bruce feels closer to Alfred than he does to Dick. Alfred is Bruce’s loyal butler, and there isn’t much he wouldn’t do for Bruce, but he acts as Bruce’s hand.

But Dick is stated over and over again to be Bruce’s heart. So if you were to ask me who’s closest to Bruce—who he trusts with his emotions, his life, his legacy—that would be Dick, no question, every time.

Batman (2011) #11

[signfromeywa]

AUNGIA TA EYWA (A SIGN FROM EYWA)

Chapter 10: The bracelet

Description:

Anastasia Novak is a behavioural scientist tasked with socializing a captive Na'vi on behalf of the RDA. The longer she works with the Na'vi and the closer she gets to him, the more she has to rethink everything she thought she knew and redefine her morals and values. Can she just carry on like this, or will she follow her heart?

Content: Rating +18, Avatar fanfiction, human x Na'vi ship, Na'vi captured

Characters: Human OCs: Anastasia Novak, Steven Turner, Patra// Na'vi OCs: Ean'tu,

Word Count: 3036

⊹˚₊‧─────────────────────────────‧₊˚⊹

❗️English is not my native language! I apologize very much if it reads a bit bumpy here and there.

I’m a German author and this is the first time I’ve tried to translate a story I’m working on into English and upload it. I still hope you enjoy it.❗

"You have to put it over here. Then put the other fiber over it and tie a knot at the end." Ean'tu demonstrated and Ana watched closely.

She carefully copied what he had done. It didn't look as good on her as it did as it did his. Ean'tu made it look effortless, but Ana quickly realized that it took a lot of practice and care to get such small, fine knots as perfect as his.

"Like this?" She showed him her intermediate result.

"Yes, very good." He put his fibers aside and picked up a small wind chime. It consisted only of a square braided top section and fibers hanging down from it, threaded through small wooden beads. "You keep repeating the knots until you've finished this row, then I'll show you how to start the next one."

Ana took a closer look at the reference piece. She could actually see the same knots she was practising. She quickly counted the number of knots. She wanted to end up with exactly the same size and using the existing wind chime as a guide would make it much easier for her.

"All right, I should be able to manage that." She folded her legs cross-legged and began to work intently.

Ean'tu watched for a while to see if she had got it right. When he seemed to feel that she was making excellent progress without him, he turned away. It took Ana a while to finish the first row.

"So, what's next?" She looked up and saw Ean'tu quietly working on something. When he realized that she had addressed him, he put his project aside and came over to her.

"Now you take the fiber we left," he carefully took her project from her hands to show her. "Then put the other fiber around it and tie two knots, then continue as usual."

Ana nodded and took her project back. She was immediately absorbed in her work again. He also turned back to his work. They sat there in silence. It was actually really pleasant, the silence that prevailed between them. There was nothing left of the initial tension that had existed between them.

The enclosure was warm, not cooled down like the rest of the base. Ana had gotten into the habit of not wearing too much clothing if she was planning to stay in the enclosure for a long time. Turner had explained to her that it was important for the plants here to have a certain tropical climate in the enclosure. It was certainly what Ean'tu was used to. If it was as cold here as it was in the base, he would have to wear a lot more clothes to keep from freezing. So the wafer-thin fabric that Ana had brought him was enough.

After a few hours, she took a break to eat something, and Ean'tu did the same. He ate some fruit that was always provided for him and Ana ate her lunch. They used the time to do a few more vocabulary exercises to improve Ean'tu's English. However, it happened more and more often that he also told Ana the Na'vi words for things, so she also started to memorize a few words. She meticulously wrote down everything he taught her.

After lunch, they both started working again. It took Ana an incredibly long time to do this little thing, much longer than it would have taken Ean'tu, she was sure, and yet she was soon finished. She asked him to help her one last time.

"I'd like to put beads, like that, on it too." She pointed to the hanging fibers with the wooden beads, from the reference piece the Na'vi had made.

"That's what I thought." He turned to her and smiled. "I have some beads here, from the ones you once gave me."

He held out his hand to her, which had four tiny wooden beads on it for his size. Ana remembered clearly that she had given him a whole pile of materials. Actually back in the isolation ward, but she'd had everything brought over here after he'd been moved again too.

"Oh, I remember." Smiling, she took the beads from his hand.

The rest turned out to be quite easy. All she had to do was braid the fibers and weave in a bead here and there. Then it was finished. Ana proudly lifted up her first self-made piece. Compared to Ean'tu's, it really looked like it had been made by a child, but she was still proud.

"Look, finished!" she shouted happily.

Ean'tu turned back to her and put away what he was working on. "Oh great!" He took it carefully in his hands and looked closely at the work. "How neatly you've worked, I'm thrilled! It's turned out really nicely."

Ana couldn't stop smiling proudly. It really had taken almost the whole day, the twilight was already setting in the enclosure, which led her to assume that it was already dusk outside too. As much fun as it had been, she was very glad to have finished it and to be able to take a break.

"Thank you very much! I'm really very happy that you taught me. It was a lot of fun." She smiled gratefully at Ean'tu, whereupon he smiled back at her and put his hand on her arm.

"It makes me happy that you are interested in the traditions of my tribe."

"We can learn a lot from each other..." Ana said quietly and then looked down at the ground. "Although I'm beginning to get the feeling that everything I can teach you has no value at all. Humanity has produced many things, but many of them have only taken us further away from life itself..." she fell silent.

Ana could feel Ean'tu's gaze on her. "Ana..." he leaned over a little, causing her to lift her gaze and look at him again. "When I first met the sky people, they were cruel, destructive and ignorant. I hated, from the bottom of my heart, everything they brought with them. They seemed to be deaf and blind to Eywa and the life, the souls of each individual..." He stroked her skin. "The sky people and their kind were strange and ugly in my eyes..."

Ana looked at him closely. His words were full of pain and she didn't want to imagine what the humans had done to the natives here. What they had done to Pandora. No matter where mankind set foot, they always left a trail of destruction behind them. You could see that best on Earth. She touched Ean'tu's hand sympathetically.

"...but, but since I've known you, I understand that sky people are not all the same. You show me a different side of sky people. You teach me that the Sky People have also produced things that can be really helpful and good. Every time I learn something new from you, it gives me hope that more sky people are like you and that they use their things for good."

Ana felt tears in the corners of her eyes. Now she was beginning to understand what Ean'tu was trying to tell her, and he was right. Humanity was not evil just because it was human. Many of them, and Ana counted herself among them, were trying to make the world a better place. They were fascinated by its beauty and its creatures. Scientists who tried to understand everything, to discover the beauty of the world and to be fascinated by it. Among these people were certainly Mr. Adler and all the other scientists from the secret contact. Patra and Turner too. None of them were evil. Ana was glad that Ean'tu could see that too. That she managed to convey that to him.

"I think it's nice that we can learn from each other," she confessed honestly and stroked his forearm.

He placed his hand on the side of her neck again and gently stroked her skin with his thumb. "For a long time, I was clouded by hate and anger... I wasn't myself, but you're helping me to find myself again."

They smiled at each other. Once again, Ana felt this strong connection to Ean'tu. She had never felt so comfortable with anyone in her life, not even with her own family. After a moment of silence and closeness, Ana pulled herself together.

Ean'tu did the same and gathered up the remaining fibers they had used. "I'll just clear this away." He was already reaching for the branch when Ana touched him on the other hand to make him look back at her.

"What's up there?" she asked curiously, something she had often asked herself when Ean'tu disappeared into the thicket of the tree.

He looked at her, somewhat puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Well... You're often up there, I can hardly see anything from down here, but you seem to store things there." she explained.

He let go of the tree and turned to her again. "Yes, I sleep up there and keep my personal belongings there, even though I don't have much."

"Do you know that there are cameras in the enclosure?"

"Cameras?" he repeated the word and looked questioningly.

Ana realized that she hadn't talked to him about it yet. She picked up her tablet and opened the photo function, which could also be used to take short videos. "Look." She pointed the camera at herself and waved inside. Then she stopped the recording and played it back for Ean'tu.

"Cameras can record you. Then you can watch it again later," she explained.

Fascinated, almost in disbelief, he touched the display. "Can you do something like that of me?" he asked.

"Yes, look here and do something for the camera." She pointed at the lens, which she pointed at him. Ean'tu did the same as Ana and waved awkwardly. She showed him the picture she had taken of him.

"Woah!" He seemed thrilled.

"Look there." Ana pointed to a corner of the enclosure, at the top. There was a camera installed there. Quite inconspicuous, but it stood out against the white ceiling of the enclosure. "That's a camera too."

Ean'tu looked up and seemed to recognize it. "Why do they need that?"

"These cameras don't just take pictures, they allow the staff to watch you," Ana explained to him. It was better if he knew that he was being watched all the time. He certainly didn't like that.

"They're watching me? I thought they were just looking through that." He pointed to the window further up the wall of the huge enclosure, from where one could look down into the enclosure from the surveillance room. So Ean'tu seemed to have noticed that he was being watched through it, but of course he hadn't known about the cameras.

"Yes, you're being watched all the time. Only when you disappear up in the tree among the leaves are you out of sight. I don't think anyone really knows what you're doing there at the moment." He should know that there was a safe, unobserved place where he could feel secure.

For a brief moment, Ean'tu said nothing. Instead, he searched the ceiling of the enclosure, which was very high up, with his gaze. Indeed, there were several cameras and he seemed to notice and recognize them now. His gaze darkened and he clenched his hands into fists. He was clearly angry about the circumstances, about how he had been treated. And he was right. None of this was okay. Ana knew that too, she wasn't happy about the circumstances either.

He turned to her now. "Have you been watching me on those cameras?" he asked seriously.

"No. I always came to you when I wanted to see you. Just like when I painted you for the first time."

He looked at her for a while. "You can always come to me, this isn't me." He pointed to the tablet with the recording of him still saved on it. He took Ana's hand, squatted down in front of her and placed her hand on his chest. "This is me, this is real."

Ana smiled. "I know." It seemed a little as if Ean'tu was worried that simple video footage would be enough for Ana and she would no longer have a reason to meet him in person. "Nothing can replace being close to you. These recordings only help me to see you and think of you when I can't be with you." she explained to him.

"Do you think about me often?" he looked her closely in the eyes. His voice was gentle.

"Yes... very often." Ana confessed.

"Me too..." Ean'tu's fingers stroked her hand, still resting on his chest. "I miss you when you're not around."

Ana's heart began to pound excitedly at the confession and a slight blush crept onto her cheeks. It made her so happy to hear that the Na'vi seemed to have taken her to his heart as much as she had him. She released her hand from his chest and lightly clasped his fingers. "I always miss you then, too."

Now you could see how Ean'tu also became slightly embarrassed and smiled uncertainly, but happily. "I have something for you..." he suddenly said quietly.

Ana looked at him in amazement. He put down the fibers he had in his other hand and pulled out a small, half-braided, half-knotted ribbon from between them. He looked sheepishly at his hands, which were now holding the small ribbon.

"What's that?" Ana asked with interest.

He looked up now, gently took Ana's hand and pulled it slightly towards him, his cheeks a deep red with embarrassment. "I made it for you," he said quietly, putting the ribbon around her wrist and tying it in a knot.

Ana's heart was now definitely beating up to her neck and her stomach was tingling with excitement. She was also very excited about Ean'tu's little gesture. There was something very romantic about it and just thinking it made her heart beat even faster. A thought she forbade herself but could not suppress, just as the light of the enclosure simulated the twilight of the moon and the bioluminescence of the plants slowly began.

He now looked gently into her eyes and clasped her hand. "You gave me these pretty pearls, I wanted to give you something in return. That's when I got the idea." He pointed to the single pearl that had been artfully worked into the bracelet. "I made it myself... It stands for both of us. For our connection."

Ana took a closer look at the bead. It was made of wood, but inside was something made of a material that was clearly artificial. Something from the humans, encased in the wood, from a tree that had grown on Pandora. The meaning was deep and tears pressed against her eyelids. She blinked them away bravely. There was no way Ana was going to cry here now.

She looked up from the bracelet. "It means a lot to me, it's really beautiful." She smiled and had to blink again when a few more tears tried their luck.

Then she approached him carefully, spreading her arms out towards him and Ean'tu understood immediately. He opened his arms invitingly and took her into an intimate and familiar embrace. Ana snuggled up to him. "Thank you." she thanked him softly.

Ean'tu didn't say anything back, instead gently hugging her a little closer. As if he never wanted to let her go again. "Now you have something that will always remind you of me, just like I have the pearls."

Ana nodded emotionally in the embrace. She would cherish this bracelet. He had made it especially for her. It had such a beautiful meaning.

After a while, they broke away from the embrace and Ana stroked the Na'vi's cheek again with a smile.

"Can't you stay here for the night?" Ean'tu suddenly asked. This took Ana by surprise and she looked a little taken aback. She had never thought about something like this before. Would something like this work? And where would she sleep? Where exactly did Ean'tu sleep? Probably in the tree, but how was she supposed to get up there and sleep there? Ana was sure she would only fall down very inelegantly in her sleep. But what about her colleagues and her boss? How was she supposed to explain that she was spending a night in the enclosure with Ean'tu? That would certainly lead to trouble.

"I can't do that... at least not for now." she had to refuse his request.

"Why not?" He couldn't understand, but how could he? Ana had never talked to him in detail about how dangerous what she was doing with him was. She still hadn't told her boss that she knew Ean'tu was no simple animal. She was too afraid of the consequences. Actually, none of her colleagues knew, except Turner.

"It's for the same reason we can't talk in front of the others..." she explained. "I want to keep our connection a secret for now. I'm afraid if the others find out, we'll get into trouble. I have to do this skillfully."

"Are you afraid they'll separate us... if they find out?" He looked at her warily.

"Yes... yes." she confessed her concern.

The two of them looked at each other in silence, concerned. Ana felt guilty. She wanted to stand by Ean'tu, stand by him as the ally he deserved, but everything had to happen at the right time. Under no circumstances could they rush things. As much as Ana longed for Ean'tu's affection and closeness, as much as she really wanted to stay with him that night.

"I'll see what I can get organized, okay? I would have loved to stay with you now, but we'll have to save that for another time." She smiled at him encouragingly.

"So... maybe you'll stay the night in the future?" Ean'tu asked hopefully. "I... want to..."

Ana touched him on the shoulder encouragingly. "I can't promise, but I'll do my best, okay?"

Just the thought of spending a night with Ean'tu made her stomach tingle a lot. She would really like to do that.

"Ok... I'm looking forward to it." He stroked her arm affectionately and she returned his warm smile.

"It's getting late, I have to go now." Ana now remarked.

Ean'tu nodded. "Sleep well. See you tomorrow."

Ana hugged him quickly one last time and waved to him again as she made her way to the airlock to finish her working day.

Tag list:  @twisteduniverse5 @yukilaaw @mooniequeen @anemonelovesfiction @talialobi @gimmebones715 (If you want to get added, comment it under the post)

[jeannereames]

Do you think people idealize Alexander and Hephaestion's relationship too much?

Short answer: yes.

Longer answer: it’s part of a general tendency to oversimplify relationships that plagues a great deal of Romance (the genre).

Romancing Alexander & Hephaistion

Oodles of opinion articles exist about why that’s the case. What I don’t like about too many of these is an embedded misogyny that implies Romance is “women’s literature” which Just Isn’t As Serious as “real” (=men’s) literature. And it’s not just Romance. “Women Fantasy Writers” were denigrated in the ‘70s, ‘80s, and even ‘90s. Hard SF author Ben Bova famously said: “Neither as writers nor as readers have you raised the level of science fiction a notch. Women have written a lot of books about dragons and unicorns, but damned few about future worlds in which adult problems are addressed.”

(Bova was full of shit, btw.)

One of the first ways to torpedo misogynistic critiques of Romance is to remind people that Romance novels were invented in antiquity (Hellenistic era forward), where they were written BY men FOR men. And they had the same issues then.

It’s not a “woman” problem.

Furthermore, I’m not sure it is a problem when recognized for what it is: fun fantasy not reality. I was in a group of writers once where one of the men rather snidely asked one of the women, “Why do you like writing and reading that stuff?” Romance. “Those aren’t real men.” Her reply: “You’re right. I read Romance novels to get away from real men.” Oh, THAT shut him up! Ha.

But where I find myself having issues with Romance is when it creates unrealistic expectations for what relationships are like, which in turn may lead people to bail on real-life relationships when the going gets tough, as it inevitably will. “I guess I just fell out of love.” Or, “I guess we weren’t meant to be.” Or, “I’m still looking for my soul mate.” Bullshit. Soul mates are another thing I hate. They don’t exist. Or rather, we make them, we don’t find them.

That said, this sort of reaction is true only when folks have no healthy real-life relationships to provide models. How do you know what real love is like if you’ve never seen it?

Youth can also play a factor, mostly because we learn about life as we age. Yet I’ve met plenty of savvy young people when it comes to love, and absolutely fruity hot messes of middle-aged men and women. If one consumes only Romance and has few/no examples of normal relationships, it’ll fuel unrealistic ideas. That affects men just as much, even as they pretend it doesn’t. In fact, pretending it doesn’t makes it worse, ime. Some of the dumbest ideas about love I’ve heard have come out of male mouths.

In any case, some of this is why I note that Dancing with the Lion is not a Romance, even if put out by a Romance publisher. It’s a coming-of-age novel with a love story on the side (because falling in love is part of coming of age). Romance (the genre) has specific conventions and plot shaping that DwtL defies (because, again, it was never meant to be a Romance). Yet Riptide was willing to take a chance on the novels, and I’m hardly going to thumb my nose at them for that grace. It’s only an issue when readers’ expectations aren’t met.

So, returning to the question of over-idealizing of Alexander and Hephaistion’s relationship … yes, it’s a problem when folks can’t let them be human, and flawed. When their relationship turns Hephaistion into Alexander’s shadow with no personality (or ambitions) of his own. When any love story between them just happens magically because … of course! They’re Soul Mates and Meant to Be. When happily-ever-after is assumed without the recognition that life will be hard sometimes, they won’t agree, they’ll disappoint each other, and they may have to actually work at their relationship. Communicate. Fight it out. Give a little. Forgive offenses.

Personally, I’ve always found real relationships a lot more compelling than idealized ones. Real love is the most romantic of all. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Welcome to the Drabble-A-Thon! 

What is it?

From February 10th until February 18th, I will be offering 1,000-word drabble commissions for $5 through Ko-Fi!

How does it work?

If you make a donation of $5 on Ko-Fi, and give a 1-2 sentence description of your drabble idea in the donation note, I will write a 1,000 word* story! The story will be posted publicly on Ko-Fi, and cross-posted to Tumblr as well**. These will be done on a first-come first-serve basis, and I will keep a post on Ko-Fi and Tumblr updated on what number submission I am on. Because I don't know how many prompts will be given, I can't give a firm estimate on when the pieces will be delivered, so the queue will be the best way to see when your request is being worked on! 

*The finished drabble will be a minimum of 1,000 words, if I go over by a bit, that is on me, and just a fun bonus for you! 

**Ko-fi has strict guidelines for NSFW material, and anything rated "Explicit" will only be able to be posted to Tumblr. If you would like a PDF copy as well, please provide an email address to send it to in your message!

Are there any rules I should know about?

First and foremost, please make sure that you read my general commission guide which can be found here. Keep in mind I do not write Sub!/Bottom!Tomura or Dom!/Top!Dabi. If you have a question about your concept that is not answered by the guidelines, please feel free to DM me on Tumblr before donating! 

In addition, please note that 1k isn't a lot of words, so try to keep concepts simple enough to be executed within that amount of story! 

These drabbles also cannot be add-ons to other existing stories. For example, no drabble prompt can be for a story set after the end of Changing Currents, or an exploration of Dabi's time on the streets before Tomura adopted him in A Cat by Any Other Name. These are for stand-alone pieces in order to keep things simple and not conflict with the canon of my existing works! 

Can I donate more than $5 to get a longer story?

No. This is a drabble-a-thon! While you are welcome to donate however much you would like, every $5 only gets one 1k word story. If you would like to donate $10, then you are welcome to put two drabble prompts in your donation note which will then both enter the queue and be posted! Every multiple of 5 is eligible for a new prompt! 

If you would still like a longer story from me, then you can always DM me about setting up a full commission! 

I want to participate, but I want to remain anonymous/I want to be tagged by a name other than the name used for the donation.

No problem! If you want to remain anonymous, simply put your name as "Anonymous" in for your name/nickname, and you can then type your prompt in the message box. You can send this message privately, and only I should be able to read your prompt! 

If you want to be tagged by your Tumblr username, then you can also add that in your message and I will tag you appropriately when your prompt is posted! 

I want to participate but I don't have any idea what to ask for!

Coming up with story prompts can be hard! You can send in 1-2 sentences of your idea, or you can simply send in a kind of AU, a rating, or a kink (or a few of them 👀), and let me take it from there! If you really, really can't think of anything at all, then just send in "Free Style", and I'll come up with something to fill the drabble! This is meant to be fun, please don't feel any pressure!

I want to participate, but I don't have any money!

That's absolutely okay! Please do not feel any pressure to participate! Money is tight for a lot of people right now and your needs, safety, and comfort come first! Enjoy the stories that come out through the event, every one will be public on Tumblr!

My question wasn't answered here!

Please feel free to DM me or send an ask on Tumblr! I'll do my best to answer! 

Thank you so much to anyone who chooses to participate! I can't wait to see what stories we're able to bring to life! 

[the-lincyclopedia]

Since a lot of us have recently been trying to raise awareness about registering to vote/checking to make sure your registration was processed/checking to make sure you haven't been erroneously purged from the voter rolls, I figured I'd tell you all the saga that is Lin Tries To Register To Vote.

To set the scene: I recently moved to a new state. I don't have an ID issued by my new state yet (and I probably won't get one, since I'm planning on moving back to my home state within a year). In the state I currently live in, you can do online voter registration if you have an ID issued by this state, but not if you have an ID from somewhere else. If you have an ID from somewhere else, you can still register to vote, but only in person at the county clerk's office, and you have to provide proof of address, such as a utility bill for your current address.

So, two and a half weeks ago, I went in person to the county clerk's office and submitted voter registration paperwork. It took longer than I expected because I hadn't been able to find the requirements for registering anywhere online, so I didn't bring proof of address with me and spent a while trying to remember my password for my car insurance app, but whatever. I eventually filled everything out to the clerk's satisfaction, and she said she'd get it filed.

I figured I should give it a week or two before I checked whether I was actually registered, because I know that transferring physical paperwork to an online database is not an immediate thing. But I checked today on both my state's voter registration site and on vote.org, and neither place could find me as a registered voter.

After seeing I wasn't registered, I called the county clerk's office and asked when I should expect my registration to be processed. The person I spoke with said two and a half weeks was more than long enough, so something had probably gone wrong. Over the course of multiple phone calls (the clerk had to check on some things and call me back), here's what I found out:

I had missed the mandatory space on the form to fill out my birthplace, and no one had noticed when I filed the paperwork, so my paperwork had been marked incomplete and had been set aside. No one had been planning on contacting me about the omission; I was just not going to get to vote because I missed a line on the form.

Additionally, there is someone else with my same first and last name who also recently registered to vote in this county, and we have very similar signatures. Despite the fact that we have different social security numbers, different birth dates, and different addresses, the resemblance between our signatures (I literally just write my name in cursive, so it's not hard to imagine how someone else with the same name could sign the same way) was enough to convince the county clerk's office that we were probably the same person. They had been planning on consolidating both voter registration applications into one voter record, so for voting purposes only one of us would exist--probably the other person, since I missed the birthplace line on the form.

Despite having filled out the voter registration form to the satisfaction of the clerk I spoke with two and a half weeks ago, I was not ever going to wind up on the voter rolls of my new state if I hadn't checked whether I was registered and called my county clerk's office when I saw that I wasn't registered. No one was going to tell me that I had messed up my form, or ask whether I was the same person as the one who had filed a voter registration form with the same name but a different address, social security number, and birth date. It was up to me to contact the county clerk and check what was wrong.

Moral of the story: USAmericans who should be eligible to vote, register to vote, check whether you're registered, and contact your local elections officials (county clerk or whoever) if it looks like you're not registered even though you should be. Something may have gone wrong with your voter registration form, or you may have been intentionally purged from the rolls, and no one will tell you if you don't ask. So make sure you're registered. And then VOTE.

[renaultphile]

Ralph’s Chariot - a flight of fancy

Has anyone noticed the precise point at which Ralph’s car leaves the narrative?  The last time we see it is when Ralph stows the spare bottle of champagne in the boot, just before he and Laurie disappear into the cottage for the night.  Once they consummate their relationship, the car disappears from view.

Another thought occurred to me.  Does Bunny’s Riley even exist?  We only have his word for it.  At first, I thought that Bunny having to drive Ralph’s car was just there to provide a bit of humour and an edge to the scene, but is there more to it?  Bunny ‘driving’ Ralph’s car can also have a deeper meaning, foreshadowing another ‘borrowing’ which doesn’t end well.

Ralph’s car is ancient and barely functioning.  It’s been around.  It also makes me think of the age-old trope of men giving lifts to their dates with expectations of a quid pro quo.  What always strikes me about the car scenes is the way Ralph’s driving is described in such great detail.  There is nothing sloppy about his driving, so we are told, even when it causes him pain. 

“Ralph's contest with the car had developed a certain grimness. There was nothing wrong with his driving, except a persistent impression of something difficult being done for a bet, which kept Laurie on edge all the time.”

And even if he is hopelessly over the limit, or can’t resist a couple of extra drinks on their mission of mercy, he pulls over in a lay-by to sober up.  Whether he had it mind to make a different use of that unscheduled stop, he is the perfect gentleman.  Possibly my favourite description is this one, when he gets Laurie back to the hospital in record time:

“It was rather as if Ralph were driving himself as well as the car, with an eye on the defects of both.”

But the reader is also left in no doubt about Ralph’s ‘frustration’, especially after their second encounter, where Laurie perceives that he is angry with himself and sits quietly to avoid the ‘lightning’ striking him. 

“The small misdoings of other drivers seemed to infuriate him; after keeping up for some miles a profane running commentary, he started to address the offenders direct.”

Bunny on the other hand has no patience for the eccentricities of Ralph’s car and abuses the power it gives him, mocking Laurie for not anticipating what would be expected of him.  I have sometimes wondered if one of his motivations is that he either doesn’t believe Ralph is not exploiting those ‘lifts’ to get up to something with Laurie, or else he despises him for his restraint.

Perhaps it is just a coincidence, but Ralph’s chariot takes a back seat around the same time he seems not only to abandon the platonic model, but to actively campaign against it, urging Laurie to be realistic about his physical needs and mocking him for thinking he can sublimate his desires to be with Andrew.  He no longer needs to ‘manage’ his own sexuality.  Now that he has slept with Laurie, he only needs to ‘manage’ their life together.  As he says himself, he needs to settle things.

But cars, like horses and chariots, are unpredictable, however hard you try to control them. Perhaps after all it is the illusion of control that is the real villain of the piece. 

The mythical Charioteer himself.

[lizardlicks]

6 hours and a fitful sleep later and I'm still obsessed with @bonesbuckleup's watertribe siblings analysis and I already screamed about it in the zukka server but that's not enough, it's not ENOUGH YOU HEAR ME I have to shout it at the sky!!!!!

Their relationship is so codependent, two kids, all but orphaned, left to raise each other, trapped in the same roles that had helped them survive through their culture and tribe and family being dismantled by a century of violence, but they can't escape it now when it no longer serves them.

The war is ending but the cycles keep repeating. Brother and sister, boy and girl, warrior and wizard, the rules that made sense and provided a structure to cling to while everything else fell apart are now cutting into them.

Katara wants more freedom from the roles assigned to "woman" but not too much freedom. She gets angry when Toph acts boyish and immature, she shuts Sokka down when he pulls back the veil and reveals the still festering, unprocessed hurt of their mother's death haunts him, too. She wants to break with tradition unless it's a tradition that makes her feel good/important/special.

Sokka defines his existence as a man to be a warrior, but he refuses to define a warrior as anything other than a physical, violent sacrifice. A tactician is invaluble in both war and peace, a person who can organize and mobilize the chaos around them worth so much more than a single glorious ("glorious") moment on the battlefield, and even Piandao sings his highest praise for Sokka's MIND, his intelligence and creativity. But it isn't enough. Sokka still believes that his meaning and purpose in life is to die at the end of a sword.

"She was my mother too" Sokka's grief is always so quiet and private, "she's my mother too" that was, from him, practically an anguished scream. "She was my mother, too," he says and for the briefest moment he chooses to pull aside the armor around his heart and let Katara see that still weeping, festering wound through it, and she. Can't. Handle it.

It's almost like Sokka has enabled the worst aspects of his sister's inflexiblibity by sheltering her from the consequences. Katara relies so heavily on Sokka having his shit together, on Sokka being the unfeeling, calculating one ("oh Sokka, you DO have a heart!") that she can't accept that he maybe actually isn't blissfully free of deeper emotion, because the deeper implications of that would shake the foundations of her self image of the caring, open, empathetic sibling. So she shuts it down. Shuts his appeal out. He can't feel the same as her, because if he did it would redefine all of their assumptions and history and relationships.

They fall instantly back into thier same patterns. Of course Katara apologized to Aang and not Sokka. The siblings are unable to address it, move on from it, because to do so first they would have to deconstruct so much of their shared trauma. Mom died, Dad left, both of them fell back into the rigid roles set out for them because there was nothing else left for them. They built themselves back up out of ruin together, mended but not set. Now it's all crooked and ugly, but fixing it is going to require a painful rebreaking that neither of them are prepared for, so they just keep on dragging this mangled part of themselves around, hobbling in circles, carving the same patterns deeper.

[brabblesblog]

Ch 4: I sought whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not.

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?

This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.

This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

Astarion has finally found where his consort has gone to, and attempts to bring her back.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

“For what it’s worth, you did the right thing.”

Gale’s voice startled Ban as she sat at the desk of the room he’d graciously loaned her, furiously trying to wipe her tears. He’d walked in at an inconvenient moment, a common occurrence for him. Gale took a seat nearby, reaching out to place a hand over hers. He found her hand a bit damp, but he didn't mind.

It had been a tenday since she’d fled the Ascendant’s clutches, ten days since she had last seen his face. She’d thought it would be easy, forgetting her captor. But he had also been her beloved, and in his absence she found it easier and easier to excuse his misdeeds and only miss the good.

She hated herself for that.

“I miss him,” she said, voice rough from weeping. “I shouldn’t. I should be enjoying my time here, planning for my future - anything.”

Anything, other than thinking of him, of longing for someone who no longer existed.

“I’m sorry, Gale. I’ve been a terrible guest.” She stood, about to start pacing the now well-trodden path she frequently followed in this room.

Gale didn’t offer any false platitudes. Instead, he reached out to squeeze her hand. “It’s not your fault. It never was. In the end, ascending was his decision to make, quite like how it’s also his decision to be whatever he is right now.”

If she had put in more work, done better in talking him down, perhaps things would've been different. He had been so afraid and lost; he’d needed her guidance and she had failed. But Ban also knew she wouldn’t have had the heart to deprive him of the ritual’s gifts. Her feelings about it hadn’t been worth him giving up everything he stood to gain. And so, with only a brief effort to dissuade him, she’d helped him when he’d needed it.

That train of thought brought forth a fresh wave of tears. Instinctively she reached out for Gale, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his chest, where the orb once was. For a moment, she imagined being back in Astarion’s arms. Her Astarion, with his cold hands and a heart that beat a little too slow.

Gale’s warmth was a far cry from that, but the comfort he provided was still very welcome and much needed. He wrapped his arms around her, his voice quiet and full of an emotion she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“I’m sorry, Ban. Had I known this would be how you and Astarion would end up… I don’t know.”

Maybe I’d have tried harder to be the one for you, he thought. It wasn’t the right time to say it. It might never be. But he’d be there in any capacity she needed him to be, regardless.

“You’d what?” she said. “There was nothing to be done. No one can see the future - even you, Gale. It is what it is. I just have to move on.”

At first, there had been some worry about Astarion showing up and dragging her back. A quick visit to Elminster and a favor had addressed that issue. Gale now had wards placed around his tower and around Ban herself, preventing the Ascendant from making contact without permission.

She lifted her head, meeting his gaze. In the warm firelight he looked rather handsome, and his brown eyes widened as they both realized just how close their bodies were.

They’d spent most of these past ten days together. Gale had been keeping her company and showing her around Waterdeep. Ten days that had in all honesty been wonderful, that were very reminiscent of the early days of their adventure, days when Ban had spent more time with Gale while her budding romance with Astarion was in its infancy. Gale had told her then that he felt something for her, but she had chosen the vampire instead.

For a moment, in the height of her misery and loneliness, she wondered how Gale’s lips would taste. She swallowed down her despair and threw caution to the wind, leaning in.

The kiss was soft, hesitant�� and different. She felt Gale’s breathing pick up, his beard tickling her as he deepened the kiss. He felt like warmth and kindness and safety, and she tightened her hold around him in welcome.

Gale broke the kiss, his pupils dilated and his chest heaving.

“I- I don’t think this would be a wise move,” he began, “but I don’t mind that as much as I would like to.”

He reached for her again, but she shied away.

“You’re right. It wouldn’t be fair to you. I don’t think I can ever give you what you really want, Gale. Even back then.” Since meeting Astarion, she had never felt anything for another.

Gale’s face darkened a little. “I understand. But Halsin-"

Ban shook her head. “Halsin understood and accepted that I could only give so much. Could you?”

The wizard bit his lip. On the one hand, he wanted to say yes, and damn the consequences. On the other…

“You know me too well,” he said, smiling sadly. “However, if your heart does find itself having room in the future, please do think of me.”

Ban laughed bitterly. An image of Astarion swam in her mind, that shocked and stunned expression he’d made when she’d told him she had chosen him over Gale. The utter disbelief on his face, melting into surprise and pleasure when he’d realized she’d meant what she’d said. She shoved the vision away. Even now, after everything that had happened since the rite, she’d chosen that damned vampire again.

“You already have a place in my heart, Gale,” she said carefully. “Just not the piece you want. In the future, that may change; but right now I cannot give you that which is still tangled in another’s.”

He nodded, resigned. “For now, that is satisfactory.” He looked away, taking in the room he was letting her stay in, the rows of books lending it a cozy, homely atmosphere. “I shall turn in for the evening, then. You’re always welcome to knock on my door if you need to.” He gathered some courage, enough to press another quick, chaste kiss on her lips, and left her in silence.

The nights were never easy, and when she finally laid down, she found the bed too empty and sleep difficult to achieve.

The next morning, Ban was woken up by a commotion, seemingly coming from right outside her window. She could hear a loud bang every few minutes - a sound very reminiscent of the one the statue of Shar had emitted whenever someone stepped too close and triggered the wards around it. She opened her eyes to see dawn had barely broken, sunlight streaming through the windows. It took a moment for her thoughts to sink in.

Her eyes widened at the realization. The wards.

“Ban!” the Ascendant called out the moment he saw her peek out through the open window.

He stood outside his carriage, an ornate monstrosity of black and gold. With him were a number of summons, both werewolves and skeletons, which he had apparently been attempting to send through the wards to no avail. After another failed attempt, he crossed his arms and glared up at her.

“Hello, you ingrate. Are you truly going to stay cooped up in there forever, Ban? I can wait just as long!” He strode forward, pausing to take a cursory, disdainful look at the tower. “And here I was thinking you hated being stuck in one place. At least the palace has better ambience than this dump.”

Ban sighed. She had to admit he looked glorious in the morning sun; the rays caressed his silver curls, making them appear to sparkle in the light. His eyes were sharp and intense, equal parts anger and another emotion she couldn’t quite place. He was dressed in his red and black doublet, the one he knew to be her favorite. She decided she liked him like this: at her mercy, for once.

“I’m surprised you’re here, Astarion. I had thought you would just find some other bride,” she bit out, relishing the way his eyes widened in surprise at her choice of words. He bared his fangs, realizing that she now knew the truth.

“No one else would do,” he retorted, recovering his composure and slipping back into his usual confident demeanor. “You of all people ought to know that. Now. Let me in.”

She shook her head. “Sorry, you’ll have to figure that out for yourself.”

The Ascendant growled, then barked an order for his minions to step back. If they couldn’t, perhaps he could. He approached the invisible barrier, hands reaching out to it slowly.

One loud bang later and he was on his ass, hair and clothes disheveled, staring in shock at the tower. He made another attempt as a bat, only to be sent flying. An attempt as a cloud of mist ended similarly.

He changed back, angrily trying to comb his hair and smooth his clothes back into place.

“I see Gale’s skills have improved somewhat,” he grumbled.

“A little gift from Elminster, actually,” Gale answered, greeting the Ascendant from the doors of the tower. They stared at each other, not six paces apart, separated by the invisible barrier.

Astarion seethed. “Happy now, Gale? Happy you’ve stolen her, when you never could before?”

Gale shook his head. “I have done no such thing. You pushed her away yourself. You needn’t any help from me in that regard.”

For a moment, Astarion was feral. He bared his fangs and he tensed as if to pounce at the wizard, stopping a hairsbreadth away when he remembered the barrier. As he collected himself, he saw Ban approach; she stopped beside Gale, watching him.

“What do you want, my lord?” Her voice was dry, face affecting a bored expression.

“You. Back home with me.” His answer was instantaneous. Pacing back and forth, much like a predator toying with its cornered prey, he smiled. “I’m not leaving, pet, until you come back with me. And I have all the time in the world.”

Ban considered this, recognizing it wasn’t an empty threat - he could very well set up camp at the gate of this tower, trapping them all inside. This was a stalemate she could not allow to drag on, for Gale’s sake. She sighed and whispered to Gale, who nodded.

“Fine. I will at least allow you into the tower. We can talk. But." She smiled back at him, and it was a cold thing. "I have the same spell around me as this tower does. You cannot touch me. You are also not allowed to harm anyone else.”

She drew herself up, trying to appear as confident as she wished she felt. “Is that agreeable to you?”

Astarion clenched his fist. He wanted to fight back but knew it was a lost cause. “Agreed. Now let me in,” he hissed.

Gale waved his hand, and there was a soft hum as the barrier disappeared. “Only you, Astarion. No ghouls,” he added.

Glowering darkly, the Ascendant acquiesced, following Ban and Gale into the tower.

Ban sat opposite Astarion, hands fidgeting in her lap. Gale had left them to talk in her room; now that she was alone with him again she felt oddly glad of it.

Astarion let out a small sigh, looking as though this was just one more errand he had to do. He’d accepted the offer of tea from Gale; his crimson eyes peered indifferently at her over the rim of his cup as he sipped.

“What will get you to come back?” He almost sounded bored.

“Definitely not that tone,” she snapped, irritated despite herself. Did he expect her to simply fold?

He crossed his legs, watching her a little more intently now. His face betrayed none of his inner turmoil.

“What can I give you, then, to make you want to be with me again?” That sounded better, he hoped.

“Your old self.”

He seethed, lips curling into a smile that was all teeth. “What old self, Ban? I’m still me. I’m still the Astarion you love.”

She laughed at that. “You’re right. I studied everything I could get my hands on, for a while. I even asked Gale to look into it. I tried to understand why you’re so different. I thought the rite destroyed your soul.” She shook her head. “But no. You’re you, just worse.”

Astarion bristled. Worse? When he’d become the most powerful vampire to ever exist? “I was weak! I was worth nothing. Why would you want that over this?” He gestured to himself, as if to remind her of what exactly she stood to lose. “I can give you the world - have been giving you everything!”

“Give it to someone else. I need the Astarion I fell in love with. Not you. Not the riches or the power or whatever other trinkets you offer.”

He felt his anger rise, and felt the urge to shout, maybe even lunge at her. But he quelled the impulse long enough to think: Would his anger help anything? Would screaming and threatening her work, when he couldn’t even lay a hand on her? He weighed his options and decided to remain civil until a better solution presented itself.

“I was pathetic,” he intoned. “Worth nothing. You can’t possibly want that. I’m better now. Don’t you want that for me? For you?” He made an attempt to widen his eyes, to appear more vulnerable.

She was not convinced. “I let it happen for you,” Ban said, averting her eyes as she revealed her shame. “Personally? I would have preferred you to stay the way you were; it would have meant that you would still love me the way you used to, would let me love you the way you used to. But that’s a selfish thought, and it’s far too late for regrets.”

She locked eyes with him. “You were everything I wanted, Astarion. Now none of that man remains.”

She wouldn’t admit to him that at times, that man still shone through, that she still saw glimpses of him within the Ascendant. To admit that would give him an advantage, a carrot to dangle in front of her. He’d tell her to wait, to be patient, to allow him time to let his walls down. Would he even mean it? She doubted it, but she was almost sure she’d acquiesce if he pleaded. The ability to resist his vulnerability was never a skill she had possessed.

He stared at her for a long, tense moment. “The man of your dreams, the hope of him, is your own worst enemy. That… spawn… is gone. I am he, and he is me. Except I’m more.” He set his teacup down on the side table and leaned forward, slowly encroaching on Ban’s space.

“Don’t you dare speak ill of who you were,” Ban snapped, her temper getting the better of her. “I have let that happen again and again. I’ve had enough.” She glared at the Ascendant, at the man her treacherous heart still loved. “You may be more now, but you are also so much less - in all the ways I need. You were more than enough before, and this version of you could never even come close to the man you were.”

Astarion seethed anew. He instinctively lifted a hand to grab hers, to tell her that he was all that he’d ever wanted to be and more. Better. Why couldn’t she understand that? Why couldn’t she simply accept all he has to give, accept that he was doing all this for both of them? What was a little less freedom in exchange for everything else? He wasn’t his master, he wasn’t out to hurt her.

But as his hand came close to her skin the wards responded, and he was sent flying back with a loud bang, the chair he'd been sitting on broken into pieces behind him.

He groaned a little as he got up from the floor, his fury renewed at the indignity, but he quickly forced himself to calm. His body hurt and he tried not to wince; powerful as he was, he wasn’t invulnerable. Astarion waited a moment for his breathing to settle. When he spoke again, his voice was more level and seemingly more resigned.

“If you cannot accept who I am now, so be it.” He kept the facade up, refusing to let himself show any sign of sorrow, especially when he felt it as keenly as a dagger in the heart.

“I can find another you in a lifetime; probably in less time than that.” This was a lie, but he forced it out, needing to keep a shred of dignity.

“Then you’ll end our bond? You’ll end this miserable connection we have?” Ban said this with a mixture of relief, hope, and to her shock, dismay.

His eyes widened. “How did you- oh. Gale’s told you, hasn’t he? Is he to be my replacement? He’s always wanted you, even back then.”

He smirked. “He won’t be half the man I am, pet - you know that. Only I can fuck you the way you want to be fucked. Only I can make your body feel the things you so want to feel. Only me,” he drawled, taking a step towards her.

She didn’t take the bait, although the way his voice lowered made a pleasant shiver run down her spine.

“Just say it, Astarion. Will you break our bond, or will you not?”

The bond he’d created when he’d turned her into his vampiric spouse: the mental connection, the ability to feel when the other was in great pain. Gale had explained it all to her. Ending the bond required a simple ritual - but it required both hers and Astarion's consent.

He shook his head. “No. I won’t. I can’t even touch you, my treasure. What does it matter whether the bond exists or not?”

His voice lowered in pitch, the aggression slipping away. He tried to keep his anguish hidden when he spoke again but didn't quite succeed.

“Besides. If I break the bond, I’m not certain I can keep protecting you from the sun, or keep lending you my other gifts.”

This surprised Ban and she nodded, accepting his reasoning. “I suppose you’re right. Thank you, I guess. I expected you to take them back the moment you realized I’d left.”

Astarion shook his head. “Wouldn’t do to have my precious treasure burn in the sun,” he said sadly, and there it was again, that softness that made her want to rush back to his side.

He gave her some space, taking several steps back, and chose to be honest for once. Astarion figured it might win him back some grace and might make her think there was a chance for him to be what she wanted him to be.

“If none of my other words are worth anything to you, then at least remember this: I respect that you chose to leave.”

She looked up in shock.

“You were always worth more than just this,” he murmured. “I always felt that you were… degrading yourself, in a way, being my consort.” He looked away, as he always had in moments of vulnerability. “I did try, Ban. I tried with you, in the only way I know how.”

Try as he might to tell himself that he was doing this to manipulate her, the truth was far more complicated.

She shook her head, refusing to accept. “You never actually tried, Astarion. If you did, you’d be him again.”

He’s still in there. Just let me in. Just let your walls down. Let me love you.

She stared at him, eyes cold in spite of the thoughts that plagued her mind.

He weighed his words. This could be the final time they saw each other, if he played his cards wrong. Part of him refused that idea, rebelled against it, wanted to gnash his teeth and bite at her and force her back, dragging her if that was what it took. But the other half, the smarter half, told him to allow her this and bide his time. He’d always been good at manipulating her heart, right from the start. He could do it again.

What he’d never say, especially to himself, were the real reasons he was letting her have this. He saw that she wanted this, that she needed this, and all he’d ever wanted was her happiness. That her Astarion still existed, and he was letting her go, because he didn’t deserve her. He never had, but it had never been truer than now, when he had broken her.

“But I would have ruined your love, used your trust until you were nothing.” A small smirk crossed his features, but it came across as more melancholic than anything. “Better that be someone else’s fate than yours, darling.” He used her old nickname again, the smirk shifting into a wistful smile.

Ban softened a little at these words, glad he was finally showing some small sign of progress. She found that it hurt her too, to lose him, but she didn’t fear him knowing that.

“You’ve already ruined my love, Astarion. If you think you’ve spared me that fate, it’s too late.”

A small glimpse of the old Astarion was visible as the mask slipped. Ban saw him swallow and take a shaky breath, she could almost feel the knife twist in his heart until he stiffened up and recovered.

“Well. Better that it end now at least, than have it last for however much longer. I’ve divested myself of my former self. Maybe you’re the final attachment I need to let go of.” He dusted off his suit to give his hands something to do before meeting her gaze again. The longing in her eyes sent a sharp bolt of pain through his chest; for a moment - just a moment - he considered groveling on the floor for her love.

But that was beneath the Ascendant, and he always won out in the end. He straightened up.

“This is farewell, then, Ban,” he said, “I hope this is what you want.”

He walked away, then turned his head back towards her, reminding Ban of the first night he’d bitten her. When he had thanked her and gone to hunt.

“I’ll still always love you,” he whispered, and for those few seconds it was him.

Without another word, he was gone.

[nathaliawoa]

The Angel and Devil (6)

One-shot collections featuring The Legendary Devil Hunter, Dante, and The Sole Nephilim, Celina. Celina is an original character with her own personality and backstory but feel free to read it as a reader-insert. Angels Do Exist AU: The existence and information of angels are limited. Where they are and why they left humanity to demons are up to speculations and rumors, making many believe that they no longer exist or are merely myths. That is, not until a sole angel, Eserio, descended to Earth many eons later after their supposed disappearance. Celina is Eserio’s daughter, but she never knew her late father was an angel until she crossed paths with Dante.

AO3 version | Masterlist

Chapter 6: Secret Admirer

Celina has been receiving anonymous gifts from a secret admirer, but it isn’t from Dante.

(Celina)

Celina never expected to answer the front door and find an elderly woman holding a huge bouquet of assorted flowers in her arms on a Saturday noon.

“Hi, may I help you?” Celina politely asked, still confused from the whole situation. This had to be a mistake. The poor woman must have gotten the wrong address or something. Not the first time something like this had happened before. 

However, Celina’s assumption was proven wrong when the woman explained that she was a florist courier from some flower shop and recited the address for confirmation. It was the right address, and that made Celina’s mind race a thousand miles to grasp what was going on. The only conclusion she got was that the flowers had to be from Dante, but this didn’t seem like his style. 

Flabbergasted, Celina had to blink twice to see if she was dreaming, but the woman never vanished and instead patiently waited for her response. Shaking out of her thoughts, Celina confirmed that it was the correct place, though that didn’t stop her from asking, “I’m sorry, but who is this from?”

The elder woman gave her an apologetic yet warm smile. “I apologize, miss. I’m afraid I do not know the details as I’m only the courier, but from what I heard, the buyer wished to stay anonymous.” She held out the bouquet to Celina. “Perhaps you may know who this person could be?”

Celina stammered, “I-I have a boyfriend but… um…” It wouldn’t make sense for Dante to send her an anonymous gift. He was never the type to hide his love and affection for her. If anything, his name would have been written all over the bouquet in big bold letterings, letting the whole world know who this gift is from and for. Any sane person would.

The woman seemed to catch onto Celina’s predicament, raising a curious eyebrow at her. “It could be a surprise gift from him? There is a note here.” The woman gestured to the white envelope tucked behind the bow wrapped around the vase. The attached note could provide some clues on whether or not it truly was from Dante. Besides that, she would have to wait until he returned from his gig. 

Having no other choices, Celina accepted the bouquet. “Right. Thank you, I will.” She bidded the woman goodbye and watched her drive away before heading back inside. 

After locking the front doors, Celina placed the bouquet on Dante’s desk. Flowers in shades of blue, white, purple, pink, and yellow spilled from the decorative vase in a beautiful arrangement, some of which she recognized. Her gaze went back to the sealed envelope, and without wasting a second, she opened it to read:

———————————————

My Radiant Angel,

I hope these flowers find you well as they represent my everlasting love to you. Just as their petals bloom from grace, so too does my affection for you. As soothing as their fragrance reminds me of you, may their beauty reflect the light you bring into my life.

Yours,

The Love of Your Life

———————————————

Celina’s lips went into a full blown grin as she crackled at how cheesy the love letter was. The wordings and phrases seemed too over-the-top for someone like Dante. Although the devil himself could be cheesy if he wanted to be, it seemed like he did for this occasion, which Celina could not recall any holidays nor anniversaries coming up soon.

The cheesy note, flowers, and Radiant Angel—it had to be from Dante. There was no other explanation. He had given Celina flowers before, like a small bouquet of red roses he gifted her last Valentine’s Day and definitely far less expensive than this grand display. A part of her wished that he didn’t spend the money and instead used it to pay off something more important like his debt. He didn’t need to buy her happiness, and Celina thought she made that very clear. 

Despite her initial worries, Celina felt butterflies fluttering in her stomach as if she was a teenage girl in love for the first time. The sight of the beautiful flowers made her fall in love with Dante even more by the second, and she would be sure to give him a big kiss when he gets home. She left the flowers and notes on his desk until he returned, wanting him to see that she received his surprise gifts. 

Sometimes later, Celina’s ears perked up at the sound of the front door unlocking. She raised her head over the couch to find the red devil hunter walking through the threshold. With Rebellion strapped to his back, Ebony and Ivory hidden away, and his signature red coat swaying with every step, Dante was always a sight to behold no matter how ragged he looked after a gig.

Bookmarking the page of her book, Celina stood up from the couch and walked up to the railings, looking down from the mezzanine that overlooked the front area. ”Hey there, handsome devil,” she purred.

A smile spread across Dante’s lips as he glanced up at her. The wariness from his gig seemed to melt away once he laid eyes on her. “Hey there, gorgeous. How’ve you been?”

“I’m doing better than ever thanks to you,” she replied, giggling as she then asked, “How was the gig?” Celina was also curious about the investigation he was recently paid to do. Even though she would typically tag along with him in her spare time, this gig didn’t require her special attention, so she stayed put.

Celina must have been smiling and giggling too much to pique his interest when the silver-haired man raised an eyebrow in amusement. “It was fine. Nothing much but you seem extra happy to see me. Is it because of my charming good looks?” Dante rubbed his chin, flashing her a smoldering look, like he was judging if the stubble on his jaw was adding onto his attractiveness.

Another giggle rumbled from her chest. Dante could be an idiot sometimes, but he was her idiot. “That and the flowers you got for me,” she replied.

Dante’s smirk vanished as his brows furrowed in confusion. “What flowers?”

Celina was taken back by his confusion. The butterflies in her stomach started to sink like cold stones. Something wasn’t right. “The flowers”—she gestured to the vase below—“the flowers you got me?”

Following her line of sight, Dante’s eyes widened. How he missed a huge-ass bouquet on his desk upon entering, Celina would never know. 

“Babe,” Dante said, glancing back at her, “I didn’t get you those flowers.”

A bucket of ice cold water seemed to pour over her when she started to realize that the flowers weren’t from her beloved man. The look on Dante's face showed that he was just as perplexed as she was. 

It took her a moment to collect herself before she wearily asked in hopes that he was just pulling on her legs, “They… weren’t from you?”

However, the man below shook his head. “No, I would’ve remembered if I did.” He said it like it was obvious, a hint of irritation flashing in his eyes—and rightfully so. “Who the hell gave them to you?” 

Celina blinked, struggling to find her words at first. “I don’t know. Some elderly woman came here, like an hour ago, and said that these flowers were for this address. I thought it was from you given the circumstances. There’s a note as well.” She gestured at the opened envelope on the desk by the vase, which prompted Dante to walk over to read it.

Making her way downstairs, she continued, “There’s no name on the note but I thought…” Her voice trailed off when she stood next to him, watching him scrutinize the letter in his hands.

It didn’t take a second for Dante to let out a scoff as if he just read the most despicable thing ever. “Someone is a real poet,” he sarcastically remarked before turning to Celina and asking, “Like ‘Radiant Angel’, really?” in an incredulous tone.

Heat started to rise on Celina’s face when Dante put it like that. It would have been a cheesy pet name if it weren’t for her heritage. Besides, it’s not like Dante never called her angel before, so she didn’t understand why he was making such a big fuss over it compared to the rest of the letter. Although the thought of someone else referring to her as angel was concerning since her heritage was kept as a secret for her own safety. She hoped the pet name was just a coincidence instead.

Before she could dwell further, Dante pressed on, “You really thought this was me?” 

“Hey!” Celina raised her hands up, taking on a more defensive tone. “Who else would I think it would be? I just thought you were in the mood or something.”

“In the mood?” Dante almost laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. Even though he was smiling, Celina could tell that he found the whole situation downright infuriating. “Babe, if I wanted to give you flowers, I would have gotten you something much bigger than this”—he gestured at the vase—“personally hand-delivered by me, with a note that says”—he paused, adopting a flamboyant voice for dramatic effect—“‘Celina, baby, you are hotter than wildfire and feistier than a wild honeybee. Every time I look at you, I just wanna pick you up, throw you over my shoulder, and go somewhere I can have you all to myself.’”

More heat rushed to her face, and Celina couldn’t help but laugh at his act. “Okay, that definitely sounds more like you,” she admitted. 

Dante gave a light-hearted huff, seemingly pleased that she understood now. He tossed the letter back on his desk, without giving it a second glance, and then asked with a serious expression, “So, you have no idea who gave this to you?”

Her brows furrowed together, and the words flew out of her mouth before she realized, “No.” While she really doesn’t have a clue, the more she thought about it, the more she could think of a possible secret admirer. 

“Really? Not even someone from work? Someone who’s been tryin’ to get your attention?” Dante prodded.

Crossing her arms, Celina flashed him an unamused look. “No. All of the guys I talk to at the bank, I keep everything professional.” She doesn’t blame Dante for thinking of her job first, after all, she spends forty hours a week at the bank. But none of her interactions with her male colleagues stood out. 

That did little to quell his suspicions as he sighed. “Professional or not, creeps will be creeps.”

Celina frowned at the truth of his words. She didn’t want to see herself in the situation of someone creeping on her unknowingly so, instead, she suggested, “Maybe it was sent here by mistake.”

Dante glanced at the flowers, donning a wary yet hopeful expression. “Yeah, I sure hope so cause this bastard sucks at giving gifts with no name and all.” His brows then scrunched up and, at first, Celina wasn’t sure what he was looking at until he reached forward and turned the small tag attached to the ribbon. On the other side of the paper showed the logo and name of the flower shop from where this gift came from. Repeating the name and address of the place under his breath, he then turned to her and said with a small smirk, “Looks like we might have a clue who it’s from.”

That was when it hit Celina. “You’re going to pay a visit to that place?” The surprise in her voice was evident. She didn’t think Dante was willing to go out of his way for a one-off thing—that she hoped it was.

Dante scoffed, his voice sounding more confident with each word. “Yeah, especially if he sends more of this crap then we know where to look. Don’t cha worry, I got this, babe.”

His reassurance made her heart flutter in adoration. It felt nice knowing that she had Dante’s back in this matter, but it raised the next question when she glanced at the vase. “Sooo, what should we do with these flowers?”

“Return it,” Dante answered without skipping a beat.

Celina had to stop herself from rolling her eyes as she pointed out, “You can’t return flowers.” She damn well knew that most, if not all, florists have a no-return policy for flowers, which are considered perishable goods, especially a couple of hours after purchase. And it's been a couple of hours since these flowers were delivered here, so it was a no-go. She knew this from experience but guessed Dante doesn’t know any better.

“Then toss it in the garbage to be used as fertilizer.”

Damn, Dante was really adamant about getting rid of these flowers—not that she blamed him, of course—but the display was too beautiful to throw it away like that. Perhaps she could repurpose it? Give it to a friend or female colleague? Or even give it to a random stranger on the streets to make their day?

“I can see that you’re thinking too hard about this, but look at it like this, it’s the idiot’s fault for sending it to the wrong place,” he said it like he was making a statement, which he was. An underlining smirk crept on his face as he continued, “Besides, it's a bad omen to keep a gift from an unwanted shadow.”

Celina never heard of that saying in her entire life, so Dante had to be pulling that from his ass just for the fact that he didn’t want these flowers in his house anymore.

Seeing that there were no other ways, she caved in, “Fine, we can toss it out.”

Dante’s eyes beamed in satisfaction, and he wasted no time in snatching the vase from his desk before marching to the front entrance in purposeful strides. She watched him disappear behind the doors and heard the familiar sound of their garbage bin opening, followed by a loud thud. When he returned, he dusted off his hands like he just tackled a big responsibility. The sight of his pleased expression was hilarious. It almost made her laugh. “Wow, I never seen you so happy taking out the trash before,” Celina quipped.

The half-devil strolled up to her, his smirk never leaving as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Oh, babe, if it's trash worth taking out, then I’ll gladly do it at any time of the day.” 

Typical Dante.

Celina hummed as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, leaning into his embrace. “Is that so?” she purred, feeling the growing heat between their bodies.

Dante’s eyes darkened and his voice grew huskier. “Oh yeah.” His face then inched closer to hers. “Now let me show you real love from your number one admirer.”

~~~

When Celina just thought that the flowers were a one-off thing, the universe sure loved to throw curve balls at her. Just as she headed back downstairs after a long, nice, refreshing shower, Dante called out from his desk, “Seems like the mysterious casanova doesn’t know when to quit.”

That took her off guard as she whipped her head towards him. “What?” She asked before Dante gestured at the contents on his desk. In the midst of his clutter lay a rectangular foil-covered box, a crumpled-up piece of paper next to a ripped envelope, and an unopened mail package. The realization only dawned on her when she got a closer look and noticed the familiar brand of chocolates written on the foil cover of the box. Not to mention, the fact that Dante’s lips were pressed in a thin line also gave it away, especially when she could see the annoyance behind his eyes as he watched her reaction.

No. There was no way. “Wait, don’t tell me…”

“Sure is,” Dante confirmed, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms.

Celina’s face scrunched up as she gazed down at the desk, still perplexed by the situation. It had only been three days since the flowers first arrived and now this. “When did it show up? Now?” She recalled that the package was not here before she went into the shower unless–

“Just when you were in the shower, the mailman came by with this. No name nor return address.” Ah, she figured as much.

Turning her attention to the ball of paper, she also figured out what it was given the treatment it definitely received from the man in front of her. As she reached forward for it, she asked Dante if this was the note that came with the package which he replied with a “mhm,” prompting her to unravel it. After doing so, she read:

———————————————

My Radiant Angel,

I hope this box of chocolate brings such delight to your taste buds. I got you the best of the best, and may you think of me by its sweet taste as often as I think of you.

Yours,

The Love of Your Life

———————————————

First off, what? Second, what the hell did the last sentence even mean? Like in a metaphorical or sexual sense? Either way, it was creepy, and Celina didn’t want to think about it any further. She was more concerned about who was sending her these types of things as she still had no clue.

“Oookay…” she warily said, placing the paper down slowly. Glancing at the box of chocolates, she recognized it was one of the brands she enjoyed if it weren’t for the high price tag. Whoever was sending her this must be loaded, adding onto the uneasiness of this whole mystery.

“Tell me about it. The balls of this person to be sending you crap like this,” Dante remarked before asking, “Still no idea of who this could be?”

Rubbing her forehead, Celina sighed, not looking forward to having this conversation again. “No, I can’t pinpoint anyone from work who could be doing this.” 

It was true. Ever since the flower incident, Celina had been paying extra attention to each person she interacted with, especially her male colleagues. However, none of them stood out as culprits. Maybe she was missing something, so she relayed the story to her close female colleagues for their insights but, at last, nothing. As her last resort, she used her angelic abilities to detect any mischievous aura hidden beneath the surface, even as far as reading bits and pieces of people’s thoughts. But all she got was hearing too much personal information that she should not be hearing in the first place, and a massive migraine at the end of the day for overusing her power.

Celina was not the only one to come up short, Dante had no luck either. He paid a visit to the florist the day after the flowers arrived, claiming that he was curious and wanted to give a friendly reminder to the person who sent the flowers to double check the address before sending. While they had an order book and surveillance cameras, they weren’t required to write down the client’s full information nor timestamp. All they wrote down was the order, paid in cash on the spot, and shipping address. Therefore, with no leads, they originally agreed to drop it and hope for the best, but that was no longer an option now.

Dante frowned at her answer. “I still think it’s someone from work,” he insisted.

“Look, I’ll try again and see, but I’m telling you, I can’t pinpoint anyone from work,” Celina said, exasperated with the whole situation.

The devil hunter raised his hands up in defense. “Okay, I get it, but this is the second time. Definitely no coincidence if you ask me.”

Slumping her shoulders, Celina hung her head low and sighed once more. It bothered her that Dante was right, and more so when they had no idea who was behind this. Dread started to creep up on her again like last time with the flowers.

As if sensing her distress, Dante leaned forward in his seat and slid a hand over hers on the desk. The touch was comforting coupled with his gentle voice. “Hey, don’t worry about this. I’ll find the culprit. Hell, I’ll even shadow you at work.”

Now that was an amusing thought. The idea of a six-foot devil hunter looming over her at work was a sure-fire way of scaring off any unwanted pursuers. Afterall, she had seen firsthand of how intimidating Dante could be despite his goofy and laid-back attitude 

Celina cracked a small smile as she looked up at him. “Really? You’re gonna sniff them out?”

Dante grinned in return, tapping his nose. “Oooh, you’ll be surprised, my sense of smell never fails me”

Straightening up from the desk, Celina rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Okay, bloodhound,” she quipped, earning a small chuckle from him.

The air around them felt lighter, thanks to Dante, but the lightness only lasted until a familiar shine caught her eyes—the box of chocolates. Although they were from a good brand, her craving was off the table. She could bring it to work and pass it out instead, but that would risk the creep getting the wrong idea.

“So,” Celina said, gesturing at said box, “the chocolates…”

“You already know my answer, babe.”

That she did, but it gave her an idea as a coy smile started to tug at her lips. “What, you don’t want the chocolates?” she half-heartedly teased, knowing that Dante had a sweet tooth like her.

A sound that almost sounded like a scoff escaped from him as he raised an unamusing eyebrow at her. “What makes you think I want chocolates from Romeo?”

Celina just shrugged. “I don’t know. It doesn’t have my name on it, so you could be his Juliet… and his Radiant Angel.” She wiggled her eyebrows towards the end. Such references reminded Celina of the times she would tease Dante of him being her angel instead of the other way around—a fun play on their heritage.

“Oh yeah?” Dante leaned back in his seat and stroked his stubbled chin in playful consideration. “Well I guess I could pass off as both with my divine beauty and all, but I think I’ll pass on the offer.”

Her lips twitched. “Suit yourself.” 

With that, the box of chocolates was thrown in the trash.

~~~

It was Saturday again, and Celina and Dante recently arrived back home from the grocery store. On their way back, they picked up a box of fresh pizza for lunch from the nearby pizzeria. Its savory aroma filled the air of the shop, tempting Celina by the seconds as she rushed to put the food away in the kitchen. Meanwhile, Dante, the ever-so-gentleman that he was, waited by the small kitchen table with the napkins and plate he fished out for her. 

As Celina was tackling the last grocery bag, three loud knocks resonated from the front doors. Her brows furrowed, wondering who it could be at this hour. Was it a customer?

“I’ll get it,” Dante grumbled in mild frustration, causing the sound of the chair scraping on the title floor to pierce through the air when he stood up to get to the door.

Celina paid half-attention to the commotion beyond the walls since she was nearly done. Once the last item was thrown in the pantry, she made her way to the front area to see what was going on, only to find Dante walking up to his desk with some envelopes and a decent-sized package in his hands. His glare at the package was like daggers as he tossed everything on his desk.

“The mail came?” Celina asked as she walked over to him, staring down at the mail to get a better look. The box caught her attention since she didn’t recall ordering anything, but her gut told her she already knew what it was.

Dante confirmed her suspicions by nodding, his hard gaze still fixated on the box. “Yup, and I have a feeling who it’s from.” One of his hands then reached forward to open said box, but Celina stopped him halfway.

“Let me instead,” she said. If it was really bad then she would rather know first before he did. 

The devil hunter raised an eyebrow at her but took a step back and gestured for her to continue.

It didn’t take long for Celina’s blood to run cold once she removed the tissue papers and saw what was inside. The sight of the familiar laces made her slammed the lids shut, as if trying to banish the item from existence.

“What, what is it?!” Dante asked urgently, taking a step forward to see what caused such a reaction from her.

No. There was no way it was what she thought it was—no fucking way—but there was no mistaking it either, not when she had a couple of sets herself. She wasn’t sure how to approach Dante about this, but it didn't matter when she glanced back down and found the box missing in her hands.

Alarmed, Celina whipped her head towards Dante and could only watch in horror as he extracted the plastic bag from the box, further proving that the item was indeed a lingerie set. The disbelief on his face matched hers, and he gawked at the wrapped fabric that he held under the light. “What the hell—?” 

All Celina could do was bite her lips while her gaze flickered between Dante and the piece of fabric. Words were lost on her, but Dante had a few more things to say. “You’ve got to be kidding me! This freak is really sending you lingerie now? Like, c’mon, it's not even your style, and it’s way too small,” he said, exasperated, while holding it up to her body to prove his point.

Although Celina was not large by any means, the size was definitely made for a petite woman. Strange, yes, but it could mean that this stalker never got close enough to measure her size properly, which had to be a good thing, she hoped. As for the fashion taste, it wasn’t her style as Dante pointed out. Still, it did little to quench her growing unease.

“O-okay.” Celina took a deep breath before stepping back. “What the actual fuck,” she cursed out loud, her voice shaky. She could hear her heartbeat starting to pound in her eardrums. 

Setting the lingerie to the side, Dante asked, “Is there anything else?” but he was already reaching for the box. A piece of paper was what he soon fished out from the bottom of the package. He opened the note in his hands, allowing Celina to read over his shoulders. A part of her didn’t want to read the note, but maybe it had some clues this time.

———————————————

My Radiant Angel,

I hope you enjoy this lingerie as I got you the finest style deserved for an angel like you. For the next time we meet, may you wear this garment so I can explore every inch and curve of your divine body.

Yours,

The Love of Your Life

———————————————

As if the lingerie wasn’t bad enough, this was borderline disturbing. In a span of a week, Celina received three gifts from this mystery person, and each gift was creepier than the last. She had heard horror stories of stalkers from both documentaries and real life stories from friends, but she never imagined being put in that same position. She didn’t even want to imagine what would come next. A jar of her toenails clippings? Pictures secretly taken of her out in public without her knowledge? A creepy sewed doll that looked like her?

While her mind swirled through the worst-case scenarios, the devil hunter clicked his tongue. “Yeah, right, the only thing he’s gonna explore is my fists when I teach him some divine manners.” The note in his hands soon crumbled into a ball before it was flung to the mini trash can next to his desk. 

Sighing, Dante turned to Celina while running a hand through his hair. “Damn creep is getting bolder with this shit.” But he paused—the panic expression must have been evident because the irritation in his eyes melted to that of concerns.

Before Celina could say anything, Dante spoke up once again, “Listen, babe, I know this looks bad, but I need you to be honest with me.” He then took a step closer and placed both hands on her shoulders, looking straight at her. “Are you a hundred percent it’s not someone from work?”

Celina’s shoulders slumped, and she shook her head in a defeated manner. “Fuck… I don’t know anymore.” She could feel a headache coming.

Dante pursed his lips. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

This time Celina was getting aggravated. “I don’t sense anything off with anyone! And I’ve been keeping minimal contact with my male colleagues—I don’t know!”

Dante winced under her sharp tone and let go of her shoulders. “Hey, hey, hey, I’m just asking,” he said softly while holding out his hands in a placate manner. “Okay, if it’s not at work then have you been sensing anything else unusual?”

Her forehead scrunched up. “What do you mean?”

“You know, the auras you sense whenever there’s danger or demons lurking nearby.”

The mention of demons reminded Celina of the time when her angelic blood first awakened. The first several weeks were a disaster—there was a sense of dread that followed her 24/7, akin to something or someone stalking her. At first, she didn’t know what it was, but her question was answered when demons started showing up and targeting her. Those were the old days as Celina now had other means of hiding her scent. Although she had the ability to detect evil presence till this day—even better than Dante’s sixth sense—it wasn’t the case here. 

“No, I haven’t lately, and if I did, you know that I would have told you already,” she pointed out. 

Disappointment washed over his face. “Damn,” he mumbled under his breath, running another hand through his locks. “I guess we’re sitting ducks then, huh?”

“Yeah…” Celina’s gaze grew distant as the two of them stood in silence, except for the sound of Dante drumming his fingers on his desk, clearly trying to think of a solution like her.

Surely, there was something that they could do—something that could trace these items back to the mysterious stalker. If only they could trace his scent or something—

“Wait,” Celina said, grabbing Dante’s attention. “I think I know how to track this person.”

A flicker of hope shined on his eyes. “How?”

“By reading its residual aura like I did last time with that demon. If he had touched these things then I could trace it back to him.” The demon in question was from a gig a few weeks back—a sneaky demon that took a while to track down late at night out in the woods. The hunt would have taken longer if it weren’t for Celina to be able to track its aura from the scratches and paw prints it left on the ground. Though it was the first time she did something like this as it happened on a whim, and probably the reason why she didn’t think of this before until now.

As Celina stepped around Dante to reach inside the trash can to retrieve the note, he asked curiously, “If you can do that then why haven’t you before?”

It was a good question; Celina wouldn’t lie, but not without its merits. “That was the first time I did it, and it’s different. The demon was nearby so it made things easier… and I doubt this guy is a few blocks away.” She sighed, realizing that this was going to be more difficult than she imagined. Even if the stalker had laid his hands on this package, she wasn’t sure if his aura was still left on it. Even so, she wasn’t sure how far she could track it. Perhaps her father’s book could lend a hand on the matter.

Despite her concerns, Dante seemed optimistic. “Well, if this will get us a clue of who we’re dealing with then let’s do it.” He paused until Celina met his eyes. “You got what it takes?”

The way he said it, along with the knowing look he gave her, sparked her competitive side, as if he was deliberately challenging her. She almost scoffed and said, “Of course I can,” as she went around to the desk to retrieve the old spellbook from the bottom drawer.

A smile tugged on his lips. “That’s my girl.”

So, Celina took that challenge to heart, literally. Saturday was typically her sacred day of meal prepping for the following week, but that ritual was overridden by the stress and determination to crack the mystery. She wanted to find the person first before he could send another creepy gift, and this was her only shot of doing so.

Where the once forgotten pizza was at, the small kitchen table was converted into her study space with piles of notes and books sprawled everywhere. As for the pizza itself, she barely helped herself to a slice, only nibbling on it here and there since her appetite decided to depart for the day. Dante, on the other hand, helped himself to several slices, and at first, he observed her from across the table for a moment before moving with the rest of his meal to the front area, leaving her alone in her literacy mess. 

Deciphering the spellbook was a challenge of its own, and a challenge she had to face when her first option didn’t work. The residual aura was on the package, but it was so faint that it was hard to tell much from it. That, and it could be because Celina was still a novice when it came to her powers, hence why she had to turn to the old book for guidance—or lack thereof. The book was written in a language that was not English. According to the memories of her father, it was angelic Enochian—a dead language that there wasn't a lot of reference material to use. Hell, she wasn’t even sure why her father never bothered to translate it for her. It wasn’t like any human nor demons could see the contents of the pages. Only those angelic blood like her could see it; otherwise the pages looked blank to someone like Dante, for example. And there weren't any other angels around to spill its secrets that Celina last checked. 

Nevertheless, Celina had to decode it, and she did so by using demonic Enochian. The similarities between the two dialects were there, but for the rest, she had to fill in the blanks. Though she could brag that she knew more of the demonic language than Dante himself, funny enough. And she was thankful that Trish provided the translation that she needed in the first place.

As she was making progress, the moment she finished rubbing her forehead, the book was snatched away from her. “Hey!” she exclaimed, looking up to find Dante standing over her with the book in his hands and an innocent look plastered on his face.

“Give it back!” Celina tried reaching forward, but Dante pulled away.

“Nuh-uh, you’ve been nose deep in this book for the whole day. I’m startin’ to get jealous,” he teased with that needy smile of his.

Celina blew raspberries at him. “You? Jealous? Over a book…?” But her voice died out when her eyes gazed at the clock on the wall. The hour hand pointed to the large nine on the clock. Damn, she had been at it for several hours without realizing. It didn’t feel like several hours had passed because she could have swore that she took the time to drink some water and use the bathroom. Wait, nevermind. The familiar back aches of hunching over the table and the burning sensation behind her eyelids were creeping up on her, as if on cue. But the fact that she made little progress this whole time left a sour taste in her mouth.

Sighing, Celina rubbed her eyes and groaned in exasperation. “Don’t you want me to find the culprit?”

“Yeah, but Rome wasn’t built in a day,” Dante quipped without skipping a beat as usual.

“Yeah, many days. So I have more time, so gimme.” She stretched out an arm and made a grabby hand motion.

Dante refused to budge and instead closed the spellbook in his hands. “Don’t make me drag your ass out of here,” he warned, his tone mocking seriousness.

Of course he would, and it wouldn’t be the first, but that didn’t stop Celina from challenging him. “But I need to do this!”

However, Dante appeared not to be fazed at all. Instead, he strolled over to the corner far from her and set the book down on the kitchen counter, placing himself between her and the book. “Babe, if that creep shows up at the door, he’ll be answering to me first,” he said, like it wasn’t a big deal.

His reassurance was there, yes, but Celina didn’t want to imagine the chaos that would ensue if the stalker did show up unannounced, with or without Dante’s presence. Besides, how would they know who the stalker was if there was no face attached to the person? It could be anyone that walked in the shop at this point, and they wouldn’t even know. 

That was why she needed to do this, yet she couldn’t understand how Dante could be so nonchalant about this. She kinda envied that, but she didn’t want to back down. So they spent the next moment sizing each other up from across the room until Dante made the first move and dashed towards her.

“Okay, okay, okay!” she squealed, jumping off from the chair with her hands raised, causing the half-devil to stop short in his pursuit. “Let me clean up first.” Ignoring his victory smirk, Celina stacked the papers in neat piles. It was a problem for tomorrow with a fresh mind, she supposed.

“Atta girl, I knew you'd come to your senses,” Dante cheered as if he didn’t threaten her seconds ago and patted her on the back as they headed out of the kitchen. That cheeky bastard.

After a quick shower and some much-needed skincare routine, Celina joined Dante in the living room to try to destress from the exhausting day. But no matter how hard she tried to pay attention to the show that she would otherwise enjoy, her mind kept wandering elsewhere. 

The book. The lingerie. The chocolates. The flowers. The notes. And the pet name—Radiant Angel.

Who the hell was sending her these things?

Questions unanswered, her mind itched to go back to her studies, but before she could dwell further on the thought, she felt an arm draped around her shoulders and pulled her closer to the man next to her.

Instinctively, Celina leaned against his shoulders while his hand rubbed up and down on her arm in a comforting gesture. It did wonders in calming her buzzing nerves, and she appreciated that.

A content sigh escaped from Dante’s mouth. “Much better,” he murmured before leaning down and inhaling deeply against the crown of her head. 

Celina looked up at him and met his lazy eyes with her confused ones. It wasn’t because he sniffed her like a dog—she was already used to that habit of his—but what he was referring to. “Much better?” she asked skeptically.

Dante pursed his lips, obviously trying to hide his smile. “Mhmm.”

Oh, she got it now, and she couldn’t help but lightly scoff. “As if you didn’t threaten me moments ago.” Her words didn’t hold any real bites, but she was still salty about it earlier. 

His chest rumbled from a low chuckle. “Somebody had to drag you out of there cause you looked like you were about to pop a vein on that book.”

Celina flashed him a funny look, not believing him in the slightest. Sure, she was into it, but she was positive she had everything under control. “Well, sorry,” she said, inclined to sit up for dramatic effect, but his strong arm held her in place—not that she was complaining. “But if I recall correctly, you looked like you were about to set those gifts on fire with the way you were glaring at it.”

This time, Dante burst out laughing for a second before pausing and pretending to think about her words as he stared at no spot in particular. “Mmm, that would be a nice power to have,” he mused while rubbing his chin with his other hand. Celina’s face twitched, almost chuckling at his playful admission.

“But, seriously,” he continued, returning her gaze with determined eyes. “Even if you can’t find him with your spells, you still got me. I’ll be more than happy to teach him a lesson or two.” His lips then curled up as he added, “Unless you beat me to it first.”

Dante was not wrong—she was still determined to use her power and crack the case, and she was eager to prove him so. Not only that, but she had a good track record of handling creeps who dare to approach her. All they needed to do was to find this one, and the rest should be good.

Celina’s expression matched his, and she shifted to nuzzle further into his chest. Her heart fluttered when Dante held her closer and resumed caressing her arm. “Oh, you can count on that.”  

~~~

Celina made no progress.

Scratch that, she did make progress, but none of the pages she translated provided any insight of how to catch the stalker even though she spent most of Sunday working on it again.

It was now Monday, and Celina dreaded going to work. Dante was really adamant of shadowing her at work, but what would she say to her colleague and boss when they see a six-foot, silver-haired, broad man lingering in the background? It just wouldn’t work out.

So he stayed put. 

Throughout her whole shift, Celina felt like she was being watched under a microscope—a microscope scope that she could not tell who was viewing her from the other side of the lens. Everywhere she looked, she expected to see some creep smiling at her from a distance, watching her every move. Celina wouldn’t call herself a paranoid person, but the fact that she couldn’t sense anything off or malicious at work was driving her insane, and it was not like she went out to other places regularly to rule out other possibilities. Even when she did, Dante would always tag along, and neither of them could sense anything either as of yet.

All Celina wanted to do was return home and continue her studies, but the day decided to last longer than usual today. Her impatience seemed to grab her colleagues’ attention since they kept asking her if she was alright. She couldn’t reveal much given the circumstances, so she kept brushing it off as nothing, unfortunately.

As soon as the clock struck five o’clock, Celina booked it out of that place and drove home. The commute lasted thirty minutes as usual, and she wasted no time in parking the car outside the agency and heading inside. Dante was home, and she found him sitting by his desk with his legs propped up and his arms behind his head, listening to some music that played in the background from the jukebox—someone had a chill day unlike her.

“Hey, babe. How was work?” Dante asked nonchalantly upon her entrance, but Celina could see him trying to hide a smirk.

“It was good,” she replied before giving the place a quick swipe with her eyes. Nothing was out of the ordinary to be the cause of his unusual behavior, so she narrowed her eyes at him in skepticism. “What are you hiding?”

A wolfish grin replaced his casual features, revealing his true colors. “I solved the mystery,” he announced in an almost bragging tone.

Understanding what he meant, Celina’s jaw dropped, stunned to hear this as she couldn’t believe her ears at first. “W-wait, really?!” She stammered, striding up to his desk. “Who?”

Straightening up in his chair, Dante slid his feet to the ground and gave her his full attention. “Some lady walked in earlier and said that her man was sending it to the wrong address.” 

Celina had to blink a couple of times to process what he said. “What? What do you mean he sent it to the wrong address? Who?”

Dante then explained to Celina that the address the guy meant to send was off by just the last digit of their address—basically, the intended recipient lived down the street.

At the end of his brief explanation, Celina swore that the rug was pulled out from under her, and the universe was laughing at her mishap. All because of a simple mistake. 

“Really? You gotta be kidding me! Who in their right mind would send that type of stuff through the mail and with no return address?!” Celina exclaimed, still baffled by the whole situation. She almost didn’t want to believe this was the case because it was stupid and a bit anticlimactic. Though she was grateful that ultimately it wasn’t a stalker that had his eyes on her.

Dante shrugged as if the situation wasn’t as jarring as she made it out to be. “I dunno. Beats me.”

Celina gawked at him. “Huh, what do you mean you don’t know? You never asked?!”

Quirking an eyebrow, Dante simply replied, “No, but I told her that her man sucks at giving gifts. Also she took back the lingerie. S’not like it will fit on you anyway.” His eyes did a knowing sweep over her figure during the last part.

“You are unbelievable,” Celina said, groaning. If she was there, she would have asked the woman a million questions. In fact. She had half a mind to go over to the woman’s address and ask for more details about their mysterious love life right now. 

“Hey!” Dante flung his arms out in an incredulous manner, as if he wasn’t expecting that response from her, before clutching them back to his chest. “What do you mean I’m unbelievable? You should give me more credit for cracking the case, babe.”

Taking a deep breath and rubbing her face, Celina had to admit that he was right—well, partially. All it took was for the culprit’s girlfriend to walk into the establishment to confess; Dante just happened to be home to answer the door. At least they now know who to call if those packages kept showing up at their doorstep.

So Celina decided to yield. “Yeah, yeah. Fine. Thank you”—her lips curled up a bit—“for being home and answering the door as you should.” If she was going to thank Dante, then she’d better tease him too, else he’d get a big head.

The half-devil grinned, and his eyes wrinkled in delight, seemingly not bothered by her playful remark. “Oh, and I have one more thing to tell you.”

A puzzled look crossed her face as she watched Dante stand up from his chair and walk around next to her. She asked, “What’s that?” since she couldn’t decipher what else he had to share after this bizarre chain of events. 

But as soon as she noticed one of his hands behind his back, Dante flashed her a small bouquet of red roses at the exact moment she blinked.

Her jaw dropped for the second time of the day as she stared at the bouquet, flabbergasted. It took a second for her to burst out laughing. “Hah! Are you serious?! Are you trying to one-up the guy?” She gazed up at him with a dumb smile, her face warm with affection.

Dante chuckled, donning that boyish charm she always loved and nudging the beautiful bouquet closer to her. “Oh, c’mon. Can’t a guy get his girl some flowers without an alternative motive?” He may not have admitted it, but Celina could read between the lines. 

Accepting his gift, she brought it to her chest and purred, “You cheeky devil. How should I ever thank you?”

Tapping his chin with a finger, Dante pretended to think about it for a bit. “Oooh, I think you know how to.”

That she did, and she stepped forward and sealed his lips with a kiss.

[putschki1969]

Hi Sarah, thank you for everything you have done to the Kalafina fandom until now, you're an angel.

Is there a tutorial for joining Finction Junction Station fan club? I want to apply for the next year's Yuki Kajiura live ticket lotteries an I want to be sure to have a ticket since I'll travel from a very far Country. Thank you!

Hello there lovely anon!

I currently have no dedicated tutorial for Yuki's official fan club, FictionJunction Station. However, many years ago, I made a very detailed post about Kalafina's fan club "Harmony". That post was meant to help people navigate the site and register as member. Even though "Harmony" no longer exists, the basic steps described in my tutorial still apply to both Wakana's fan club "Botanical Land" as well as Yuki's fan club "FictionJunction Station". All these websites are designed by the same company, SKIYAKI, so the basic structure is the same.

Here are some main requirements before you start〈(•ˇ‿ˇ•)-→

Credit Card: They do accept overseas credit cards as payment option so you'll be fine with that

Japanese Address: Find a forwarding/proxy service that will arrange everything for you. There’s tenso.com for example. You can get a Japanese address on this page which you can then use to buy things at various websites. That address can also be used to become a fan club member. They will not do transactions for you (as in, buy stuff for you, apply at ticket lotteries), they simply provide an address, store your stuff in case you buy anything and later send it to you. All your stuff will be sent to that address and then they will ship it to you (you can choose from various shipping methods). Payment for goods is also possible via credit card so you can have the merch sent to your TENSO address as well. Then there are sites like www.sosjapan.jp which will do pretty much everything for you (including payments). They will register for you under your name. They will apply for lotteries/pre-order/buy tickets or merch for you. This may actually be a better option for you but that's something you'll have to decide.

Step 1. Get your SC ID. An account will be issued by acquiring an SC ID (it’s free to do that!) which is required to use the service of this site. Simply click on the “new registration” button and enter your e-mail address and a password. A confirmation e-mail will be sent, by clicking the link in the mail, the first part of the registration process is completed. After logging in with your SC ID, you can access “My Page”.

Step 2: Confirm your e-mail address. After you have confirmed your e-mail address you’ll receive another mail stating that the registration of your SC ID was completed. You may log in now with your mail address and password. Be aware that your registration process is not done yet. Next up you should go to “My Page” to enter all your information.

Step 3: Go to “My Page” to enter all your information. Regarding the name, just enter your name in Roman letters first and then in katakana (Google Translate can help you get a katakana version of your name). As for the address, the Japanese address system is quite complex and can seem intimidating at first glance but Tenso provides a few tips on how to enter it properly so be sure to check them out.

Step 4. Confirm the information and continue to the payment method. It’s super simple. You have the option to pay with credit cards which is really the only option that is of interest to us. Simply choose your credit card and enter all the important data. On the right you’ll see the details for your payment (admission fee + annual fee, no extra fees). There's also an option to enable an automatic renewal of your membership. Only possible if you are paying with credit card. Once your year is almost over, the yearly fee will automatically be transferred from your credit card. I guess this comes in quite handy if you are prone to forget things like that easily. Lastly, there’s a button to confirm the transaction and then I think you’ll be asked one last time to confirm all your data and THEN it’s DONE. You are officially a member! You’ll be transferred to a page stating that the process is finished and listing some of the important data. You’ll also receive an e-mail welcoming you to the fan club and summarising all your information (=> member number, expiration date, payment details, payment method)

Please also keep in mind that often, a fan club membership will not be enough to get concert tickets. Most fan clubs will use one of Japan's common ticketing services for their lotteries. With FJS it's usually Lawson Ticket or e+. It can be very difficult to register for these site since they require verification via SMS/phone call (Japanese phone numbers only!!) The payment for tickets is also pretty much impossible for overseas fans. If you are uncertain about any of this and not willing to jump through many hoops, I recommend you look into proxy services like SOSJapan (as mentioned above).

Good luck on everything! Hope you'll be able to attend one of the lives next summer. It's gonna be Yuki's 60th birthday in August so maybe they'll do something a little more special for it.

[caffeineaddictwriter]

Sotl Hannibal with a wife that owns a restaurant!

Warnings: mentions of cannibals, reader eats human meat without knowing.

•he first met you when he accompanied some old friends to your restaurant and you were cooking that night.

•he sat and watched you cook all night instead of engaging in conversation with his friends.

•when he tries your cooking (he knows you cooked it cause he watched you(open kitchen so customers can watch btw) he knew he had to introduce himself.

•by the time the group is all finished it’s almost closing time. So as everyone leaves Hannibal waits.

•”busy night?” He asks you as he leans over the kitchen counter as you remove your apron laughing at the question “when is it not” “let me treat you to a meal. Might not be as good as your cooking but it’s decent” you look up at the man finally taking in his features.

•you think for a minute before agreeing as he hands you a note with his address “my place tomorrow night” and with that he was off. You look at the note it’s a business card. Dr H. Lecter.

•you arrive the next day in a nice red dress smiling away as the doctor lets you in taking your coat before taking you to the dining room.

•”you have a lovely home doctor lecter” “thank you. And please just call me Hannibal my dear” he replies placing a plate of food down infront of you. “What kind of meat is this?” You ask tasting it. It was delicious but you didn’t know what it was “an exotic kind” he smiles back.

•he treats you to many meals at his home always stating you work so hard to make delicious food for everyone but yourself so to let him treat you well.

•it doesn’t take long for yous to become more than friends, cooking for you every night after your shift.

•he’s quick to ask why you decided to open a restaurant.

•speaking of the restaurant he’d be more than happy to help with whatever needs done. You need help in the kitchen, tell him what you need. Running short on waiters, he’s out there taking orders.

•and you bet your ass if there’s something needing repaired or bought he’s handing his card over no matter how much you moan at him saying you can afford it.

•loves trying out your new menu ideas.

•when yous wed he loves telling everyone his wife owns her own restaurant.

•hates the idea of asking you to quit your job so he can be the sole provider. He thinks it’s hot that you run a restaurant and get your own way whenever you want.

•if any other restaurant tries to compete against you suddenly the owner or head chef no longer exists.